Anne Rice
Knopf, 2009
288 pages
hard cover
_____________________________________________________
I've loved Anne Rice's work for a long time, ever since I checked Interview with the Vampire out from my high school library. And not just her vampire books, though there are more of them than others: I enjoyed The Witching Hour and Servant of the Bones and Feast of All Saints, too.
I did try to read Rice's Christ the Lord books, but I couldn't get into them. It's not a religious thing; I grew up religious enough and have no particular disdain for religion or spirituality or any of that sort of thing. A lot of people do, and then a lot of people don't think about it one way or another, but I do. Which isn't the point, of course. The point is: I have no bias for OR against such stories and works.
Still and all, I couldn't immerse myself in Rice's Christ the Lord books. But angels! I love angels, too, and was hoping for something really great in the kick-off novel of Rice's planned new series.
Alas, I fear my expectations were set too high.
Angel Time isn't terrible. It just isn't as good as some of Rice's other work. Something about it suggests she might have been in a hurry while writing it. And it's more like listening to Rice tell a story than having her characters do so.
What I mean is, all the characters in the book sound the same to me. I find little distinction in their voices. It seems to me that a hardened assassin should sound somewhat different from an angel, and that they should both sound different still from a Medieval Jewish woman. And yet . . . here, not so much.
The story itself is good enough. Pretty simple and straight-forward, which may be why the book is not especially long. But I still had some trouble digging in, as I found the characters more likely to tell me what to think and believe than show me through their actions or dialogue. For some characters, such bravado works (hello there, Lestat); for some situations it works (interview any vampires lately?). But here again . . . not so much.
Maybe Angel Time is just a weak start to something bigger and stronger? Maybe the main character--assassin Toby O'Dare--will develop into someone more interesting than the seemingly colorless person he starts out as. (On the flip side, assassins do need to blend as opposed to standing out . . . but Toby's lack of personality goes a bit too far in that the reader has a tough time caring much about him.) I'm hoping for a better outing next time.
3.06.2010
Movie Review: Inglourious Basterds
Starring: Brad Pitt, Melanie Laurent, Christoph Waltz
Directed By: Quentin Tarantino
Written By: Quentin Tarantino
Universal Pictures, 2009
R; 153 minutes
5 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
In film school, we were required to view Reservoir Dogs. I hadn't wanted to see it, but I ended up really liking it. Which surprised me, since I generally dislike anything with gratuitous bloodshed.
That said, there haven't been many other Tarantino films that I've seen and enjoyed. I disliked Jackie Brown and found Four Rooms uneven at best. I didn't even make it through Pulp Fiction or Kill Bill; they bored me too much. Sacrilege! But how can I apologize for personal preference?
I was beginning to think Reservoir Dogs had been a fluke. But I did want to see Inglourious Basterds. All the Academy Award hubbub, PLUS: Brad Pitt! Whom I've loved since Interview with the Vampire. And I'm pleased to say that this movie did not disappoint. The violence was not so over-the-top as to disgust me, and the grimness of Laurent's turn as a vengeful Jew was nicely balanced with Pitt and Waltz, who added an odd, offbeat humor to the whole affair.
In short, Pitt plays Lt. Aldo Raine, who helms a small band of American soldiers known as "The Basterds." They stalk Nazi-occupied France and ambush Nazi squadrons. Meanwhile, Laurent plays the sole surviving member of a Jewish family that was massacred at the hands of Waltz's SS officer Landa. She has changed her name and now runs a cinema, and when her venue is singled out for a Nazi film premiere, she decides to use her dubious windfall as the jumping-off point for some serious payback.
It all comes together in the end, and I won't give it away. But Pitt is fun to watch, especially with his thick accent. I only wish he'd had more screen time. Waltz is surely the shoo-in for his Oscar category; he plays Landa with the perfect mixture of light-minded delight and megalomania, wrapped in self-assured narcissism. The viewer simultaneously wants to (a) invite him to a dinner party, (b) lock him in a cage and force him to perform like a trained monkey, and (c) put a bullet through his head. That takes talent. I'd be glad to see this movie win the whole kit 'n' kaboodle, but I'll take a trophy for Waltz at the least.
Directed By: Quentin Tarantino
Written By: Quentin Tarantino
Universal Pictures, 2009
R; 153 minutes
5 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
In film school, we were required to view Reservoir Dogs. I hadn't wanted to see it, but I ended up really liking it. Which surprised me, since I generally dislike anything with gratuitous bloodshed.
That said, there haven't been many other Tarantino films that I've seen and enjoyed. I disliked Jackie Brown and found Four Rooms uneven at best. I didn't even make it through Pulp Fiction or Kill Bill; they bored me too much. Sacrilege! But how can I apologize for personal preference?
I was beginning to think Reservoir Dogs had been a fluke. But I did want to see Inglourious Basterds. All the Academy Award hubbub, PLUS: Brad Pitt! Whom I've loved since Interview with the Vampire. And I'm pleased to say that this movie did not disappoint. The violence was not so over-the-top as to disgust me, and the grimness of Laurent's turn as a vengeful Jew was nicely balanced with Pitt and Waltz, who added an odd, offbeat humor to the whole affair.
In short, Pitt plays Lt. Aldo Raine, who helms a small band of American soldiers known as "The Basterds." They stalk Nazi-occupied France and ambush Nazi squadrons. Meanwhile, Laurent plays the sole surviving member of a Jewish family that was massacred at the hands of Waltz's SS officer Landa. She has changed her name and now runs a cinema, and when her venue is singled out for a Nazi film premiere, she decides to use her dubious windfall as the jumping-off point for some serious payback.
It all comes together in the end, and I won't give it away. But Pitt is fun to watch, especially with his thick accent. I only wish he'd had more screen time. Waltz is surely the shoo-in for his Oscar category; he plays Landa with the perfect mixture of light-minded delight and megalomania, wrapped in self-assured narcissism. The viewer simultaneously wants to (a) invite him to a dinner party, (b) lock him in a cage and force him to perform like a trained monkey, and (c) put a bullet through his head. That takes talent. I'd be glad to see this movie win the whole kit 'n' kaboodle, but I'll take a trophy for Waltz at the least.
3.05.2010
Book Review: New Moon
Stephenie Meyer
Little Brown, 2008
564 pages
trade paperback
_____________________________________________________
Well, one thing makes New Moon markedly better than Twilight, and that's the absence of Edward throughout the entire second act of the story.
Otherwise, it's all still pretty bad.
New Moon reminds me of fan fiction, only the characters are original to the author. But the main character--Bella Swan, who narrates--comes off as some kind of Mary Sue for the author (and perhaps, by extension, for the tweenie readers). At any rate, the "production value" of the writing (characters, plot) is low. Which is what I tend to find in the fan fiction community as well, so maybe that's why New Moon reminds me of fanfic.
Loosely, the plot this go-round is: What does Juliet do while Romeo is away? Apparently she becomes even more obnoxious than before, if that's even possible. Or maybe she's just as obnoxious but in a completely different way. Bella (our Juliet) spends most of her time going on and on about the "hole in her chest" that Edward's leaving has left her with. She spends a lot of time clutching her chest and gasping for breath, thereby showing us that Edward's leaving has been physically painful for her. She starts doing daredevil stunts because in the midst of danger she's able to remember Edward's voice--basically he scolds her for being stupid and reckless. And she starts hanging out with a werewolf.
It would be one thing if Edward's leaving had been a true breakup. But of course, Romeo and Juliet must have TRUE love, and so we're not allowed to question their devotion. Oh, Bella does question it, but Bella is ridiculously insecure in that way of adolescent girls--especially those who have guys all wanting to hang out with them and date them. But Bella and Edward are required to have a pristine relationship, and so even when they're apart it's simply a matter of each of them suffering terribly without the other.
So what we end up with is a hyperbolic example of love and devotion, in which each party is SO devoted to the other that it passes realistic and reasonable and goes on to be stunningly stupid. And once again the same conversations occur over and over:
Bella: I will love you forever! I can't live without you!
Saber-Toothed Tiger: I will love you forever! And I can't live without you, either!
Bella: Then turn me into a saber-toothed tiger like you, and we'll be together forever!
STT: No. Instead I'll wait for you to get old and die, and then I'll kill myself and we'll be together forever in the afterlife!
Bella: This is because you don't really love me and don't want to be stuck with me for eternity, isn't it?
STT: Of course not! I will love you forever and can't live without you!
Bella: Then turn me into a saber-toothed tiger.
And round and round we go.
The truth is, the "real" relationship here is between Bella and her best friend/werewolf Jacob. They have actual conversations and enjoy doing things together. Bella can pour her heart out to Jacob. This is more than we've seen in her interactions with Edward, and this relationship seems much more grounded. It has more chemistry. And maybe that's simply because we get a better look at it than we do the one with Edward, which we're evidently supposed to take at the author's word. What I mean is, we see Jacob and Bella associate in more organic ways (although we're still hounded by Bella's selfish and inane internal commentary as well). Meanwhile, in dealing with the chief relationship in the series Meyer presents us with only: Bella loves Edward; Edward loves Bella; they are meant to be. Really? Then show me. Don't assume I'm going to take it at face value. Because as it stands, it lacks the chemistry you're trying to force me to believe exists.
The one other really egregious problem with the book is the way characters are forced to explain things--either why something is the way it is, or the plot in general. Again, this is a flaw one finds in bad science fiction or fan fiction. It's clumsy. It's the author's way of answering potential questions the reader may have, as if to say, "I know you're wondering why or how, so my character will ask another character and you'll get this answer." There are ways to do this that work. Meyer's way of doing it . . . doesn't. It only underscores (a) how stupid her main character really is, and (b) that Meyer herself didn't appear to think through her own plot or faux world systems.
The sum total, then, of New Moon is that it's better than Twilight. That's about all I can say for it. Will the trend continue with Eclipse? We'll see.
Little Brown, 2008
564 pages
trade paperback
_____________________________________________________
Well, one thing makes New Moon markedly better than Twilight, and that's the absence of Edward throughout the entire second act of the story.
Otherwise, it's all still pretty bad.
New Moon reminds me of fan fiction, only the characters are original to the author. But the main character--Bella Swan, who narrates--comes off as some kind of Mary Sue for the author (and perhaps, by extension, for the tweenie readers). At any rate, the "production value" of the writing (characters, plot) is low. Which is what I tend to find in the fan fiction community as well, so maybe that's why New Moon reminds me of fanfic.
Loosely, the plot this go-round is: What does Juliet do while Romeo is away? Apparently she becomes even more obnoxious than before, if that's even possible. Or maybe she's just as obnoxious but in a completely different way. Bella (our Juliet) spends most of her time going on and on about the "hole in her chest" that Edward's leaving has left her with. She spends a lot of time clutching her chest and gasping for breath, thereby showing us that Edward's leaving has been physically painful for her. She starts doing daredevil stunts because in the midst of danger she's able to remember Edward's voice--basically he scolds her for being stupid and reckless. And she starts hanging out with a werewolf.
It would be one thing if Edward's leaving had been a true breakup. But of course, Romeo and Juliet must have TRUE love, and so we're not allowed to question their devotion. Oh, Bella does question it, but Bella is ridiculously insecure in that way of adolescent girls--especially those who have guys all wanting to hang out with them and date them. But Bella and Edward are required to have a pristine relationship, and so even when they're apart it's simply a matter of each of them suffering terribly without the other.
So what we end up with is a hyperbolic example of love and devotion, in which each party is SO devoted to the other that it passes realistic and reasonable and goes on to be stunningly stupid. And once again the same conversations occur over and over:
Bella: I will love you forever! I can't live without you!
Saber-Toothed Tiger: I will love you forever! And I can't live without you, either!
Bella: Then turn me into a saber-toothed tiger like you, and we'll be together forever!
STT: No. Instead I'll wait for you to get old and die, and then I'll kill myself and we'll be together forever in the afterlife!
Bella: This is because you don't really love me and don't want to be stuck with me for eternity, isn't it?
STT: Of course not! I will love you forever and can't live without you!
Bella: Then turn me into a saber-toothed tiger.
And round and round we go.
The truth is, the "real" relationship here is between Bella and her best friend/werewolf Jacob. They have actual conversations and enjoy doing things together. Bella can pour her heart out to Jacob. This is more than we've seen in her interactions with Edward, and this relationship seems much more grounded. It has more chemistry. And maybe that's simply because we get a better look at it than we do the one with Edward, which we're evidently supposed to take at the author's word. What I mean is, we see Jacob and Bella associate in more organic ways (although we're still hounded by Bella's selfish and inane internal commentary as well). Meanwhile, in dealing with the chief relationship in the series Meyer presents us with only: Bella loves Edward; Edward loves Bella; they are meant to be. Really? Then show me. Don't assume I'm going to take it at face value. Because as it stands, it lacks the chemistry you're trying to force me to believe exists.
The one other really egregious problem with the book is the way characters are forced to explain things--either why something is the way it is, or the plot in general. Again, this is a flaw one finds in bad science fiction or fan fiction. It's clumsy. It's the author's way of answering potential questions the reader may have, as if to say, "I know you're wondering why or how, so my character will ask another character and you'll get this answer." There are ways to do this that work. Meyer's way of doing it . . . doesn't. It only underscores (a) how stupid her main character really is, and (b) that Meyer herself didn't appear to think through her own plot or faux world systems.
The sum total, then, of New Moon is that it's better than Twilight. That's about all I can say for it. Will the trend continue with Eclipse? We'll see.
2.16.2010
Food: Sifers Valomilk
For those who don't know, if you buy a package of Valomilk, you're buying a sort of Reese's cup-like item (two in a pack), wherein the chocolate cups are filled with marshmallow instead of peanut butter. However, a Valomilk is not at all like a marshmallow cup. Which sounds confusing, but I'll do my best to explain.
For one thing, Valomilk is not something you can pick up in the typical candy aisle at a grocery or convenience store. I buy it whenever I happen to find it, usually at well-stocked candy stores or, as recently, nostalgia-based "general" stores (i.e., the store attached to a Cracker Barrel restaurant).
The detailed history of the Valomilk cup is given on their Web site, but in short the product is the happy result of a production error. Which is why Valomilk cups aren't like typical marshmallow cups. Instead, it's more like having that yummy, runny marshmallow topping from the ice cream parlor inside a chocolate cup.
Now the chocolate part of a Valomilk is not terribly exciting. I love chocolate, and the Valomilk chocolate wouldn't do it for me as a solo bar or whatnot. But it's sufferable when filled with the yummy marshmallow because the chocolate-to-filling ratio is a good one.
Valomilk is messy, so I don't recommend eating it (a) around anything you don't want to soil (electronics, nice clothes), or (b) without a napkin or some such handy. And have a drink nearby, as it'll leave you thirsty.
For one thing, Valomilk is not something you can pick up in the typical candy aisle at a grocery or convenience store. I buy it whenever I happen to find it, usually at well-stocked candy stores or, as recently, nostalgia-based "general" stores (i.e., the store attached to a Cracker Barrel restaurant).
The detailed history of the Valomilk cup is given on their Web site, but in short the product is the happy result of a production error. Which is why Valomilk cups aren't like typical marshmallow cups. Instead, it's more like having that yummy, runny marshmallow topping from the ice cream parlor inside a chocolate cup.
Now the chocolate part of a Valomilk is not terribly exciting. I love chocolate, and the Valomilk chocolate wouldn't do it for me as a solo bar or whatnot. But it's sufferable when filled with the yummy marshmallow because the chocolate-to-filling ratio is a good one.
Valomilk is messy, so I don't recommend eating it (a) around anything you don't want to soil (electronics, nice clothes), or (b) without a napkin or some such handy. And have a drink nearby, as it'll leave you thirsty.
2.12.2010
Book Review: Twilight
Stephenie Meyer
Little Brown, 2006
544 pages
trade paperback
_____________________________________________________
My intent was to avoid this book--this series of books--for my entire life. But I teach middle schoolers at a summer camp, and when they asked for class suggestions, like a fool I said, "They're into vampires these days. Maybe a pop culture class on vampires?" Tag, you're it! Which of course meant that I have to read these things, maybe even watch the movies.
So now I've read the first one, Twilight, from which the series borrows its name. It mostly reads like a seventh-grader wrote it, which may be why so many seventh-graders like it. The narrator is a 17-year-old named Bella who moves to a place she hates to live with her father because (as best as I understand it, but there's a lot I don't understand about Bella) her mother is dating a baseball player? I'm not clear on how this necessitated a move from sunny Phoenix to rain-washed Forks, Washington, but whatever. The point is clearly to get Bella to a place where she can meet vampires, and since they don't live in Phoenix because they're too sparkly and shiny for that, Washington state it is.
Okay, now Bella is ostensibly "special" (not as in "special ed," though I'd argue that's a distinct possibility that has yet to be fully explored). It's unclear why she's special--aside from her utter clumsiness that goes far beyond the bounds of realistic, as well as a hardwired idiocy that puts her in really bad situations that most people with any kind of sense (common, intellectual, evolutionary survival instinct) would avoid. But for some reason, even though Bella is supremely antisocial, people like her. Bella doesn't like parties, doesn't like dancing, doesn't want to talk on the phone and gossip with other girls, doesn't have close friends, doesn't want to celebrate her birthday or get gifts (yeah, I just started the train wreck that isNew Moon ) . . . How does anyone relate to her? She's thoroughly unlikable. And no, it's not that I think she should party or be on the phone or whatever, I never did those things either, but Bella takes it to an unnatural degree. She's a one note tune, and that note is: Edward, Edward, Edward.
Who is Edward? He's the 17-year-old vampire hottie in Bella's class, of course. He affirms that Bella is special, so special in fact that she is allowed to get to know Edward and his vampire family more intimately than anyone else in their tiny town. (And she's also the only one who knows they're vampires, natch.) According to Edward, Bella "smells" different. And she's more observant than the other students at their school, given that she notices when Edward's eye color changes.
The gist of the entire book is something like:
Bella: I love you, Saber-Toothed Tiger!
STT: You shouldn't. It's not safe. I could turn and maul you any minute.
Bella: You'll never hurt me, STT!
STT: I'll protect you. But I'm not safe for you!
Bella: I want to be a Saber-Toothed Tiger like you!
STT: You're special and I love you, but you can never become like me.
And so on and so forth, over and over, ad nauseam.
As if to add some kind of intrigue, members of a local Native American tribe (who happen to be friends of Bella's dad) attempt to warn Bella away from Edward and his kin. Not that it makes an impact. Nothing seems to impact Bella, who is stubborn beyond belief--and I mean that literally; her character just doesn't ring true in any kind of way. She's so much a device and not a person, and having to live in her narration to get at the story is almost intolerable. I'm not sure if it's bad character development or just bad writing that's the culprit, though.
The lack of real conflict between Bella and Edward is also unpleasant. I'm hoping that in the remainder of the books their unflinching devotion is honestly tested, because it's gag-inducing the way they simply fell together and into each others' arms (a la Bella's Romeo and Juliet fixation) with nary a qualm between them, all their problems being external and situational. I want Bella to be jealous of Edward's past loves, I want break-ups and second-guessing. The steadfastness of their feelings for one another is so far very uninteresting, rather like being served baby food when one would rather have steak.
Will the other books prove better? Don't tell me! I'll get through them . . . somehow . . . and let you know.
Little Brown, 2006
544 pages
trade paperback
_____________________________________________________
My intent was to avoid this book--this series of books--for my entire life. But I teach middle schoolers at a summer camp, and when they asked for class suggestions, like a fool I said, "They're into vampires these days. Maybe a pop culture class on vampires?" Tag, you're it! Which of course meant that I have to read these things, maybe even watch the movies.
So now I've read the first one, Twilight, from which the series borrows its name. It mostly reads like a seventh-grader wrote it, which may be why so many seventh-graders like it. The narrator is a 17-year-old named Bella who moves to a place she hates to live with her father because (as best as I understand it, but there's a lot I don't understand about Bella) her mother is dating a baseball player? I'm not clear on how this necessitated a move from sunny Phoenix to rain-washed Forks, Washington, but whatever. The point is clearly to get Bella to a place where she can meet vampires, and since they don't live in Phoenix because they're too sparkly and shiny for that, Washington state it is.
Okay, now Bella is ostensibly "special" (not as in "special ed," though I'd argue that's a distinct possibility that has yet to be fully explored). It's unclear why she's special--aside from her utter clumsiness that goes far beyond the bounds of realistic, as well as a hardwired idiocy that puts her in really bad situations that most people with any kind of sense (common, intellectual, evolutionary survival instinct) would avoid. But for some reason, even though Bella is supremely antisocial, people like her. Bella doesn't like parties, doesn't like dancing, doesn't want to talk on the phone and gossip with other girls, doesn't have close friends, doesn't want to celebrate her birthday or get gifts (yeah, I just started the train wreck that is
Who is Edward? He's the 17-year-old vampire hottie in Bella's class, of course. He affirms that Bella is special, so special in fact that she is allowed to get to know Edward and his vampire family more intimately than anyone else in their tiny town. (And she's also the only one who knows they're vampires, natch.) According to Edward, Bella "smells" different. And she's more observant than the other students at their school, given that she notices when Edward's eye color changes.
The gist of the entire book is something like:
- Bella gets into trouble.
- Edward saves her.
- They talk/bicker.
- Edward goes away for a while and Bella is sad.
- Bella gets into trouble . . .
Bella: I love you, Saber-Toothed Tiger!
STT: You shouldn't. It's not safe. I could turn and maul you any minute.
Bella: You'll never hurt me, STT!
STT: I'll protect you. But I'm not safe for you!
Bella: I want to be a Saber-Toothed Tiger like you!
STT: You're special and I love you, but you can never become like me.
And so on and so forth, over and over, ad nauseam.
As if to add some kind of intrigue, members of a local Native American tribe (who happen to be friends of Bella's dad) attempt to warn Bella away from Edward and his kin. Not that it makes an impact. Nothing seems to impact Bella, who is stubborn beyond belief--and I mean that literally; her character just doesn't ring true in any kind of way. She's so much a device and not a person, and having to live in her narration to get at the story is almost intolerable. I'm not sure if it's bad character development or just bad writing that's the culprit, though.
The lack of real conflict between Bella and Edward is also unpleasant. I'm hoping that in the remainder of the books their unflinching devotion is honestly tested, because it's gag-inducing the way they simply fell together and into each others' arms (a la Bella's Romeo and Juliet fixation) with nary a qualm between them, all their problems being external and situational. I want Bella to be jealous of Edward's past loves, I want break-ups and second-guessing. The steadfastness of their feelings for one another is so far very uninteresting, rather like being served baby food when one would rather have steak.
Will the other books prove better? Don't tell me! I'll get through them . . . somehow . . . and let you know.
1.21.2010
Television: Bones
We all know I love Bones; I generally count it as my favorite television show. I like the characters--their interactions, their chemistry. The ensemble cast is fantastic.
This is not to say, however, that this show doesn't sometimes go off the rails. Why do the Christmas episodes always play out like bad fan fiction, for example? Daring the two leads to kiss? Finding reasons to strip Booth down and create tension? It's just dumb. I feel like I'm being pandered to in those situations. As in, We know you want them to kiss, but we can't mess up their relationship, so here's how we do it: we get the D.A. to dare them to kiss. See?! Um, thanks, but an overly contrived situation is not what I want at all.
This season--at least at the start of it--was about how Booth had sort of "fake" fallen in love with Brennan while in a coma. His brain had created some parallel life in which he and Brennan were married and were expecting a baby. They owned a night club together! All the best buds were there! Again, can anyone say "fan fiction fodder" three times fast?
And the origin of this fantastic voyage? Brennan's own Mary Sue story, a book which she wrote, read aloud to Booth while he was in his coma, and then deleted.
Of late they've seemed to drop this particular plot point. They've also dropped the whole Booth-can't-remember-basic-stuff subplot as well. For a while there, Booth couldn't remember what kinds of clothes he liked to wear, how to fix plumbing . . . Stuff he evidently knew before. He'd come out of the coma a changed man; Brennan found him distinctly different in a variety of ways. That served a purpose for a handful of episodes then abruptly disappeared, as best I can tell. I'm not sorry that it did, but I can only suppose it'll have to come back sooner or later. I'm just having a hard time visualizing the context, seeing as how they've ignored the situation for so long now.
I still love Bones, of course, and I'm not going to stop watching. Yet. We'll see where this season ends.
This is not to say, however, that this show doesn't sometimes go off the rails. Why do the Christmas episodes always play out like bad fan fiction, for example? Daring the two leads to kiss? Finding reasons to strip Booth down and create tension? It's just dumb. I feel like I'm being pandered to in those situations. As in, We know you want them to kiss, but we can't mess up their relationship, so here's how we do it: we get the D.A. to dare them to kiss. See?! Um, thanks, but an overly contrived situation is not what I want at all.
This season--at least at the start of it--was about how Booth had sort of "fake" fallen in love with Brennan while in a coma. His brain had created some parallel life in which he and Brennan were married and were expecting a baby. They owned a night club together! All the best buds were there! Again, can anyone say "fan fiction fodder" three times fast?
And the origin of this fantastic voyage? Brennan's own Mary Sue story, a book which she wrote, read aloud to Booth while he was in his coma, and then deleted.
Of late they've seemed to drop this particular plot point. They've also dropped the whole Booth-can't-remember-basic-stuff subplot as well. For a while there, Booth couldn't remember what kinds of clothes he liked to wear, how to fix plumbing . . . Stuff he evidently knew before. He'd come out of the coma a changed man; Brennan found him distinctly different in a variety of ways. That served a purpose for a handful of episodes then abruptly disappeared, as best I can tell. I'm not sorry that it did, but I can only suppose it'll have to come back sooner or later. I'm just having a hard time visualizing the context, seeing as how they've ignored the situation for so long now.
I still love Bones, of course, and I'm not going to stop watching. Yet. We'll see where this season ends.
1.17.2010
Movie Review: The Princess and the Frog
Voices By: Anika Noni Rose, Bruno Campos, Keith David, Jim Cummings, Jenifer Lewis
Directed By: Ron Clements & John Musker
Written By: Ron Clements, John Musker & Rob Edwards (screenplay)
Walt Disney Pictures, 2009
G; 97 minutes
4 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
Disney decided to take a step back with The Princess and the Frog, returning to the old-fashioned 2-D animation of past classics like The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. But Disney also decided to take a step forward by creating the first African-American "princess."
I put princess in quotes there because Tiana isn't one. Nor does she particularly aspire to become one--unlike her friend Charlotte, the pampered Garden District-dwelling daughter of "Big Daddy" (John Goodman). Charlotte and Tiana are friends only because Tiana's mother was hired by Big Daddy to create a wardrobe of princess dresses for Charlotte when both Charlotte and Tiana were children. Charlotte's big plan, enabled by her father, is to marry visiting Prince Naveen. The union is supposedly suitable to both: Naveen is a spoiled and disowned prince with no money, and Charlotte has money but desires to be a real princess.
Meanwhile, Tiana is a hard-working girl holding down two waitressing jobs in the hopes of saving enough money to open her own restaurant some day. Friends invite her out for a night of dancing, but it's clear that Tiana is all work and no play, the concern being that she's frittering away her youth and happiness by being too focused on her goal. The returning theme is that love and family should mean more than anything.
The plot is somewhat thin. Naveen runs into Dr. Facilier, a "shadow man" (Voodoo practitioner, one supposes, though it's never said) and is turned into a frog. Like the old fairy tale, he needs to kiss a princess to be restored. Alas, he mistakes Tiana for such and she reluctantly agrees to kiss him--which turns her into a frog, too. Long story short, Naveen's laziness doesn't jive with Tiana's workaholic ways, but they're forced to work together to achieve the goal of getting back to being human.
The standout here is Jim Cummings' turn as the firefly Ray, a brave, loyal and likable sidekick.
The music is also very good, though I was sorry they cut short the Zydeco-inspired "Gonna Take You There."
The writers are also careful to balance Dr. Facilier's "dark" magics with Mama Odie's lighter ones.
It's a little bit fun to see Disney poke at the princess-loving girls by sidelining Charlotte--whose enthusiasm is a tad over-the-top. But young girls going to see this movie are probably not going to understand it. After all, in their eyes most of the movie is about frogs. Beautiful clothes and tiaras get only a passing nod. The departure can be applauded on a certain level, but my guess is this is also the reason The Princess and the Frog hasn't had better box office results.
Directed By: Ron Clements & John Musker
Written By: Ron Clements, John Musker & Rob Edwards (screenplay)
Walt Disney Pictures, 2009
G; 97 minutes
4 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
Disney decided to take a step back with The Princess and the Frog, returning to the old-fashioned 2-D animation of past classics like The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. But Disney also decided to take a step forward by creating the first African-American "princess."
I put princess in quotes there because Tiana isn't one. Nor does she particularly aspire to become one--unlike her friend Charlotte, the pampered Garden District-dwelling daughter of "Big Daddy" (John Goodman). Charlotte and Tiana are friends only because Tiana's mother was hired by Big Daddy to create a wardrobe of princess dresses for Charlotte when both Charlotte and Tiana were children. Charlotte's big plan, enabled by her father, is to marry visiting Prince Naveen. The union is supposedly suitable to both: Naveen is a spoiled and disowned prince with no money, and Charlotte has money but desires to be a real princess.
Meanwhile, Tiana is a hard-working girl holding down two waitressing jobs in the hopes of saving enough money to open her own restaurant some day. Friends invite her out for a night of dancing, but it's clear that Tiana is all work and no play, the concern being that she's frittering away her youth and happiness by being too focused on her goal. The returning theme is that love and family should mean more than anything.
The plot is somewhat thin. Naveen runs into Dr. Facilier, a "shadow man" (Voodoo practitioner, one supposes, though it's never said) and is turned into a frog. Like the old fairy tale, he needs to kiss a princess to be restored. Alas, he mistakes Tiana for such and she reluctantly agrees to kiss him--which turns her into a frog, too. Long story short, Naveen's laziness doesn't jive with Tiana's workaholic ways, but they're forced to work together to achieve the goal of getting back to being human.
The standout here is Jim Cummings' turn as the firefly Ray, a brave, loyal and likable sidekick.
The music is also very good, though I was sorry they cut short the Zydeco-inspired "Gonna Take You There."
The writers are also careful to balance Dr. Facilier's "dark" magics with Mama Odie's lighter ones.
It's a little bit fun to see Disney poke at the princess-loving girls by sidelining Charlotte--whose enthusiasm is a tad over-the-top. But young girls going to see this movie are probably not going to understand it. After all, in their eyes most of the movie is about frogs. Beautiful clothes and tiaras get only a passing nod. The departure can be applauded on a certain level, but my guess is this is also the reason The Princess and the Frog hasn't had better box office results.
12.31.2009
Movie Review: Sherlock Holmes
Starring: Robert Downey Jr., Jude Law, Rachel McAdams, Mark Strong
Directed By: Guy Ritchie
Written By: Michael Robert Johnson, Anthony Peckham & Simon Kinberg (based on the characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)
Lin Pictures, 2009
PG-13; 128 minutes
4.5 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
Okay, well, I've been a Sherlock Holmes fan all my life. And I've loved Robert Downey, Jr. ever since he re-emerged for Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang, so . . . This movie hits my sweet spot from the start. I just wanted to be up front about that, since I like to show my biases when applicable.
What really works in this iteration of Holmes--of which there have been many, Holmes being the most-played character in film--is the chemistry between the chief actors as Holmes and Watson. After all, even in the original stories by Doyle, the key was that Watson had an actual affection for Holmes (and a certain awe of him), and Holmes had, well, as much affection for Watson as he had for anyone really, which is another discussion altogether.
Now Law does not play Watson as the loyal, doggish Watson that many have come to expect. Instead, Law's Watson knows his Holmes well enough to call him out on things when no one else would dare to do so. Good for him! This departure from the canon can be applauded, as in modern cinema the Watson of old would hardly hold up. In Doyle's works it was one thing; Watson was the reader's filter, and so he was required to be awe-struck by Holmes so that the reader could be as well. But in a movie, that wouldn't make for much of a character, aside from the possibility of a bumbling, comic sidekick, and we've seen that particular kind of Watson often enough.
Certainly the Holmes in this version is different, too. Many writers and filmmakers have taken liberties with the character in the past. After all, a great character without a completely fleshed-out history lends itself to that kind of thing. But here Holmes is . . . Should I say, almost but not quite himself? It was the Holmes of Doyle with a dash of frat boy or something. An odd mixture. It made Holmes warmer and more likable than he might normally be, but there were flashes where I wanted to put the breaks on and say, "No, no, no, that's not right!"
Holmes' digs at Inspector Lestrade were probably some of the best moments; they showed exactly the kind of dry humor one should expect from the Great Detective. But his continual attempts to dissuade Watson from his amorous leanings were really beneath the Holmes I have respect for. That was where the frat boy came in. Holmes and Watson were portrayed, in part, like college roomies, and the situation suggested that one of them was growing up and moving on and the other didn't want to. That particular note, for me, was a sour one. After all, Holmes as Doyle wrote him--and yes, I understand that someone else wrote this Holmes, but he's still based on Doyle's character more or less--might not have cared one way or another; as I recall, he didn't seem to when Watson married and moved away in the stories. That was an emotional realm in which Holmes did not trade. And even if he did care, he never would have said as much to Watson, no matter how much [repressed] affection he had for his friend.
My final bone to pick is with Rachel McAdams as Irene Adler. Good Lord, what a mess. She had zero chemistry with Robert Downey, Jr. for one thing. And she simply did not pull off the sense of clever that Irene Adler requires. Adler is, after all, supposedly Holmes' peer, and that is why she is the only woman in which he ever invested any of his attention. He was able to look past her gender (Holmes was a noted misogynist) to her very sharp mind, one he considered as sharp--or nearly--as his own. Moriarty, then, would be the other point to that triangle of persons that Holmes had a sort of respect for, which is one thing that this movie did well, though we didn't really meet Moriarty, though we surely will in the next film. We hope! (There will almost certainly be another film, as this one did so well at the box office.)
At any rate, Adler should have been more a match for Holmes' wits. I'm not sure whether the fault here lies with McAdams, the writers, or both. I felt like Adler had been thrown into the mix because they felt like there should be a woman in the movie and Adler is the go-to when one needs a woman in a Sherlock Holmes situation.
However, all that having been said, the movie was fun overall. High entertainment value; what more can one really ask from a movie? An interesting enough plot, though I did lean over to my husband a few times and hiss, "Pyramid of FEAR!" (a nod to Young Sherlock Holmes, with which I was obsessed as a child--and which to this day still has a fab take on Moriarty . . . though Daniel Davis also did a good Moriarty on Star Trek: The Next Generation, but I digress). Some minor issues with the obvious digital backgrounds in places, and with the scene in which they slog through the water only to be dry in the next moment, but whatever. (A friend also pointed out that the Tower Bridge is a ways down from Parliament, so the slog through the sewers must have been a long one.) Still and all, a good film and not the worst twist to Holmes that I've ever seen (or read), so I count it as a success.
Or my biases outweigh other factors. You decide.
Directed By: Guy Ritchie
Written By: Michael Robert Johnson, Anthony Peckham & Simon Kinberg (based on the characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)
Lin Pictures, 2009
PG-13; 128 minutes
4.5 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
Okay, well, I've been a Sherlock Holmes fan all my life. And I've loved Robert Downey, Jr. ever since he re-emerged for Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang, so . . . This movie hits my sweet spot from the start. I just wanted to be up front about that, since I like to show my biases when applicable.
What really works in this iteration of Holmes--of which there have been many, Holmes being the most-played character in film--is the chemistry between the chief actors as Holmes and Watson. After all, even in the original stories by Doyle, the key was that Watson had an actual affection for Holmes (and a certain awe of him), and Holmes had, well, as much affection for Watson as he had for anyone really, which is another discussion altogether.
Now Law does not play Watson as the loyal, doggish Watson that many have come to expect. Instead, Law's Watson knows his Holmes well enough to call him out on things when no one else would dare to do so. Good for him! This departure from the canon can be applauded, as in modern cinema the Watson of old would hardly hold up. In Doyle's works it was one thing; Watson was the reader's filter, and so he was required to be awe-struck by Holmes so that the reader could be as well. But in a movie, that wouldn't make for much of a character, aside from the possibility of a bumbling, comic sidekick, and we've seen that particular kind of Watson often enough.
Certainly the Holmes in this version is different, too. Many writers and filmmakers have taken liberties with the character in the past. After all, a great character without a completely fleshed-out history lends itself to that kind of thing. But here Holmes is . . . Should I say, almost but not quite himself? It was the Holmes of Doyle with a dash of frat boy or something. An odd mixture. It made Holmes warmer and more likable than he might normally be, but there were flashes where I wanted to put the breaks on and say, "No, no, no, that's not right!"
Holmes' digs at Inspector Lestrade were probably some of the best moments; they showed exactly the kind of dry humor one should expect from the Great Detective. But his continual attempts to dissuade Watson from his amorous leanings were really beneath the Holmes I have respect for. That was where the frat boy came in. Holmes and Watson were portrayed, in part, like college roomies, and the situation suggested that one of them was growing up and moving on and the other didn't want to. That particular note, for me, was a sour one. After all, Holmes as Doyle wrote him--and yes, I understand that someone else wrote this Holmes, but he's still based on Doyle's character more or less--might not have cared one way or another; as I recall, he didn't seem to when Watson married and moved away in the stories. That was an emotional realm in which Holmes did not trade. And even if he did care, he never would have said as much to Watson, no matter how much [repressed] affection he had for his friend.
My final bone to pick is with Rachel McAdams as Irene Adler. Good Lord, what a mess. She had zero chemistry with Robert Downey, Jr. for one thing. And she simply did not pull off the sense of clever that Irene Adler requires. Adler is, after all, supposedly Holmes' peer, and that is why she is the only woman in which he ever invested any of his attention. He was able to look past her gender (Holmes was a noted misogynist) to her very sharp mind, one he considered as sharp--or nearly--as his own. Moriarty, then, would be the other point to that triangle of persons that Holmes had a sort of respect for, which is one thing that this movie did well, though we didn't really meet Moriarty, though we surely will in the next film. We hope! (There will almost certainly be another film, as this one did so well at the box office.)
At any rate, Adler should have been more a match for Holmes' wits. I'm not sure whether the fault here lies with McAdams, the writers, or both. I felt like Adler had been thrown into the mix because they felt like there should be a woman in the movie and Adler is the go-to when one needs a woman in a Sherlock Holmes situation.
However, all that having been said, the movie was fun overall. High entertainment value; what more can one really ask from a movie? An interesting enough plot, though I did lean over to my husband a few times and hiss, "Pyramid of FEAR!" (a nod to Young Sherlock Holmes, with which I was obsessed as a child--and which to this day still has a fab take on Moriarty . . . though Daniel Davis also did a good Moriarty on Star Trek: The Next Generation, but I digress). Some minor issues with the obvious digital backgrounds in places, and with the scene in which they slog through the water only to be dry in the next moment, but whatever. (A friend also pointed out that the Tower Bridge is a ways down from Parliament, so the slog through the sewers must have been a long one.) Still and all, a good film and not the worst twist to Holmes that I've ever seen (or read), so I count it as a success.
Or my biases outweigh other factors. You decide.
12.24.2009
Movie Review: The Hangover
Starring: Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms, Zach Galifianakis, Justin Bartha, Heather Graham
Directed By: Todd Phillips
Written By: Jon Lucas & Scott Moore
Warner Bros., 2009
R; 100 minutes
2.5 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
Picked this one up On Demand (and in HD to boot); it wasn't as funny as I thought it would be, given all the hype about it.
Simple enough story: four friends--or three friends and a hanger-on (played by Galifianakis) who eventually morphs into a fourth friend--go to Vegas for a night of partying before one of the pals (Bartha, recognizable from his stint in the National Treasure movies) gets married. But apparently the [wolf] pack has so much fun, they can't remember anything the next morning, including where they left the groom-to-be. Hilarity ostensibly ensues, though not a ton of it.
Cooper stars as chief friend Phil, something of a jerk who thaws and softens a bit as things play out. The character development is really subtle here; you might miss it if you weren't looking for something more to the movie, which at times I desperately was.
Helms' character Stu has the deepest back story. He's a dentist with a bitchy and controlling girlfriend (Rachel Harris) that he plans to propose to at the upcoming nuptials. Phil--who says he hates his own life, which includes marriage and a child--berates Stu periodically for what he considers a terrible idea; namely, being at all involved with this harpy of a woman. Stu's plot line is the only one with an overt resolution, at least where this particular relationship is concerned. I won't say more because I don't want to spoil any additional plot points for those who haven't seen the movie but want to.
Galifianakis is generally considered the break-out star of this film, and rightfully so. His character Alan tags along with the others, as he is the bride-to-be's brother, a friendless sort of socially awkward weirdo complete with overgrown hair and a bad sense of personal style. But he goes from being cringe-worthy to somewhat warming as things start happening, and eventually emerges as a semi-hero.
One of the best things about this movie is that it featured--at length--a tiger. I love cats, big and small.
I was sorry that Bartha didn't have more to do, but as he's missing for most of the film . . .
In the end, I call the movie average, which is why it gets 2.5 stars. Decent character arcs but not nearly enough funny. Still and all, an okay flick for a night when you need some levity and nothing you have to concentrate too hard on.
Directed By: Todd Phillips
Written By: Jon Lucas & Scott Moore
Warner Bros., 2009
R; 100 minutes
2.5 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
Picked this one up On Demand (and in HD to boot); it wasn't as funny as I thought it would be, given all the hype about it.
Simple enough story: four friends--or three friends and a hanger-on (played by Galifianakis) who eventually morphs into a fourth friend--go to Vegas for a night of partying before one of the pals (Bartha, recognizable from his stint in the National Treasure movies) gets married. But apparently the [wolf] pack has so much fun, they can't remember anything the next morning, including where they left the groom-to-be. Hilarity ostensibly ensues, though not a ton of it.
Cooper stars as chief friend Phil, something of a jerk who thaws and softens a bit as things play out. The character development is really subtle here; you might miss it if you weren't looking for something more to the movie, which at times I desperately was.
Helms' character Stu has the deepest back story. He's a dentist with a bitchy and controlling girlfriend (Rachel Harris) that he plans to propose to at the upcoming nuptials. Phil--who says he hates his own life, which includes marriage and a child--berates Stu periodically for what he considers a terrible idea; namely, being at all involved with this harpy of a woman. Stu's plot line is the only one with an overt resolution, at least where this particular relationship is concerned. I won't say more because I don't want to spoil any additional plot points for those who haven't seen the movie but want to.
Galifianakis is generally considered the break-out star of this film, and rightfully so. His character Alan tags along with the others, as he is the bride-to-be's brother, a friendless sort of socially awkward weirdo complete with overgrown hair and a bad sense of personal style. But he goes from being cringe-worthy to somewhat warming as things start happening, and eventually emerges as a semi-hero.
One of the best things about this movie is that it featured--at length--a tiger. I love cats, big and small.
I was sorry that Bartha didn't have more to do, but as he's missing for most of the film . . .
In the end, I call the movie average, which is why it gets 2.5 stars. Decent character arcs but not nearly enough funny. Still and all, an okay flick for a night when you need some levity and nothing you have to concentrate too hard on.
12.17.2009
Writing "Under the Dome"
I am currently reading Stephen King's latest, a rather large tome titled Under the Dome (full review to come, though I'll say I'm enjoying it). But as I considered the subject matter--a town finds itself isolated by an invisible force field--I found myself looking back at other of King's works and thinking that "under the dome" is the situation in pretty much any compelling narration, isn't it?
What I mean is: any good story is a situation involving contained people and forces. Whether it's the town of Jerusalem's Lot beset by vampires, the haunted Overlook Hotel in winter, or the whole of the USA after a virus leaves most people dead, the core of the story is set under a "dome" of circumstances that isolates them from the everyday, the normal, the mundane.
This goes for more than Mr. King's writing, but he's particularly adept at this slight of hand and mind. Reading his work is instructive.
I suppose this is also one of the reasons I really dislike the kind of mainstream literature so many academics tout; I find it dull. People living their lives and generally miserable--but without anything very interesting going on--doesn't make much of a story to my way of thinking.
What I mean is: any good story is a situation involving contained people and forces. Whether it's the town of Jerusalem's Lot beset by vampires, the haunted Overlook Hotel in winter, or the whole of the USA after a virus leaves most people dead, the core of the story is set under a "dome" of circumstances that isolates them from the everyday, the normal, the mundane.
This goes for more than Mr. King's writing, but he's particularly adept at this slight of hand and mind. Reading his work is instructive.
I suppose this is also one of the reasons I really dislike the kind of mainstream literature so many academics tout; I find it dull. People living their lives and generally miserable--but without anything very interesting going on--doesn't make much of a story to my way of thinking.
11.29.2009
11.24.2009
Television Sneak Peek: Men of a Certain Age
Starring: Ray Romano, Scott Bakula, Andre Braugher
TNT, Mondays at 10:00 PM
_______________________________________________________
Let's be clear from the start. I'm probably not the target audience for this show. For one thing, I'm a woman, and I think (though I'm not 100% sure) this show is for men. My best guess is that it's kind of a Sex and the City for men, but I don't know that for sure either because (a) I never watched Sex and the City, and (b) I'm not entirely sure what would count as a male version of that show. But three male friends (of a certain age) meeting at a booth at a local diner . . . That seems pretty close, right?
Okay, so I received a USB drive in the mail with an episode of this show on it for review. I can't tell if what I watched was the entire thing. It ran about 19 minutes, so . . . If this is going to be an hour-long drama (and I can't seem to find an answer to that on the TNT site), then clearly I didn't see the whole thing. Even if it's a half hour, there may have been some material cut. If that's NOT the case, then the editing on this show is wonky. In the sneak peek, the three friends go for a hike . . . But then you never actually see them do any hiking. So either this is a really badly handled plot point OR there was material missing from the episode.
The show is a drama. Not a bit of what I viewed had any amount of comedy in it. There were a couple things that maybe were supposed to be funny, but none of it was.
If the show is aimed at men, I should point out that my husband watched it with me and really disliked it. During a scene in which the three characters are riding in a truck (on the way to the unseen hike), my husband suggested the whole thing would be better if they were in Jurassic Park and one—or all—of them were eaten by dinosaurs.
It's a shame because I like these actors. And maybe 19 minutes just isn't enough time to flesh out everything in an appealing way. Three complex characters cannot be shown in full in such a short time.
This is the problem with television these days, the need for instant gratification and instant audience and instant success. People want their television like they want anything: immediately. If it could be injected into our eyeballs, maybe we'd be satisfied. But the slow build towards something—that jeopardizes a show because people lose interest in the first few minutes. And then the show is canceled after one airing and never gets the chance to gain traction.
Still, I wouldn't watch this show. I'm sure someone, somewhere would, but it's not for me.
TNT, Mondays at 10:00 PM
_______________________________________________________
Let's be clear from the start. I'm probably not the target audience for this show. For one thing, I'm a woman, and I think (though I'm not 100% sure) this show is for men. My best guess is that it's kind of a Sex and the City for men, but I don't know that for sure either because (a) I never watched Sex and the City, and (b) I'm not entirely sure what would count as a male version of that show. But three male friends (of a certain age) meeting at a booth at a local diner . . . That seems pretty close, right?
Okay, so I received a USB drive in the mail with an episode of this show on it for review. I can't tell if what I watched was the entire thing. It ran about 19 minutes, so . . . If this is going to be an hour-long drama (and I can't seem to find an answer to that on the TNT site), then clearly I didn't see the whole thing. Even if it's a half hour, there may have been some material cut. If that's NOT the case, then the editing on this show is wonky. In the sneak peek, the three friends go for a hike . . . But then you never actually see them do any hiking. So either this is a really badly handled plot point OR there was material missing from the episode.
The show is a drama. Not a bit of what I viewed had any amount of comedy in it. There were a couple things that maybe were supposed to be funny, but none of it was.
If the show is aimed at men, I should point out that my husband watched it with me and really disliked it. During a scene in which the three characters are riding in a truck (on the way to the unseen hike), my husband suggested the whole thing would be better if they were in Jurassic Park and one—or all—of them were eaten by dinosaurs.
It's a shame because I like these actors. And maybe 19 minutes just isn't enough time to flesh out everything in an appealing way. Three complex characters cannot be shown in full in such a short time.
This is the problem with television these days, the need for instant gratification and instant audience and instant success. People want their television like they want anything: immediately. If it could be injected into our eyeballs, maybe we'd be satisfied. But the slow build towards something—that jeopardizes a show because people lose interest in the first few minutes. And then the show is canceled after one airing and never gets the chance to gain traction.
Still, I wouldn't watch this show. I'm sure someone, somewhere would, but it's not for me.
11.19.2009
Book Review: This Is Where I Leave You
Jonathan Tropper
Dutton, 2009
340 pages
hardback
_____________________________________________________
You know how people all have to slow down and stare when they pass a wreck on the highway? That's what reading this book was like.
The story is of Judd Foxman. His father has just died, and he's been asked to come to the family home and sit shiva (that's a Jewish ritual) with his mother and siblings. The problem being that the family is hugely dysfunctional and, traditionally, shiva lasts seven days.
If that were Judd's only problem, his life might not be so bad. After all, he could make it through seven days and be done. BUT. Judd is also dealing with the fact that his wife has been sleeping with his boss. So now they are separated and moving toward divorce, and basically Judd's life is falling apart on all sides.
Sounds like a fun read, right? But the thing is, This Is Where I Leave You is, in fact, a real page-turner. Tropper tempers Judd's sad life with enough humor and interesting characters to lighten the load. It's a worthwhile undertaking, reading this book.
I'd tell you more, but I wouldn't want to give anything away. I can only say that it's well written, witty and touching all at once.
Dutton, 2009
340 pages
hardback
_____________________________________________________
You know how people all have to slow down and stare when they pass a wreck on the highway? That's what reading this book was like.
The story is of Judd Foxman. His father has just died, and he's been asked to come to the family home and sit shiva (that's a Jewish ritual) with his mother and siblings. The problem being that the family is hugely dysfunctional and, traditionally, shiva lasts seven days.
If that were Judd's only problem, his life might not be so bad. After all, he could make it through seven days and be done. BUT. Judd is also dealing with the fact that his wife has been sleeping with his boss. So now they are separated and moving toward divorce, and basically Judd's life is falling apart on all sides.
Sounds like a fun read, right? But the thing is, This Is Where I Leave You is, in fact, a real page-turner. Tropper tempers Judd's sad life with enough humor and interesting characters to lighten the load. It's a worthwhile undertaking, reading this book.
I'd tell you more, but I wouldn't want to give anything away. I can only say that it's well written, witty and touching all at once.
11.11.2009
Book Review: Juliet, Naked
Nick Hornby
Riverhead, 2009
416 pages
hardback
_____________________________________________________
At 416 pages, it would seem that Juliet, Naked is a long book, but it's not really. Not long in that it takes long to read, anyway. The trim size is small, and the print isn't, and besides all that, it's practically impossible to put down.
In Hornby's best since About a Boy, the author melds interesting characters—something he's always been good at—with an actual plot, which in past novels have sometimes been rather thin. Not saying Hornby hasn't done good work in the past. Of course he has. He typically takes the mundane moments in life and collects them around the characters he creates. But Juliet, Naked expands on that. The mundane gets a bit of the extraordinary thrown into it, and the world of the characters starts to spin in a different direction.
In a nutshell, and without giving too much away, the story is about Annie and Duncan. They've been together for 15 years, their relationship's growth stunted by lack of motivation to get past their own ideas about themselves: that they are (alas, were) college students, academics with interesting ideas and refined tastes. Duncan in particular is rather pleased with himself in general, considering himself an expert on his favorite musician among other things, wrapped up in pop culture of the obscure—and therefore high-minded, in his view—kind.
Annie, on the other hand, has begun to see things differently. And there is clearly no dragging Duncan out of the quicksand he's chosen to stand in, so . . . it's either sink with him or climb to safety on her own.
The crux of the story revolves around Duncan's favorite singer Tucker Crowe, who has fallen off the map almost literally; Crowe gave up his career 22 years before and no one has heard from him since, though one stalking fan claims to have taken a picture of him on a farm in rural Pennsylvania.
But really, the story is a jab at the academics who somehow believe "independent" and "rare" is somehow better than "common" and "popular." Duncan is insufferable and pathetic, and one never quite knows whether to feel sorry for him. He's an imbecile, so it's difficult to stay angry with him—rather like a stupid dog that isn't entirely sure what it's done to get yelled at—though there are a couple moments where Duncan comes close to understanding where he's gone wrong.
The story is mostly Annie's, a nice enough girl who is trying to figure out how to make up for 15 wasted years. Surely anyone who has spent time in a long relationship that has gone nowhere can sympathize.
In the end, it's a fine read with all of Hornby's hallmark humor set against the usual bouts of angst and self-doubt. It's about mistakes of the largest, most life-altering kind, and about the potential for redemption regardless of the size of the sins.
Riverhead, 2009
416 pages
hardback
_____________________________________________________
At 416 pages, it would seem that Juliet, Naked is a long book, but it's not really. Not long in that it takes long to read, anyway. The trim size is small, and the print isn't, and besides all that, it's practically impossible to put down.
In Hornby's best since About a Boy, the author melds interesting characters—something he's always been good at—with an actual plot, which in past novels have sometimes been rather thin. Not saying Hornby hasn't done good work in the past. Of course he has. He typically takes the mundane moments in life and collects them around the characters he creates. But Juliet, Naked expands on that. The mundane gets a bit of the extraordinary thrown into it, and the world of the characters starts to spin in a different direction.
In a nutshell, and without giving too much away, the story is about Annie and Duncan. They've been together for 15 years, their relationship's growth stunted by lack of motivation to get past their own ideas about themselves: that they are (alas, were) college students, academics with interesting ideas and refined tastes. Duncan in particular is rather pleased with himself in general, considering himself an expert on his favorite musician among other things, wrapped up in pop culture of the obscure—and therefore high-minded, in his view—kind.
Annie, on the other hand, has begun to see things differently. And there is clearly no dragging Duncan out of the quicksand he's chosen to stand in, so . . . it's either sink with him or climb to safety on her own.
The crux of the story revolves around Duncan's favorite singer Tucker Crowe, who has fallen off the map almost literally; Crowe gave up his career 22 years before and no one has heard from him since, though one stalking fan claims to have taken a picture of him on a farm in rural Pennsylvania.
But really, the story is a jab at the academics who somehow believe "independent" and "rare" is somehow better than "common" and "popular." Duncan is insufferable and pathetic, and one never quite knows whether to feel sorry for him. He's an imbecile, so it's difficult to stay angry with him—rather like a stupid dog that isn't entirely sure what it's done to get yelled at—though there are a couple moments where Duncan comes close to understanding where he's gone wrong.
The story is mostly Annie's, a nice enough girl who is trying to figure out how to make up for 15 wasted years. Surely anyone who has spent time in a long relationship that has gone nowhere can sympathize.
In the end, it's a fine read with all of Hornby's hallmark humor set against the usual bouts of angst and self-doubt. It's about mistakes of the largest, most life-altering kind, and about the potential for redemption regardless of the size of the sins.
10.24.2009
Book Review: The Masonic Myth: Unlocking the Truth About the Symbols, the Secret Rites, and the History of Freemasonry
Jay Kinney
HarperOne, 2009
280 pages
trade paperback
_____________________________________________________
I grew up with the notion--whether absorbed subconsciously or told outright I don't remember--that Masons were bad. They were sinister in some unspecific way; they were a cult. This is what I grew up believing (and somehow that translated in my juvenile brain as Ben Franklin being a bad, bad man--but that's another story), and as Kinney points out in his book, it's what a lot of people believe. Without knowing the facts.
It's important to point out here that Kinney is, himself, a Mason. Who has, on top of his own immediate experience as a Mason, done eight years of research in order to write this book. This is presumed to mean that he knows what he's talking about.
The book itself takes a look at the perceptions of Freemasonry, along with the Masons' own self-reflective history, and its place in the wider world from roots to modern day. Kinney addresses the most common ideas (many of them misinformed) about Freemasonry--where the ideas stem from and the truth, if any, behind them. He presents a balanced view in showing that even Masons can have misperceptions about their origins.
Kinney also takes a look at the somewhat convoluted hierarchy of Freemasonry, the degrees and the York Rite and Scottish Rite. He discusses the symbols associated with Freemasonry. And also asks the question of whether Freemasonry is doomed, seeing as the number of initiates is steadily dropping.
For someone like me, The Masonic Myth offers a practical and interesting look at the subject. The book is educational without the dryness of a textbook. Kinney writes in an engaging tone peppered with wry humor. His lack of stuffiness or self-righteousness makes his book and subject accessible to the un- or under-educated reader.
Alas, Kinney is not likely to convert those who are steadfastly against Freemasonry; that group would surely point out that Kinney, as a Mason, can only benefit from lying (or at least committing the sin of omission). People looking for Da Vinci Code stylings need not apply here, as they will come away unsatisfied. BUT: anyone looking for the truth about Freemasonry--and there is nothing in The Masonic Myth to make this reader believe Kinney is hiding anything; his forthright tone takes each bull of contention (to mix metaphors) by the horns--would do well to peruse this book. An excerpt follows. (With permission from FSB Associates and the author.)
Introduction
by Jay Kinney,
Author of The Masonic Myth: Unlocking the Truth About the Symbols, the Secret Rites, and the History of Freemasonry
In 2001, just a month after I had received my first-degree initiation into Freemasonry, my wife and I took a trip to England. Our hotel in London, as it turned out, was within walking distance of Freemasons' Hall, the imposing stone headquarters of the United Grand Lodge of England, the administrative body overseeing English Masonry.
Normally, public tours of Freemasons' Hall are provided daily, but by happenstance the tours were not available on the day we first visited there. It was the day of the Grand Lodge's quarterly communication, when representatives from lodges and provincial bodies around England meet to take care of business. Do come again another day, we were told, and you'll be able to take a tour.
And then a most curious sight unfolded before our eyes as we turned to leave and stood at the top of the steps leading down to the street from the side entrance. A series of black taxicabs pulled up to the curb in front of Freemasons' Hall and proceeded to emit nearly identical passengers: the proverbial Men in Black -- men dressed in black suits with black neckties, all carrying black briefcases. The men -- all Masons -- ran up the steps and through the doors of Freemasons' Hall as more taxis arrived, emitting more Men in Black.
Was this real life, or had we somehow stumbled into a scene from a Monty Python movie? To our American eyes, it was an almost comical sight, but I also felt a tiny shiver go up my spine. Masonry has been accused by some of being a cult, and the scene before us didn't exactly disprove the accusation. What had I gotten myself into, exactly?
It didn't take long for me to deconstruct the strangeness of the Men in Black episode. The quarterly meeting was about to begin. The arriving Masons had likely taken trains into London and caught cabs to take them to Freemasons' Hall. Most London taxis of that era were black, for reasons having nothing to do with Masonry. Unlike much of American Masonry, English Masonry has had a simple but narrow dress code for its meetings: white shirt, black suit and tie. (In a culture still given to subtle class distinctions such as old school ties, the requirement of a simple black tie for all can enhance the feeling of brotherhood.) And the black briefcases? Those were actually apron cases, in which brethren keep the ceremonial aprons that are worn during Masonic meetings. (The aprons commemorate the workmen's aprons used by the stonemasons, the supposed ancestors of modern Freemasonry.)
However, it would be a matter of years before I was able to answer the deeper question of what I had gotten myself into.
There are any number of legitimate questions that arise when one tries to grasp what Masonry is. Is it really a secret society -- and if so, why all the secrecy? Where did it really come from? What's with all the ritual and regalia? Why the grandiose titles and honorifics? What's with the proliferation of degrees and orders and interrelated Masonic side organizations? And, when all is said and done, what's the point of all this rigmarole? Is there some secret payoff that justifies the enormous amount of time and effort that has been spent over centuries in maintaining this enigmatic institution?
Because the answers to these questions are not self-evident -- even to some Masons, and especially to non-Masons -- a barrage of pseudo-answers has too often rushed in to fill the void. Some of these, such as the imaginative speculations of "alternative historians," are harmless enough, at least if they aren't mistaken for historical facts. But other explanations, especially those of hostile anti-Masons, are dangerous, not merely to Masons but to society at large. The Nazis rose to power in Germany in part by scapegoating Jews and Masons, while in the present era Masonic lodges have been the target of Islamist terrorists. Dark accusations about Freemasonry as a satanic cult or a tool of a hidden power elite may be bestsellers for many publishers, but such pseudo-answers poison the well of public knowledge with delusional claims and paranoid misinterpretations.
Of course, everyone loves a good yarn, which is partly why Dan Brown's books have been so popular. Secretive brotherhoods can be excellent devices in suspense thrillers, but novels are, by their very nature, fiction. A novelist can make those links that raise the hair on one's neck, and a good writer can make you believe them. But once the novel is over, it is good to do a reality check. They say that truth is stranger than fiction. Let's see if that's true.
The above is an excerpt from the book The Masonic Myth: Unlocking the Truth About the Symbols, the Secret Rites, and the History of Freemasonry by Jay Kinney. The above excerpt is a digitally scanned reproduction of text from print. Although this excerpt has been proofread, occasional errors may appear due to the scanning process. Please refer to the finished book for accuracy.
Copyright © 2009 Jay Kinney, author of The Masonic Myth: Unlocking the Truth About the Symbols, the Secret Rites, and the History of Freemasonry
Author Bio
Jay Kinney, author of The Masonic Myth: Unlocking the Truth About the Symbols, the Secret Rites, and the History of Freemasonry, is coauthor of Hidden Wisdom: A Guide to the Western Inner Traditions. For fifteen years, he was publisher and editor-in-chief of Gnosis, the premier journal covering esoteric traditions and spiritual paths. In addition, Kinney is a member of Mill Valley Lodge #356 and Mission Lodge #169, F&AM, in California; a member of the York Rite; and a 32° KCCH in the Scottish Rite. He has twice been a speaker at the California Masonic Symposium, and is a recipient of the Albert G. Mackey Award for Excellence in Masonic Research. He has extensive contacts within Freemasonry and, as librarian and director of research for the San Francisco Scottish Rite, has access to many resources and Masonic records that have eluded most popular writers on this topic.
For more information please visit www.harpercollins.com and www.jaykinney.com.
HarperOne, 2009
280 pages
trade paperback
_____________________________________________________
I grew up with the notion--whether absorbed subconsciously or told outright I don't remember--that Masons were bad. They were sinister in some unspecific way; they were a cult. This is what I grew up believing (and somehow that translated in my juvenile brain as Ben Franklin being a bad, bad man--but that's another story), and as Kinney points out in his book, it's what a lot of people believe. Without knowing the facts.
It's important to point out here that Kinney is, himself, a Mason. Who has, on top of his own immediate experience as a Mason, done eight years of research in order to write this book. This is presumed to mean that he knows what he's talking about.
The book itself takes a look at the perceptions of Freemasonry, along with the Masons' own self-reflective history, and its place in the wider world from roots to modern day. Kinney addresses the most common ideas (many of them misinformed) about Freemasonry--where the ideas stem from and the truth, if any, behind them. He presents a balanced view in showing that even Masons can have misperceptions about their origins.
Kinney also takes a look at the somewhat convoluted hierarchy of Freemasonry, the degrees and the York Rite and Scottish Rite. He discusses the symbols associated with Freemasonry. And also asks the question of whether Freemasonry is doomed, seeing as the number of initiates is steadily dropping.
For someone like me, The Masonic Myth offers a practical and interesting look at the subject. The book is educational without the dryness of a textbook. Kinney writes in an engaging tone peppered with wry humor. His lack of stuffiness or self-righteousness makes his book and subject accessible to the un- or under-educated reader.
Alas, Kinney is not likely to convert those who are steadfastly against Freemasonry; that group would surely point out that Kinney, as a Mason, can only benefit from lying (or at least committing the sin of omission). People looking for Da Vinci Code stylings need not apply here, as they will come away unsatisfied. BUT: anyone looking for the truth about Freemasonry--and there is nothing in The Masonic Myth to make this reader believe Kinney is hiding anything; his forthright tone takes each bull of contention (to mix metaphors) by the horns--would do well to peruse this book. An excerpt follows. (With permission from FSB Associates and the author.)
by Jay Kinney,
Author of The Masonic Myth: Unlocking the Truth About the Symbols, the Secret Rites, and the History of Freemasonry
In 2001, just a month after I had received my first-degree initiation into Freemasonry, my wife and I took a trip to England. Our hotel in London, as it turned out, was within walking distance of Freemasons' Hall, the imposing stone headquarters of the United Grand Lodge of England, the administrative body overseeing English Masonry.
Normally, public tours of Freemasons' Hall are provided daily, but by happenstance the tours were not available on the day we first visited there. It was the day of the Grand Lodge's quarterly communication, when representatives from lodges and provincial bodies around England meet to take care of business. Do come again another day, we were told, and you'll be able to take a tour.
And then a most curious sight unfolded before our eyes as we turned to leave and stood at the top of the steps leading down to the street from the side entrance. A series of black taxicabs pulled up to the curb in front of Freemasons' Hall and proceeded to emit nearly identical passengers: the proverbial Men in Black -- men dressed in black suits with black neckties, all carrying black briefcases. The men -- all Masons -- ran up the steps and through the doors of Freemasons' Hall as more taxis arrived, emitting more Men in Black.
Was this real life, or had we somehow stumbled into a scene from a Monty Python movie? To our American eyes, it was an almost comical sight, but I also felt a tiny shiver go up my spine. Masonry has been accused by some of being a cult, and the scene before us didn't exactly disprove the accusation. What had I gotten myself into, exactly?
It didn't take long for me to deconstruct the strangeness of the Men in Black episode. The quarterly meeting was about to begin. The arriving Masons had likely taken trains into London and caught cabs to take them to Freemasons' Hall. Most London taxis of that era were black, for reasons having nothing to do with Masonry. Unlike much of American Masonry, English Masonry has had a simple but narrow dress code for its meetings: white shirt, black suit and tie. (In a culture still given to subtle class distinctions such as old school ties, the requirement of a simple black tie for all can enhance the feeling of brotherhood.) And the black briefcases? Those were actually apron cases, in which brethren keep the ceremonial aprons that are worn during Masonic meetings. (The aprons commemorate the workmen's aprons used by the stonemasons, the supposed ancestors of modern Freemasonry.)
However, it would be a matter of years before I was able to answer the deeper question of what I had gotten myself into.
There are any number of legitimate questions that arise when one tries to grasp what Masonry is. Is it really a secret society -- and if so, why all the secrecy? Where did it really come from? What's with all the ritual and regalia? Why the grandiose titles and honorifics? What's with the proliferation of degrees and orders and interrelated Masonic side organizations? And, when all is said and done, what's the point of all this rigmarole? Is there some secret payoff that justifies the enormous amount of time and effort that has been spent over centuries in maintaining this enigmatic institution?
Because the answers to these questions are not self-evident -- even to some Masons, and especially to non-Masons -- a barrage of pseudo-answers has too often rushed in to fill the void. Some of these, such as the imaginative speculations of "alternative historians," are harmless enough, at least if they aren't mistaken for historical facts. But other explanations, especially those of hostile anti-Masons, are dangerous, not merely to Masons but to society at large. The Nazis rose to power in Germany in part by scapegoating Jews and Masons, while in the present era Masonic lodges have been the target of Islamist terrorists. Dark accusations about Freemasonry as a satanic cult or a tool of a hidden power elite may be bestsellers for many publishers, but such pseudo-answers poison the well of public knowledge with delusional claims and paranoid misinterpretations.
Of course, everyone loves a good yarn, which is partly why Dan Brown's books have been so popular. Secretive brotherhoods can be excellent devices in suspense thrillers, but novels are, by their very nature, fiction. A novelist can make those links that raise the hair on one's neck, and a good writer can make you believe them. But once the novel is over, it is good to do a reality check. They say that truth is stranger than fiction. Let's see if that's true.
The above is an excerpt from the book The Masonic Myth: Unlocking the Truth About the Symbols, the Secret Rites, and the History of Freemasonry by Jay Kinney. The above excerpt is a digitally scanned reproduction of text from print. Although this excerpt has been proofread, occasional errors may appear due to the scanning process. Please refer to the finished book for accuracy.
Copyright © 2009 Jay Kinney, author of The Masonic Myth: Unlocking the Truth About the Symbols, the Secret Rites, and the History of Freemasonry
Author Bio
Jay Kinney, author of The Masonic Myth: Unlocking the Truth About the Symbols, the Secret Rites, and the History of Freemasonry, is coauthor of Hidden Wisdom: A Guide to the Western Inner Traditions. For fifteen years, he was publisher and editor-in-chief of Gnosis, the premier journal covering esoteric traditions and spiritual paths. In addition, Kinney is a member of Mill Valley Lodge #356 and Mission Lodge #169, F&AM, in California; a member of the York Rite; and a 32° KCCH in the Scottish Rite. He has twice been a speaker at the California Masonic Symposium, and is a recipient of the Albert G. Mackey Award for Excellence in Masonic Research. He has extensive contacts within Freemasonry and, as librarian and director of research for the San Francisco Scottish Rite, has access to many resources and Masonic records that have eluded most popular writers on this topic.
For more information please visit www.harpercollins.com and www.jaykinney.com.
9.16.2009
BRB
Small hiatus as I recently had emergency surgery. Good news is I have a stack of books to read and review, so stay tuned!
7.21.2009
Movie Review: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
Starring: Daniel Radcliffe, Michael Gambon, Emma Watson, Rupert Grint, Alan Rickman, Jim Broadbent
Directed By: David Yates
Written By: Steve Kloves (from the novel by J.K. Rowling)
Warner Bros., 2008
PG; 153 minutes
2.5 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
SPOILERS! DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANT PLOT DETAILS REVEALED TO YOU!
My initial impression of the sixth Harry Potter movie was exactly thus: that it was disjointed in a way that made parts of it almost dreamlike--you know, the way dreams jump around or abruptly change? I don't know if this is a result of the writing or editing or directing or all of the above. It seems that perhaps the whole of the crew was trying to be all things to all viewers--that they were trying to include the cute and funny adolescent love/angst as well as advance the plot--and so they put all the elements in some kind of cinematic blender and we ended up with a strange smoothie of a movie.
Half-Blood Prince has, for one thing, a fair bit of humor, mostly stemming from the budding emotions of its principle characters. Harry is starting to realize he likes Ron's sister Ginny as more than just, er, his best friend's sister. And while Hermione has acknowledged to herself (and eventually Harry) her warm feelings for Ron, it takes Ron a little longer to begin to sort things out. In fact, by the end of the movie it hasn't yet become clear to him that maybe Hermione is more than a really good friend.
Yet one of the most humorous scenes involves Harry's getting high on a luck potion that is designed to ensure his success is getting some information from Potions professor Horace Slughorn (played to perfection by Broadbent). Radcliffe plays Harry as punchy and carefree, sort of a side to Harry everyone has always wanted to see; the boy as he would have been if such heavy cares had not been pressed upon him. The scene is a fun turn.
Meanwhile, Tom Felton as Draco Malfoy finally gets a chance at some real acting in Half-Blood Prince, managing to portray the almost paralyzing fear that Draco endures as he attempts to carry out Voldemort's orders. For not having many lines, Felton uses his facial expressions and body language to full extent and allows the audience to almost sympathize--while still maintaining the distance required from the character. Not even in the book is it quite as clear that Draco has the opportunity to become the next, or another, Voldemort--that he's standing on the precipice of a chasm and it's a question of whether he'll step back or fall in.
Alan Rickman, too, did well with his few scenes; in the moment he is forced to kill Dumbledore, his delivery is especially keen.
That all said, much is lacking in Half-Blood Prince, including cohesion. I've mentioned the jumpy aspect of the way the movie is pieced together. Another problem is the fact that the more "real" elements--the character development and interaction, including Draco's anxiety and the lovesick drama/humor of the others--simply is far more interesting here than the plot line. The audience is supposed to be curious about Draco and the Vanishing Chest, but we really aren't. The mystery of who the Half-Blood Prince really is gets tossed aside into one throw-away line by Rickman's Snape, in which he informs Harry that he is the Half-Blood Prince. Should we care why he gave himself such a moniker? Evidently not. Even the core story of Harry looking at memories of Voldemort's time at Hogwarts and getting information from Slughorn so that he and Dumbledore can go in search of the horcruxes stutters in intermittent fashion until the near end of this long film, only to have it all come up short in the last scene, in which Harry reveals the horcrux he and Dumbledore went to collect is a fraud. And Dumbledore's funeral, which was a touching scene in the book, has been eliminated from the film.
In the end, Half-Blood Prince works only as a bridge to the saga's looming end (said to be coming in two final movies as they divide Rowling's Deathly Hallows). It does not stand on its own merit, and its singular entertainment value is decidedly limited.
Directed By: David Yates
Written By: Steve Kloves (from the novel by J.K. Rowling)
Warner Bros., 2008
PG; 153 minutes
2.5 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
SPOILERS! DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANT PLOT DETAILS REVEALED TO YOU!
My initial impression of the sixth Harry Potter movie was exactly thus: that it was disjointed in a way that made parts of it almost dreamlike--you know, the way dreams jump around or abruptly change? I don't know if this is a result of the writing or editing or directing or all of the above. It seems that perhaps the whole of the crew was trying to be all things to all viewers--that they were trying to include the cute and funny adolescent love/angst as well as advance the plot--and so they put all the elements in some kind of cinematic blender and we ended up with a strange smoothie of a movie.
Half-Blood Prince has, for one thing, a fair bit of humor, mostly stemming from the budding emotions of its principle characters. Harry is starting to realize he likes Ron's sister Ginny as more than just, er, his best friend's sister. And while Hermione has acknowledged to herself (and eventually Harry) her warm feelings for Ron, it takes Ron a little longer to begin to sort things out. In fact, by the end of the movie it hasn't yet become clear to him that maybe Hermione is more than a really good friend.
Yet one of the most humorous scenes involves Harry's getting high on a luck potion that is designed to ensure his success is getting some information from Potions professor Horace Slughorn (played to perfection by Broadbent). Radcliffe plays Harry as punchy and carefree, sort of a side to Harry everyone has always wanted to see; the boy as he would have been if such heavy cares had not been pressed upon him. The scene is a fun turn.
Meanwhile, Tom Felton as Draco Malfoy finally gets a chance at some real acting in Half-Blood Prince, managing to portray the almost paralyzing fear that Draco endures as he attempts to carry out Voldemort's orders. For not having many lines, Felton uses his facial expressions and body language to full extent and allows the audience to almost sympathize--while still maintaining the distance required from the character. Not even in the book is it quite as clear that Draco has the opportunity to become the next, or another, Voldemort--that he's standing on the precipice of a chasm and it's a question of whether he'll step back or fall in.
Alan Rickman, too, did well with his few scenes; in the moment he is forced to kill Dumbledore, his delivery is especially keen.
That all said, much is lacking in Half-Blood Prince, including cohesion. I've mentioned the jumpy aspect of the way the movie is pieced together. Another problem is the fact that the more "real" elements--the character development and interaction, including Draco's anxiety and the lovesick drama/humor of the others--simply is far more interesting here than the plot line. The audience is supposed to be curious about Draco and the Vanishing Chest, but we really aren't. The mystery of who the Half-Blood Prince really is gets tossed aside into one throw-away line by Rickman's Snape, in which he informs Harry that he is the Half-Blood Prince. Should we care why he gave himself such a moniker? Evidently not. Even the core story of Harry looking at memories of Voldemort's time at Hogwarts and getting information from Slughorn so that he and Dumbledore can go in search of the horcruxes stutters in intermittent fashion until the near end of this long film, only to have it all come up short in the last scene, in which Harry reveals the horcrux he and Dumbledore went to collect is a fraud. And Dumbledore's funeral, which was a touching scene in the book, has been eliminated from the film.
In the end, Half-Blood Prince works only as a bridge to the saga's looming end (said to be coming in two final movies as they divide Rowling's Deathly Hallows). It does not stand on its own merit, and its singular entertainment value is decidedly limited.
7.19.2009
Book Review: Annie's Ghosts
Steve Luxenberg
Hyperion, 2009
402 pages
hardcover
_____________________________________________________
In Annie's Ghosts: A Journey Into a Family Secret, Steve Luxenberg delves into the divide between the knowable and the unknowable--that is, the space between what can be discovered by dogged detective work, and what can only be guessed at because the answers to some questions die along with the people who know those answers.
The situation is in itself a compelling mystery, both to the author whose story it is, and to the reader. Luxenberg's mother Beth had always made it distinctively clear that she was an only child. In fact, it was something she seemed proud of, given how often she would bring it up. And no one in the family thought much about it until they discovered it wasn't true.
What Luxenberg would eventually discover is that his mother had had a younger sister named Annie. An aging Beth had said as much to one of her doctors, though she'd said the sister was sent away at age two. Picking up this thread, Luxenberg would go on to find out after his mother's death that his unknown aunt was actually sent away at age 21 . . . And so the detective work would begin. How had his mother managed to hide an entire childhood spent with a younger sister? And why hide it at all? Meanwhile, why had Annie been sent away to a mental institution?
In Annie's Ghosts, Luxenberg details the slog through old records and red tape that was required to get to some of the answers he desired. That might sound dull, but Luxenberg is a good writer and spins everything into a mix of journalistic integrity and personal human interest. The result is a fascinating read.
Below I have an article by Luxenberg regarding that mix of truth and fiction, which I hope you'll enjoy. (Used with permission of FSB Associates.)
Memoirs, Movies and Those (Mostly) True Stories
A Writer's Take on Reality's Rough Edges
By Steve Luxenberg,
Author of Annie's Ghosts: A Journey Into a Family Secret
Why do they do it?
Why do so many film makers put "based on a true story" or some variation as one of their opening frames, when they have freely altered the truth of the story?
Because it works. Because those words retain their mesmerizing power, even though they are misused or stretched at times to the point where there's little relationship between the story being told and the facts that gave rise to them. Truth-twisting in film has become so accepted that reviewers rarely comment on it or point out the discrepancies between fact and fiction, between information and invention.
As a long-time journalist and a first-time author, I'm probably more fascinated than most people at the transformation of a nonfiction work from book to screen. In researching and writing about a family secret that took me back to the beginning of the 20th century, I chased down many leads to ambiguous and not entirely satisfying conclusions. I joked with friends that I envied the novelist's license to invent what could not be learned or verified.
I'm not suggesting that there's a grand deception here. It's news to no one that movies change certain facts, sometimes for legal and privacy reasons. But film makers increasingly want to have it both ways. What began as a safeguard ("some facts have been changed to protect . . . ") has turned into a genre. Why not just come out and say it? "Some facts have been changed to protect the innocent, streamline the plot and increase dramatic tension. But the story is still (mostly) true."
Instead, the trend line is moving in the opposite direction. Recent case in point: The Changeling, starring Angelina Jolie as the mother fighting a corrupt Los Angeles police department that had declared a stranger to be her abducted nine-year-old son, begins with the words "a true story" appearing on a black screen, holding for a few seconds, and then fade out.
Not "based on" or "inspired by." Just that flat, unambiguous statement: "a true story." Then, in the fine print at the end the closing credits, the film makers fess up. "While this picture is based upon a true story," we're told, "some of the characters have been composited or invented, and a number of incidents fictionalized." In other words, (which I liked and admired for its storytelling as well as its artful re-creation of the 1920s) improved on the remarkable tale of Christine Collins and her young son Walter. The true story wasn't quite good enough.
Moviegoers seem to accept this hybrid genre, and the industry celebrates it (Oscars, etc.). Is it any wonder that it has crept into the world of nonfiction books, where memoir writers have claimed a license to "fill in the gaps" (based on truth and memory, of course)? Or that universities now offer courses in "creative nonfiction"?
Truman Capote gave us the "nonfiction novel," stealing a page from the film world. Tom Wolfe chose to take his new journalism into novels, which solved that problem. James Frey obviously crossed the line, however, in embellishing and inventing some of his 2003 memoir, A Million Little Pieces about his drug use and brushes with law. A screenplay version of Frey's work could have said "a true story," and no one would have batted an eye.
Subsequent editions of Frey's memoir have carried an apology from the author that is a model of muddle. "I didn't initially think of what I was writing as nonfiction or fiction, memoir or autobiography," he wrote. "I believe, and I understand others strongly disagree, that memoir allows the writer to work from memory instead of from a strict journalistic or historical standard. It is about impression and feeling, about individual recollection. This memoir is a combination of facts about my life and certain embellishments. It is a subjective truth, altered by the mind of a recovering drug addict and alcoholic. Ultimately, it's a story, and one that I could not have written without having lived the life I've lived."
Frey's right on one score: Others disagree, and there's a lively and continuing debate in the writing community about these issues. On a Facebook discussion the other day, for example, the question came up: How far should memoir writers go in reconstructing scenes and dialogue?
I draw a harder line than most. I favor the rough edges of memory over neat and pretty reconstructions. (More interesting, usually.) Invention? As I wrote in the Facebook discussion, that's why we have novels.
Readers, I think, are smart. They know that most writers don't have notes or documents to back up dialogue from long ago. So what's the problem? In a word: Credibility. As a writer, I want readers to grant me some license to tell my story. But if I present lengthy dialogue as fact, I risk losing their trust -- and their interest. Bad deal for me.
There's a scene in my new book, Annie's Ghosts: A Journey Into a Family Secret, that illustrates the difficulty of reconstructing past events. I'm at a restaurant outside Detroit, interviewing a cousin about the secret that stands at the center of the book. The secret was my mother's. Throughout her life, my mom had hidden the existence of a disabled sister. I was trying to find out why. My search had led to my cousin, someone I had never known.
In the early 1950s, I learned, my cousin and my mother had argued about the secret, leading to a life-long rift between the two women. Just as my cousin is recounting a climatic moment in their dispute, we're interrupted by the waitress's offer of coffee. After the waitress leaves, my cousin resumes her account -- and offers a different (and more dramatic) version of the key moment she had described only seconds before.
I had no doubt about the crux of my cousin's story. My mother had, after all, kept the secret. But if I wanted an "accurate" version of their conversation, I was out of luck. My cousin was giving me the version that reflected years of thinking about that moment, that reflected her feelings as much as her memory.
"The nuances lie beyond my reach," I wrote in the book. "Fifty years later, this is the best my cousin can do."
I saw no reason to choose between the two versions. I would present both, and use the scene to point out the intricate patterns of trouble imposed by time and memory. That would be better than presenting a reconstruction of their argument.
That would be something closer to true.
©2009 Steve Luxenberg, author of Annie's Ghosts: A Journey Into a Family Secret
Author Bio
Steve Luxenberg has been a senior editor with the Washington Post for twenty-two years, overseeing reporting that has won numerous awards, including two Pulitzer Prizes for explanatory journalism. He lives in Baltimore, Maryland.
For more information please visit www.steveluxenberg.com
Hyperion, 2009
402 pages
hardcover
_____________________________________________________
In Annie's Ghosts: A Journey Into a Family Secret, Steve Luxenberg delves into the divide between the knowable and the unknowable--that is, the space between what can be discovered by dogged detective work, and what can only be guessed at because the answers to some questions die along with the people who know those answers.
The situation is in itself a compelling mystery, both to the author whose story it is, and to the reader. Luxenberg's mother Beth had always made it distinctively clear that she was an only child. In fact, it was something she seemed proud of, given how often she would bring it up. And no one in the family thought much about it until they discovered it wasn't true.
What Luxenberg would eventually discover is that his mother had had a younger sister named Annie. An aging Beth had said as much to one of her doctors, though she'd said the sister was sent away at age two. Picking up this thread, Luxenberg would go on to find out after his mother's death that his unknown aunt was actually sent away at age 21 . . . And so the detective work would begin. How had his mother managed to hide an entire childhood spent with a younger sister? And why hide it at all? Meanwhile, why had Annie been sent away to a mental institution?
In Annie's Ghosts, Luxenberg details the slog through old records and red tape that was required to get to some of the answers he desired. That might sound dull, but Luxenberg is a good writer and spins everything into a mix of journalistic integrity and personal human interest. The result is a fascinating read.
Below I have an article by Luxenberg regarding that mix of truth and fiction, which I hope you'll enjoy. (Used with permission of FSB Associates.)
A Writer's Take on Reality's Rough Edges
By Steve Luxenberg,
Author of Annie's Ghosts: A Journey Into a Family Secret
Why do they do it?
Why do so many film makers put "based on a true story" or some variation as one of their opening frames, when they have freely altered the truth of the story?
Because it works. Because those words retain their mesmerizing power, even though they are misused or stretched at times to the point where there's little relationship between the story being told and the facts that gave rise to them. Truth-twisting in film has become so accepted that reviewers rarely comment on it or point out the discrepancies between fact and fiction, between information and invention.
As a long-time journalist and a first-time author, I'm probably more fascinated than most people at the transformation of a nonfiction work from book to screen. In researching and writing about a family secret that took me back to the beginning of the 20th century, I chased down many leads to ambiguous and not entirely satisfying conclusions. I joked with friends that I envied the novelist's license to invent what could not be learned or verified.
I'm not suggesting that there's a grand deception here. It's news to no one that movies change certain facts, sometimes for legal and privacy reasons. But film makers increasingly want to have it both ways. What began as a safeguard ("some facts have been changed to protect . . . ") has turned into a genre. Why not just come out and say it? "Some facts have been changed to protect the innocent, streamline the plot and increase dramatic tension. But the story is still (mostly) true."
Instead, the trend line is moving in the opposite direction. Recent case in point: The Changeling, starring Angelina Jolie as the mother fighting a corrupt Los Angeles police department that had declared a stranger to be her abducted nine-year-old son, begins with the words "a true story" appearing on a black screen, holding for a few seconds, and then fade out.
Not "based on" or "inspired by." Just that flat, unambiguous statement: "a true story." Then, in the fine print at the end the closing credits, the film makers fess up. "While this picture is based upon a true story," we're told, "some of the characters have been composited or invented, and a number of incidents fictionalized." In other words, (which I liked and admired for its storytelling as well as its artful re-creation of the 1920s) improved on the remarkable tale of Christine Collins and her young son Walter. The true story wasn't quite good enough.
Moviegoers seem to accept this hybrid genre, and the industry celebrates it (Oscars, etc.). Is it any wonder that it has crept into the world of nonfiction books, where memoir writers have claimed a license to "fill in the gaps" (based on truth and memory, of course)? Or that universities now offer courses in "creative nonfiction"?
Truman Capote gave us the "nonfiction novel," stealing a page from the film world. Tom Wolfe chose to take his new journalism into novels, which solved that problem. James Frey obviously crossed the line, however, in embellishing and inventing some of his 2003 memoir, A Million Little Pieces about his drug use and brushes with law. A screenplay version of Frey's work could have said "a true story," and no one would have batted an eye.
Subsequent editions of Frey's memoir have carried an apology from the author that is a model of muddle. "I didn't initially think of what I was writing as nonfiction or fiction, memoir or autobiography," he wrote. "I believe, and I understand others strongly disagree, that memoir allows the writer to work from memory instead of from a strict journalistic or historical standard. It is about impression and feeling, about individual recollection. This memoir is a combination of facts about my life and certain embellishments. It is a subjective truth, altered by the mind of a recovering drug addict and alcoholic. Ultimately, it's a story, and one that I could not have written without having lived the life I've lived."
Frey's right on one score: Others disagree, and there's a lively and continuing debate in the writing community about these issues. On a Facebook discussion the other day, for example, the question came up: How far should memoir writers go in reconstructing scenes and dialogue?
I draw a harder line than most. I favor the rough edges of memory over neat and pretty reconstructions. (More interesting, usually.) Invention? As I wrote in the Facebook discussion, that's why we have novels.
Readers, I think, are smart. They know that most writers don't have notes or documents to back up dialogue from long ago. So what's the problem? In a word: Credibility. As a writer, I want readers to grant me some license to tell my story. But if I present lengthy dialogue as fact, I risk losing their trust -- and their interest. Bad deal for me.
There's a scene in my new book, Annie's Ghosts: A Journey Into a Family Secret, that illustrates the difficulty of reconstructing past events. I'm at a restaurant outside Detroit, interviewing a cousin about the secret that stands at the center of the book. The secret was my mother's. Throughout her life, my mom had hidden the existence of a disabled sister. I was trying to find out why. My search had led to my cousin, someone I had never known.
In the early 1950s, I learned, my cousin and my mother had argued about the secret, leading to a life-long rift between the two women. Just as my cousin is recounting a climatic moment in their dispute, we're interrupted by the waitress's offer of coffee. After the waitress leaves, my cousin resumes her account -- and offers a different (and more dramatic) version of the key moment she had described only seconds before.
I had no doubt about the crux of my cousin's story. My mother had, after all, kept the secret. But if I wanted an "accurate" version of their conversation, I was out of luck. My cousin was giving me the version that reflected years of thinking about that moment, that reflected her feelings as much as her memory.
"The nuances lie beyond my reach," I wrote in the book. "Fifty years later, this is the best my cousin can do."
I saw no reason to choose between the two versions. I would present both, and use the scene to point out the intricate patterns of trouble imposed by time and memory. That would be better than presenting a reconstruction of their argument.
That would be something closer to true.
©2009 Steve Luxenberg, author of Annie's Ghosts: A Journey Into a Family Secret
Author Bio
Steve Luxenberg has been a senior editor with the Washington Post for twenty-two years, overseeing reporting that has won numerous awards, including two Pulitzer Prizes for explanatory journalism. He lives in Baltimore, Maryland.
For more information please visit www.steveluxenberg.com
7.16.2009
7.11.2009
Music Review: cradlesong
Rob Thomas
Atlantic, 2009
_____________________________________________________
While I enjoyed perhaps 2/3 of the tracks on Thomas' first solo album Something to Be . . . (2005), I find that I like all the songs on cradlesong--rather in the same way I tend to like all the songs on matchbox twenty albums as well. Additionally, while I found some of the juxtapositions of songs on StB rather jarring, cradlesong flows and fits together well, rather like the musical equivalent of a Dove chocolate melting in your mouth.
Of course, the cover art for cradlesong is decidedly unattractive, but never judge an album by its cover, I suppose.
While the single "Her Diamonds" is now in heavy rotation on Mix-style radio stations everywhere, it's only the first of many strong compositions on the album--and, possibly not coincidentally--the first song on the album as well. The upbeat "Give Me the Meltdown" has garnered some attention as well and also sports an erratic music video (while the video for "Her Diamonds" features Alicia Silverstone encased in ice and slowly thawing). I have a decided preference for "Meltdown," as does my three-year-old son. Not sure what that says about me, my son, or the song really.
For the most part, cradlesong is full of songs dealing with relationships, and specifically difficulties in relationships; Thomas has admitted in interviews that he does most of his writing when he's having a bad time. Still and all, songs like the title track and "Mockingbird" have a sweetness to them that impart the bittersweet that comes with loving someone, even when there are problems and despite the imperfections in oneself or one's partner. If music, like any writing, is at its best when it can be appreciated in the absence of its author--by which I mean, one understands the meanings and feelings behind it without having the composer explain separately what he or she meant by something, and one can also relate on a personal level regardless of the original intention of the composer--then cradlesong meets this criteria, far better than anything on the rougher StB ever did. Thomas has long been lauded as a fine songwriter, and this reputation is deserved, but he does especially well here, having knit together both the powerful and the soothing in a way that is almost seamless and thus pleasing to the ear.
Atlantic, 2009
_____________________________________________________
While I enjoyed perhaps 2/3 of the tracks on Thomas' first solo album Something to Be . . . (2005), I find that I like all the songs on cradlesong--rather in the same way I tend to like all the songs on matchbox twenty albums as well. Additionally, while I found some of the juxtapositions of songs on StB rather jarring, cradlesong flows and fits together well, rather like the musical equivalent of a Dove chocolate melting in your mouth.
Of course, the cover art for cradlesong is decidedly unattractive, but never judge an album by its cover, I suppose.
While the single "Her Diamonds" is now in heavy rotation on Mix-style radio stations everywhere, it's only the first of many strong compositions on the album--and, possibly not coincidentally--the first song on the album as well. The upbeat "Give Me the Meltdown" has garnered some attention as well and also sports an erratic music video (while the video for "Her Diamonds" features Alicia Silverstone encased in ice and slowly thawing). I have a decided preference for "Meltdown," as does my three-year-old son. Not sure what that says about me, my son, or the song really.
For the most part, cradlesong is full of songs dealing with relationships, and specifically difficulties in relationships; Thomas has admitted in interviews that he does most of his writing when he's having a bad time. Still and all, songs like the title track and "Mockingbird" have a sweetness to them that impart the bittersweet that comes with loving someone, even when there are problems and despite the imperfections in oneself or one's partner. If music, like any writing, is at its best when it can be appreciated in the absence of its author--by which I mean, one understands the meanings and feelings behind it without having the composer explain separately what he or she meant by something, and one can also relate on a personal level regardless of the original intention of the composer--then cradlesong meets this criteria, far better than anything on the rougher StB ever did. Thomas has long been lauded as a fine songwriter, and this reputation is deserved, but he does especially well here, having knit together both the powerful and the soothing in a way that is almost seamless and thus pleasing to the ear.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)