Men make me giggle. Here are some examples of why they do:
1.) At the cafe yesterday where I enjoyed some Earl Grey and a white chocolate fudge-covered biscuit, the Turkish man behind the counter asked which size I wanted for the tea: large or small. I asked to see them both to gauge the difference.
"This is large."
"OK. And what is small?"
And then he smiled, "Me." I immediately thought, he's not advertising himself well. English is not his first language I am guessing, but I would think in every language a man would rather be large.
2.) I smell like men's perfume. Some call it cologne. But let's face it, the guys who do not spray Axe/Lynx all over their bodies but spray something on them nevertheless like to smell pretty. I wouldn't call it musk.
Anyway, the guy next to me on the bus smelled a bit fruity. And just a half hour ago, a neighbor who is leaving today hugged me (shocker!) and basically smeared it all over me. I smell like him now. What a souvenir.
3.) On an episode of "Rome" (2005-2007) that I watched last night, Lucius Vorenus (Kevin McKidd) was complaining to friend Titus Pullo (Ray Stevenson) about how his wife won't let him "couple" with her. Is she just angry at him? Is she not satisfied? To summarize, Titus suggested Lucius find the g-spot. But, as this is ca. 50 BC, there wasn't an exact word for it.
What is the best bit is the look Lucius gives Titus. "How do you know this about my wife?"
"Chill, Lucius, all women have them. Trust me."
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
happy birthday cillian, colm, and colin*
Here is a totally stupid observation I made today:
At least three stars of the little Irish comedy Intermission (2003) have their birthdays within a week of one another. And within this past week to boot. First, last Friday Cillian Murphy turned 31. Today Colm Meaney turns 54. And tomorrow Colin Farrell will be 31.
I need to find something to occupy my time so that I don't end up making only trivial connections for the rest of my days. That logic--that slippery slope--is absurd, I know. Oh but you know how I love birthdays.
*I asterisk this not only because it's funny that all their names begin with a 'C' but because they're all so... Irish. (Then again Colin is actually very Scottish, too.)
At least three stars of the little Irish comedy Intermission (2003) have their birthdays within a week of one another. And within this past week to boot. First, last Friday Cillian Murphy turned 31. Today Colm Meaney turns 54. And tomorrow Colin Farrell will be 31.
I need to find something to occupy my time so that I don't end up making only trivial connections for the rest of my days. That logic--that slippery slope--is absurd, I know. Oh but you know how I love birthdays.
*I asterisk this not only because it's funny that all their names begin with a 'C' but because they're all so... Irish. (Then again Colin is actually very Scottish, too.)
this spanish history chapter is closed
It happened again today. I first wrote only an "OK" essay and then wrote a "great" one by comparison. I wonder if they would have been different if I had tackled them in the opposite order. I wonder because the order I answered them was a sort of strategy, the second question first. But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me step back.
Today was my Spanish film exam. I knew that there would be two sections, the first being a scene analysis and the second being more comparative. I decided that since the comparative/more thematic essay would probably take more conceptualization/planning, I would start with that one first because I would have liked to have more energy for it. Turns out I just don't work like that. The longer and the harder I work, it seems, the better the results.
In this comparative essay based around a quotation, I suggested that the statement from Todo sobre mi madre (1999) that the character Huma Rojo as Blanche DuBois in the play A Streetcar Named Desire says ("I have always depended on the kindness of strangers") can be applied to the friendships formed in that film as well as the ones developed between strangers in Flores de otro mundo/Flowers from Another World (1999) and El espiritu de la colmena/The Spirit of the Beehive (1973). Yeah, OK. But it's not very interesting. I like that I used three films, though. One more than the required minimum.
But then I only picked up steam.
For the scene analysis essay, there was one from each of the five films we studied, and I chose the one from Soldados de Salamina/Soldiers of Salamina (2003). I linked how the particular scene (that my professor chose) is extremely important for the overall message of the film: that the younger generations today in Spain owe it to themselves and to those who fought in the Civil War (1936-9) to seek out stories from both sides to reconcile the past. In other words, the main character, Lola, a journalist/novelist, after losing her father (who was probably just a kid during or after the war), represents the younger generation(s) and was once apathetic toward understanding the war. But by the end of the film she sees its importance in her life and how people (like her) should never forget it. After all, the generation that was around during and/or after the war is starting to die off.
If this quick summary was confusing, just keep in mind I was much more articulate throughout my essay. Proud of it. It was another one of those "organic" essay-writing moments where I never lost track of my thoughts and never veered toward contradicting myself.
Before the start of the exam, my professor wished me luck and said that she hoped I would have fun with it. I wouldn't go that far, but it was one of the more pleasant exam-taking experiences I have had here.
Six down. Two to go!
P.S. In their efforts to anonymize the exams for "blind marking," they give us seat numbers and we're required to record our number on the exam booklets. Then later on they can match the number on our notebooks with our number on the master list of names. Today I was number seven. Yeah, I thought that might make me lucky. As in "lucky number seven." But it was a sort of a thrill to write "007" on my exam booklets, let me tell you. Bad ass, really.
Today was my Spanish film exam. I knew that there would be two sections, the first being a scene analysis and the second being more comparative. I decided that since the comparative/more thematic essay would probably take more conceptualization/planning, I would start with that one first because I would have liked to have more energy for it. Turns out I just don't work like that. The longer and the harder I work, it seems, the better the results.
In this comparative essay based around a quotation, I suggested that the statement from Todo sobre mi madre (1999) that the character Huma Rojo as Blanche DuBois in the play A Streetcar Named Desire says ("I have always depended on the kindness of strangers") can be applied to the friendships formed in that film as well as the ones developed between strangers in Flores de otro mundo/Flowers from Another World (1999) and El espiritu de la colmena/The Spirit of the Beehive (1973). Yeah, OK. But it's not very interesting. I like that I used three films, though. One more than the required minimum.
But then I only picked up steam.
For the scene analysis essay, there was one from each of the five films we studied, and I chose the one from Soldados de Salamina/Soldiers of Salamina (2003). I linked how the particular scene (that my professor chose) is extremely important for the overall message of the film: that the younger generations today in Spain owe it to themselves and to those who fought in the Civil War (1936-9) to seek out stories from both sides to reconcile the past. In other words, the main character, Lola, a journalist/novelist, after losing her father (who was probably just a kid during or after the war), represents the younger generation(s) and was once apathetic toward understanding the war. But by the end of the film she sees its importance in her life and how people (like her) should never forget it. After all, the generation that was around during and/or after the war is starting to die off.
If this quick summary was confusing, just keep in mind I was much more articulate throughout my essay. Proud of it. It was another one of those "organic" essay-writing moments where I never lost track of my thoughts and never veered toward contradicting myself.
Before the start of the exam, my professor wished me luck and said that she hoped I would have fun with it. I wouldn't go that far, but it was one of the more pleasant exam-taking experiences I have had here.
Six down. Two to go!
P.S. In their efforts to anonymize the exams for "blind marking," they give us seat numbers and we're required to record our number on the exam booklets. Then later on they can match the number on our notebooks with our number on the master list of names. Today I was number seven. Yeah, I thought that might make me lucky. As in "lucky number seven." But it was a sort of a thrill to write "007" on my exam booklets, let me tell you. Bad ass, really.
what's up, duck?
For weeks now two ducks have called the courtyard of my building home. They don't really hide themselves but they're still antisocial. In fact, they sit very near the wooden lunch tables during the day, but only when they're empty. They curl up inside their chests and look as if they're ceramic.
But they come alive at night. They quack and quack and quack. I'm not complaining. I rather like the sound. It's really quite cute, but what isn't cute is when the drunkards rumble home in the wee hours of the morning and imitate the ducks, pestering them and those of us who aren't yet asleep.
What I don't understand is how the ducks can live here. There is no water. No pond or anything. Are the puddles enough for them? I guess so. And what do they eat? Do they depend on bread bits for sustenance?
I think I might miss them.
But they come alive at night. They quack and quack and quack. I'm not complaining. I rather like the sound. It's really quite cute, but what isn't cute is when the drunkards rumble home in the wee hours of the morning and imitate the ducks, pestering them and those of us who aren't yet asleep.
What I don't understand is how the ducks can live here. There is no water. No pond or anything. Are the puddles enough for them? I guess so. And what do they eat? Do they depend on bread bits for sustenance?
I think I might miss them.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
spoiled little rich girl
This just in, from the celebrity news outlet on IMDb:
Lohan Loses Sponsors for 21st Birthday
Vodka company Svedka has reportedly pulled out as sponsors of Lindsay Lohan's 21st birthday party in Las Vegas this summer. The Mean Girls actress, who has attended Alcoholics Anonymous in the past, had teamed up with the drinks company for her glitzy two-day bash on July 2, but it appears Svedka has had second thoughts about their involvement in the celebrations, according to the New York Daily News. Other sponsors for the landmark birthday celebrations include Pure nightclub, Caesars Palace and the Social House restaurant at Treasure Island.
This leaves out the bit that they probably pulled out of sponsoring her birthday because she was arrested under the suspicion that she was driving under the influence in the wee hours of Saturday morning. But that is not why I post this. I merely want to know why ANY companies would sponsor a birthday for ANYONE like it's a sporting event. I have never seen anything like this before, and quite frankly, I find it very stupid. Who can I get to sponsor my 21st birthday, eh? I can't even think of a brand. My father will do just fine.
Lohan Loses Sponsors for 21st Birthday
Vodka company Svedka has reportedly pulled out as sponsors of Lindsay Lohan's 21st birthday party in Las Vegas this summer. The Mean Girls actress, who has attended Alcoholics Anonymous in the past, had teamed up with the drinks company for her glitzy two-day bash on July 2, but it appears Svedka has had second thoughts about their involvement in the celebrations, according to the New York Daily News. Other sponsors for the landmark birthday celebrations include Pure nightclub, Caesars Palace and the Social House restaurant at Treasure Island.
This leaves out the bit that they probably pulled out of sponsoring her birthday because she was arrested under the suspicion that she was driving under the influence in the wee hours of Saturday morning. But that is not why I post this. I merely want to know why ANY companies would sponsor a birthday for ANYONE like it's a sporting event. I have never seen anything like this before, and quite frankly, I find it very stupid. Who can I get to sponsor my 21st birthday, eh? I can't even think of a brand. My father will do just fine.
my clothes made it home before i did
On Friday, I shipped three packages of clothing, each weighing in at two kilograms (that's a little over four pounds). Just got word that at least one of them arrived today at my house.
Not only is this exceptional in general, it is extraordinary because I shipped them via sea. The woman at the post office on campus said that with this cheapest option, it would take between four and six weeks to reach its destination. To be safe, she said ten weeks at most. In addition to its being cheap, I also chose this option because I wasn't in dire need of the clothes. I thought I could live without them for a week or two after getting home. I mean, I sent tweed pants. I won't need those in Maryland during the summer.
Anyway, it only took a few days. Isn't that incredible? Why do they overestimate themselves by so much, anyway? Why is Royal Mail (aka the British Postal Service) so quick compared to its American counterpart? Is it because the UK has fewer people (and thus, perhaps, less mail)? Or did I just time it right when a ship was leaving? Actually, I bet it took a plane because I unknowingly timed it right. I mean, I was warned that it could take a plane and not even a boat. What service! And service elsewhere sucks (at the grocery store, in the restaurants, at the airports, etc.).
Not only is this exceptional in general, it is extraordinary because I shipped them via sea. The woman at the post office on campus said that with this cheapest option, it would take between four and six weeks to reach its destination. To be safe, she said ten weeks at most. In addition to its being cheap, I also chose this option because I wasn't in dire need of the clothes. I thought I could live without them for a week or two after getting home. I mean, I sent tweed pants. I won't need those in Maryland during the summer.
Anyway, it only took a few days. Isn't that incredible? Why do they overestimate themselves by so much, anyway? Why is Royal Mail (aka the British Postal Service) so quick compared to its American counterpart? Is it because the UK has fewer people (and thus, perhaps, less mail)? Or did I just time it right when a ship was leaving? Actually, I bet it took a plane because I unknowingly timed it right. I mean, I was warned that it could take a plane and not even a boat. What service! And service elsewhere sucks (at the grocery store, in the restaurants, at the airports, etc.).
Monday, May 28, 2007
icehouse isn't just the name of a band
It's almost June and I am sitting in my room, watching Todo sobre mi madre (1999), wearing my winter coat and socks. I think the heater is turned all the way up. I've tried turning the knob all the way in the other direction but I don't notice a difference. I just hope it gets warmer and sunnier here soon. This is uncomfortable. And I've taken so many naps in the past couple of days; it's easiest to keep warm in that iron lung for a bed that I have. I've become lazy because of it, too.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
randomity doesn't float; it sits in labeled boxes
I just noticed that I haven't written about anything "totally random" in ages. Since May 5 to be exact. I guess as I have become more and more detail-oriented, I have neglected to use that label. It's as if it no longer fits anything. Actually, I don't think it ever did. I mean, how could something be so random but move me to write about it? If I deemed it important enough to make permanent here (or as long as this blog exists in cyberspace), then it couldn't be random. Or at least it isn't anymore. The different random bits have the blog in common. And by extension: me.
Sorry, I just thought I should point that out.
Sorry, I just thought I should point that out.
archivists are going to have a field day with me
I'm a diarist. I have been for years, and as the years rage on I have become a much more detail-oriented documentarian. I think my diary as it stands now evolved from the free agenda books I would get at the start of every year in middle school. In them, I would only remind myself of daily homework assignments and the dates of any upcoming assessments. When I reached high school, I added more snippets of my daily routine. Gradually, I have added what I eat, what I wear, and more generally what I do or should be doing. With either the exact times that I do them or estimates marked with "ish" or "?" so that I know years from now it was just a guess.
This is how big a collectionist I am. I do it because I don't want to forget anything. Must admit, for example, that I started writing down what I wear so that I don't wear the same things two days in a row. I know. How could I forget what I wore the day before? You would be surprised. But that is neither here nor there.
But today, just when I thought it couldn't be packed with more info, I thought of a new thing to add: some code for categorizing my overall feeling about the day. Smiley face for "good, happy." Frowning face for "bad, unhappy." A face with a straight line for a mouth for neither good nor bad, just "shrug." Since many things influence my mood, the criteria that I evaluate before marking each day now with a smile or a frown run the gamut of possible factors. I consider everything, such as my productivity, attitude towards others, level of diversion (aka how much fun I had), intellectual stimulation, etc. You know, everything a day entails.
This is how big a collectionist I am. I do it because I don't want to forget anything. Must admit, for example, that I started writing down what I wear so that I don't wear the same things two days in a row. I know. How could I forget what I wore the day before? You would be surprised. But that is neither here nor there.
But today, just when I thought it couldn't be packed with more info, I thought of a new thing to add: some code for categorizing my overall feeling about the day. Smiley face for "good, happy." Frowning face for "bad, unhappy." A face with a straight line for a mouth for neither good nor bad, just "shrug." Since many things influence my mood, the criteria that I evaluate before marking each day now with a smile or a frown run the gamut of possible factors. I consider everything, such as my productivity, attitude towards others, level of diversion (aka how much fun I had), intellectual stimulation, etc. You know, everything a day entails.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
casting off
Finally! It's happened. The raspberry-colored acrylic scarf that I started in early November as my first knitting project is finished. I know, I know. I am a very slow knitter because I am still not comfortable with the moves. Plus my needles are metal and heavy. You should see how I hold the needles and yarn while knitting. Highly inefficient. Also please keep in mind that I would go weeks without ever working on it because I probably made a mistake and didn't know how to fix it myself.
My friend Lisa is the one who originally taught me how to knit. She has watched me try to finish the project and she has been there to fix my many mistakes. Because of this, I must admit that she finished the scarf. In just ten minutes, she tacked on the extra inches that I was too impatient to add myself after I worked on it for an hour and a half this afternoon (and probably only added an inch). I am just so glad it's finished! And I'm definitely going to wear it out. I mean, how many times can you say that you're wearing something you yourself made? (Actually, for me, it's almost every day because I made the boxer shorts decorated with a loud floral pattern that I only wear at home, never out on the street.)
I will remember the scarf as my first knitting project, yes, but it has added significance because I will always associate it with my time in England.
My friend Lisa is the one who originally taught me how to knit. She has watched me try to finish the project and she has been there to fix my many mistakes. Because of this, I must admit that she finished the scarf. In just ten minutes, she tacked on the extra inches that I was too impatient to add myself after I worked on it for an hour and a half this afternoon (and probably only added an inch). I am just so glad it's finished! And I'm definitely going to wear it out. I mean, how many times can you say that you're wearing something you yourself made? (Actually, for me, it's almost every day because I made the boxer shorts decorated with a loud floral pattern that I only wear at home, never out on the street.)
I will remember the scarf as my first knitting project, yes, but it has added significance because I will always associate it with my time in England.
what happens when you spend your saturday sitting an exam?
I literally just got back from my French film exam. I have done three silly things today and it is not even noon. And I'm not too proud to tell you about them here, in chronological order:
1.) It was so crowded in the hallway outside the examination room that I didn't even think to make sure that I was entering the correct restroom. Yes, in other words, I first went into the men's room. Seeing urinals, I thought, "Shit, I could have sworn the women's was on the left." I have no idea if other people noticed. If not, good. If they did, there were probably a lot. So many people were standing near the toilets.
2.) How about some irony? I rewatched five films to prepare for the exam: Subway (1985), Lacombe Lucien (1974), Les 400 Coups (1959), A Bout de souffle (1960), and Diva (1981). I anticipated that I would have to write two essays on the different groupings of the films (i.e. New Wave, cinema du look, etc.), so that's why I did this. But I ended up just writing an essay on Les Amants du Pont-Neuf (1991). I didn't rewatch it because I thought I remembered it well enough, but I dreaded the moment I actually had to name the main character. I think it's Alex. I hope so. That's what I wrote throughout the essay. I admit it wasn't very structured and that it was half-assed. But then I found myself reenergized for the second essay. Read on.
3.) The second essay, which was considerably a lot longer because I had so much more to say, was about how A Bout de souffle is the "most radically innovative film," "in cinematic terms," that I have studied on the course. Why is this funny other than the fact that I hate watching the film? I wrote a fuckin' killer essay. It is so good in fact that I wish I could get a copy of it. I love it because it was an essay that came together organically, really. There was never a point at which I stopped and realized I might be on the track toward contradicting myself. What a relief!
(In case you're interested, I wrote about how Godard uses innovative technology, editing methods, and storytelling techniques to illustrate his ideology that cinema is just an illusion of reality. In other words, he's acknowledging that there's not much of a story to A Bout de souffle. Instead, he's just manipulating the medium to show how constructed a medium it is.)
Five down. Three to go!
1.) It was so crowded in the hallway outside the examination room that I didn't even think to make sure that I was entering the correct restroom. Yes, in other words, I first went into the men's room. Seeing urinals, I thought, "Shit, I could have sworn the women's was on the left." I have no idea if other people noticed. If not, good. If they did, there were probably a lot. So many people were standing near the toilets.
2.) How about some irony? I rewatched five films to prepare for the exam: Subway (1985), Lacombe Lucien (1974), Les 400 Coups (1959), A Bout de souffle (1960), and Diva (1981). I anticipated that I would have to write two essays on the different groupings of the films (i.e. New Wave, cinema du look, etc.), so that's why I did this. But I ended up just writing an essay on Les Amants du Pont-Neuf (1991). I didn't rewatch it because I thought I remembered it well enough, but I dreaded the moment I actually had to name the main character. I think it's Alex. I hope so. That's what I wrote throughout the essay. I admit it wasn't very structured and that it was half-assed. But then I found myself reenergized for the second essay. Read on.
3.) The second essay, which was considerably a lot longer because I had so much more to say, was about how A Bout de souffle is the "most radically innovative film," "in cinematic terms," that I have studied on the course. Why is this funny other than the fact that I hate watching the film? I wrote a fuckin' killer essay. It is so good in fact that I wish I could get a copy of it. I love it because it was an essay that came together organically, really. There was never a point at which I stopped and realized I might be on the track toward contradicting myself. What a relief!
(In case you're interested, I wrote about how Godard uses innovative technology, editing methods, and storytelling techniques to illustrate his ideology that cinema is just an illusion of reality. In other words, he's acknowledging that there's not much of a story to A Bout de souffle. Instead, he's just manipulating the medium to show how constructed a medium it is.)
Five down. Three to go!
Friday, May 25, 2007
i didn't kill my tv, i just abandoned it and found a surrogate
I'm procrastinating again because I really am fed up with exams. But I am preparing in some way for the exam by watching Diva (1981), which was critically panned when it first came out, but the audiences--especially the young ones--loved it. I don't love it. It has many flaws, but I think it makes for an interesting study of race and gender.
In any case, Diva is not the reason why I wanted to post. It came to my attention yesterday that I have in fact lived months without a TV. To paint a wider picture of what TV means: one of the reasons why I decided not to go to my dream school in Vermont, which has only 300 students on a campus 15 miles from the nearest town, was because I didn't think I could live without a TV (you can't even get satellite out there). The last time I really thought about not having a TV for so long was just before I came here. And almost immediately, I forgot such a thing existed.
While you might think this is not true because I have seen many British TV programs, I would argue that it is different. Streaming the video online is almost the same thing as watching it once it's been released on DVD because there are no commercials. Nothing interrupts the show. And let's face it, some shows are just made as filler for commercials. But that is neither here nor there.
Plus the fact remains: I do not have a TV and the only times I have ever been in a room with one was either while I was on vacation or in the pub (which is not often).
OK. So perhaps my seeking out the programs online means I couldn't live without a TV, but I didn't go looking for these outlets. People recommended them to me, so I checked them out. If I hadn't heard about them, I wouldn't have known they existed.
I think when I go home having a TV at my personal disposal will take some getting used to. I'll have to learn to be patient through all those commercial breaks, too.
In any case, Diva is not the reason why I wanted to post. It came to my attention yesterday that I have in fact lived months without a TV. To paint a wider picture of what TV means: one of the reasons why I decided not to go to my dream school in Vermont, which has only 300 students on a campus 15 miles from the nearest town, was because I didn't think I could live without a TV (you can't even get satellite out there). The last time I really thought about not having a TV for so long was just before I came here. And almost immediately, I forgot such a thing existed.
While you might think this is not true because I have seen many British TV programs, I would argue that it is different. Streaming the video online is almost the same thing as watching it once it's been released on DVD because there are no commercials. Nothing interrupts the show. And let's face it, some shows are just made as filler for commercials. But that is neither here nor there.
Plus the fact remains: I do not have a TV and the only times I have ever been in a room with one was either while I was on vacation or in the pub (which is not often).
OK. So perhaps my seeking out the programs online means I couldn't live without a TV, but I didn't go looking for these outlets. People recommended them to me, so I checked them out. If I hadn't heard about them, I wouldn't have known they existed.
I think when I go home having a TV at my personal disposal will take some getting used to. I'll have to learn to be patient through all those commercial breaks, too.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
they speak quebecois, don't they?
OK. Since I have decided to procrastinate a little bit tonight and not work on studying for my French exam, I thought I should use the time to be critical regardless.
Last Thursday I attended a lecture/seminar entitled "Cinemas of Minor Frenchness." I didn't know what the hell this meant, and reading the information online about the visiting scholar from Glasgow who was going to speak didn't answer any questions I had about the topic, either. So I went to it to find out.
And my suspicion that it would be about Quebecois cinema was confirmed. He uses a theoretical framework concerning the dichotomy between "major" and "minor" cultures to study Quebecois cinema vis-a-vis French cinema. I didn't catch to whom he attributed this concept. In any case, it refers to, in his context, the fact that the Quebecois are a minority in Canada but a majority within their own nation or region (and that depends on your politics). But he extends it to stand for Quebecois cinema being overlooked because films from France dominate French-language cinema. I can understand that he wants to avoid calling it a subcultural or an oppressed cinema, but I do not like the taxonomies "minor" and "major." Throughout the talk, I squirmed whenever he said it because the words connote a hierarchy and a value judgment for me. As if Quebecois cinema, a "cinema of minor Frenchness" is of little importance. Clearly he doesn't think that, otherwise he wouldn't waste all the time and energy researching it. Quebecois cinema isn't an oppressed cinema (it's largely state-funded even though it makes no money, apparently). If it were, then all cinemas but Hollywood are oppressed. I may poo-poo big American studio films, but I do not think any cinemas are oppressed. That they don't reach as wide an audience does not make them oppressed.
Finally, a few days ago, I put my finger on the real reason why I don't like his theoretical framework, and it derives from an answer he gave me to one of my questions. He had explained that the French do not care much for films from Quebec, whether it's because they don't understand the dialect and thus don't want to read subtitles or because they are snobs. Like Britain, France only receives maybe one Quebecois film a year. I have no idea what the U.S. receives. I'm so out of touch. Anyway, this did not surprise me: that the French don't watch/care about these films.
So I asked how French films are received in Quebec. He admitted that he didn't know, stating only that the Hollywood juggernaut is what captivates audiences and that French comedies don't translate well. Tell me something I don't know. That this very established and well-read scholar did not even think that this means something made me realize that he has not considered everything about that "cinemas of minor Frenchness" conceptualization. By asking the question, I was implying that the audience reception of French films might suggest something about this "minor/major" cinemas idea. While I understand that the Quebecois have a complex cultural/national identity, that some may consider themselves Quebecois first, Canadian second, or one but not the other, I was wondering if French films in any way "inform" the Quebecois on how to be more French-like, less Canadian or whatever. Alternatively, does it "inform" them on how to stand apart from French cinema since they're most often compared to French cinema?
More than this though, I realized the real problem with "minor" and "major": language alone should not define the relationship between two completely different cinemas so that one is called "major" while the other is "minor." For instance, I do not see the Quebecois as French. It is a different language. The histories are different. The land and space are different. They are a different nation with a different culture, so why are they of "minor Frenchness"? If you ask me, they're not of Frenchness at all. As for the cinemas of African countries that used to be French colonies: are they cinemas of "minor Frenchness," too? No.
So "Cinemas of Minor Frenchness" is misleading. I seriously don't think he was trying to be ironic with that title because he still sees the need to study Quebecois cinema so closely with French cinema. Throughout his talk I was trying to come up with an alternative theoretical framework, but who am I to suggest such a thing to him? But I regret now not telling him how I disagree with the "minor/major" culture dichotomy.
C'est la vie.
Last Thursday I attended a lecture/seminar entitled "Cinemas of Minor Frenchness." I didn't know what the hell this meant, and reading the information online about the visiting scholar from Glasgow who was going to speak didn't answer any questions I had about the topic, either. So I went to it to find out.
And my suspicion that it would be about Quebecois cinema was confirmed. He uses a theoretical framework concerning the dichotomy between "major" and "minor" cultures to study Quebecois cinema vis-a-vis French cinema. I didn't catch to whom he attributed this concept. In any case, it refers to, in his context, the fact that the Quebecois are a minority in Canada but a majority within their own nation or region (and that depends on your politics). But he extends it to stand for Quebecois cinema being overlooked because films from France dominate French-language cinema. I can understand that he wants to avoid calling it a subcultural or an oppressed cinema, but I do not like the taxonomies "minor" and "major." Throughout the talk, I squirmed whenever he said it because the words connote a hierarchy and a value judgment for me. As if Quebecois cinema, a "cinema of minor Frenchness" is of little importance. Clearly he doesn't think that, otherwise he wouldn't waste all the time and energy researching it. Quebecois cinema isn't an oppressed cinema (it's largely state-funded even though it makes no money, apparently). If it were, then all cinemas but Hollywood are oppressed. I may poo-poo big American studio films, but I do not think any cinemas are oppressed. That they don't reach as wide an audience does not make them oppressed.
Finally, a few days ago, I put my finger on the real reason why I don't like his theoretical framework, and it derives from an answer he gave me to one of my questions. He had explained that the French do not care much for films from Quebec, whether it's because they don't understand the dialect and thus don't want to read subtitles or because they are snobs. Like Britain, France only receives maybe one Quebecois film a year. I have no idea what the U.S. receives. I'm so out of touch. Anyway, this did not surprise me: that the French don't watch/care about these films.
So I asked how French films are received in Quebec. He admitted that he didn't know, stating only that the Hollywood juggernaut is what captivates audiences and that French comedies don't translate well. Tell me something I don't know. That this very established and well-read scholar did not even think that this means something made me realize that he has not considered everything about that "cinemas of minor Frenchness" conceptualization. By asking the question, I was implying that the audience reception of French films might suggest something about this "minor/major" cinemas idea. While I understand that the Quebecois have a complex cultural/national identity, that some may consider themselves Quebecois first, Canadian second, or one but not the other, I was wondering if French films in any way "inform" the Quebecois on how to be more French-like, less Canadian or whatever. Alternatively, does it "inform" them on how to stand apart from French cinema since they're most often compared to French cinema?
More than this though, I realized the real problem with "minor" and "major": language alone should not define the relationship between two completely different cinemas so that one is called "major" while the other is "minor." For instance, I do not see the Quebecois as French. It is a different language. The histories are different. The land and space are different. They are a different nation with a different culture, so why are they of "minor Frenchness"? If you ask me, they're not of Frenchness at all. As for the cinemas of African countries that used to be French colonies: are they cinemas of "minor Frenchness," too? No.
So "Cinemas of Minor Frenchness" is misleading. I seriously don't think he was trying to be ironic with that title because he still sees the need to study Quebecois cinema so closely with French cinema. Throughout his talk I was trying to come up with an alternative theoretical framework, but who am I to suggest such a thing to him? But I regret now not telling him how I disagree with the "minor/major" culture dichotomy.
C'est la vie.
i'll wear my earphones from hair on out
I fuckin' hate those headphones in the media resource centre of my department. They've messed up my hair beyond repair (unless I wash it again today). But wait, I am getting ahead of myself. [Pun intended.]
Today, in preparation for my French film exam that will take place Saturday morning at half past nine of the clock in the morning, I watched Lacombe Lucien (1974) AND Les Quatre cents coups (1959) aka The 400 Blows. I like The 400 Blows. I think it's poignant and sometimes pretty funny, but Lacombe Lucien has to be one of the most boring films I have ever seen. It takes way too much time to tell the story of a somewhat dim-witted country boy who almost inadvertently joins the French collaborators of the German Occupation during WWII. He enjoys the authority he has by being a member of the German police and uses it to take advantage of a Jewish tailor and his pretty daughter. There isn't a score, so every scene moves by so slowly. And there's very little talking, and when they do talk, it's--you guessed it--very slowly. Ah, but this is neither here nor there.
Getting back to my original argument: the headphones have made an impression on my hair. My hair is generally fuzzy and a bit fluffy (it ain't a fro, though, at least not yet), but there is a strip from ear to ear that is depressed. No matter how much I try to fluff out my hair, other parts continue to stick up but this strip does not budge. I look like I have a double-bumped camel on my head.
Shaving my head solved so many problems I had with my hair. It wasn't until I shaved it that I started to forgive bed head's unruly behavior, but this is just ridiculous.
Today, in preparation for my French film exam that will take place Saturday morning at half past nine of the clock in the morning, I watched Lacombe Lucien (1974) AND Les Quatre cents coups (1959) aka The 400 Blows. I like The 400 Blows. I think it's poignant and sometimes pretty funny, but Lacombe Lucien has to be one of the most boring films I have ever seen. It takes way too much time to tell the story of a somewhat dim-witted country boy who almost inadvertently joins the French collaborators of the German Occupation during WWII. He enjoys the authority he has by being a member of the German police and uses it to take advantage of a Jewish tailor and his pretty daughter. There isn't a score, so every scene moves by so slowly. And there's very little talking, and when they do talk, it's--you guessed it--very slowly. Ah, but this is neither here nor there.
Getting back to my original argument: the headphones have made an impression on my hair. My hair is generally fuzzy and a bit fluffy (it ain't a fro, though, at least not yet), but there is a strip from ear to ear that is depressed. No matter how much I try to fluff out my hair, other parts continue to stick up but this strip does not budge. I look like I have a double-bumped camel on my head.
Shaving my head solved so many problems I had with my hair. It wasn't until I shaved it that I started to forgive bed head's unruly behavior, but this is just ridiculous.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
heavy load
I finally bought boxes today to start shipping things (read: books) home. I think I've been dragging my heels with it because I am not looking forward to parting with so much money. I just know that each box is going to be at least £30, which is equivalent to $60! The worst bit about it is that the same package--if it originated from the U.S.--would only cost $30, essentially half the amount I will have to pay. So because of this, I take it back (oops! I forgot to ask); if it only cost $20 to send a very light package of candy from the U.S. to me, then any of my boxes'll cost over £50, easy.
I will try to take comfort from the fact that I spent more than $150 shipping things here to begin with, eight months ago. Am I getting sentimental? A little. I have so much to do and I keep adding more to the list. I really should eat bangers 'n' mash before I go. And I need to take photos of Lancaster so that people who have never been can see kind of what it was like for me. It wouldn't only be for them, though. It'd be for me, too. Otherwise I will have to rely on my memory alone to envision one of the places where I spent part of my life. Because let's face it, that is what this sojourn has been in the long run.
I will try to take comfort from the fact that I spent more than $150 shipping things here to begin with, eight months ago. Am I getting sentimental? A little. I have so much to do and I keep adding more to the list. I really should eat bangers 'n' mash before I go. And I need to take photos of Lancaster so that people who have never been can see kind of what it was like for me. It wouldn't only be for them, though. It'd be for me, too. Otherwise I will have to rely on my memory alone to envision one of the places where I spent part of my life. Because let's face it, that is what this sojourn has been in the long run.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
there's no time. gotta dash, baby
Hey, pray for me. Well, I doubt that will work, so just give me a wake-up call so that I don't oversleep for my exam tomorrow morning at 9.30. Tomorrow, I need to be up and ready to write two essays in two hours at the time that I usually wake up these days. On second thought, the timezone difference will be too difficult to get round, so just pray for me instead.
Thanks. Much appreciated.
Thanks. Much appreciated.
there's a disparity here i just don't understand
So in my free time today, between taking that modernist literature exam (don't ask) and studying for the exam tomorrow on youth and political culture in 1960s Europe, I've watched two episodes of the British sci-fi show "Primeval" (2007-present). Of course it's ridiculous, but it's entertaining in its own way.
Professor Nick Cutter (played by the suddenly sexy Scot Douglas Henshall) is the leader of a mismatch of experts. Don't actually know the term for his specialty, whether it's archaeology or paleontology or a combination of both plus something else. Anyway, he's got his right hand man (a Stuart Townsend lookalike/twin), who's probably just a more useful and less-wise-cracking sidekick than similar characters in other explorer narratives. Then there's a zookeeper whose expertise is reptiles. She comes in handy when dealing with dinosaurs. (Yeah, I know.) And then there's one of Cutter's students, who's a nerd and a conspiracy theorist.
In any case, "anomalies" keep popping up all over Britain, these portals that afford anyone curious enough to walk through them the ability to transgress time and space. They explain how dinosaurs, other prehistoric animals, and ones completely made up (such as giant spiders and centipedes) wander through suburbia or in the London tubeway system. And also where Cutter's wife, who he thought either went missing or died on an expedition, has been hanging out for eight years.
Watching this show, I am reminded of British and European commercials. This show, along with most of the commercials I have seen, must use so many more special effects than do their American counterparts. I think it's ironic considering British cinema is driven by realism (see anything by Loach, Leigh, or Davies for more information), by performances. And here we have special effects that belong in an American sci-fi blockbuster appearing in a British hour-long serial. Interesting, no?
More than this though are the commercials. Commercials in the U.S., if I remember correctly, do not have many special effects, CGI or otherwise. But they certainly do here. Case in point: an advert showing the effect of hitting a child at 40 mph graphically portrays what happens to the girl. It starts off with her sitting on the side of the road, bleeding from the ear, her limbs twisted. Then in voiceover she explains that she has a very slight chance of surviving the blow at this speed. Then she is suddenly lifted to the middle of the street, where it is clear that she has, instead, just been hit at 30 mph. For this reason, she has "a 90% chance of living." And it shows because she gasps for air this time round. "It's 30 for a reason" is the lesson to be (re)learned here. How graphic, eh? Whether or not it's a successful ad campaign is lost on me because I am never in the car.
The commercial for a plasma TV, expressing the wide range of colors that come in full brightness because of the TV's technology, sees a highrise building splashed over with paints of all colors. It's visually stunning, and I've never seen anything like it before, especially not in the U.S. So these companies must be spending a lot of money to reach the European market and entertaining their TV-watchers. They're just leaving the long-term entertaining up to Hollywood then, eh?
Professor Nick Cutter (played by the suddenly sexy Scot Douglas Henshall) is the leader of a mismatch of experts. Don't actually know the term for his specialty, whether it's archaeology or paleontology or a combination of both plus something else. Anyway, he's got his right hand man (a Stuart Townsend lookalike/twin), who's probably just a more useful and less-wise-cracking sidekick than similar characters in other explorer narratives. Then there's a zookeeper whose expertise is reptiles. She comes in handy when dealing with dinosaurs. (Yeah, I know.) And then there's one of Cutter's students, who's a nerd and a conspiracy theorist.
In any case, "anomalies" keep popping up all over Britain, these portals that afford anyone curious enough to walk through them the ability to transgress time and space. They explain how dinosaurs, other prehistoric animals, and ones completely made up (such as giant spiders and centipedes) wander through suburbia or in the London tubeway system. And also where Cutter's wife, who he thought either went missing or died on an expedition, has been hanging out for eight years.
Watching this show, I am reminded of British and European commercials. This show, along with most of the commercials I have seen, must use so many more special effects than do their American counterparts. I think it's ironic considering British cinema is driven by realism (see anything by Loach, Leigh, or Davies for more information), by performances. And here we have special effects that belong in an American sci-fi blockbuster appearing in a British hour-long serial. Interesting, no?
More than this though are the commercials. Commercials in the U.S., if I remember correctly, do not have many special effects, CGI or otherwise. But they certainly do here. Case in point: an advert showing the effect of hitting a child at 40 mph graphically portrays what happens to the girl. It starts off with her sitting on the side of the road, bleeding from the ear, her limbs twisted. Then in voiceover she explains that she has a very slight chance of surviving the blow at this speed. Then she is suddenly lifted to the middle of the street, where it is clear that she has, instead, just been hit at 30 mph. For this reason, she has "a 90% chance of living." And it shows because she gasps for air this time round. "It's 30 for a reason" is the lesson to be (re)learned here. How graphic, eh? Whether or not it's a successful ad campaign is lost on me because I am never in the car.
The commercial for a plasma TV, expressing the wide range of colors that come in full brightness because of the TV's technology, sees a highrise building splashed over with paints of all colors. It's visually stunning, and I've never seen anything like it before, especially not in the U.S. So these companies must be spending a lot of money to reach the European market and entertaining their TV-watchers. They're just leaving the long-term entertaining up to Hollywood then, eh?
Monday, May 21, 2007
it never ever ends
I have had two of my eight exams already. Still not confident, but I do know that I can in fact write an essay in an hour. It's just not the best essay in the world because I don't spend enough time planning it. The best advice I've been given with regards to studying for these fucking pains in the ass is to just practice everyday answering an essay question under timed conditions. That way I won't feel so pressured by the time constraint during the exam when I have to write two essays in two hours. It's helped a lot because I've realized that an hour is a reasonable amount of time to write an essay.
Wow, on a scale of one to ten, how uninteresting is this blog post, ten being really uninteresting? I think it's an eleven.
Today's exam was for "Re-presenting history: early European culture through the cinema," which I finished in mid-December. I have affectionately referred to the course module as my "history in film" class. It has been one of my favorites because I learned a lot about (ancient and medieval) history. I was over-prepared for the exam today, I realized, because my essay on how Gladiator's (2000) political message is represented through the film's depiction of Rome rambled on a bit. Still, at least I kept bringing it back to my thesis. I was upset I couldn't finagle a comparison with Spartacus (1960) in there, a film, despite its faults, I enjoyed so much more than I will ever like Gladiator.
Tomorrow is my modernist literature exam. I've spent the afternoon and evening filling out a chart to compare the four works we've studied, in relation to at least ten themes or concepts. Oh my god. I'm doing it again. Not only am I reverting back to old behavior (talking about nothing but exams), it's really boring, too.
I promise that as soon as I have enough time to devote to an actual post, I will blog about something that actually matters. Something like, say, "Cinemas of Minor Frenchness."
Wow, on a scale of one to ten, how uninteresting is this blog post, ten being really uninteresting? I think it's an eleven.
Today's exam was for "Re-presenting history: early European culture through the cinema," which I finished in mid-December. I have affectionately referred to the course module as my "history in film" class. It has been one of my favorites because I learned a lot about (ancient and medieval) history. I was over-prepared for the exam today, I realized, because my essay on how Gladiator's (2000) political message is represented through the film's depiction of Rome rambled on a bit. Still, at least I kept bringing it back to my thesis. I was upset I couldn't finagle a comparison with Spartacus (1960) in there, a film, despite its faults, I enjoyed so much more than I will ever like Gladiator.
Tomorrow is my modernist literature exam. I've spent the afternoon and evening filling out a chart to compare the four works we've studied, in relation to at least ten themes or concepts. Oh my god. I'm doing it again. Not only am I reverting back to old behavior (talking about nothing but exams), it's really boring, too.
I promise that as soon as I have enough time to devote to an actual post, I will blog about something that actually matters. Something like, say, "Cinemas of Minor Frenchness."
Sunday, May 20, 2007
when she rolls into port
Another trip. More photos. Another desktop.
This is part of one of the thirds of the Frank O. Gehry complex at the Media Harbor in Dusseldorf. What I love about all the buildings along the harbor is that you can't get just one photo of the landscape. You can't get just one photo that captures the "essence" of any of the individual buildings, either. It's an architectural photographer's playground.
This is part of one of the thirds of the Frank O. Gehry complex at the Media Harbor in Dusseldorf. What I love about all the buildings along the harbor is that you can't get just one photo of the landscape. You can't get just one photo that captures the "essence" of any of the individual buildings, either. It's an architectural photographer's playground.
you look smokin'
Do you know that Marlboro brand cigarettes make clothes? You probably don't because it's not available or even heard of in the U.S. But in Aachen of all places, that seat where Charlemagne crowned himself emperor of the Franks in 800 AD, I saw a shop hocking the casual, modern western-themed clothing. Complete with stetsons. Have to say that at least the clothes didn't look cheap. They certainly weren't.
It's amazing what a trip to Europe will reveal. A cigarette company wants to help those Europeans who got hooked in the first place because they wanted to look like American cowboys by supplying them with the rest of the look. Isn't that thoughtful?
It's amazing what a trip to Europe will reveal. A cigarette company wants to help those Europeans who got hooked in the first place because they wanted to look like American cowboys by supplying them with the rest of the look. Isn't that thoughtful?
Saturday, May 19, 2007
you look like you could be my friend
I keep forgetting to mention this. I have a profile on MySpace, but I never log in. Well, almost never. A couple of weeks ago I checked in to see what was going on. It only takes two seconds because not much does happen between the months I log in. Anyway, I am getting to the point.
A couple of weeks ago, when I logged in I saw that I had about four or five friend requests from what we would call "pretty girls." Oh, I'm going to stereotype now and it's not fair: they definitely looked like they belonged in sororities. They probably party a lot and are the kind of girls that my brother would find, shall we say rather nicely, "attractive."
Usually, friend requests come from really bad bands. Not individuals. I didn't understand why these girls would look at my profile and think that we have something in common. That we should be friends. And then I looked at my photo.
My photo is of me with my former hairstyle, the A-line. Taken on the day I had it done because that was the only time that it was bone straight and sleek. I think I might also be wearing a v-neck shirt that accentuates my breasts. Just as one of the hairdressers said when I had it styled, I look like I'm ready for the club. This must be why the girls want to be my friend.
Funny, even girls get the wrong idea.
A couple of weeks ago, when I logged in I saw that I had about four or five friend requests from what we would call "pretty girls." Oh, I'm going to stereotype now and it's not fair: they definitely looked like they belonged in sororities. They probably party a lot and are the kind of girls that my brother would find, shall we say rather nicely, "attractive."
Usually, friend requests come from really bad bands. Not individuals. I didn't understand why these girls would look at my profile and think that we have something in common. That we should be friends. And then I looked at my photo.
My photo is of me with my former hairstyle, the A-line. Taken on the day I had it done because that was the only time that it was bone straight and sleek. I think I might also be wearing a v-neck shirt that accentuates my breasts. Just as one of the hairdressers said when I had it styled, I look like I'm ready for the club. This must be why the girls want to be my friend.
Funny, even girls get the wrong idea.
c'mon sugar let me know
I've been watching Six Feet Under (2001-2005) again. I've started from the beginning of the fourth (second-to-last) season with the exact purpose of seeing Justin Theroux, who appears as Brenda Chenowith's (Rachel Griffiths) boyfriend.
Watching, I realized that no one can get much sexier than him. I just like his aesthetic, which I understand changes a lot because he is an actor, but his body and jet black hair are consistent. That he, as Joe, plays the french horn, scurries across a courtyard buck naked just to have sex with Brenda (they met because they're neighbors), and prefers to be bullied in bed makes him really sexy to me.
Don't get me wrong, I find other men extremely attractive, extremely sexy (not Colin Firth!), but there's something very raw about Justin, very sensual, very rough, really.
Watching, I realized that no one can get much sexier than him. I just like his aesthetic, which I understand changes a lot because he is an actor, but his body and jet black hair are consistent. That he, as Joe, plays the french horn, scurries across a courtyard buck naked just to have sex with Brenda (they met because they're neighbors), and prefers to be bullied in bed makes him really sexy to me.
Don't get me wrong, I find other men extremely attractive, extremely sexy (not Colin Firth!), but there's something very raw about Justin, very sensual, very rough, really.
Friday, May 18, 2007
german randomity
1.) The flight from Manchester to Cologne only took one hour and five minutes. On the way back, with the whole jet stream thing not working in my favor, it took an hour and ten minutes. That's approximately 700 km.
2.) I took out 100 euros from a bank on the border with the Netherlands, thinking I would want to buy more than just postcards and chocolate for the relatives back home. I have 51.89 euro left.
3.) I almost had a marijuana muffin in Maastricht from one of those "coffeeshops" whose specialty is not coffee. Why didn't I have it? I honestly forgot to get it before leaving and moving on to Aachen that day.
4.) Very nearly went to Liege, Belgium. Very nearly.
5.) None of my neighbors noticed that I was gone for four and a half days. I was really looking forward to answering the question, "I haven't seen you in a while. Where have you been?!" with "Germany." Damnit.
6.) One of the highlights was catching a glimpse of the driver of an SUV that advertised a business promoting American Indian culture and line dancing--with an emblem that reminded me of the Redskins. He was dressed all in black, wearing a black cowboy hat. Channeling Garth Brooks ca. 1995, perhaps?
7.) I only saw one German flag. I know what you're thinking, but they just express their nationalism differently.
2.) I took out 100 euros from a bank on the border with the Netherlands, thinking I would want to buy more than just postcards and chocolate for the relatives back home. I have 51.89 euro left.
3.) I almost had a marijuana muffin in Maastricht from one of those "coffeeshops" whose specialty is not coffee. Why didn't I have it? I honestly forgot to get it before leaving and moving on to Aachen that day.
4.) Very nearly went to Liege, Belgium. Very nearly.
5.) None of my neighbors noticed that I was gone for four and a half days. I was really looking forward to answering the question, "I haven't seen you in a while. Where have you been?!" with "Germany." Damnit.
6.) One of the highlights was catching a glimpse of the driver of an SUV that advertised a business promoting American Indian culture and line dancing--with an emblem that reminded me of the Redskins. He was dressed all in black, wearing a black cowboy hat. Channeling Garth Brooks ca. 1995, perhaps?
7.) I only saw one German flag. I know what you're thinking, but they just express their nationalism differently.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
once more with feeling
Why didn't anyone ever notice this? The score for Gladiator (2000) in the fight sequences sounds a lot like that of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. Only it's more forceful in the Johnny Depp vehicles. Hans Zimmer, you shouldn't do a Thomas Newman and recycle your scores. I understand with so many credits to your name, it gets a bit difficult to be truly original, but c'mon.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
dirty filthy love
This just in from the Bible's celebrity news:
Manson Pays Wood Highest Video Salary in History
Marilyn Manson made sure his girlfriend Evan Rachel Wood became the highest paid actress in music video history for her sex scenes with him in new promo "Heart-Shaped Glasses." Manson, who split from his wife Dita Von Teese last December, reportedly as a result of his relationship with Wood, was determined the 19-year-old should be properly compensated for her raunchy appearance. The first two minutes of the "Heart-Shaped Glasses" video feature Manson and Wood writhing around naked, having passionate sex - with many believing the couple actually made love for the cameras. Manson tells MTV News, "I did insist that Evan be paid the most that any actress has ever been paid in music-video history to be in this, even though she wouldn't have asked for it. There's no one else that could've been in it, because it was inspired by her."
I'm not going to write about this shocking pair or the fact that Marilyn Manson is twice her age (I am actually older than she is!). What I take issue with is Manson's behavior or attitude toward the project. In effect, he is pimping her, even if he's her costar. It may superficially appear to be porn, but by paying Wood (so much) for appearing in the video, which she apparently wouldn't have asked for, he is prostituting her.
I do not know much about music video casting or what actors are generally paid, so I am naturally curious as to how much she was in fact paid. I don't think this is something most people know, but we know the actors/dancers/eye candy/objects of sexual exploitation must be compensated in some way. That Wood was paid is probably not a problem, but making a big deal about her becoming the highest paid actress for a music video because she appears in raunchy sex scenes with the musical act, who just happens to be her real-life lover, really shouldn't make the news. Calling attention to her paycheck sounds like Manson was paying her for, let's face it, using her body. I doubt their relationship is like that, so why make a big deal about paying her so much? Oh, he must be eternally grateful for something she might have done for free, eh?
If you don't agree with me, consider this: he wouldn't have paid someone else as much. And yeah, he might not have asked someone else because she supposedly "inspired" it. But the point is: he paid his girlfriend to have (unsimulated?) sex with him publicly. They can do whatever they want, but doesn't this complicate their relationship? Or is it just them both acknowledging it's a business? In any case, I think it's a bit weird. Just look at what happened with The Brown Bunny (2003).
Manson Pays Wood Highest Video Salary in History
Marilyn Manson made sure his girlfriend Evan Rachel Wood became the highest paid actress in music video history for her sex scenes with him in new promo "Heart-Shaped Glasses." Manson, who split from his wife Dita Von Teese last December, reportedly as a result of his relationship with Wood, was determined the 19-year-old should be properly compensated for her raunchy appearance. The first two minutes of the "Heart-Shaped Glasses" video feature Manson and Wood writhing around naked, having passionate sex - with many believing the couple actually made love for the cameras. Manson tells MTV News, "I did insist that Evan be paid the most that any actress has ever been paid in music-video history to be in this, even though she wouldn't have asked for it. There's no one else that could've been in it, because it was inspired by her."
I'm not going to write about this shocking pair or the fact that Marilyn Manson is twice her age (I am actually older than she is!). What I take issue with is Manson's behavior or attitude toward the project. In effect, he is pimping her, even if he's her costar. It may superficially appear to be porn, but by paying Wood (so much) for appearing in the video, which she apparently wouldn't have asked for, he is prostituting her.
I do not know much about music video casting or what actors are generally paid, so I am naturally curious as to how much she was in fact paid. I don't think this is something most people know, but we know the actors/dancers/eye candy/objects of sexual exploitation must be compensated in some way. That Wood was paid is probably not a problem, but making a big deal about her becoming the highest paid actress for a music video because she appears in raunchy sex scenes with the musical act, who just happens to be her real-life lover, really shouldn't make the news. Calling attention to her paycheck sounds like Manson was paying her for, let's face it, using her body. I doubt their relationship is like that, so why make a big deal about paying her so much? Oh, he must be eternally grateful for something she might have done for free, eh?
If you don't agree with me, consider this: he wouldn't have paid someone else as much. And yeah, he might not have asked someone else because she supposedly "inspired" it. But the point is: he paid his girlfriend to have (unsimulated?) sex with him publicly. They can do whatever they want, but doesn't this complicate their relationship? Or is it just them both acknowledging it's a business? In any case, I think it's a bit weird. Just look at what happened with The Brown Bunny (2003).
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
i was the lead in a german comedy-drama
I got back last night from Germany at approximately 11.10 pm. I did a lot in four days, but I didn't make it to Cologne because we were too tired. I apologize that I will not be able to report on Cologne. Actually, I apologize in general because I do not have enough hindsight to really reflect on the experience just yet. It was different because I couldn't read or speak the language but somehow also familiar because the city landscapes weren't exactly what I had imagined. But the country sort of was, with wind farms everywhere.
In the meantime, while I wait to truly reflect on my trips to Hueckelhoven, Herne, Maastricht, Aachen, and Duessledorf, I want to list a few things. Oh, how I love lists.
1.) My listening comprehension of German has certainly improved, almost by leaps and bounds. Before, I could only ever understand my friend Denise when she speaks German because I am more familiar with her voice, speech pattern, and sense of humor to get the message even if I don't understand all of the words. But listening to her speak German with other people, I was able to understand them, too. More and more each day. It even got to the point that while watching The Constant Gardener (2005) in English, everyone, especially Danny Huston, sounded like he was speaking German. I was too used to hearing German.
2.) Having said this, whenever I couldn't understand what was going on or just wasn't paying attention, I felt like I was in a German movie without subtitles. Every conversation was in German except for private ones with Denise and two others, one with a woman who was willing to speak with me at a party and another with an English family friend of Denise's. Generally speaking, whenever I said something to someone other than Denise, she would translate because ich spreche ein bisschen Deutsch.
3.) I now understand why all the Germans I know here miss German bread. It is hard to describe, but it is truly wonderful. Crispy, savory, fresh. Besides the bread, all the food is good, especially the ham.
4.) Speaking of food, I have had more German (and Dutch) food in four days than I have had English food in the seven and a half months I've spent living in England. I've had pork schnitzel, bratwurst, printen, apfelschorle, bowle, some Dutch cheese thing, Black Forest ham, some Belgian ham, etc. etc. Go to Germany for the food alone, the cheapest in Europe.
5.) The Autobahn. When I first heard that when there are speed limits installed, the highest is usually 120 km/h and that Denise has gone upwards of 140 km/h, I thought, "Wow!" Being in the car when she was going that fast didn't feel like, say, 120 mph. I think 120 km/h converts to 75 mph. Will say that I only ever felt like we were going very fast when I first arrived, in the black of night. Also when cars would pass. Even in the rain, people drive very fast, but I never felt unsafe. Germans may have the Autobahn and the Dutch may have stricter limits and give tickets more easily (Dutch drivers are slow in comparison), but they're no Italians or Parisians. They do not drive like maniacs. I repeat, they do not drive like maniacs.
I think that's all for now.
In the meantime, while I wait to truly reflect on my trips to Hueckelhoven, Herne, Maastricht, Aachen, and Duessledorf, I want to list a few things. Oh, how I love lists.
1.) My listening comprehension of German has certainly improved, almost by leaps and bounds. Before, I could only ever understand my friend Denise when she speaks German because I am more familiar with her voice, speech pattern, and sense of humor to get the message even if I don't understand all of the words. But listening to her speak German with other people, I was able to understand them, too. More and more each day. It even got to the point that while watching The Constant Gardener (2005) in English, everyone, especially Danny Huston, sounded like he was speaking German. I was too used to hearing German.
2.) Having said this, whenever I couldn't understand what was going on or just wasn't paying attention, I felt like I was in a German movie without subtitles. Every conversation was in German except for private ones with Denise and two others, one with a woman who was willing to speak with me at a party and another with an English family friend of Denise's. Generally speaking, whenever I said something to someone other than Denise, she would translate because ich spreche ein bisschen Deutsch.
3.) I now understand why all the Germans I know here miss German bread. It is hard to describe, but it is truly wonderful. Crispy, savory, fresh. Besides the bread, all the food is good, especially the ham.
4.) Speaking of food, I have had more German (and Dutch) food in four days than I have had English food in the seven and a half months I've spent living in England. I've had pork schnitzel, bratwurst, printen, apfelschorle, bowle, some Dutch cheese thing, Black Forest ham, some Belgian ham, etc. etc. Go to Germany for the food alone, the cheapest in Europe.
5.) The Autobahn. When I first heard that when there are speed limits installed, the highest is usually 120 km/h and that Denise has gone upwards of 140 km/h, I thought, "Wow!" Being in the car when she was going that fast didn't feel like, say, 120 mph. I think 120 km/h converts to 75 mph. Will say that I only ever felt like we were going very fast when I first arrived, in the black of night. Also when cars would pass. Even in the rain, people drive very fast, but I never felt unsafe. Germans may have the Autobahn and the Dutch may have stricter limits and give tickets more easily (Dutch drivers are slow in comparison), but they're no Italians or Parisians. They do not drive like maniacs. I repeat, they do not drive like maniacs.
I think that's all for now.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
when harry met sally, did people think they were a couple right off the bat?
I wasn't going to say anything about this. I was going to try to forget it. But obviously I haven't been able to, so I feel the need to blog about it.
This evening, a male friend of mine came over to where I live. He had applied to live in my college, and since he'd never seen the kind of interiors he almost got, I thought it was about time he see an example. So I showed him the communal bathroom (he's got his own), the kitchen (which he shares with only 5 other people, as opposed to my sharing it with 20-25), and my room.
When he left, he followed me into the kitchen, where I was going to start making my dinner. (I had to go to the kitchen for this reason, you see.) In there were three guys, two of them Americans. They must have been really bored because they were obnoxious, trying way too hard to make my friend feel welcome. That is very nice, but it all seemed rather lazy and forced to me. They were overdoing their manliness by doing some sort of stupid, awkward handshake with my friend and then telling him he was welcome back anytime.
As soon as my friend left, one of them started teasing me about my having a guy over. "Hey, that looked like a guy." He even went so far as to recite that stupid "K-I-S-S-I-N-G" song. I interrupted him with, "What is that [the "that looked like a guy" comment] supposed to mean?"
I should tell you the guy who teased me is also the same American who called me Harry Potter. Yeah, he really shouldn't open his mouth. I told him that I don't think he knows me well enough to talk about me like that. I understand now he must think I am a lesbian for sure. I don't care anymore.
Before I left, someone--it might have been him--brought it up again. Then he apologized for offending me. I cannot remember who said it first, but the three guys kept passing around the word "degrading." I think the offender said, "I wasn't trying to degrade you" or something to that effect. Then someone else said, for sure, "No one should degrade Allie. Or is it no one can degrade Allie?" I said, "Saying my friend is my boyfriend is not degrading. But no one should try [to degrade me]."
I write this because I understand this guy was just trying to have fun and thought I would enjoy it, too, but I didn't appreciate it because he really knows nothing about me and shouldn't presume that he can poke fun at my always being alone and for once having a friend over (who just happens to be male).
I've said this before, but one of the cultural differences I have noticed between the youth in the US and in the UK is that men and women can easily be friends in the UK without anyone (including themselves perhaps) assuming they are a couple. For instance, whenever I see a guy and a girl walking together, chatting, laughing, smiling, I cannot assume that they are an item because there are many couples like this walking around. It really is rather freeing to see that people count as individuals here first and that it isn't everyone's natural tendency to pair people off. Of course it had to be an American who would assume that my friend and I are an item. I guess he hasn't noticed this difference between our cultures, but I have, and I can't easily wipe away this new perspective I've learned about human relations.
This evening, a male friend of mine came over to where I live. He had applied to live in my college, and since he'd never seen the kind of interiors he almost got, I thought it was about time he see an example. So I showed him the communal bathroom (he's got his own), the kitchen (which he shares with only 5 other people, as opposed to my sharing it with 20-25), and my room.
When he left, he followed me into the kitchen, where I was going to start making my dinner. (I had to go to the kitchen for this reason, you see.) In there were three guys, two of them Americans. They must have been really bored because they were obnoxious, trying way too hard to make my friend feel welcome. That is very nice, but it all seemed rather lazy and forced to me. They were overdoing their manliness by doing some sort of stupid, awkward handshake with my friend and then telling him he was welcome back anytime.
As soon as my friend left, one of them started teasing me about my having a guy over. "Hey, that looked like a guy." He even went so far as to recite that stupid "K-I-S-S-I-N-G" song. I interrupted him with, "What is that [the "that looked like a guy" comment] supposed to mean?"
I should tell you the guy who teased me is also the same American who called me Harry Potter. Yeah, he really shouldn't open his mouth. I told him that I don't think he knows me well enough to talk about me like that. I understand now he must think I am a lesbian for sure. I don't care anymore.
Before I left, someone--it might have been him--brought it up again. Then he apologized for offending me. I cannot remember who said it first, but the three guys kept passing around the word "degrading." I think the offender said, "I wasn't trying to degrade you" or something to that effect. Then someone else said, for sure, "No one should degrade Allie. Or is it no one can degrade Allie?" I said, "Saying my friend is my boyfriend is not degrading. But no one should try [to degrade me]."
I write this because I understand this guy was just trying to have fun and thought I would enjoy it, too, but I didn't appreciate it because he really knows nothing about me and shouldn't presume that he can poke fun at my always being alone and for once having a friend over (who just happens to be male).
I've said this before, but one of the cultural differences I have noticed between the youth in the US and in the UK is that men and women can easily be friends in the UK without anyone (including themselves perhaps) assuming they are a couple. For instance, whenever I see a guy and a girl walking together, chatting, laughing, smiling, I cannot assume that they are an item because there are many couples like this walking around. It really is rather freeing to see that people count as individuals here first and that it isn't everyone's natural tendency to pair people off. Of course it had to be an American who would assume that my friend and I are an item. I guess he hasn't noticed this difference between our cultures, but I have, and I can't easily wipe away this new perspective I've learned about human relations.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
another one bites the dust
I'm stressed out, depressed, restless, and going to Germany tomorrow. Pray it gets me out of this rut.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
eulogy
I still have a headache.
I bawled my eyes out this afternoon watching Nate Fisher's (Peter Krause) funeral. I've said this before, but I'll say it again: the quality of the writing and acting on Six Feet Under (2001-2005)--may it rest in peace--really forces me to compare it to anything you'd experience in the cinema and thus blows away that whole TV-film dichotomy of quality. I mean, it may be melodramatic (what isn't?!) and drawn out because it was a TV series, but it is so gripping as to never lose your attention, your emotional interest in (most of) the characters. Because of this, I felt like I knew Nate Fisher. I cried and cried because I felt like I was at his funeral. Not because the way it was filmed was so realistic, but the universal themes of life, love, death, and loss resonated with me, as I'm sure they resonate with almost everyone.
I couldn't watch his family members splatter the dirt onto his body (he requested that he be buried without a casket, without chemicals and embalming). That was the last way I saw my mother. Dirt thrown onto this wooden box keeping her still for all time. My last memory of her, of the life I shared with her, is of her funeral. But this is neither here nor there.
More than this, I cried and cried today because I felt like Nate Fisher was a friend.
I bawled my eyes out this afternoon watching Nate Fisher's (Peter Krause) funeral. I've said this before, but I'll say it again: the quality of the writing and acting on Six Feet Under (2001-2005)--may it rest in peace--really forces me to compare it to anything you'd experience in the cinema and thus blows away that whole TV-film dichotomy of quality. I mean, it may be melodramatic (what isn't?!) and drawn out because it was a TV series, but it is so gripping as to never lose your attention, your emotional interest in (most of) the characters. Because of this, I felt like I knew Nate Fisher. I cried and cried because I felt like I was at his funeral. Not because the way it was filmed was so realistic, but the universal themes of life, love, death, and loss resonated with me, as I'm sure they resonate with almost everyone.
I couldn't watch his family members splatter the dirt onto his body (he requested that he be buried without a casket, without chemicals and embalming). That was the last way I saw my mother. Dirt thrown onto this wooden box keeping her still for all time. My last memory of her, of the life I shared with her, is of her funeral. But this is neither here nor there.
More than this, I cried and cried today because I felt like Nate Fisher was a friend.
Monday, May 7, 2007
notes on a shamble
I think I just lied. Something suddenly came over me and inspired me to write another post when I didn't think I had the energy. (See this for more information.)
Anyway, I have some randomity to discuss:
1.) I am really hungry, but I cannot go into my kitchen and put food into the oven and then walk out while everyone else is celebrating Cinco de Mayo (on the seventh) with pinatas and burritos. According to the invitational flyer sent via Facebook, "It's a Mexican holiday that we celebrate in the States." That is very true, but who is this "we" they speak of? None of these kids organizing the event are Mexican. They, like me, have only celebrated it in Spanish language classes. It's an excuse--a very good one, I might add--to just throw another impermissible party and eat Mexican food. But I'm not in the mood for socializing my way into eating a taco.
2.) It seems to me that I have a thing for pedophilia. Wait. That came out wrong. What I mean to say is that recently, I have watched films and TV shows that deal with the seriousness of pedophilia and sexual misconduct with children.
Last night, I watched Notes on a Scandal (2006). I didn't like it.
I was excited that it was only about 90 minutes long, but I think character development (with the exception of The Dench) suffered because of this apparently short amount of time to tell a story. Oh, and speaking of telling a story, I couldn't help thinking, upon leaving the theatre, "What is the point? Who cares?" While it might not have been boring because it moved so quickly (too quickly, maybe), I'm conflicted. Sounds like I would have preferred them to use more time to develop the characters, but I didn't want it to be any longer because I didn't think the story was all that interesting once I started watching it unfold on screen. Good thing it was over and done with in 90 minutes, eh?
Other problems: The thought processes of Judi Dench's Barbara Covett may have been psychotic and obsessive, but that shouldn't leave room for the thought processes of Sheba Hart (Cate Blanchett) to be sometimes just downright stupid. And how could she honestly fall into a sexual affair with a fifteen-year-old who's practically unintelligible and reminds me of a younger Jonathan Rhys Meyers? What else? No one is sympathetic but Bill Nighy as Sheba's husband Richard. He didn't get enough screen time. If he had been fleshed out more, then they'd have made me care. (Uh, yeah, I may as well admit that I have a crush on him. I have a crush on Bill Nighy.)
Just realized it looks like I've contradicted myself. When I say I wish Richard had been fleshed out more, yes, I admit that the film would have to be longer, but if it suddenly became about Richard, it wouldn't work either. He just should have been in there more from the beginning, thereby making me more interested in the story because he was not a bad or unloving husband. That should settle that paradox I set up.
Disappointing, to say the least, but at least it's a film with two female co-leads. Can you name another film? Oh! I got one: Death Becomes Her (1992).
Then I watched the first two episodes of Six Feet Under's fifth and final season (2001-2005). Yeah, I know I am behind. In the second episode, Nate Fisher (Peter Krause) ends up in a bar, chatting with an old high school buddy he met at the funeral of another high school buddy. Nate's former friend (I don't think he'll be seeing him again) confesses to looking at the friends of his thirteen-year-old daughter. Not sexually, apparently, after Nate reprimands him. The girl supposedly reminds Tom of how invincible he thought he was when he was younger, exploring sex. He's turning 40 soon.
Yeah, so, middle-aged men and women lust after teenagers and children. Any new insights?
3.) I didn't notice Judi Dench's stubby legs, but I did notice how badly coiffed (read: ugly overall) they made her. And how queer! No, no. Couldn't miss that.
Anyway, I have some randomity to discuss:
1.) I am really hungry, but I cannot go into my kitchen and put food into the oven and then walk out while everyone else is celebrating Cinco de Mayo (on the seventh) with pinatas and burritos. According to the invitational flyer sent via Facebook, "It's a Mexican holiday that we celebrate in the States." That is very true, but who is this "we" they speak of? None of these kids organizing the event are Mexican. They, like me, have only celebrated it in Spanish language classes. It's an excuse--a very good one, I might add--to just throw another impermissible party and eat Mexican food. But I'm not in the mood for socializing my way into eating a taco.
2.) It seems to me that I have a thing for pedophilia. Wait. That came out wrong. What I mean to say is that recently, I have watched films and TV shows that deal with the seriousness of pedophilia and sexual misconduct with children.
Last night, I watched Notes on a Scandal (2006). I didn't like it.
I was excited that it was only about 90 minutes long, but I think character development (with the exception of The Dench) suffered because of this apparently short amount of time to tell a story. Oh, and speaking of telling a story, I couldn't help thinking, upon leaving the theatre, "What is the point? Who cares?" While it might not have been boring because it moved so quickly (too quickly, maybe), I'm conflicted. Sounds like I would have preferred them to use more time to develop the characters, but I didn't want it to be any longer because I didn't think the story was all that interesting once I started watching it unfold on screen. Good thing it was over and done with in 90 minutes, eh?
Other problems: The thought processes of Judi Dench's Barbara Covett may have been psychotic and obsessive, but that shouldn't leave room for the thought processes of Sheba Hart (Cate Blanchett) to be sometimes just downright stupid. And how could she honestly fall into a sexual affair with a fifteen-year-old who's practically unintelligible and reminds me of a younger Jonathan Rhys Meyers? What else? No one is sympathetic but Bill Nighy as Sheba's husband Richard. He didn't get enough screen time. If he had been fleshed out more, then they'd have made me care. (Uh, yeah, I may as well admit that I have a crush on him. I have a crush on Bill Nighy.)
Just realized it looks like I've contradicted myself. When I say I wish Richard had been fleshed out more, yes, I admit that the film would have to be longer, but if it suddenly became about Richard, it wouldn't work either. He just should have been in there more from the beginning, thereby making me more interested in the story because he was not a bad or unloving husband. That should settle that paradox I set up.
Disappointing, to say the least, but at least it's a film with two female co-leads. Can you name another film? Oh! I got one: Death Becomes Her (1992).
Then I watched the first two episodes of Six Feet Under's fifth and final season (2001-2005). Yeah, I know I am behind. In the second episode, Nate Fisher (Peter Krause) ends up in a bar, chatting with an old high school buddy he met at the funeral of another high school buddy. Nate's former friend (I don't think he'll be seeing him again) confesses to looking at the friends of his thirteen-year-old daughter. Not sexually, apparently, after Nate reprimands him. The girl supposedly reminds Tom of how invincible he thought he was when he was younger, exploring sex. He's turning 40 soon.
Yeah, so, middle-aged men and women lust after teenagers and children. Any new insights?
3.) I didn't notice Judi Dench's stubby legs, but I did notice how badly coiffed (read: ugly overall) they made her. And how queer! No, no. Couldn't miss that.
shh! examinations in progress
Oh, I don't have enough energy to write a proper post. This is the second time this has happened. For days I had been dragging my heels, procrastinating as much as possible before I started studying for my first exam on May 16 at 2 pm in the George Fox Lecture Theatres. (And where will you be?) But I began yesterday, continued today, and will keep on keeping on until I leave Thursday afternoon for Germany. I'm glad I'm getting the one with the most material (therefore the need for the most synthesized studying) over and done with first, but I really don't want to take ANY exams. Who does? I know. But I have EIGHT, and that's a lot more than most everyone else. Do you see why I can't wait to get out of here?
Sunday, May 6, 2007
hard to swallow
Last night I watched Hard Candy (2005). I remember when it came out, I thought: "How can they sustain a whole movie about a young photographer trying to romance a teenage girl, after having met her online? Won't this make people upset?" The filmmakers knew this, so, yeah, of course it's about pedophilia and child pornography. You should know by now that it is also a psychological thriller/character study because the girl Hayley (Ellen Page) ties up the photographer Jeff (Patrick Wilson) and then tortures him. She's stalked him, she's figured out he's had something to do with the disappearance and murder of another teenage girl, so she's meticulously planned how to make him pay.
This may spoil things for you, but her plan is to castrate him. And she does. Until you find out she hasn't. It's very subtle and if you turn away, you can miss it, but once he gets free after the alleged castration was supposed to have happened, he says, "I'm all here." Before trying to find her, to hurt her (in self defense, I would say), he turns on the tape because Hayley supposedly filmed the procedure. But of course it's not there and instead it's a cartoon or some other kiddie program. However, how do the filmmakers explain the footage we could see of the surgery when we, like Jeff, thought she was really carrying it out?
I only came to this realization once the film was over. I honestly wasn't sure if she had castrated him or not--the revelatory truth so quickly given. But here's my thinking: Hayley forces Jeff to commit suicide so that his big secret isn't revealed (especially to this former girlfriend he's still infatuated with), so that he doesn't go to jail, etc. She fixed the suicide, the confession to that teenager's murder, and everything, and she promises him that she will clean it up if he just kills himself. As he dangles on the side of his swanky house, she says, "Or not." So, Hayley has fixed it just so, so it looks like there wasn't another person there who tortured and prompted Jeff's suicide. Of course she couldn't have castrated him. Otherwise the cops would suspect foul play. This is not to say that an extremely upset or frustrated pedophile wouldn't ever chop off his own bollocks, but let's just say it's not likely, especially in Jeff's case. (Yeah, I find it ironic that Wilson was also in Little Children [2006] where a convicted child sex offender played by Jackie Earle Haley, Ronnie McGorvey, goes to this extreme on himself at the end.)
Now, there is something else I want to address in analyzing the film. It's definitely a psychological thriller. Based around torture. You would think that it would appeal to those who love to watch the Saw movies and the Hostel movies and those few who are eagerly awaiting that Captivity (2007). But unlike those films, the violence and torture are really not for the amusement of the audience, who wish to be scared or at least a little bit freaked out. Here, because so much of it happens just outside the frame, and all you get are the sounds and Hayley's confident talking (she could sell anything), she--and in turn, the film--plays with the audience's minds as much as she plays with Jeff. She convinced him she had castrated him! Which makes me wonder where she got those fake testicles she at least threatened to throw down the garbage disposal.
I made a joke earlier that this film should be shown to pedophiles. It would definitely scare them off if they could see how a young girl could mind fuck them and hurt them. In this way, it is very much a cautionary tale, no? That's where the torture is different from that of the Saw and Hostel franchises, for instance. Is there a lesson to be learned from Hostel? What? Never go to Eastern Europe? I don't think so. Hard Candy tries to be a social commentary about a serious problem, and I think it is, which is why I--like other people who have seen it--can toss around these ideas. Saw (2004) isn't a social commentary. Except we now know, after observing the success of these kinds of movies, that people love to watch people get tortured.
Having said this, however, I am not seriously suggesting that this film is commendable because it carries this message. It avoids bringing pedophiles (and child sex offenders, though Jeff had never been convicted and thus no one knew about it) the help they need. Hayley doesn't understand that her warped brand of "justice" is not justice. As a representative of the group that Jeff has long targeted for his fantasies, you may think she is justified, but I am sorry. No one deserves this kind of torture. And that's what makes the young parents of Little Children so disgusting; no, McGorvey should not be castrated. And even if Jeff had had something to do with the teenager's murder, then this really is not a case for Hayley to solve and "put right."
I still recommend it if I haven't put you off completely.
This may spoil things for you, but her plan is to castrate him. And she does. Until you find out she hasn't. It's very subtle and if you turn away, you can miss it, but once he gets free after the alleged castration was supposed to have happened, he says, "I'm all here." Before trying to find her, to hurt her (in self defense, I would say), he turns on the tape because Hayley supposedly filmed the procedure. But of course it's not there and instead it's a cartoon or some other kiddie program. However, how do the filmmakers explain the footage we could see of the surgery when we, like Jeff, thought she was really carrying it out?
I only came to this realization once the film was over. I honestly wasn't sure if she had castrated him or not--the revelatory truth so quickly given. But here's my thinking: Hayley forces Jeff to commit suicide so that his big secret isn't revealed (especially to this former girlfriend he's still infatuated with), so that he doesn't go to jail, etc. She fixed the suicide, the confession to that teenager's murder, and everything, and she promises him that she will clean it up if he just kills himself. As he dangles on the side of his swanky house, she says, "Or not." So, Hayley has fixed it just so, so it looks like there wasn't another person there who tortured and prompted Jeff's suicide. Of course she couldn't have castrated him. Otherwise the cops would suspect foul play. This is not to say that an extremely upset or frustrated pedophile wouldn't ever chop off his own bollocks, but let's just say it's not likely, especially in Jeff's case. (Yeah, I find it ironic that Wilson was also in Little Children [2006] where a convicted child sex offender played by Jackie Earle Haley, Ronnie McGorvey, goes to this extreme on himself at the end.)
Now, there is something else I want to address in analyzing the film. It's definitely a psychological thriller. Based around torture. You would think that it would appeal to those who love to watch the Saw movies and the Hostel movies and those few who are eagerly awaiting that Captivity (2007). But unlike those films, the violence and torture are really not for the amusement of the audience, who wish to be scared or at least a little bit freaked out. Here, because so much of it happens just outside the frame, and all you get are the sounds and Hayley's confident talking (she could sell anything), she--and in turn, the film--plays with the audience's minds as much as she plays with Jeff. She convinced him she had castrated him! Which makes me wonder where she got those fake testicles she at least threatened to throw down the garbage disposal.
I made a joke earlier that this film should be shown to pedophiles. It would definitely scare them off if they could see how a young girl could mind fuck them and hurt them. In this way, it is very much a cautionary tale, no? That's where the torture is different from that of the Saw and Hostel franchises, for instance. Is there a lesson to be learned from Hostel? What? Never go to Eastern Europe? I don't think so. Hard Candy tries to be a social commentary about a serious problem, and I think it is, which is why I--like other people who have seen it--can toss around these ideas. Saw (2004) isn't a social commentary. Except we now know, after observing the success of these kinds of movies, that people love to watch people get tortured.
Having said this, however, I am not seriously suggesting that this film is commendable because it carries this message. It avoids bringing pedophiles (and child sex offenders, though Jeff had never been convicted and thus no one knew about it) the help they need. Hayley doesn't understand that her warped brand of "justice" is not justice. As a representative of the group that Jeff has long targeted for his fantasies, you may think she is justified, but I am sorry. No one deserves this kind of torture. And that's what makes the young parents of Little Children so disgusting; no, McGorvey should not be castrated. And even if Jeff had had something to do with the teenager's murder, then this really is not a case for Hayley to solve and "put right."
I still recommend it if I haven't put you off completely.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
potty training
Call me disgusting, but on my most recent trip to the bathroom (yeah, this happened just a minute ago), when I saw how someone's previously set off anal fireworks (aka diarrhea?) had stayed clung to the seat, I thought, of course, "how disgusting!"
Usually when I make observations not wholly unlike this one, I do something to change it. For instance, whenever I spot litter while walking around anywhere, if it doesn't look too germy, I will pick it up and properly dispose of it asap. My thinking is, I cannot just notice it and NOT pick it up.
So, I admit that this thought ran through my head, too. But I just couldn't clean up someone else's shit. I've honestly thought of putting up a sign that reads: "I'd wipe it clean if it were my shit." But I know I won't.
I just had to share this.
Usually when I make observations not wholly unlike this one, I do something to change it. For instance, whenever I spot litter while walking around anywhere, if it doesn't look too germy, I will pick it up and properly dispose of it asap. My thinking is, I cannot just notice it and NOT pick it up.
So, I admit that this thought ran through my head, too. But I just couldn't clean up someone else's shit. I've honestly thought of putting up a sign that reads: "I'd wipe it clean if it were my shit." But I know I won't.
I just had to share this.
Friday, May 4, 2007
let's not see how the others will live
Get this: maybe I won't even need to bother seeing The Lives of Others (2006). By the time I can, I'm sure this idea for a movie, which I've read about at IMDb, will already be in theatres:
German Oscar Winner Set for Hollywood Remake
The Oscar-winning Best Foreign Film is to be remade as a Hollywood movie. German espionage drama The Lives Of Others will be revamped as an English-language film with moviemakers Sydney Pollack and Anthony Minghella coming together for the project. Pollack tells trade paper Daily Variety, "We would just desperately love for that film to be something that reaches more people. We haven't gotten locked into making it yet, but we're working hard at trying to get it going." The film's writer/director Florian Henckel Von Donnersmarck claimed Oscar gold for the film in February.
Now I understand they're just toying with the idea of adapting it, but will they transport the story elsewhere? The fuckin' historical context is what makes this movie interesting. Without that, you have something else, so don't talk about "remaking" it. Anyone who knows me knows that there is nothing in film I dislike more than the remaking of perfectly good foreign-language films so that they supposedly see a wider audience. (People don't like to read movies, after all.) The originals don't reach wider audiences because English-language filmmakers have "culturally appropriated" these films so that viewers don't realize the "adaptations" are remakes and thus are less likely to see the point in viewing the original. There just needs to be a campaign or something to better advertise foreign-language films. It would be a lot cheaper than remaking a whole film, scene by scene, with more recognizable faces. (See this for more information.)
German Oscar Winner Set for Hollywood Remake
The Oscar-winning Best Foreign Film is to be remade as a Hollywood movie. German espionage drama The Lives Of Others will be revamped as an English-language film with moviemakers Sydney Pollack and Anthony Minghella coming together for the project. Pollack tells trade paper Daily Variety, "We would just desperately love for that film to be something that reaches more people. We haven't gotten locked into making it yet, but we're working hard at trying to get it going." The film's writer/director Florian Henckel Von Donnersmarck claimed Oscar gold for the film in February.
Now I understand they're just toying with the idea of adapting it, but will they transport the story elsewhere? The fuckin' historical context is what makes this movie interesting. Without that, you have something else, so don't talk about "remaking" it. Anyone who knows me knows that there is nothing in film I dislike more than the remaking of perfectly good foreign-language films so that they supposedly see a wider audience. (People don't like to read movies, after all.) The originals don't reach wider audiences because English-language filmmakers have "culturally appropriated" these films so that viewers don't realize the "adaptations" are remakes and thus are less likely to see the point in viewing the original. There just needs to be a campaign or something to better advertise foreign-language films. It would be a lot cheaper than remaking a whole film, scene by scene, with more recognizable faces. (See this for more information.)
Thursday, May 3, 2007
bad timing
For at least six months, I have been waiting to see The Lives of Others (2006), and I can't recall ever wanting to see any other movie quite as much as I've anticipated this one. It came out in the US early last month. It came out here a few weeks ago, and the nearest place to see it was in Manchester. I was certain that the only way I would get to see it would be if it came to the Dukes in town. For weeks I checked every day for the theatre/cinema to announce its new schedule. And you know what? They WILL be playing The Lives of Others on three consecutive nights. And I can't go. Because I will be in Germany.
And while I am in Germany, I can't even see it on DVD (remember, it came out early in 2006 there). The DVD doesn't come with English subtitles. I guess I will have to wait to see it on DVD when I get home. That is an awful long time to wait to see a movie, no?
And while I am in Germany, I can't even see it on DVD (remember, it came out early in 2006 there). The DVD doesn't come with English subtitles. I guess I will have to wait to see it on DVD when I get home. That is an awful long time to wait to see a movie, no?
good evening
While watching In Her Shoes (2005), I checked to see what Toni Collette will be up to next. There are a few things, but I want to talk about Evening (2007). I watched the trailer. It all reminds me of Mrs. Dalloway.
Looks like Collette and Natasha Richardson play the daughters of a dying Vanessa Redgrave. She's a bit loopy because they don't understand what she keeps going on and on about, about some guy she killed when she was younger (as Claire Danes). So in making sense of their own love lives, they have to sort out what their mother's past means (with the help of mommy's friend Meryl Streep).
Why does it remind me of Mrs. Dalloway? Well, Clarissa in her old age felt nostalgic about a complicated love triangle (actually it was more like a rectangle or a pentagon). Sure she didn't kill Peter, who was hopelessly in love with her, or prompt his suicide as she does in Evening, but she did break his heart.
And I'm sorry, but I cannot help from seeing the connection that Vanessa Redgrave played Clarissa in the 1997 filmic adaptation penned by Eileen Atkins (who's in Evening, too). Oh, and Meryl Streep was in The Hours (2002), where Virginia Woolf's book plays a large part. And Michael Cunningham, who wrote the novel on which The Hours is based (and also wrote the splendid A Home at the End of the World--the book and the screenplay), wrote this screenplay with the novel's author, Susan Minot. Minot wrote one of my favorite movies: Stealing Beauty (1996).
It looks sappy, but I will probably see it anyway in June.
Looks like Collette and Natasha Richardson play the daughters of a dying Vanessa Redgrave. She's a bit loopy because they don't understand what she keeps going on and on about, about some guy she killed when she was younger (as Claire Danes). So in making sense of their own love lives, they have to sort out what their mother's past means (with the help of mommy's friend Meryl Streep).
Why does it remind me of Mrs. Dalloway? Well, Clarissa in her old age felt nostalgic about a complicated love triangle (actually it was more like a rectangle or a pentagon). Sure she didn't kill Peter, who was hopelessly in love with her, or prompt his suicide as she does in Evening, but she did break his heart.
And I'm sorry, but I cannot help from seeing the connection that Vanessa Redgrave played Clarissa in the 1997 filmic adaptation penned by Eileen Atkins (who's in Evening, too). Oh, and Meryl Streep was in The Hours (2002), where Virginia Woolf's book plays a large part. And Michael Cunningham, who wrote the novel on which The Hours is based (and also wrote the splendid A Home at the End of the World--the book and the screenplay), wrote this screenplay with the novel's author, Susan Minot. Minot wrote one of my favorite movies: Stealing Beauty (1996).
It looks sappy, but I will probably see it anyway in June.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
randomity
Did you know?
1.) I want to work in a modern or contemporary art museum someday. And not in the gift shop. But somewhere behind the scenes or as a docent.
2.) Cate Blanchett is Nicholas Angel's (Simon Pegg) girlfriend in Hot Fuzz (2007). And the guy she is leaving him for is Peter Jackson. I learned this from Edgar Wright himself, who said that they felt pressured by studio bosses or producers to put bigger names in their second film. Oh, they're in there, but you can't see their faces. Brilliant!
3.) One of my simplest pleasures: stomping on paper and plastic cartons--whether they'd previously contained orange juice or lemonade--in order to flatten them for recycling. Can you tell I just watched Amelie (2001)?
4.) I just won a SoundPass to all the channels of RadioIO. I think it's something like a $50 value. Each station has been giving away one a day for a month. This means for a whole year I can listen without commercials and with less talk. Yippee!
5.) I wish I could be paid to watch movies. There's not much else I know how to do.
6.) I like to make up words. Hence the title of this blog, which roughly means "the collection of random things" or "the condition of being a collection of random things." Other notable words: to wiki (to look something up on Wikipedia, as in to google) and collectionist (displaying tendencies to obsessively collect and catalogue things).
7.) I had my first bloody nose in England this morning.
1.) I want to work in a modern or contemporary art museum someday. And not in the gift shop. But somewhere behind the scenes or as a docent.
2.) Cate Blanchett is Nicholas Angel's (Simon Pegg) girlfriend in Hot Fuzz (2007). And the guy she is leaving him for is Peter Jackson. I learned this from Edgar Wright himself, who said that they felt pressured by studio bosses or producers to put bigger names in their second film. Oh, they're in there, but you can't see their faces. Brilliant!
3.) One of my simplest pleasures: stomping on paper and plastic cartons--whether they'd previously contained orange juice or lemonade--in order to flatten them for recycling. Can you tell I just watched Amelie (2001)?
4.) I just won a SoundPass to all the channels of RadioIO. I think it's something like a $50 value. Each station has been giving away one a day for a month. This means for a whole year I can listen without commercials and with less talk. Yippee!
5.) I wish I could be paid to watch movies. There's not much else I know how to do.
6.) I like to make up words. Hence the title of this blog, which roughly means "the collection of random things" or "the condition of being a collection of random things." Other notable words: to wiki (to look something up on Wikipedia, as in to google) and collectionist (displaying tendencies to obsessively collect and catalogue things).
7.) I had my first bloody nose in England this morning.
this is why i go to the cinema every week
I just read an article in the NY Times about a new electronic product that hopes to take the living room by storm: Vudu. Unlike Apple TV, it blocks out the middle man (meaning your computer) and makes movies available for purchase via your TV so that you may view them directly on your TV. Sounds like pay-per-view to me, but I understand that once you've bought the film--from any number of the major participating studios--it's saved in the box for repeated viewing later on.
I have to say that I don't like that technology is becoming more and more personal and mobile. You see this with people glued to their iPods and YouTube and Myspace and Facebook. You see this as they download movies and TV shows and music online, most notably via iTunes. Netflix is different because I have always seen it as an alternative to renting from a video store, especially the evil Blockbuster. But don't get me wrong, Netflix has its problems, too.
The point is, as entertainment becomes more attainable through the Internet, pretty soon we will not buy the physical DVDs (hi-def or not) and CDs. I for one really enjoy having the tangible product, especially since with CDs, they generally come with liner notes and artwork. Will movies purchased through the Internet come with all the extras? Remember that's one of the features that got us excited about DVDs in the first place. And I still think people prefer to explore them if they like a movie enough to know about its production, for example, through an audio commentary. As for music, pretty soon we won't know what our favorite bands look like unless they're big enough to have music videos played on MTV. Nevermind. There's always YouTube and/or their own websites, but this is not enough.
I haven't even touched on how this affects the movie-going experience itself. I don't really need to because we all know that the box office has suffered a lot these past few years. Piracy, YouTube, Myspace, Facebook have all captured young people's attention and they're going less and less to the theatres. This summer promises to be packed with blockbusters that will bring people back, which is unfortunate for me because I could care less about all of them. What will I watch instead?
I've said this before, but film is an experience, and to share stories with friends and strangers in a dark room is probably one of the most bizarre things one can do, but we're all so used to it. Why give that up?
What about those movies that are released (almost) simultaneously in the theatres, on something like pay-per-view, and on DVD? I hate to say this but I am more inclined to rent those on DVD than pay more money for either of the two other options. I understand this is a way to get people to see a movie the way they want, but I think it damages a film's integrity. Call me old-fashioned but movies are supposed to come out in theatres and then enter the home. If I were interested enough in a film, I would go see it in the theatre. For instance, I would see Diggers (2006) in the theatre if it weren't coming to DVD as well. I understand others are not like me, but who says we have to cater so much to this "me me me" culture? Oh right. It's all about money, but it's cutting people off from each other (sorry, but networking sites prove you don't need to know someone in real life in order to call them your friend).
Isn't this something to lament about?
I have to say that I don't like that technology is becoming more and more personal and mobile. You see this with people glued to their iPods and YouTube and Myspace and Facebook. You see this as they download movies and TV shows and music online, most notably via iTunes. Netflix is different because I have always seen it as an alternative to renting from a video store, especially the evil Blockbuster. But don't get me wrong, Netflix has its problems, too.
The point is, as entertainment becomes more attainable through the Internet, pretty soon we will not buy the physical DVDs (hi-def or not) and CDs. I for one really enjoy having the tangible product, especially since with CDs, they generally come with liner notes and artwork. Will movies purchased through the Internet come with all the extras? Remember that's one of the features that got us excited about DVDs in the first place. And I still think people prefer to explore them if they like a movie enough to know about its production, for example, through an audio commentary. As for music, pretty soon we won't know what our favorite bands look like unless they're big enough to have music videos played on MTV. Nevermind. There's always YouTube and/or their own websites, but this is not enough.
I haven't even touched on how this affects the movie-going experience itself. I don't really need to because we all know that the box office has suffered a lot these past few years. Piracy, YouTube, Myspace, Facebook have all captured young people's attention and they're going less and less to the theatres. This summer promises to be packed with blockbusters that will bring people back, which is unfortunate for me because I could care less about all of them. What will I watch instead?
I've said this before, but film is an experience, and to share stories with friends and strangers in a dark room is probably one of the most bizarre things one can do, but we're all so used to it. Why give that up?
What about those movies that are released (almost) simultaneously in the theatres, on something like pay-per-view, and on DVD? I hate to say this but I am more inclined to rent those on DVD than pay more money for either of the two other options. I understand this is a way to get people to see a movie the way they want, but I think it damages a film's integrity. Call me old-fashioned but movies are supposed to come out in theatres and then enter the home. If I were interested enough in a film, I would go see it in the theatre. For instance, I would see Diggers (2006) in the theatre if it weren't coming to DVD as well. I understand others are not like me, but who says we have to cater so much to this "me me me" culture? Oh right. It's all about money, but it's cutting people off from each other (sorry, but networking sites prove you don't need to know someone in real life in order to call them your friend).
Isn't this something to lament about?
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
instant primer
The most unexpected thing just happened to me. I, on a whim, decided to watch Prime (2005). That was unexpected enough, but I never imagined I would really enjoy it, too.
2008 is the year of the dylan
For all you Dylan Thomas fans out there, 2008 will be a busy year for you. He's getting some long-overdue cinematic treatment. In at least three movies, which are all mostly about his relationship with his wife Caitlin. Let's look at the couplings:
1.) Dylan (2008): The Great (Scot) Kevin McKidd and Kelly Reilly of Pride & Prejudice (2005), Mrs. Henderson Presents (2005), L'Auberge espagnole (2002), and Les Poupees russes (2005). Apparently will be partly based on his "Under Milk Wood." Know nothing else, but with these two, it could be entertaining.
2.) Caitlin (2008): Michael Sheen and Miranda Richardson play them when they're older, Kevin Zegers and Rosamund Pike when they're younger. Must be an Iris (2001) kind of thing because Jim Broadbent and Hugh Bonneville were John Bayley and Judi Dench and Kate Winslet were Iris Murdoch at different times in their lives together. Admittedly, I don't know much about the Welsh poet, but was Caitlin older? Miranda's a lot older than Michael and I think it shows. Rosamund's only slightly older than Kevin. That shows, too. Didn't she just play Ryan Gosling's boss in Fracture (2007)?
3.) The Best Time of Our Lives (2008): Ridiculous title but "Dylan" and "Caitlin" were already taken. This will probably be the one that will actually get seen because it's got bigger, younger stars: Keira Knightley, Cillian Murphy, and Sienna Miller. Sienna's Caitlin and Matthew Rhys is Dylan. Lindsay Lohan used to be cast as Caitlin. Glad she's not anymore. Her presence would have undoubtedly made the rest suffer. That is, if she showed up to work on time every day with underwear.
Excited? You should be.
1.) Dylan (2008): The Great (Scot) Kevin McKidd and Kelly Reilly of Pride & Prejudice (2005), Mrs. Henderson Presents (2005), L'Auberge espagnole (2002), and Les Poupees russes (2005). Apparently will be partly based on his "Under Milk Wood." Know nothing else, but with these two, it could be entertaining.
2.) Caitlin (2008): Michael Sheen and Miranda Richardson play them when they're older, Kevin Zegers and Rosamund Pike when they're younger. Must be an Iris (2001) kind of thing because Jim Broadbent and Hugh Bonneville were John Bayley and Judi Dench and Kate Winslet were Iris Murdoch at different times in their lives together. Admittedly, I don't know much about the Welsh poet, but was Caitlin older? Miranda's a lot older than Michael and I think it shows. Rosamund's only slightly older than Kevin. That shows, too. Didn't she just play Ryan Gosling's boss in Fracture (2007)?
3.) The Best Time of Our Lives (2008): Ridiculous title but "Dylan" and "Caitlin" were already taken. This will probably be the one that will actually get seen because it's got bigger, younger stars: Keira Knightley, Cillian Murphy, and Sienna Miller. Sienna's Caitlin and Matthew Rhys is Dylan. Lindsay Lohan used to be cast as Caitlin. Glad she's not anymore. Her presence would have undoubtedly made the rest suffer. That is, if she showed up to work on time every day with underwear.
Excited? You should be.
diamonds are not a girl's best friend
On Sunday night, I saw Blood Diamond (2006) at the second-run movie theatre on campus. I'm sure it's already on DVD in the States. Hey, maybe it is here, too. So I am a little behind. Forgive me. By the way, this post contains a lot of SPOILERS so if you are interested in seeing this movie (and you should be, especially since you can never depend on someone else to tell you about how things are), then stop after you've read my summary of the film.
I didn't like it, so let me begin with what I did enjoy: it's beautifully made, and by that I mean they knew how to film the gorgeous topographic landscapes of the African continent. They don't really reinvent how Africa is filmed. The landscape has been romanticized just like this a hundred times before, and I suspect it will continue until someone has had enough. Or until we start to really watch and discuss African films (meaning films made by Africans) which show Africa from a different perspective. I suppose films that take place in Africa film the beauty of the openness of the mountains and plains to contrast with the film's serious message (in this case: the exploitation on many levels that diamond mining entails) and the general chaos of the city and shantytowns where the movies undoubtedly always take place. Exceptions to this urban rule but romanticize the landscape nevertheless: I Dreamed Of Africa (2000) and The Air Up There (1994). The Lion King (1994) has played a large part, too. Can you name any others? I haven't seen The Last King of Scotland (2006), yet.
I think I should give a quick summary before I go on to talk about the performances. Djimon Hounsou is Solomon Vandy (could they be more obvious?), a fisherman who lives in a peaceful village in rural Sierra Leone. The year is 1999, and a civil war has thrown the country into chaotic violence. This is mainly perpetrated by "revolutionaries" who are against the government and run throughout the country killing people and taking young boys to join their army. They take hostages to mine for diamonds so they can fund their violence, so they can buy guns. When Solomon's village is destroyed, his family is taken away and he is forced to mine. He finds and hides a giant pink diamond just as the military comes to the mine to stop the efforts of the "revolutionaries," but with equal violence. To make a long story short, he meets diamond smuggler Danny Archer (Leonardo DiCaprio) in jail where Danny overhears Solomon's "mine boss" demand that Solomon tell him where he hid the diamond. Danny's in debt to other shady people, so he wants to know too, and he gets Solomon out of jail. Eventually, they team up with Jennifer Connelly's Maddy Bowen, a supposedly conscientious journalist, who Danny's using to get transportation around the country to track down Solomon's diamond. Maddy's using Danny to write an expose. And she thinks she's falling in love with him. I'll say more about that later.
Anyway, the film had its cinematography going for it. And it had much less else. The performances were--for lack of a better word--off. I'm not one of those people that think an accent = acting, but they are a part of the performance. In pretending to be someone or something, you should at least be consistent, right? Well, DiCaprio's inconsistent accent was distracting, and this detracted from his performance. I never really bought it. Sometimes he sounded Zimbabwean as he is supposed to, but alternatively he sounded like himself (American), South African, or even New Zealander. The one scene where he speaks what I have referred to as "African jive" was a bit disgusting and racist. I suppose it is meant to show that he can communicate with these black African rebel groups in their own English language, but it just felt wrong. He's an imperialist. He still refers to Zimbabwe as Rhodesia. Need I say more?
I called Jennifer Connelly's journalist "supposedly conscientious" because, while most of her lines point out the First World's downright deplorable exploitation and profiteering of a situation that only makes Africans' lives worse, she exploits them, too. Whenever she took out her camera to snap shots of people in refugee camps, in the streets, etc. I just felt that she doesn't understand that she's not really helping the situation. Not to mention, she is fully aware of Danny's intentions to take Solomon's diamond for himself. And she is allowing him to because she wants a story from Danny, a man on the inside of all this big business.
Djimon Hounsou gives the best performance, but in scenes where he is shouting like a madman, they're just... off. I don't know how else to describe it. Number one: you can't understand what he is saying and number two: it is so maniacal that it seems over-the-top.
Speaking of performances, Michael Sheen as an English executive for a diamond company and Jimi Mistry as a smuggler-buddy of Danny's are totally underused. They should have gotten other actors to play with the background, not these two who are spot on in (almost) everything they do. (Michael, I still don't understand why you did the Underworld movies. Did Kate talk you into it?)
More than this, I thought the message was very heavy-handed. And we have Connelly's character to thank for this. I understand it is made for audiences that know nothing about this problem or Sierra Leone's recent history, but they were pounding my head so much that I got a headache. They didn't even film Blood Diamond in Sierra Leone. No wonder the landscapes looked familiar: it was mainly South Africa, the most heavily represented African country on screen.
For this reason, I have compared it to The Constant Gardener (2005), which is a fucking masterpiece next to this one. I understand it is a different country (Kenya) and a different kind of way in which Western and Northern countries are taking advantage of Africa (pharmaceutical companies experimenting new drugs), but as a suspense with a message, it just worked a lot better. Hell, for a non-African film, it shot the landscape in a much grittier way. That's commendable. Plus they actually filmed it in Kenya rather than the studio's request that they work in South Africa (where it'd have been easier and/or cheaper to insure the actors and crew). And then they set up a fund to help build in the area they filmed. That was giving a little something back. What can Blood Diamond hope to aspire to? People stop buying diamonds? Don't think so. Is it enough that a movie with a political message as big as this one only instigates discussion and motivates bloggers like myself to write about it? I've just ripped it to shreds.
And the would-be romance between Danny and Maddy was just sickening. Why use it to soften him up? Their last scene "together," when they are on the phone, is unbearable. Spending a few days dodging bullets and running through the jungle with a guy who's in the business of doing what you hate really shouldn't make you fall in love with him no matter how good-looking he is. Ugh. I wasn't going to spoil it for you but that "unbearable" scene is the one in which Danny dies, alone, looking over a ravine, sitting on a cliff, having a change of heart.
If he knew he could survive, I'm not so sure he would have let Solomon keep the diamond all to himself. And he had originally told Maddy that the only way she could publish the story was if he died. In his last breaths, he decides that Maddy should help Solomon get to London and sell it. Documenting the sale with photos to accompany Maddy's expose, Solomon and Maddy instigate a scandal for the diamond-selling companies that leads to provisions in international affairs to cut down the number of "conflict diamonds" on the market. What I have a problem with is this: they never show that Solomon DIDN'T take the £2 million the diamond company represented by Michael Sheen offered him. They don't show him refusing the money because it's tainted. I have every reason to believe--because of the film--that Solomon took it. Did he donate it to help stop the war in his country or to rebuild his country? Doesn't say.
The film had good intentions, but ultimately it wasn't very engaging. The scenes of massacres didn't even move me. It was no Hotel Rwanda (2004). Just another white man's guilt movie (which I have no problem with), but it could have been done a lot better.
I just had a thought: I think "white man's guilt" movies should actually use this rhetoric. These political message movies about Africa should explicitly address those who don't think Africa is a white man's problem. Are you kidding? Imperialism is more to blame than anything else. And, no, I don't think this contradicts my earlier criticism about the film lacking subtlety. I think Blood Diamond and all the rest have tried to say this is the white man's fault, but they have gone about it in ridiculous ways. (See Blood Diamond for more on this or read this post again.)
On a much lighter note, I just heard a radio commercial for a jeweler you can only find in malls. One of their diamonds is called a Leo. Ain't that funny? Maybe it's inspired by one of his earlier performances, as that poor lovelorn guy who dies after a ship sinks. Wasn't there a diamond in that one, too?
I didn't like it, so let me begin with what I did enjoy: it's beautifully made, and by that I mean they knew how to film the gorgeous topographic landscapes of the African continent. They don't really reinvent how Africa is filmed. The landscape has been romanticized just like this a hundred times before, and I suspect it will continue until someone has had enough. Or until we start to really watch and discuss African films (meaning films made by Africans) which show Africa from a different perspective. I suppose films that take place in Africa film the beauty of the openness of the mountains and plains to contrast with the film's serious message (in this case: the exploitation on many levels that diamond mining entails) and the general chaos of the city and shantytowns where the movies undoubtedly always take place. Exceptions to this urban rule but romanticize the landscape nevertheless: I Dreamed Of Africa (2000) and The Air Up There (1994). The Lion King (1994) has played a large part, too. Can you name any others? I haven't seen The Last King of Scotland (2006), yet.
I think I should give a quick summary before I go on to talk about the performances. Djimon Hounsou is Solomon Vandy (could they be more obvious?), a fisherman who lives in a peaceful village in rural Sierra Leone. The year is 1999, and a civil war has thrown the country into chaotic violence. This is mainly perpetrated by "revolutionaries" who are against the government and run throughout the country killing people and taking young boys to join their army. They take hostages to mine for diamonds so they can fund their violence, so they can buy guns. When Solomon's village is destroyed, his family is taken away and he is forced to mine. He finds and hides a giant pink diamond just as the military comes to the mine to stop the efforts of the "revolutionaries," but with equal violence. To make a long story short, he meets diamond smuggler Danny Archer (Leonardo DiCaprio) in jail where Danny overhears Solomon's "mine boss" demand that Solomon tell him where he hid the diamond. Danny's in debt to other shady people, so he wants to know too, and he gets Solomon out of jail. Eventually, they team up with Jennifer Connelly's Maddy Bowen, a supposedly conscientious journalist, who Danny's using to get transportation around the country to track down Solomon's diamond. Maddy's using Danny to write an expose. And she thinks she's falling in love with him. I'll say more about that later.
Anyway, the film had its cinematography going for it. And it had much less else. The performances were--for lack of a better word--off. I'm not one of those people that think an accent = acting, but they are a part of the performance. In pretending to be someone or something, you should at least be consistent, right? Well, DiCaprio's inconsistent accent was distracting, and this detracted from his performance. I never really bought it. Sometimes he sounded Zimbabwean as he is supposed to, but alternatively he sounded like himself (American), South African, or even New Zealander. The one scene where he speaks what I have referred to as "African jive" was a bit disgusting and racist. I suppose it is meant to show that he can communicate with these black African rebel groups in their own English language, but it just felt wrong. He's an imperialist. He still refers to Zimbabwe as Rhodesia. Need I say more?
I called Jennifer Connelly's journalist "supposedly conscientious" because, while most of her lines point out the First World's downright deplorable exploitation and profiteering of a situation that only makes Africans' lives worse, she exploits them, too. Whenever she took out her camera to snap shots of people in refugee camps, in the streets, etc. I just felt that she doesn't understand that she's not really helping the situation. Not to mention, she is fully aware of Danny's intentions to take Solomon's diamond for himself. And she is allowing him to because she wants a story from Danny, a man on the inside of all this big business.
Djimon Hounsou gives the best performance, but in scenes where he is shouting like a madman, they're just... off. I don't know how else to describe it. Number one: you can't understand what he is saying and number two: it is so maniacal that it seems over-the-top.
Speaking of performances, Michael Sheen as an English executive for a diamond company and Jimi Mistry as a smuggler-buddy of Danny's are totally underused. They should have gotten other actors to play with the background, not these two who are spot on in (almost) everything they do. (Michael, I still don't understand why you did the Underworld movies. Did Kate talk you into it?)
More than this, I thought the message was very heavy-handed. And we have Connelly's character to thank for this. I understand it is made for audiences that know nothing about this problem or Sierra Leone's recent history, but they were pounding my head so much that I got a headache. They didn't even film Blood Diamond in Sierra Leone. No wonder the landscapes looked familiar: it was mainly South Africa, the most heavily represented African country on screen.
For this reason, I have compared it to The Constant Gardener (2005), which is a fucking masterpiece next to this one. I understand it is a different country (Kenya) and a different kind of way in which Western and Northern countries are taking advantage of Africa (pharmaceutical companies experimenting new drugs), but as a suspense with a message, it just worked a lot better. Hell, for a non-African film, it shot the landscape in a much grittier way. That's commendable. Plus they actually filmed it in Kenya rather than the studio's request that they work in South Africa (where it'd have been easier and/or cheaper to insure the actors and crew). And then they set up a fund to help build in the area they filmed. That was giving a little something back. What can Blood Diamond hope to aspire to? People stop buying diamonds? Don't think so. Is it enough that a movie with a political message as big as this one only instigates discussion and motivates bloggers like myself to write about it? I've just ripped it to shreds.
And the would-be romance between Danny and Maddy was just sickening. Why use it to soften him up? Their last scene "together," when they are on the phone, is unbearable. Spending a few days dodging bullets and running through the jungle with a guy who's in the business of doing what you hate really shouldn't make you fall in love with him no matter how good-looking he is. Ugh. I wasn't going to spoil it for you but that "unbearable" scene is the one in which Danny dies, alone, looking over a ravine, sitting on a cliff, having a change of heart.
If he knew he could survive, I'm not so sure he would have let Solomon keep the diamond all to himself. And he had originally told Maddy that the only way she could publish the story was if he died. In his last breaths, he decides that Maddy should help Solomon get to London and sell it. Documenting the sale with photos to accompany Maddy's expose, Solomon and Maddy instigate a scandal for the diamond-selling companies that leads to provisions in international affairs to cut down the number of "conflict diamonds" on the market. What I have a problem with is this: they never show that Solomon DIDN'T take the £2 million the diamond company represented by Michael Sheen offered him. They don't show him refusing the money because it's tainted. I have every reason to believe--because of the film--that Solomon took it. Did he donate it to help stop the war in his country or to rebuild his country? Doesn't say.
The film had good intentions, but ultimately it wasn't very engaging. The scenes of massacres didn't even move me. It was no Hotel Rwanda (2004). Just another white man's guilt movie (which I have no problem with), but it could have been done a lot better.
I just had a thought: I think "white man's guilt" movies should actually use this rhetoric. These political message movies about Africa should explicitly address those who don't think Africa is a white man's problem. Are you kidding? Imperialism is more to blame than anything else. And, no, I don't think this contradicts my earlier criticism about the film lacking subtlety. I think Blood Diamond and all the rest have tried to say this is the white man's fault, but they have gone about it in ridiculous ways. (See Blood Diamond for more on this or read this post again.)
On a much lighter note, I just heard a radio commercial for a jeweler you can only find in malls. One of their diamonds is called a Leo. Ain't that funny? Maybe it's inspired by one of his earlier performances, as that poor lovelorn guy who dies after a ship sinks. Wasn't there a diamond in that one, too?
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