My Night

My darlings, I promise, a nice bit o' political yawping soon, complete with the spanking of assorted deserving bottoms and plenty to titter at, but tonight I'm trying to finish a bit o' a scene that's got me stuck.

So far, in order to avoid accomplish this, I have stared at the scene, twiddled a couple of words in it, moved some research notes from one place to another, and then took a walk in the rain, in the dark, to fondle leaves.  And that was delightful.  Things smelled pretty, and it's just a little bit of magic, going outside in the rainy dark to walk in a character's shoes.  I touched a great many leaves on trees, brought some home with me, and then promptly got to work... tracking down the classical music piece that was very briefly played in Mr. Holland's Opus and was filched for Angelzoom for the song "Lights."  It's "Sleepers Awake" by Bach, if you're curious.  Many thanks to All Experts.

But really, seriously, I'm going to work on this scene any moment now.  Just that little bit, touching an alien leaf, and then I must get on with the really hard work of sketching out the rest in its entirety, complete with long windy background pieces on art and architecture and so forth, because damn it, I want to get it right.  It's the first trip offworld for Dusty.  It's important - no, not just that, essential.

And so kicking pollyticians in the arse shall have to wait for tomorrow.  In the meantime, if you haven't seen Ang Lee's The Wedding Banquet, I do recommend it.  And Mr. Holland's Opus, for that matter.

Now it's off for some more avoidance before I write the bits that need to be written...

Movie Quote o' the Day

From Notting Hill: "Happiness isn't happiness without a violin-playing goat."

Too true.

I Wish There Were A God So I Can Ask It Why

Why did I watch The Princess Diaries?  And why did it inspire some actual useful thinking?  It pains me to admit that such sacchariny schlock could actually lead to breakthroughs, however minor.

Argh.  I blame my Muse.

Still A Favorite

I meant to do actual work tonight, but fell prey to exhaustion, and so the only reasonable thing to do was throw in So I Married An Axe Murderer.  Still one of my favorite movies of all time.  It's ridiculous in every particular.  Almost as sublimely silly as Austin Powers.

Did I ever mention how I came to fall in love with Austin Powers?  It was back in the days when I hated all things '60s.  I swore I'd never watch Austin Powers because it looked stupid and was set in the '60s.  However, at the time, I had friends who had selective hearing when it came to the word "no."  They also failed to understand "absolutely not," "over my dead body," and "if you force me to go to this movie, I'll never speak to you again."  I ended up being dragged into the local dollar theatre swearing revenge, and came out screaming "Yeah, baby!" and wondering where one could buy a feather boa late at night in Prescott, Arizona.

The next Valentine's Day, I had a small industry going at our workplace making Austin Powers bags for the Valentine's cards we handed around in some misguided attempt to make the workplace more fun.  Well, what else can you do when you're staring at a brown paper bag but put on it "This is my bag, baby!" in red glitter.

Now I'm going to suffer through The Princess Diaries for no discernible reason, and then I'll be putting myself to bed with Connie Willis.  It's not such a bad life.

Grate. Now I'm Crying

So, I finally worked up the courage to watch Spirited Away.  It took awhile to talk myself into it, because when a friend whose judgment you trust says it's a movie he hated because he knew that nothing else would ever be as good, it makes you worry.  Will you ever be able to watch another movie ever again?  Will your hopes be dashed because this movie isn't your cup of tea, and can you stand to face your friend afterward and admit that, really, you didn't think it was all that awesome?  Silly thoughts, I know, but I had 'em.

So, first, an admission: I didn't like it quite as much as Howl's Moving Castle.  Howl's hooked me the instant it began and kept me hooked throughout.  I remained enthralled the whole time.  Spirited Away took quite some time to get off the ground.  But once it took off, once the characters got their hooks into me and started tugging, I could see what my friend meant.  I didn't want it to end either.  And I wanted her to look back.

I could say profound things about the hero's journey and archetypes and the similarities and divergence between Japanese and Western mythology, but I don't want to deconstruct this movie.  I just want to say that if I can write a novel half as good as Hayao Miyazaki's movies, I'll be very happy indeed.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sniffle a bit more and see if I can write anything half as good.  Oh, and budget for every single Miyazaki movie ever released in the US.

Somewhat Famous and Other Stories From The Exile's Life

Ah, my darlings, I can't tell you how good it is to be back.  Not that I'm back much - my hands are still healing, so I'm trying to keep repetitive stress down to a minimum.  But I'll tell you, two days without any typing at all blew leper donkey dick.  Don't know what you've got till it's gone and all that.  I've missed you.

Thought of you constantly, in fact.  I wanted to tell you all about watching Howl's Moving Castle and being very moved indeed by it.  The characters delighted me.  It's been a while since I was truly moved by a set of story folk.  Gave me ideas, it did, and gave me a feeling like I'd been part of something special, and now I'm terrified to watch Spirited Away because it is, by all reports, even better than Howl's, and considering that after Howl's every other movie I watched left me saying, "That was so lame compared to Howl's," that could ruin me for movie watching for quite some time to come.

By the time my DVR rolled round to Sense and Sensibility, I'd somewhat recovered.  Enough to appreciate it, anyway.  I do love Alan Rickman, Emma Thompson, Hugh Grant, and Kate Winslet.  Not so much in to the Jane Austen thing, but still, it's a good movie.  Just nowhere near as good as Howl's.

See what I mean?

I turned to Connie Willis for comfort on Day One of the No Typing Whatsoever experience, and this turned out to be a mistake.  Not that Blackout is a bad book.  Far from it.  What I didn't realize is that it is not, in fact, a full book, but half a book.  And the other half won't be out until October.  And it's literally half a book: it ends at the end of a chapter.  Now I know how the people who were reading The Lord of the Rings as its various parts were released felt.  Nothing's worse than getting to what you believe is the end of the book and finding yourself dangling right over a cliff, loose ends flapping in the breeze, not even the minimal comfort of a series, wherein at least a few plot threads are neatly tied up, there's been a climax and denouement, and all that. 

Argh argh argh.

In other news, I've become somewhat famous.  At least, my feet have:

When I saw this submission from entequilaesverdad, the word that popped into my mind was "jaunty." Also, I don't know if you can read the bottom book, but it is called "The Joy of Sects," which cracks my shit up.

I'm now very glad indeed that I had the brainwave that led to me putting The Joy of Sects beneath the Bible for my uncompromising and unashamed stand.  You can see a great many other atheists standing unashamedly and uncompromisingly upon various holy books here, here and here.  Praise be to Happy Jihad's House of Pancakes for giving so many atheists the opportunity to have so much public fun with fundamentalism!

And I have to admit that cracking Happy Jihad's shit up really made my day.

Our own dear Cujo did his own blogging against theocracy, and cracked my shit up by starting with a Monty Python quote.  Read the whole thing, not just the Monty Python bit, because his post includes such gems as this:

Most religions require their adherents to believe some crazy things. Christians are supposed to believe that their religion's founder was tortured and killed in one of the worst ways imaginable, given the technology and medical knowledge of the time, so they could be forgiven for their sins. Huh? This makes absolutely no sense, no matter how you spin it. What makes sense, given what we know of the situation, is that Christ was crucified because people found him annoying and their leaders thought he was a troublemaker.

No doubt, he was insulting the religious beliefs of the time by declaring that he had his own.

Context gives that last line extra luster. 

When you're done admiring that, go read George's spanking of morons who declare global warming a myth every time it gets chilly outside.  He explains the difference between weather and climate with an analogy even those right roaring schmucks should be able to understand but probably won't.

Right, then.  Must go back to resting the wrists and so forth.  Carry on, my darlings, and I shall see you in a bit.

Chick Flick Update: I'm Down With It

I've watched so many of these damned things I can't even remember where I left off reporting.

Right, a few I know I haven't yapped about: I broke down and bought Love, Actually because they refused to play it on the movie channels.  I enjoyed it, although I wish it could've been a mini-series with so many characters. 

Under the Tuscan Sun was an absolute delight.  I do believe I'll be buying that one.  It made me feel all warm and fuzzy, and the visuals of Italy were squisito.  Which Babelfish swears is the Italian word for delicious.

Just finished watching Down With Love, which had me laughing me arse off.  Of the three, I've had the most sheer fun watching that one. 

And I don't know if I've mentioned it, but I've developed an abiding fondness for Bridget Jones's Diary.

If you're in the mood for something seriously warped, not to mention fucked up beyond all recognition, Virgin Territory is a good place to start.  You'll never look at a dairy cow the same way ever again.

Geology Strikes Again

Okay, so you know how in Sleepless in Seattle, they roll the opening credits over a relief map of the USA?  Yeah.  And no shit, there I was, thinking of the vagaries of plate tectonics.  'Twas the angle on the map, y'see.  It showed with amazing clarity just how flat the Midwest is (where it's tectonically relatively quiet), how low the mountains in the East are (passive margin), and how mountainous the West is (active boundary, whole lotta squishing going on). 

I'm sure I'll start thinking of the actual movie here soon...

Movie Recommendation

If you get a chance to watch The Visitor, I suggest that you do.  I'm usually not in to the slowly-unfolding domestic drama complete with topical events sort o' thing, but this one's very well done indeed.  Makes one think thrice about our immigration policies, our ridiculous fears, and life in general.  Really great music, too.

Not cheesy romantic comedy, but I think the Muse is pleased anyway.  It's about to make me cry, though.  Damn serious movies.

I Loved Her Better as a Vengeance Demon

I've been catching up on busywork and research bits this afternoon.  Watched (okay, sorta watched) a movie called The Saddest Music in the World.  It's absurd in the extreme, but it's got Isabella Rossellini, which almost made it worth it.  I've liked her ever since she was in Alias.  Hadn't realized she played Nimue in that utterly awful version of Merlin.  You know an actress is good when she doesn't look or sound anything like herself depending on the movie.

Still having things to do, and needing a movie for background noise I wouldn't feel compelled to pay attention to, I chose A Valentine's Carol from the free On Demand movies.  Well, it had Emma Caulfield, who played Enya in Buffy.  And really awful romantic comedies seem to be what the Muse has been in the mood for lately.  I think it has something to do with offending her sensibilities and deciding we're going to prove how it's really done.  Or something.  Maybe the bitch just likes making me suffer.  I did suffer.  It's one of those films that's about 90 minutes of gawd-awful kitsch.  But for some reason, it actually worked in the end.  It actually left me giggling and content.  It's not a life-changing film, by any means, but for pure dumb chick-flick fun, it's not bad.  Call it the Big Mac of the romantic film genre.  Sometimes, a Big Mac really does hit the spot. 

And it's set in Seattle, so I got to enjoy nice shots of my city.  Another point in its favor.

Still.  Liked Emma better as a vengeance demon.

In other movie news, I see Avatar didn't win Oscars for best film or screenplay.  To which I say: good.  If that rewrite of Pocahontas had won either category, I would have been very annoyed.

Now, if you'll excuse me, the Muse seems to be ready to get back to work after an enforced absence due to a certain non-beloved aunt...

Mmm, Musicals

Just finished watching Evita (well, kinda watching - did a lot of working whilst watching it).  I has a few observations.

Jonathan Pryce has an outstanding singing voice.

Antonio Banderas may not have the greatest face in the known universe, but for some reason, he is a sexy, sexy man.  And same thing goes for his singing.

I actually like Madonna when she's not singing pop.

Speaking of musical sorta movies, has anyone here seen De-Lovely?  If so, care to venture an opinion?

Why Keanu Reeves?

Seriously.

I'm watching Dracula.  And you know something?  It would've been a far, far better movie without Keanu Reeves.  Acting so wooden you could've saved a forest by using it for toilet paper manufacture.  An English accent so atrocious they should've dubbed a seven year-old Doctor Who fan from Brooklyn over his voice - it would've been more believable.  He's not even that attractive, and I say that as a woman who usually goes for the dark-haired skinny geeks.

The movie's only redemption lies in other outstanding cast members - Anthony Hopkins, Gary Oldman, Sadie Frost.  Even Winona Rider didn't suck.

That's why I watch this travesty.  Well, that and because it's good mindless fun.  A well-balanced diet must include a serving of premium cheese every once in a while.  And, truth be told, I watch it for Sadie Frost in that red dress.

It sure as shit ain't for Keanu.  And that leads me to my question: why the fuck do so many directors ruin their movies by casting him?  I've never been able to find a satisfactory answer.

For Pure Cheesy Martial Arts Goodness...

...I can't recommend Iron Monkey highly enough.  It's got it all.  See-through plot, ridiculous situations, over-the-top villains, corny one-liners, and completely implausible fight sequences.

In other words, it's a fucking fantastic martial arts film.  Well worth seeing.

Chick Flick Update

Why oh why did my Muse settle on chick flicks as an inspirational goad?  This is getting progressively more painful.

Serendipity last night.  That film annoyed the bugfuck out of me.  By the end of it, I was ready to strangle the director, the writer, and anyone else associated with it who had a wringable neck.  Mind you, it was supposed to be annoying.  It succeeded nicely.  It was good, and I ended up working on a scene because of it, so that's a little bit of all right, then.  Don't be deceived by the fact I wanted to do bodily harm to everyone associated with it: it's actually quite a good little film.  Just very, deliberately annoying.

I watched French Film tonight.  Odd little thing, but oddly satisfying.  Several moments that actually made me laugh.  No surprises, alas, but then again, there weren't supposed to be.  Very well done, and not one of those too-cute-by-half movies, which is a nice change of pace after some of the schlock I've been subjected to. 

Unfortunately, it gave the Muse the yawns. I can never tell what's going to set that wench off.  Ah, well, our pens got here today, and I have things to scribble even if she is snoring in a corner just now.  She'll wake up soon enough.

Thankfully, that's the end of the chick flicks for a bit.  Nothing but Spirited Away and The Ninth Gate coming up on the DVR.  I'm actually afraid to watch Spirited Away.  I've been told it's one of the very best movies of all time.  Sometimes, those leave me depressed as hell afterward, feeling like a total inadequate loser, and inspire the Muse not one whit.  Bad films are the ticket, the ones that make you rave and rage and swear you'll never repeat their mistakes never ever nosir not you.

But I'll screw my courage to the sticking place and watch Spirited Away.

Eventually.

Chick Flick Update

I failed to mention it because I've been busy trying to keep up with Ye Olde Muse, but I got a chance to catch Anything But Love on Monday afternoon.  It's a delight, and it actually managed to surprise me a couple of times.  Highly recommended.

How You Know You're a Geologist at Heart

When you're watching a movie, and during one of those beautiful scene-setting shots with the house perched on the sea cliffs, you catch your breath and whisper, "Ye gods, look at that tilted strata!  I could live there just for that!"  And then you drool over the way erosion has exposed the bedding planes.

Any geologist who's seen The Shipping News probably knows precisely which shot I'm talking about.

Suffering for my Art

I mean, really suffering.  Unfortunately, I do know what possessed me to watch Never Been Kissed - we're on a chick flick kick, it was on teevee, and it's got Michael Vartan in it.

Words cannot express how much I love Michael Vartan.  I just wish they'd cast him in an actual decent movie.  This movie was decent by a strict definition - as in, not pornographic.  As for having a good script or much of anything else to recommend it (outside of Michael Vartan), not so much.

I have, fortunately, survived this experience.  But I'm left wondering just why the fuck that got played Valentine's week, while a movie that, by all reports (thank you, dear readers), is one of the greatest chick flicks of all times isn't being played on teevee anywhere.  These idiots are going to force me to extract my butt from my house and go rent the fucking thing.

Next time I purchase a computer, I'm getting one that will actually hook up to the teevee so I can get a Netflix account and not have to wait for movies to arrive by mail.  Argh.

Tomorrow night, thankee gods, we have Solaris.  I know it's not a chick flick.  I'm fucking grateful it's not a chick flick.  I can't wait to watch something that's not a chick flick.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go watch a scene or two from Alias to try to get my inspiration back.  That is, after all, the reason for the endless chick flicks and other movies. 

The things a writer must suffer in order to get the Muse babbling.  I'm starting to wonder if it's really worth it.

And a Chaser

Must Love Dogs.  What a thing to follow up American Psycho with, eh?

Look.  I needed a genuine chick flick.  All right?  Anybody got a problem?  So what if it was predictable and cheesy as hell.  And it's work.  Really.  It is.  I'm, uh, researching what not to do when it comes to telling the Greatest Love Story of All Time. 

And you'll hear no complaints from my end.  I got some mapping work done and got hit with a major revelation.  Not bad for a movie night.

But if anybody wants to recommend some actually really good, well-written, well-acted romantic films (if such a thing even exists), I will not be ungrateful if you should mention them in comments.

I Love This Film

So, I'm about 5 minutes in to American Psycho.

Four words: Christian Bale's bare butt.

Damn, I love this movie!

The Game's Afoot

Did ye have a good New Year's then, my darlings?  All present and accounted for?  Hangovers conquered and resolutions made?  Excellent!  Then let's talk about Sherlock Holmes, shall we?

I have to admit I didn't want to see the movie.  Really didn't.  You see, I've been a Sherlock Holmes fan ever since I was knee-high to a short beaver.  I loved the cerebral nature of the stories, first and foremost.  I loved the fact that Holmes is one of the most socially inept people on the face of the planet.  I loved the lack of action.  Not that those stories are lacking in drama - very far from it!  But the action's usually on a cerebral level, with only the occasional foray into situations where Holmes's old boxing skills and Watson's trusty revolver are necessary.

Over the years, I'd built quite the mental image of Holmes.  And I'm one of those people who don't like movies mucking about with my carefully-crafted mental images of the characters I admire.  Besides, I know what Hollywood does to very cerebral characters.  It's horrible.

But my friend Sean, also a Sherlock Holmes fan, assured me it doesn't suck.  And he was even willing to give it a second go.  So I set my expectations low, collected Sean and my intrepid companion, and headed out to give the thing a go.

I have remarkably few quibbles for the experience.  One of the worst: Robert Downey Jr.'s not skinny enough for the role.  That, however, can be overlooked, because he does a pretty good job of playing a very difficult character.  I can overlook a Holmes of normal weight in this instance.

They also didn't get Irene Adler quite right.  She'd always struck me as more exotic, more glamorous, and more intriguing than Rachel McAdams's portrayal.  They also played up the love-interest angle a bit too much.  Yes, she's the one woman Holmes would have married.  No, he didn't display his emotions to that degree.  But it's Hollywood, and apparently Hollywood thinks no movie is complete without blindingly obvious sexual tension.

Another thing Hollywood loves is its explosions, and it's got them.  Explosions, gunfights, car - excuse me, carriage - chases, death-defying leaps, and about a thousand other situations that are meant to get the heart a-pounding and only managed to get me a-groaning.  There was more action packed into just over two hours than there was in the entirety of the Sherlock Holmes stories and novels combined.  Argh.  At least they often showed Holmes using his brain to get through the action scenes rather than relying on brawn alone, but still.  A little more talk and a lot less action next time, s'il vous plais.  Merci.

Oh, and Mary Watson never got quite that involved in their adventures.  Face facts.  It was an age when most women didn't run around fighting crime, folks.

They played up the humorous one-liners a bit heavily, too.  People, Sherlock Holmes was known more for his wisdom than his wit, thanks ever so much.

So, those are the quibbles.  It wasn't enough to make me hate the movie, just enough to make me roll my eyes, and occasionally bang my head gently against Sean's shoulder.  Just occasionally, though.

Now that I've gotten all the wrong out of my system, let's talk about the right.  There was certainly plenty of that.  They didn't shy away from the fact that Sherlock Holmes is a terribly unlikable man.  You remember how abrupt, hurtful, and generally abrasive he could be?  They didn't soften him up on that front.  And they managed to show how his general brilliance overcame his many personality quirks.  He's a likable bastard who takes horrible advantage of Watson throughout, just as he should be.

They portrayed his reaction to boredom quite well, right down to the drug use.  They got the drug-of-choice wrong, but that's all right.  It's the fact that they decided not to shy away from his strangeness on that front that delights me.

They did a good job showing his attention to detail, his curiosity about every oddity under the sun, and his thought processes.  Even in the fights, they show how the man's thinking miles ahead of everyone else.  And even though they went heavy on the action, at least they stayed true to character - Holmes was a boxer, not a martial artist, not a gunfighter.  Good on them.

When you see this movie, you'll notice a heavy emphasis on the supernatural, and you will wail and gnash your teeth.  I have one title for you: Hound of the Baskervilles.  Relax.  They don't fuck this up.  Relax and enjoy the show.

The atmosphere is excellent: they did a wonderful job bringing Victorian London to life.  Crowded, noisy, frequently filthy, and yet grand and lovely all at once.  

One last thing they get absolutely right: you will never, not once, hear from Holmes's lips, "Elementary, my dear Watson."  I was so afraid they wouldn't be able to resist that, yet they did, and for that, I thank them profusely and proffer my most sincere adoration.  True fans of Sherlock Holmes know that phrase didn't come from the books.  I'm so glad they decided to abandon it here.

So, yes, overall I'm delighted, despite the quibbles.  It's a wonderful film, a grand lot of fun, and makes me really want to read Sherlock Holmes again.  I can't wait to have this one home with me.