I did it, yes I did. I got on the Battlestar Galactica bandwagon. A buddy loaned me Seasons one and two, and I just finished one. Damn, it's a good show. Heavy, you can't watch more than an episode or two in one sitting, really, not like some of those shows where you can watch hours and hours because you don't need to absorb that much.
It deals with death, and life, and emotion, and war, and loyalty, and really kick ass fighting, and solid strong characters. We only know four or five Cylon models, and there are 12. And I think what they really want is to FEEL like we do, and that's the one thing they lack - the gradients of emotion that humans have. It's much more serious than its predecessor, and the special effects are pretty good on top of everything else.
One of my friends liked the old show and says she just can't get into the groove of this one, now that Starbuck is a woman. I gotta tell you, Starbuck is a ballbuster of the most fun kind - she smokes cigars, she picks fights, and we just learned she really wants to shag Apollo. Of course, if you've seen him, you would too. I'd sign up for that.
There's an episode where Starbuck ends up with a Cylon Raider fighting ship, and she's really playing against no one but she does a great job. It's fun. Apollo is a little more wooden at times; I think it's because the actor is British doing a darn good American accent. But the rest of the cast is really good, and besides, you gotta love a President named Laura.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Susie, Did You Just Call Australia?
Somebody's kid called my answering machine the other day. I don't know who it was; at first all I could hear was coughing, then voices, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. All I could figure was that some kid had ahold of Mom's cell and dialed me. It was pretty funny; it went on for a couple minutes.
Either that or Rosa's friends tried her again at this number. After a frakkin' year you think they would figure out that she's not here.
Do parents give kids real phones to play with often? I mean, do you ever get a phone call from your nephew who is just able to barely say your name or something? Unassisted by an adult, anyway? Huh.
Either that or Rosa's friends tried her again at this number. After a frakkin' year you think they would figure out that she's not here.
Do parents give kids real phones to play with often? I mean, do you ever get a phone call from your nephew who is just able to barely say your name or something? Unassisted by an adult, anyway? Huh.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Movie Review - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
So when you get on a roll writing, you want to keep writing. Thus, the movie review of a movie I saw a couple of weeks ago. Bear with me.
(This review assumes you've seen all the HP movies and read up through Book Five. Read ahead at your own risk if you haven't done either.)
By the time this movie comes out on DVD, you might need to change the title to: "Harry Potter and the Screaming Fangirls." Harry has grown up. I actually think he's shaving. That seriously disturbs me. But more on that later.
"Order of the Phoenix" is a long book, jam packed with Harry's teenage angst in a major way - he's actually kind of bratty, although I'm almost willing to give the kid a pass most of the time, except when he's rotten to his friends. This leaves the movie some big shoes to fill, and the attempt is nobly made, but in the end it misses the one feeling I get every time I read the book: deep and sickening dread.
A quick synopsis: Harry has watched Cedric Diggory die at the hands of Voldemort, and knows the evil one is back. When this book starts, Harry is trying to tell everyone who will listen that Voldemort is back - but most people don't believe him and the Minster of Magic and his cronies are painting Harry as a big fat liar. Harry is dealing with that, his crush on Cho Chang, and the horrifically creepy kitten-plate loving Dolores Umbridge, who is trying to run the school with an iron fist encased in a frilly pink glove.
One of the horrors of the book for me was Harry's punishment at Umbridge's hands - he must write lines in his own blood, which will scar his skin. And this happens repeatedly, in Umbridge's pink classroom where she refuses to teach spells against the Dark Arts - a hands-off, ignore-the-truth policy that infuriates me every time because I equate it with abstinence-only sex education. If we pretend it isn't happening, it isn't! Now. Let's discuss knitting.
The movie touches on this punishment briefly (oh but we do get a lovely shot of the mewing kitten plates; I nearly died laughing in the theater when I saw them) but doesn't give me that same lingering feeling of malevolence, incompetance and horror that I get when I read the book. There simply isn't time.
That's what this movie really needed - more time to tell the story. From the dementor attack in the beginning to the end when the world knows the truth, this movie hurries along at a sharp clip. Even Fred and George's school-ditching revenge gets shorter shrift than it really deserved. (And can we even agree on what a dementor looks like from one film to the next? Please??)
Of course, Imelda Staunton inhabits Umbridge with a sort of tittering glee; watching her go toe-to-toe, literally, with Dame Maggie Smith (McGonagall) is sheer fun, partially because I kept hoping McGonagall would eat Umbridge for breakfast - you know she's capable of it. And the creme de la creme of British acting royalty always deliver in these films, so you're getting good solid casting and talent. Try to tell me Emma Thompson isn't having loads of fun as flighty Sybil Trelawny. Just try it.
Even Rupert Grint, who is Ron Weasley, is no longer mugging like he did in movies two and three, and instead gives us some depth. All the kids are getting better, and this time we have the inclusion of Luna Lovegood (Evanna Lynch) who is as spacey as I expected Luna to be, although not as serious as I had pictured her. But no matter. The ending, while unfortunately truncated, is pure wizardly fun - Helena Bonham Carter gets to be crazy-on-a-stick as Bellatrix LeStrange, Gary Oldman reminds us again why purely creepy roles do him short shrift as the heroic Sirius Black, and there's always Jason Isaacs as Lucius Malfoy to chew scenery in his blond wig if needed.
And back to Harry shaving. Harry is having bad dreams, so we get closeups of Harry writhing, sweaty and tortured, in his sleep. Suddenly I could picture teenage girls the world over getting gooey at the sight of him - he's going to be a hunk at some point in his life, and since he's legal, I only feel mostly creepy at saying this, not entirely creepy - and they are likely watching his nightmares with the urge to both snuggle him, and possibly snog him. (I'll use the British term out of politeness.) It's both fun and offputting to watch these kids grow up on film. In the first movie he was huggably adorable. By the seventh movie he'll be able to drink legally in the States. And that really kind of squicked me out. But anyway, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I just have to avoid those shirtless Equus play pics or I'll feel like a real pervert.
Animal Trauma: I don't recall any, a few weeks out, but you might feel sorry for those mewling kittens in the plates!
Overall: Competant but rushed. I give it three roses out of five, and promise to try to control the creeped-out squicks if Harry has facial hair in the next film.
A little side note: I saw this movie the weekend Book Seven came out, and I remember sitting in the theater saying to myself: "I have all the answers at home!" And when I got home the first thing I did was plow through that book to get the answers.
(This review assumes you've seen all the HP movies and read up through Book Five. Read ahead at your own risk if you haven't done either.)
By the time this movie comes out on DVD, you might need to change the title to: "Harry Potter and the Screaming Fangirls." Harry has grown up. I actually think he's shaving. That seriously disturbs me. But more on that later.
"Order of the Phoenix" is a long book, jam packed with Harry's teenage angst in a major way - he's actually kind of bratty, although I'm almost willing to give the kid a pass most of the time, except when he's rotten to his friends. This leaves the movie some big shoes to fill, and the attempt is nobly made, but in the end it misses the one feeling I get every time I read the book: deep and sickening dread.
A quick synopsis: Harry has watched Cedric Diggory die at the hands of Voldemort, and knows the evil one is back. When this book starts, Harry is trying to tell everyone who will listen that Voldemort is back - but most people don't believe him and the Minster of Magic and his cronies are painting Harry as a big fat liar. Harry is dealing with that, his crush on Cho Chang, and the horrifically creepy kitten-plate loving Dolores Umbridge, who is trying to run the school with an iron fist encased in a frilly pink glove.
One of the horrors of the book for me was Harry's punishment at Umbridge's hands - he must write lines in his own blood, which will scar his skin. And this happens repeatedly, in Umbridge's pink classroom where she refuses to teach spells against the Dark Arts - a hands-off, ignore-the-truth policy that infuriates me every time because I equate it with abstinence-only sex education. If we pretend it isn't happening, it isn't! Now. Let's discuss knitting.
The movie touches on this punishment briefly (oh but we do get a lovely shot of the mewing kitten plates; I nearly died laughing in the theater when I saw them) but doesn't give me that same lingering feeling of malevolence, incompetance and horror that I get when I read the book. There simply isn't time.
That's what this movie really needed - more time to tell the story. From the dementor attack in the beginning to the end when the world knows the truth, this movie hurries along at a sharp clip. Even Fred and George's school-ditching revenge gets shorter shrift than it really deserved. (And can we even agree on what a dementor looks like from one film to the next? Please??)
Of course, Imelda Staunton inhabits Umbridge with a sort of tittering glee; watching her go toe-to-toe, literally, with Dame Maggie Smith (McGonagall) is sheer fun, partially because I kept hoping McGonagall would eat Umbridge for breakfast - you know she's capable of it. And the creme de la creme of British acting royalty always deliver in these films, so you're getting good solid casting and talent. Try to tell me Emma Thompson isn't having loads of fun as flighty Sybil Trelawny. Just try it.
Even Rupert Grint, who is Ron Weasley, is no longer mugging like he did in movies two and three, and instead gives us some depth. All the kids are getting better, and this time we have the inclusion of Luna Lovegood (Evanna Lynch) who is as spacey as I expected Luna to be, although not as serious as I had pictured her. But no matter. The ending, while unfortunately truncated, is pure wizardly fun - Helena Bonham Carter gets to be crazy-on-a-stick as Bellatrix LeStrange, Gary Oldman reminds us again why purely creepy roles do him short shrift as the heroic Sirius Black, and there's always Jason Isaacs as Lucius Malfoy to chew scenery in his blond wig if needed.
And back to Harry shaving. Harry is having bad dreams, so we get closeups of Harry writhing, sweaty and tortured, in his sleep. Suddenly I could picture teenage girls the world over getting gooey at the sight of him - he's going to be a hunk at some point in his life, and since he's legal, I only feel mostly creepy at saying this, not entirely creepy - and they are likely watching his nightmares with the urge to both snuggle him, and possibly snog him. (I'll use the British term out of politeness.) It's both fun and offputting to watch these kids grow up on film. In the first movie he was huggably adorable. By the seventh movie he'll be able to drink legally in the States. And that really kind of squicked me out. But anyway, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I just have to avoid those shirtless Equus play pics or I'll feel like a real pervert.
Animal Trauma: I don't recall any, a few weeks out, but you might feel sorry for those mewling kittens in the plates!
Overall: Competant but rushed. I give it three roses out of five, and promise to try to control the creeped-out squicks if Harry has facial hair in the next film.
A little side note: I saw this movie the weekend Book Seven came out, and I remember sitting in the theater saying to myself: "I have all the answers at home!" And when I got home the first thing I did was plow through that book to get the answers.
Movie Review - The Bourne Ultimatum
First off, a confession: I find Jason Bourne supremely sexy. Even more so when he's kicking someone's ass. So this review not only assumes you've seen the previous films, but also comes with a healthy dose of estrogen. Read at your own risk. :-)
As you're probably aware, by this time in the series, Bourne is wrestling with the motherlode of both guilt and amnesia. He knows he's killed people, and he can recall all their faces, but he can't remember their names. His girlfriend Marie has been killed and he wants revenge, peace, and answers - and the order in which those come is often interchangeable.
The third movie opens with Bourne being pursued in Moscow. Not having watched the previous films recently, I'm not recalling why he was there in the first place or how he got hurt, but he's already wounded when we first light upon him, yet still accomplishing his miraculous and brave escapes. And then this never comes up again during the rest of the movie.
No matter. Bourne gets tangled up with reporter Simon Ross (Paddy Considine) and some old pals at the CIA - Noah, the Deputy Director (David Straitharn - that guy about whom I always say 'what's his name again?') Pamela Landy (Joan Allen) and Nicky Parsons (Julia Stiles). They want to get their hands on him before he can cause bigger trouble than he's already caused in connection with Ross. Ross, who thinks he's smarter than the people he writes about, is trying to out the whole project. And Bourne wants to simultaneously figure out the beginning of the project by tracing Ross's source, and doesn't want to kill any more people than truly necessary. Which of course depends on whether those people are trying to kill him or not.
The movie's plot is essentially unnecessary. By the time we get back to Bourne's beginning, it's really something of a letdown, and we never really know the cause of his initial amnesia. Stiles has a throwaway role - you think for a bit it might be Marie Redux - and is essentially there to be the pretty girl. She's no Franke Potente, though, much as I normally love Julia Stiles. Here I spent a lot of time figuring out what shade lipstick she was wearing and how I might get a tube. She simply doesn't have a lot to do, and the film would have done much better keeping Potente's character, whom she inhabited with such life and vigor. However, would Bourne want his revenge if the love of his life was dead? Guess not. Moving on.
Allen has a little more scenery to chew, although whoever is clothing her character in drab turtlenecks and keeping her from brushing her hair should probably be fired. Allen and Straitharn do get to do verbal battle, which is a nice touch, but it could have been snappier, considering how much of a threat they feel Bourne to be, and how good these two actors are.
Ah well. The action is non-freakin-stop the whole film, which is really why you're going to see it anyway. Daring rooftop chases, cars bouncing here there and everywhere, and dear little Julia trying not to get a bullet in the brain. Bourne kicks more ass in this one than the last one, and I must say, watching that boyscout face kick the crap out of people with such ease is more than a little thrilling.
Which is really why this movie succeeds. Matt Damon would not have been my initial choice in this role (which shows you what I know), but he lends a gravitas to the role by essentially not emoting, and that boy-next-door face is starting to line a little around the mouth and eyes - we get lots of closeups of that handsome face, much to my joy - so he looks wearier and older than he did in the first one - in a way that really works for him. You might even argue he looks a little broader in the shoulder, but maybe that was my wishful thinking. In short, he's made the role absolutely believable and pretty yummy at the same time. A movie for men and women, only for differing reasons.
Damon gives Bourne the cornucopia of women's lust issues: he's gorgeous without being pretty, he can kick the ass of anybody who messes with the women he knows, he's obviously smart, calm and collected, and on top of it he's wounded and vulnerable, and you might even argue gentle if need be. If that doesn't send you into an O-ring blowing frenzy, my dear, you need to check your estrogen levels.
Of course I still missed Clive Owen from the first film, but oh well. You can't have everything.
And this is one movie where I need to mention the soundtrack. John Powell's strings and tempo pieces are so invigorating that I bought the first soundtrack, and I absolutely love what he's written for the action scenes.
Animal Trauma: None, but you may mourn for Julia Stiles' lovely highlights if you like.
Overall: Plot thin, action thick, hero hooooooottttttttt. I give it four roses out of five, the last rose purely for Matt Damon being all swoon-worthy and making me wonder where I can get a Bourne of my own.
As you're probably aware, by this time in the series, Bourne is wrestling with the motherlode of both guilt and amnesia. He knows he's killed people, and he can recall all their faces, but he can't remember their names. His girlfriend Marie has been killed and he wants revenge, peace, and answers - and the order in which those come is often interchangeable.
The third movie opens with Bourne being pursued in Moscow. Not having watched the previous films recently, I'm not recalling why he was there in the first place or how he got hurt, but he's already wounded when we first light upon him, yet still accomplishing his miraculous and brave escapes. And then this never comes up again during the rest of the movie.
No matter. Bourne gets tangled up with reporter Simon Ross (Paddy Considine) and some old pals at the CIA - Noah, the Deputy Director (David Straitharn - that guy about whom I always say 'what's his name again?') Pamela Landy (Joan Allen) and Nicky Parsons (Julia Stiles). They want to get their hands on him before he can cause bigger trouble than he's already caused in connection with Ross. Ross, who thinks he's smarter than the people he writes about, is trying to out the whole project. And Bourne wants to simultaneously figure out the beginning of the project by tracing Ross's source, and doesn't want to kill any more people than truly necessary. Which of course depends on whether those people are trying to kill him or not.
The movie's plot is essentially unnecessary. By the time we get back to Bourne's beginning, it's really something of a letdown, and we never really know the cause of his initial amnesia. Stiles has a throwaway role - you think for a bit it might be Marie Redux - and is essentially there to be the pretty girl. She's no Franke Potente, though, much as I normally love Julia Stiles. Here I spent a lot of time figuring out what shade lipstick she was wearing and how I might get a tube. She simply doesn't have a lot to do, and the film would have done much better keeping Potente's character, whom she inhabited with such life and vigor. However, would Bourne want his revenge if the love of his life was dead? Guess not. Moving on.
Allen has a little more scenery to chew, although whoever is clothing her character in drab turtlenecks and keeping her from brushing her hair should probably be fired. Allen and Straitharn do get to do verbal battle, which is a nice touch, but it could have been snappier, considering how much of a threat they feel Bourne to be, and how good these two actors are.
Ah well. The action is non-freakin-stop the whole film, which is really why you're going to see it anyway. Daring rooftop chases, cars bouncing here there and everywhere, and dear little Julia trying not to get a bullet in the brain. Bourne kicks more ass in this one than the last one, and I must say, watching that boyscout face kick the crap out of people with such ease is more than a little thrilling.
Which is really why this movie succeeds. Matt Damon would not have been my initial choice in this role (which shows you what I know), but he lends a gravitas to the role by essentially not emoting, and that boy-next-door face is starting to line a little around the mouth and eyes - we get lots of closeups of that handsome face, much to my joy - so he looks wearier and older than he did in the first one - in a way that really works for him. You might even argue he looks a little broader in the shoulder, but maybe that was my wishful thinking. In short, he's made the role absolutely believable and pretty yummy at the same time. A movie for men and women, only for differing reasons.
Damon gives Bourne the cornucopia of women's lust issues: he's gorgeous without being pretty, he can kick the ass of anybody who messes with the women he knows, he's obviously smart, calm and collected, and on top of it he's wounded and vulnerable, and you might even argue gentle if need be. If that doesn't send you into an O-ring blowing frenzy, my dear, you need to check your estrogen levels.
Of course I still missed Clive Owen from the first film, but oh well. You can't have everything.
And this is one movie where I need to mention the soundtrack. John Powell's strings and tempo pieces are so invigorating that I bought the first soundtrack, and I absolutely love what he's written for the action scenes.
Animal Trauma: None, but you may mourn for Julia Stiles' lovely highlights if you like.
Overall: Plot thin, action thick, hero hooooooottttttttt. I give it four roses out of five, the last rose purely for Matt Damon being all swoon-worthy and making me wonder where I can get a Bourne of my own.
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