You Might Miss Bowie's Bulge

Pan's Labyrinth is an amazing film, and surprisingly, not for the reasons that I thought it would be. It is a highly visual movie, that is true, but the visuals are not as spectacular as you might be led to believe. For one thing, the movie is incredibly dark, and at parts, hard to discern everything within a scene. For another, we actually see very little of the "fantastical" which would seem so apparent from the advertisements (and the title). A remarkable feature of Pan's Labyrinth is the absence of much labyrinth.

But those are merely the negatives, and I will use a word like "merely" because in the end, that is all they are. Any movie will have parts you don't like, or don't agree with - that is the nature of stories in general. I feel that this movie is so engrossing though, that you find it hard to come out of the theatre not feeling moved. I know as I left, the woman sitting down the row from me was crying. I don't know if it's necessarily a "crying" movie, but it definitely affects your emotions.

I'm sure people will go and praise Guillermo del Toro until they are blue in the face, and perhaps rightly so. He has put together a masterpiece of cinema, that doesn't give too much, but gives more than enough (by now, you might have noticed I'm big on the paradoxical statement; I'm realizing I might be turning it into a cliché, for my part). Now, too often directors get praise where it is not necessarily due, which would be the case in this movie, because although the parts were well-acted, there was nothing especially amazing about them, either. This could simply be what it means to be "well-acted" (as opposed to "over-acted", which many people, including myself, sometimes fall under the spell into believing they are seeing great acting). But it is just as important to credit the writer, who in this case, happens to also be del Toro.

One facet of foreign films that I've noticed is that they seem to be less dialogue driven than films made originally in English. I'm not sure if that is just an illusion from having to read sub-titles, but I have to applaud the simplicity of it. As a writer, I know how easy it is to become verbose, and this is not always a positive (it should be noted that it is not always a negative, either, despite the disparaging connotations). Pan's Labyrinth does not fall into this trap, and the dialogue, while terse, comes off as real. Especially when you realize that all the people are intensely lonely, and you understand that the need for speech is unnecessary.

One actor who deserves mention is, of course, the little girl who plays Ofelia, Ivana Baquero. It is easy to heap praise upon a child-actor in a leading role, but if you understand how hard it is to actually act, you would know that someone who hasn't practiced their craft too long is at a great disadvantage. Baquero is amazing, playing a character who is both a child and an adult, innocent and yet worldly.

Perhaps the most surprising aspect of the movie was the violence. I do not think this detracts from the movie at all, because the topic is inherently violent (as were fairy tales in general). Set during the Spanish Civil War, there is a viciousness displayed on both sides that at first made me cringe. Captain Vidal is cold and cruel, but not completely sadistic. He gets pleasure out of others' pain, but pain is not his only motivation. Still, he dispenses pain like candy on Halloween, and he receives plenty in turn. Practically no one escapes pain and violence, and del Toro graphically and candidly shows us this. So yeah, don't be fooled that this is a children's movie. I didn't notice when I went to see it, but it is very, very Rated R. There's some cussin', too (which is slightly disconcerting, because reading "fuck" and hearing it are two very different things).

In a way, it reminds me a lot of the movie Labyrinth, although it has far less fantastical creatures (such as the one mentioned in the title of this post), but the plot is almost reversed. Now, the goal is to enter the labyrinth. If I had to think of a movie that it more closely resembled, I would think Life is Beautiful. With the combination of fantasy and escapism in a similar setting, there are lots of points of connection. The fact that both movies are incredible, I think, shows that such a comparison is not a bad thing. Still, all the comparisons in the world would not do the justice of seeing it for yourself. So do yourself a favor, and see it in the theatre. It's money well-spent.

I'm Just Joss-ing with You

I think I have a slight man-crush.

Joss Whedon (the aforementioned creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer), wrote the greatest science fiction television show ever made, and I love him for it.

Unfortunately, for us and for him, it was aired on Fox, and like so many good shows, it went there to die (Family Guy, Futurama, Keen Eddie).

Firefly was about an odd group on a smuggling spaceship. The captain, Mal, is the thief-with-a-heart-of-gold (Are you thinking Han Solo? Me too). He's a former war hero who found himself on the wrong side of the victors. His first mate, Zoe, was his comrade-in-arms during the war, and is married to Wash, the pilot. The crew is rounded out by Jane, the stupid yet effective muscle (who, although named "Jane", is a guy) and Kaylee, as the ship's mechanic.

There are also the passengers: the companion (read: high-class prostitute) Inara, the enigmatic Book, and the siblings Simon and River.

Normally I wouldn't list every character, but the interplay between these characters is integral to the series. Obviously the relationships that grow between them is very important, but like all Whedon creations, it is the dialogue which drives the story, and the dialogue between them is fantastic. In true Buffy tradition, there is the sarcastic wit, need for puns, and specialized language that makes you immediately realize who the characters are by what they say. The timing and acting is superb, and it makes for an immersing experience. You almost immediately care for the characters from the moment you meet them, because they are human, and therefore both imperfect and at the same time, heroes.

The two most important characters, as far as the show is concerned, are Mal and River. It is Mal's will that drives the ship (Serenity) to its destinations. It is his decisions that chooses their jobs, and as such, out-lines the moral code the rest of the people follow. Like everyone on the ship, his background is not fully expounded upon (I'll get to this in a moment), but you can see that he is a bad man with a sense of what's right. A Robin Hood with a little more 'hood in him. Nathan Fillion, who had worked with Whedon before (he was also in Two Guys, a Girl, and a Pizza Place, for any of you who remember that show), is excellently cast. He's got that boyishness that explains the cowboy (literally. . .kind of) in him, but also a hardness that he can bring out without seeming out of character.

River, as Simon's little sister, is a mystery, and that's what moves the plot forward. She's escaped from some government institution, with the help of her brother, and now they are both on the lam, trying to find out what's wrong with her and at the same time elude capture. Played by Summer Glau, the character goes between lucidity and insanity, brilliance and childishness. This is a mixed bag that I don't believe is easy to act, especially from one scene to another, and Glau pulls it off quite well.

I feel I've given you enough plot to get you interested. If I said anymore, unfortunately, I would just be telling you the story-lines of the thirteen episodes. This coincides with the lack of background information for most of the characters. Clearly, Whedon had intended to draw them out over time, but having never gotten the time, never had the chance. The character of Book is the most obvious example: although a Shepherd (a priest of some sort), he has a past that doesn't quite mesh with his current career choice.

Then there are things that will never be resolved: Mal and Inara, the Blue Hands, Jane's place on the ship. All of this begs for more.

And yet, even this "lack" is compelling enough to make me recommend this series to everyone. One of the features of great literature is that it not only tells a compelling story, but creates a connection so strong between the characters and reader that they feel cheated that they can't have more. It's not that they didn't enjoy the story; rather, they want the story to never end. In reality, though, that's the antithesis of what you want in literature. If, in the end, you just read about more of their adventures, eventually things would become stale or so radically different so as to render the story completely different from what you loved in the first place. You might still like the new story, but did you really want to see fundamental changes in the characters you loved? I think not. A great example of this is The Simpsons. I love The Simpsons, but I have not watched in a long time. What's the point? The show has done everything it could possibly do, and the characters are practically caricatures of themselves (not to mention the ridiculous need for every episode to have celebrity guest-stars playing themselves). On the flip-side, think of the uproar there will be after the seventh and final book of the Harry Potter series. Of course people will want more, but more is not going to necessarily be better.

That being said, Firefly would still have been better with more episodes. The story wasn't close to being over, and that's why the above argument doesn't hold water. But it still is a great story, and if all we got were a couple of chapters of these characters' lives, it's still worth watching.

If you don't believe me, believe the money: the popularity of the show, however briefly it was on, was enough to get a major movie release, Serenity, which is cinematic science fiction at its finest.

This is a complete television show, despite the fact it never was completed. It was dramatic, funny, action-oriented, and both plot and character driven. The characters, and the actors that played them, were excellent. Moreover, the production values for a television show were fantastic (a usual downfall for television sci-fi).

I have a feeling I rambled a bit in this post - there's a lot to say, but I don't want to say too much. Watch the show and the movie. It's more than worth your time.

And, seriously, there are some incredibly hot women.

Firefly: http://video.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=024543089292&itm=1

Serenity: http://video.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?ean=25192632723&pwb=1&z=y

Dealer, I'd Like a New Card

I’ve already written about Orson Scott Card, and I still believe he wrote one of the best pieces of literature, let alone science fiction, of the Twentieth Century. That being said, is latest work is not only not one of the greatest pieces of literature of the Twenty-first Century, I would venture to say that Card has lost contact with what has made him a great writer in the first place; or, perhaps more accurately, has bastardized what he does so well into a story that is not well suited for it.

Empire is disjointed from the beginning, and very little is done to alleviate this. Set in the “near future” (almost literally “tomorrow”), it is a political drama centered on the idea that the next armed conflict that American’s will likely face is that between the ideological extremes that make up our political landscape.

In other words, a civil war between Red Staters and Blue Staters.

That in and of itself is problematic, a point that Card is quick to point out: These labels are constructs of political analysts looking for a way to reduce the country into easily identifiable groups. Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a universally Red or Blue state, even those states that seem to be swayed one way or the other. For example, my own state, New York, is a dead-zone for Republican Presidential hopefuls. Nevertheless, the state is almost evenly split in its liberal and conservative sentiments, constituting a geographical dichotomy between downstate and upstate (and I apologize if my language is overly “academic,” but I’ve been reading a lot of critical theory recently, and it’s hard to get that bad taste out of my pen). Thus, Card correctly points out that the division in our country is more centered on urban and rural than anything else. However, this does not preclude him from making jabs at obvious “liberal hotbeds,” such as Vermont, Washington, Oregon, and of course, New York City.

And here’s where a major problem lies: Card does not hide his political ideals. That alone is no cause for dislike; many of the greatest stories ever told have strong thoughts about the politics they are writing about (think George Orwell). Those stories, though, are overt in there declarations. Card tries to mask his contempt for liberal thought by making his characters so smart and well-versed in all political theory that they seem to be coming from an objective view-point. Except, it really doesn’t fly. From the outset, he tries to mask who the real perpetrators of conflict are, but his red herrings regarding the Right Wing are so obvious that they seem almost laughable. Sure, there are power-hungry conservatives, but it is truly the moderates who are in control of the party during the crisis, and that is supposed to portray the nature of our country. And while I feel this is actually true, personally, it is still a hard pill to swallow in the context of what happens next. Because when you find out it is in fact a liberal conspiracy, it’s a diabolical left-wing conspiracy.

I would go out to say that if you are not conservative, especially in the sense of the word as it applies to our current political climate, you are not going to like this book.

But I would also say that if you are a conservative, but enjoy good literature, you will also not enjoy this book, and here’s why: it’s not well written. As I mentioned before, it’s disjointed. In the first couple of chapters you are jolted from places and times very rapidly, all essentially to get an idea of the main character, Reuben Malich. We know, for example, that he fought in Afghanistan with the Special Ops. Then we know he went to Princeton to earn a doctorate on the government’s dime. Then we know him to be a mysterious Major at the Pentagon, and BAM! the President is being assassinated by terrorists and the world is turned upside down. Through all this, we are shown that Malich is antagonistic towards liberal sentiment (although he “really isn’t,” because he married a Democrat – a Democrat who was an assistant to the most conservative Congressman and, if she is a Democrat, has no spine regarding any of those issues that would make her consider herself one) and that, because he now has a doctorate, is smart enough to hold the ridiculous “I learned history” discussions of which Card is so fond. In this regard, you will recognize similar ideas from any of the Ender books, but it must be remembered: Ender and all the other kids in those books, were geniuses. Not smart, not gifted: GENIUSES. And, even remembering that Malich has a doctorate, no one else he speaks to, except for his professor, Torrent, does. But, since one-sided dialogues don’t really move plot along, everyone else is also extraordinarily talented.

Even Malich’s kids.

But that is possibly just quibbling. I know I’ve had ridiculous discussions with my friends about politics and history, and they must have seemed just as pretentious to others as Card’s dialogue seems to me. So let me talk about the plot: it just doesn’t fly.

The assassination of the President, okay. I can take that as a “plausible” premise (here I’m talking about the actual plan that was used, not just the idea of killing the President). I can even, to an extent, understand the idea of using Malich as a scapegoat. What I can’t condone is how fast and convenient the action occurs.

Malich, who had come up with the warning report that the terrorists use to kill the President, happens to witness it before his eyes on the same day he meets Cole, his new number 2. Then he happens to be in New York City when the liberals (Progressives, can’t let that word-choice go untold), attack with their secretly built futuristic weaponry. He does an okay job of explaining how the weapons were developed (except for the EMP ray, which gets used once, and then is forgotten for the rest of the book). He gets shot by his secretary (which means they must have been setting him up for so long that it seems someone must have been prescient – more on this later) midway through the book, and so all of a sudden you are left without the protagonist. This here deserves a closer look.

The shock, or twist, is a literary staple, and in science fiction, it is almost necessary. However, to invest so much time in one character, to the complete detriment of all other characters, only to kill him off halfway through the novel is jarring and discombobulating. The reader has certain expectations, and one of those is to understand that the protagonist will be developed. Therefore, when you have only developed one character enough to claim that role, and you kill him off, it will be upsetting. I’m granting this is exactly what Card wanted. But he doesn’t then produce another protagonist for the reader to identify with. Instead, he just goes on with the characters he has, and expects that his brief characterization earlier was enough to give you enough sense of how to interact with the story. In this, he fails. When Cole takes over the lead role (in conjunction with Cecily, Malich’s wife), you never learn anything more about how they tick. And this just seems like bad or lazy writing.

And possibly that’s my problem: it was too short. The idea is there – clearly politics in America are at a point where violence is not implausible. You need a bad guy, you have two sides, so you pick the one you already think to be the bad guy. Again, fine, I have no real beef with that, from a reader’s perspective. But to have this all be resolved so quickly, with what seems to be a minimum of fuss, is preposterous. Throughout the book, both sides talk about how it won’t be military maneuvers, but public perception that changes the tides. And yet, in the end, it is exactly a military maneuver (in order to gather “information ammo”), that resolves the crisis. And it is the impeccably clean Torrent, who eschews political parties, who ends up ushering America towards the very thing he had warned against: an Empire.

This is supposed to be ominous, but it reeks of Revelations. If you are unfamiliar with this book of the bible, or if you have not read the Left Behind series (which you should not, by any means, do – also because it is disappointing in the end), then I will explain: Revelations tells of a man who will come, speaking of peace and prosperity, but will in fact bring these things at the price of the people selling their souls to a false idol. He will be charismatic and seemingly rise from humble beginnings.

His name: The Anti-Christ.

I don’t know if this is what Card is alluding to, but I find it hard for someone with his religious background and beliefs to be unaware that this is almost overly coincidental.

Oh yeah, his portrayal of Cecily will no doubt be read as being highly misogynistic by some, and by being the epitome of family values by others. Personally, I don’t think Card is being misogynistic, but I do want to point out how those two things appear to be diametrically opposed.

Do yourself a favor: Read Ender’s Game. Read the sequels and parallel novels. But do not read Empire. You’ll recognize the voice, but not the writer. I think Card has forgotten what it means to write fiction, at least with this as his latest example. I hope he can recover, because it’s always disenchanting to see an idol fall. I understand how hard it is to maintain excellence with every piece you write, so I am not done with him yet.

I’m sure that relieves him to no end.

Fun with Language

I’ve been busy reading, and as school has started for me after a long hiatus, my reading will probably be fewer and farther between. However, I wanted to let you all know about one of the best science fiction writers in America today, Steven Brust.

Brust got big with the Vlad Taltos series, concerning a human assassin in a world primarily made up of elves (in one of those brilliant moves an author can make when creating a world, of course the elves call themselves “humans,” and humans are “Easterners”). I have read that series, and it’s fantastic, but I’m writing today about his second series, set in the same world, although hundreds of years before Vlad’s story takes place.

Technically, it is two separate series, but realistically it is one five-book series, starting with The Phoenix Guard, and followed by Five Hundred Years After, The Paths of the Dead, The Lord of Castle Black, and Sethra Lavode. They all are centered, more or less, the activities of four friends, who start out as young soldiers trying to make a name for themselves, and, over the course of the books, doing so.

As far as the plot goes, it’s fairly standard fantasy fare. There’s magic, and gods, and fighting; plots and intrigues, twists and turns. In that regard, it does not do anything particularly interesting, although, as I’ve mentioned, Brust has created a pretty cool little world, complete with all those details that make a fantasy world seem believable. One thing I am not incredibly happy with is a lack of a map (and I doubt anyone would have an easy time putting one together from his descriptions – in this regard, I say if you’re going to make up a world, the least you can do is provide a picture. No one, and I mean NO ONE, is a talented enough writer to do without this essential item. Hell, even stories that take place on Earth often need maps, what makes your made up world any different? Huh?), but I can live – it’s not incredibly important.

If it sounds like the plot isn’t that interesting, then I apologize. The story keeps you drawn in, and the relationships between the characters, while not super developed, is still compelling enough to want to know what happens to everyone in the end. Regardless, the most important thing to know about these books is the narrative voice: I can almost guarantee you have never read anything like this, and that alone should be enough for you to pick up the first novel.

What makes it so unique? Brust has created a historian who is writing a “popular history” of the events that you are reading about, and so you are reading it through his voice. This means that you are getting a narrator that is not omniscient, but still knows a great deal. Moreover, he’s kind of a pompous ass, which makes his tangents amusing. There’s also the neat (I need to get a thesaurus, I think), writer’s trick that Brust uses, in that he lets the narrator, Paarfi, write as if his audience are elves from Vlad’s time-period, and thus would be conscious of certain events and people so that he can refer to them without any need to explain. Brust does this in such a way that you pretty much know what Paarfi is talking about, but even if you don’t, it doesn’t matter.

But even this is not the greatest feature. It is the dialogue that is so great. The reason is that the characters talk in an overly polite manner (which apparently is in a similar style to Voltaire, although I’m sad to say I’ve never actually read anything by that guy). In other words, something that should only take two sentences all of sudden takes up half a page. Here’s an example of what I’m talking about (and I’m making this up, because I’m a little too lazy to find a perfect passage in five books – suffice it to say that such back-and-forths are pretty common throughout):
“I have a thought.”
“Ah, I recognize you so well in that!”
“Thank you.”
“But.”
“Yes?”
“What is this thought?”
“Oh, you wish to know?”
“I am most anxious to learn.”
“Then I will tell you.”
“You perceive I am waiting.”
“Then here it is.”
And then the character would actually get to the point of the dialogue that might help move the plot along.

I grant that this could be very annoying to some people, but I have to say that not only did I find it to be incredibly amusing, but almost ridiculously so. If you ever watch The Simpsons, (and if you’re reading this, and yet don’t watch The Simpsons, I’m not exactly sure what led you to this blog), then you should have seen the episode where Sideshow Bob chases after Bart in a Cape Fear parody. In that episode, at one point Bob steps on a rake, and it hits him in the face. He then steps in another direction, and another rake hits him in the face. Well, this goes on for some time, and then you pan out, and you see that he’s in a field of rakes. On the DVD commentary for this episode, the writers discuss how it took them forever to figure out how many rakes it would take for the joke to be funny, and they discovered that one is funny, two is very funny, three, is hilarious, four is overkill, and five or more is genius. The idea is that repetition can be boring after a while, until it becomes so ludicrous that it starts to not be just funny, but incredibly funny.

For me, the dialogue in these books is like that. It is a formula that gets repeated a hundred times, and yet that repetition is what makes the entire series a stand-out.

If that doesn’t entice you, but you still want to read great sci-fi/fantasy, read the Vlad Taltos series – the first book is Jhereg, although you might want to figure out if you want to read the stories in chronological order according to publishing dates or Vlad’s life (I’m not sure which one Jhereg falls under; I believe it was published first). These are amazing stories, and very well written in “normal” English. If you like them, go and read the Khaavren Romances, as the five novels I mentioned above are called. If you’re feeling adventurous, read the Khaavren books first. Either way, I promise you will not be disappointed.

It Ain't Snowing, but the Weather's Great for Slaying

I just finished watching the final season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and before you jump down my throat, hear me out.

This is one of the better, more cohesive television series ever written.

I won’t deny that I started watching the series because I saw a picture of Sarah Michelle Gellar on the local TV Guide-type magazine, and I thought: hey, I could look at that girl for an hour a week.

And then I actually watched it, and it was everything someone who is into sci-fi and comics could want.

First: great action. I’m pretty sure Gellar didn’t do all of her own stunts, but I do know she did a lot, and even if it wasn’t her, the fight scenes were pretty good martial arts, especially for television.

Second: great writing. Joss Whedon, who has become somewhat of a god-among-men for the nerd set (with Buffy, Angel, and Firefly, he has quite a following), has the amazing ability to put together single stories, long plot-arcs, and great dialogue. Taking a cue from the Spider-Man school of super-hero banter, Buffy is the queen of the snappy comeback and the awful pun. As the seasons go on, it becomes so that even her enemies comment wryly about her use of the jokes. Beyond that, there is also the specialized vocabulary that Buffy’s friends (“Scoobies”) develop, that at times annoying, still stays consistent throughout the series.

Granted, there is overacting at times, and the drama sometimes gets very dramatic, but overall, the show was always well-written. Throw in some gems such as the episode “Hush” (which is slightly overrated as being “ground-breaking,” but is still very well done) and the musical episode “One More Time, With Feeling”, where the actors, despite not all being the greatest singers, do well nonetheless, are classics.

Yes, these two examples, like a number of others, hint at the “gimmick episode”, and yet such shows rarely do not advance the plot of that particular season. Again, with our two examples, “Hush” reveals Buffy’s identity to Riley, and the musical shows Buffy’s true feelings about being brought back from the dead (at this point, you should know that Buffy is no stranger to dying).

Perhaps the one flaw in the writing (and perhaps this is more a direction thing), is the more than PG-13 rating on some of the sex scenes. Now, I’m no prude, but I’m also aware of the limits of television. Since they can’t go for the gusto, then I’m of the opinion that hinting can do as much for viewer as actual “showing.” In other words, back in the days of the hard-core MPAA, a kiss in a bedroom was often enough to signify that sex was about to happen, and, when the next scene came on the screen, the audience knew that the characters had slept together. In one episode of Buffy, though, it ends with Buffy clearly unzipping Spike’s pants and then being penetrated. If this sounds graphic, well, that’s because it was. Clearly, you don’t see the actually penetration, and the actors are fully clothed, but it still probably goes beyond the decency for a show that, although written for adults, is obviously watched, at least by this point in the series, by young people as well.

Note: This rant above needs to come with a caveat, that being it is up to parents to monitor what kids watch, not the writers. I wholly believe this, and I am not blaming the writers for “corrupting” the kids, or putting the parents in awkward situations in having to answer questions that they may not be ready to answer. In fact, as I think about it, it is not up to the writer to do anything but write what he believes pushes the plot forward or will be entertaining. That being said, I think that such scenes, while giving us a little insight into the characters, were not completely necessary, at least not as given to us on the screen, and perhaps could have been cut back or edited differently.

It is interesting to know, too, that these scenes definitely seemed to become more frequent when the show moved from the WB network to the UPN. If you are aware of these two networks, you’ll realize that the UPN is considered the, shall I say “wacker,” network, and therefore maybe this change is not so surprising.

Third: great acting. The nice thing about this series is that it took a group of unknowns (yes, Sarah Michelle Gellar had been on a soap opera before, but how many soap opera actors can you name?), and allowed them to grow and develop. Gellar, obviously, but Alyson Hannigan and Nicholas Brendon created careers with this show. James Marsters and David Boreanaz as well. They all were able to combine comedy, action, and drama to create well-rounded characters.

Now, I’ve mentioned some overacting, and I can’t think of anyone who was in character for 144 hours who is able to do so without some sort of overacting, and I believe they keep it within reasonable bounds. One thing I’d like to say about Buffy’s character, though, is that as the series goes on, she has a tendency to go Harry Potter on us (broody, know-it-all, screw-my-friends), but I think Whedon does a good job of explaining that (and, for that matter, so does Rowling with Potter).

Despite any negatives I might have regarding this series, it remains for me one of the best stories I’ve ever encountered. It is highly compelling and extremely entertaining, and I recommend it to anyone. You don’t have to be a sci-fi person to enjoy this show, although it might add to your appreciation. So definitely watch it.

I have also come to the conclusion that shows on DVD, especially dramas, are inherently better than watching on television. Yes, there is the suspense of having to wait each week (and between commercial breaks), but, no matter what, you will be waiting. And this way, the story is completely fresh in your mind. Watching all seven seasons in a short period of time is like reading a seven novel series that has been out for years. It’s all the same story, it’s all continuous, and therefore should be watched as such. I’ve come to the decision that there are a few shows I had some inkling to watch, but haven’t, and now I’m going to wait until they’ve run their course, get the DVDs, and watch it that way. In the long run, it saves time, and keeps me from being beholden to the television schedulers.

Here’s a link for the first season: http://video.barnesandnoble.com/search/product.asp?z=y&EAN=024543233015&itm=5

Obviously it’s expensive to buy them all, so if you can, just rent them or buy them used. Then, if you like them, buy them. I think they’re good enough to bear multiple watchings, but I know it’s an investment. No matter what, though, I think you’ll be doing yourself a favor by watching it.

I Spy a Mediocre Novel

I read John le Carre’s The Mission Song a couple of week’s ago, but for some reason (laziness?), I didn’t get to writing it about it.

It’s. . .it’s weird. Or it isn’t. I don’t know.

Here’s the thing with this book: I’m not really sure what the point was. The idea is kind of cool. There’s a guy (there always is in novels, you know?), who was born in the Congo, and apparently has a gift for language. He moves to England, and gets recruited as a contract interpreter for the British Intelligence service on odd jobs. The main point of the novel is that he gets hired again, for a super-secret interpreter job, and pretty much gets entangled in a very, um, tangled web.

And that’s part of the problem. The plot goes in and out, both from time and actions. The main character, the improbably named Bruno, happens to be involved in an affair with a woman who is loosely connected to the new job he has. And yet, she isn’t. Everything is a plot device, but the plot is not solid. It’s, as I said, weird.

Part of what doesn’t do it for me is that this book is not your typical spy-action novel. If you know anything about le Carre, apparently that’s par for the course. I’m guessing this is a lot like how real intelligence jobs happen: some cloak-and-dagger stuff, but mostly mundane actions mixed with some lies and a lot of money. In the end, though, the shocks are not so much shocking, as they are slightly off-putting. The intrigue is not that intriguing, and there isn’t a lot of resolution.

Despite what it sounds like, though, it’s not a bad book. le Carre has a unique narrative style, and amazingly, I couldn’t put the book down. Perhaps that is because I was expecting something to happen, but it was also because it was coming from such an interesting perspective: a spy who has no idea how to be a good spy.

Can I recommend this book? I don’t know. I’d say read Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy or The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, le Carre’s two most famous novels (my friend informs me the latter is fantastic). Just don’t read him expecting James Bond. This is nuts and bolts espionage, and if you want to read a more realistic account of the intelligence world, read him. Otherwise, I’d say don’t bother.

If you choose to bother: http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry.asp?isbn=0316016748&z=y

Lord of Ringing in the New Year

I can now check off at least one more thing off of my Am I a Geek? list.

Last night, while carousing occurred throughout the land, I was able to sit back, and starting at 12:30 in the afternoon, commence the movie-watching marathon that all true nerds aspire to.

I am, of course, referring to the extended editions of the Lord of the Rings movies.

Probably because they were written as a complete story, the three movies make up, in my mind, the greatest sequence of movies ever made. I know I will hear grief from my Star Wars brethren, but hear me out: Star Wars: A New Hope was made with, at the time, relatively no-name actors on a pretty low-budget. Even the opus of that series, The Empire Strikes Back, still had to deal with Mark Hamill being in practically every scene (if there is some consolation from the travesty that was Episodes I – III, it’s that Hayden Christiansen’s Anakin clearly shows where Luke gets his lack of acting ability from – whole other blog). And please don’t get me started on Ewoks. I believe we all know the general public’s opinion about them.

Whereas Peter Jackson (unlike Lucas), had one of the most endearing and popular fantasy novels to work with. Moreover, he had the budget and technology to pull it off. These movies could not have been made back in the late Seventies. They could, and with great success, be made at the beginning of the Twenty-first Century (which I have to say is slightly ironic, given Tolkien’s clear views on technological “progress” and his yearning for the preservation of the “ideal” (“idyll”?)).

Moreover, the casting was incredible. A sound mix of fantastic, established actors (Ian McKellen, Ian Holm, Christopher Lee), established, yet not given their due actors (Viggo Mortensen, John Rhys-Davies, Hugo Weaving, Elijah Wood, Sean Astin, Sean Bean), and relative new-comers (Orlando Bloom, Dominic Monaghan, Billy Boyd, Andy Serkis). Throw in Cate Blanchett and Liv Tyler (the latter I would say was miscast, but more on that below), and you have a great movie.

And that’s only the first movie!

Because as the journey moves on, the acting never diminishes. The additions of Bernard Hill as Theoden, Miranda Otto as Eowyn, and Karl Urban as Eomer are excellent, and many minor characters are played equally as well.

One thing that this movie allows for, if not calls for, is a bit more over-acting than one would generally want in, say, a present day drama. Their world is over-the-top, the situation is out of control, and therefore the language is lyrical. Love is LOVE, hate is HATE. Emotions are not complex, and are not hidden, and I believe this is the world that Tolkien was trying to create when he wrote his books. And the actors (and perhaps as important, the director), are still professional enough, for the most part, to keep their over-acting subdued, if that makes any sense. Because, in hindsight, you can recognize that they were really working the lines, but as a viewer, you simply believe that’s how they speak in Middle Earth.

And can I just say, what a world! I’m wondering if there is a place more beautiful on Earth than New Zealand? Damn Kiwis holding out on us!

All told, you have three movies that give you everything you want in a good, entertaining movie: love, action, comedy, suspense, and conflict. Granted, The Two Towers is more of a bridge than the other two, but it still is so well done that once you are familiar with the story, you can watch it on it’s own with out the benefit of having immediately watched the first, or with the knowledge that you will soon watch the third.

Suffice it to say that by 1:00 am, I was extremely happy. And that’s because, in the end, I watched the movie as it was meant to be seen: As one movie. You have to break up the story to make it manageable, but it truly is one continuous story, and therefore one continuous movie. I have a feeling that eventually they will be smart enough to market a disk that allows you to watch all three at once, without stopping to change disks or having to see credits. I yearn for said day.

Praise being said, there were some things that bothered me:

First, no Tom Bombadill!

Okay, it's really not true that this bothered me. I’m actually glad he’s not in the movie, because he’s the most ridiculous character in the book, and his sole purpose is to save the Hobbits from the Barrow-Wight. Although that brings adventure into the book where it desperately needs it, the fact that there seems to be this character who could solve everything but doesn’t annoys the hell out of me. My friends will continually claim otherwise, but I praise Jackson and the other screen-writers for excising that bastard out of the movie. The less prancing, singing demi-gods, the better.

Second, (and this one is true), Liv Tyler as Arwen.

I’m sure some people think Liv Tyler is a good actress. Hell, maybe she is. But I have a hard time getting past the idea that people think she is attractive. And that’s part A of my problem with her in this movie.

Arwen is supposed to be the fairest creature in all of Middle Earth (with a Gimli making a strong case in favor of Galadriel). Liv Tyler wasn’t even the best looking woman in the movies. Now Cate Blanchett is not what you would call a traditional beauty, but she does have an exotic look to her that seems to indicate both elfishness and beauty. Plus, she has a wonderful smile. Tyler also has an otherworldly look to her, but that’s because she’s an alien. I’m sorry to be so harsh, but when your father is Steven Tyler, the odds of you being a beauty are slim to none.

Part B of my problem is that Arwen’s role in the books is not big (one would almost argue, it’s practically non-existent, except through the thoughts of Aragorn). Now I understand the necessity of creating a love-interest in the movie in order to create a more balance story, but in this case, it means having to deal with seeing more Liv Tyler and her widely placed eyes, and wonder why Aragorn loves her more than he loves Eowyn, played by the incredibly more attractive Miranda Otto. Then again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so maybe Aragorn has conjunctivitis.

Third, they fucked up Faramir!

This is supposed to be The Guy in the books. He’s supposed to be the redemption of Boromir, but instead of just letting Frodo go and defying his father outright, he has to “learn” what he has to do, and drags Frodo away from the quest. Not only would this completely fuck up the timeline, but all it does is add an unnecessary scene in Osgiliath where apparently a single arrow is enough to drive away a Nazgul. Oddly enough, it does less to explain Faramir’s change of heart than if he was just a good person from the start! Eventually, I think they get him back on track, but it still pisses me off how they changed him for no apparent reason.

As if the story needed more conflict and drama!

Fourth, and the biggest: No Scouring of the Shire

The books were about the Hobbits. Obviously there were other major characters, and other major events, but like all great stories, the books began and ended in the same place: the Shire. One of the points that Tolkien was trying to make was that isolation is fine, but you also need to be able to protect that isolation. The Hobbits lived a peaceful existence, and when Frodo leaves, he does so to maintain that way of life. When he returns, however, he finds things have gone horribly wrong. It is only because Sam, Pippin, Merry, and he have gone through their ordeals that they are able to overcome the changes and restore peace back to the Shire.

The movie gives us none of this.

I’m sure there are many excuses, and a lot of them probably had to do with budget and time reasons. The one that makes the most sense to me, though, is that it does not make for a smooth ending. In the books, the Scouring of the Shire is a jarring reminder to the Hobbits that just because the greater evil is destroyed, there is still evil in the world. It is an anticlimactic event, but one that is necessary for the ultimate resolution of the Hobbits adventures. In the movie, however, it would have come as a shock, even to those who know the story, just because the movie seemed complete (granted, it wasn’t, and the fact that there are three or four perfect opportunities to end the movie, and yet it keeps going is an irksome reminder that they could be scouring the fucking Shire right now!).

Jackson, probably hearing it from fan-boys even more intense than I am, threw them a bone in the directors cut, showing Wormtongue killing Saruman and then dying himself, cutting off any hope of a final showdown in the Shire. Ah well.

Fifth: “Legolas, what do your elf-eyes see?”

Lines like this should never be uttered, let alone penned.

Mostly, though, I would be nit-picking to find things wrong with this movie. Frodo and Sam’s longing, homosexually tinged stares come to mind, but that’s because I’m probably not mature enough to truly understand manly love (such as that in Sir Gawain and the Green Night, or the comradeship of soldiers in war). The first movie is at times tedious in the beginning, if only because it takes them forever to get out of the Shire. But again, that’s because I was taking it in the context of one movie, as opposed to a small part of the whole. Also, I realize it’s important because, in the end, that’s what the Hobbits are doing all this for: to save their little piece of heaven on Middle Earth.

Amazingly, and I say this knowing full-well I am swallowing previously uttered words, the movies are better than the books. Tolkien, although creating a fantastic world and basically starting the fantasy genre as we know it today, is a long-winded writer with a penchant for over-wrought detail that bars plot and story the place of preeminence the should always have in a story. Part of my problem is that I got into the books late, and having already read so many Tolkien disciples writing in a much more "popular" style, it found it hard to enjoy the antiquated language of Frodo's story. For me, fantasy should be, um, fantastic? And being bored by how green the Shire is does not make me really want to go out and see these Hobbits save their homes. And, like with the movies, I find the story of Sam and Frodo to be completely unexciting (Wow, are they walking towards Mordor still? Let's have some more chapters about that!), even though it's the supposed to be the main plot-line.

However, I've only read the books twice, so maybe I'm being overly critical. And I'm not saying the books are bad; they just don't hold the magical allure that they do for so many others.

Still, the movies are definitely great. The Return of the King won the Oscars, but clearly the trilogy received the awards as a whole. And that’s how I watched them. That’s how I spent New Years Eve.

I am David, Captain of Cool.