I had an allergy attack this week which had me taking a new (to me) prescription drug called Xyzal. Man, that stuff knocked me out. I haven't had a pill in about 36 hours and even after a full night's sleep, I could go back to bed right now and sleep half the day away. So groggy. I've had a cup of tea and it barely made a dent. I'm going for cup #2 in the hopes that it'll be the one to wake me up. I seriously doubt I can even drive right now I'm so out of it.

Last week-end my family went to see Juno, which is every bit as fantastic as you've heard. I almost regret using my free movie pass to see it because it seems like you should see a movie where you think, "Well, at least it was free" as you are walking out when you use a free ticket. This movie gave me the opposite sensation to "Well, at least it was free" as I was leaving. Everyone is just fantastic; I think it'll have some people seeing Jason Bateman in a new light (if they didn't already thanks to Arrested Development).

My husband also randomly picked up The Nines this week at the video store*. He didn't like it nearly as much as I did. I don't want to say too much about it. It's like Atonement in that way where you feel like giving any clues at all regarding the story will significantly lessen the impact for the person you're trying to convince to try it. But I just adore those kinds of stories where every scene serves the story, only you don't realize just how it serves the story until the very end. Then you sit back and marvel at how all those scenes gave clues and information - it was just that you had yourself convinced all those things meant something else and you had no idea they meant what they really meant. It's the kind of story where you want to go back and start it all over again so you can see all those things you misinterpreted the first time through. It made me wonder how a writer constructs such a story. For myself, I imagine I'd have to start the writing process at least mid-way through the story, probably doing all of the middle and end before even getting on the beginning. There are people who can construct a story like that from start to finish, I suppose, and I suppose I might have to hate them for their brilliance, too. This story did all that and managed to tell some auto-biographical things from the writer's life. Amazing.

OK, 2nd cup of tea isn't doing a thing for the grogginess. Now what?



*There are some actors you can depend on to put themselves in movies you'll like more times than not. Ryan Reynolds is one of those people for me. I still have trouble picturing him with Alanis Morissette; could be that's just because I only ever saw them talking about one another, but I never saw them interacting with one another. I guess since they broke up they had some trouble with that picture, too - it's just...I never could even get the hazy outlines on that one.

Tags: movies

Speaking of differences in humor across cultural divides, my husband contends that women don't like Caddyshack as well as men because of the fact that the story revolves around golf. I contend that it has more to do with the kind of humor used throughout the movie. I couldn't help but think of that study on how men and women differ when it comes to thinking something funny. Caddyshack seems a textbook example to me of exactly what that study contends.

Last night, my husband and daughter watched Caddyshack and then my husband decided to give A Room with a View another try (he'd never made it past the first minute). He made it about 5 minutes in this time before giving up in disgust. I wonder if it was again the gender difference that has me thinking it funny how Mr. Emerson blunders through polite society or if it had more to do with knowing things like how scandalous it was for the time the story is set for someone to use the word "stomach" in mixed company. Since he didn't even make it to a point where any plot unfolded - he was only mid-way through the introduction of characters - it obviously had nothing to do with the actual story.

But I do recall that when I saw the movie originally in the theatre with friends, including a male friend, all the girls found the scene where the men are discovered nude to be funny and the guy with us did not. We couldn't grasp why he didn't think it funny; he couldn't grasp why we did. So, perhaps the chick flick moniker for a movie like Room just rings true in the same manner that a shoot-em-up movie is more appealing to guys: we're just wired differently and regardless of time or circumstance, different things will be interesting, funny, scary or boring to each gender.

Tags: movies

There are some men who create our entertainment who obviously love women. I don't mean that kind of loving that is focused to the exclusion of nearly everything else on the sexual aspects of femininity. I mean that kind of loving that demonstrates a kind of fascinated wonder at how femininity differs from masculinity, how the strengths within the feminine can be different from the strengths within the masculine, and how the weaknesses of the feminine are different from the weaknesses of the masculine. These men don't create heroines in a way that defines their strengths in masculine terms. The heroines can and do stand alone. The heroines can and do walk alone into the forest accepting that they may not return. They can and do generate action in the plot that don't depend on the cliches and stereotypes of Hera (nagging fishwife), Persephone (helpless ingenue), Demeter (overprotective mother), Medusa (the bitter hag taking her revenge on all men for the actions of the one man who hurt her) and all of the other stereotypes we know and love. They also don't generate a story wherein it's written in such a way that one assumes the story would serve just as well with a man in the part because I swear sometimes it's as if stories are written as if they're Die Hard, then a search and replace was done to change every John to Jane. It's as if there's no actual consideration of how a woman might approach a situation with a different perspective, the writer is merely concerned with saying to the audience, "See - this woman can act like a man, that's how you can tell she's strong."

Joss Whedon is obviously one of the men who is truly intrigued by heroines. Even setting aside the obvious example of Buffy, there's also Cordelia, Fred, and Zoe to consider. Actually, pretty much all of his female characters stand up to scrutiny, if you think about it. They are complete characters that don't need a masculine foil in order for the audience to think them whole.

While watching Angel-A over the week-end I decided that Luc Besson is another one of those men. Obvious examples of his fascination with heroines as complete characters able to carry a story on their own are La Femme Nikita and The Fifth Element. These stories revolve around their heroines. These heroines are able to stand alone even if they choose not to.

It occurred to me that there's something different between the heroines of a Joss Whedon or Luc Besson story and heroines such as those in movies such as Charlie's Angels. The words to describe the heroines are nearly identical when comparing them, but there are some key differences. Describing those key differences escapes me, however. The best I can come up with is that the Joss and Luc heroines somehow seem to pay more finely nuanced attention to the details of how weaknesses can create strengths and strengths can create weaknesses in a person, while heroines such as the Charlie's Angels are more like caricatures of people. The caricatures show the broad outlines, give you the general gist to be sure. You know what you're seeing there, after all; you don't need any explanation of the thing you're observing. But what you're seeing also has the element of a joke to it: certain characteristics are exaggerated for affect, as if one needs to wink at the audience in order to make it palatable to accept the heroine as capable of driving a story.

That difference in approach and understanding makes all the difference in the world when it comes to me being able to appreciate and accept the heroines as worthy of my respect. My daughter was quite fascinated with the Charlie's Angels movies for awhile and at the time I couldn't put my finger on why I couldn't like them when it seemed a clear goal of the stories was to depict strong and independent women (besides the violence for violence's sake the movies espouse). I think I've finally figured it out for myself: it's that difference between taking the heroines seriously and treating the heroines as caricatures.

Now that I'm thinking in these terms I've got some re-thinking to do as respects how heroines written by men differ from how heroines are written by women. I wonder how many differences in interpretation I'll find on the topic of "strong woman" when examining the stories and I wonder what that says about the nexus of where men and women agree on what it means to be a strong person worthy of the terms 'hero' or 'heroine'.

Tags: books, movies

Wow, can't believe it's been over 2 weeks since I checked in here. How are y'all? The thought of reading through everything I missed inspires much woe (it'd be "skip 500" or some ridiculous number to completely catch up, I imagine), so point me in the right direction of any must-know situations.

So what have I been up to? Work, mostly. Lots and lots of work. I had this client ("had" being the operative word there) that was new for me and I spent oodles of time working through that one. Since it was new to me, I wasn't as invested as some of the people who had known these people for several years. But still - it's sad. Reflection after-the-fact made me feel a bit better about the whole situation - you know how you get that 20/20 insight about things AFTER something ends? - and help me take it a lot less personally.

There's also been the Hawaii prep work, which reached a crescendo at the same time as the "had" client reached its crescendo. I was responsible for a few sections of the Board Meeting materials - along with doing the Julie McCoy routine, making reservations and generally herding cats - and got to put some thoughts together regarding HIPAA that I didn't want to put together (my conclusion? Let's let the lawyers figure this out. Because who in the hell would volunteer to read the ERISA law? Not this girl, I can tell you that).

I also read Lover Unbound, which was disappointing. I've been out of touch with reading reviews for awhile, so I checked into Ward's bulletin board to see what people were saying there. The one critique I read more or less expressed my disappointments, so I know I'm not alone. My husband thinks it's pretty cruel for people to be posting such candid thoughts explaining their disappointment on the author's own website. He could be right about that. The public could also be right in thinking they may as well say what they want to say on her site just as they would anywhere else since those comments would be easy enough to find. I guess that's the downside for authors putting together those kinds of community fansites - they may get more honesty than they bargained for.

On a more raving fan note, I also watched the terrific, awesome, touching, thought-provoking and just all around amazing The War. I've always been more intrigued by WWI, so while there's a lot of things I knew just because you really can't help but knowing them if you pay any attention whatsoever in History classes (and The Winds of War - remember that thing? I'm sure I'd find it utter crap now, but I recall reading the book and thinking it was just so great at the time (ugh!)), there were also so many things that all came together for me by getting them presented in the big picture fashion used in this documentary. It's truly a stunning achievement, how they put it all together, how they focused the presentation around four American cities and its residents and were able to give such a global overview despite the use of an American lens. I was utterly amazed at the amount of color footage that came from the Pacific campaigns - I never knew that much color footage existed.

And, oh!, the heartbreak of seeing all those young men, physically fit, captured at a peak of physical strength, and knowing how so many of them ended up. Even the survivors were never the same.

It helped me understand something one of the interviewees said that I believe to be true in relation to the use of atomic bombs (she said - more or less - "You will never be able to convince a person of my generation that using those atomic bombs wasn't the right thing to do, maybe even a good thing to do"). Growing up, I saw those bombs from the point of view of knowing the horrible kind of devastation they caused, knowing the effects that are still being realized for people who lived there as well as their offspring, seeing how that moment was the start of a worldwide escalation in the use and threatened use of that kind of technology. In short, there seemed to be no positives - only negatives. Then one day I heard my dad, who participated in the Pacific campaign and who has never related a single thing about that experience to his family, say to my uncle (who had been a part of the Manhattan Project) how very much he and every soldier he knew appreciated what they had done in developing those bombs. To say that was a shock is playing it down quite a bit. I had never thought of it from that point of view - that point of view of only knowing what they knew at the time, that point of view of living through the experience of war with the Japanese as it was unfolding - and it helped me forgive our government a little once that realization set in. They couldn't know what they were starting, only what they hoped they were ending.

And in that vein, I'll admit that I often wonder about the documentaries that Germany and Japan produce. I made a friend in high school who was a German exchange student. He grew up adjacent to one of the former concentration camps in one of those small villages where all of the villagers claimed they had no idea what was going and where it's impossible for outsiders to believe they had no idea what was going on. This kid wasn't even born when those things happened, and yet he was very sensitive on the topic and didn't want to talk to us about it. I imagine it would be hard to realize that your grandparents or some nice old person you've known your whole life could allow such a thing to happen. The guilt must be amazing. And yet...one of my high school teachers was in the infantry and I recall that he related experience after experience with Germans where they would denounce Hitler after the surrender, but when he questioned them on specific points laid out in Mein Kampf they were in complete agreement with the particulars of those statements. They hadn't really given up on believing in all that Hitler espoused. If you believed that they told the truth on both counts, you had to conclude that they had given up on the messenger, but not the message. All that makes me wonder if the seeds aren't still there, waiting for the right conditions to sprout up again. Or if there are a few seeds, but they'll stay seeds forever. Given that, what do they tell themselves? And how does it differ from what we tell ourselves? [In a scary aside, I'll just relate that a headline in my local paper today was on the topic of a skinhead convention here in Portland. We haven't heard much on those idiots around here since the 1980s and 1990s, so that was terrible to see.]

Well, as you can tell, in between insane work days, those stories have been much on my mind.

Next week I've got some projects to get finished up before I escape the unseasonably cold early autumn we've got going on for a too-brief spell. After that it's going to be rain, snow and cold, cold, cold for several months. I am not looking forward to it.

And finally, don't let me forget to send off a birthday card to a friend. E-mails still don't quite do it, do they? So yeah, string on the finger time.

Tags: books, movies, work

After this post I'll be diving under the sink for the cleaning supplies, so needless to say the fun'll be over.

Friday afternoon I left work a bit early and discovered the book-nerd heaven known as the bookseller's show. Where authors sign books that will be released in the near future. And they're free (erm, the books, not the authors, are free). Hoping to appease the freeloader feeling, I made a donation which supports a literacy campaign. But even after the donation I think I came out ahead with the 3 books I picked up and had signed.

I was particularly interested in going because megancrane was there to sign her upcoming release Frenemies. Though I suckity-suck doing reviews, I'll try to do something a little closer to the June release so I can tempt all of you into running out and buying it. I stayed up into the wee sma's last night reading it - it's terrific. Those of you familiar with the term "frenemies" won't need to know what one of the main conflicts of the story is about, but it's not just about frenemies - it's also about all the different kinds of friendship there are. The friends who are so close they're practically family, the ones who are actually something better described as an acquiantance, the things that differentiate one from the other. How friendships change as you grow and mature. I think most women will find something of their own life experiences reflected here.

I asked if I could buy her a drink and we ended up hanging out at a grotty bar in a dodgy part of town for a couple of hours. Never let it be said I don't know how to show a girl a good time! If anyone else out there is planning a visit to Portland, let me know and I'll see what I can do - I might even be able to russle up some truckers for you, too. But despite the setting, it was fun having a chat and getting to know her a bit and hopefully I'll be able to catch up with her again when she's back in town over the summer.

Saturday my husband and daughter returned from eastern Oregon with our new family dog: a pug. (Pictures later when I can be arsed.) She's sweet as can be and mostly housetrained and my daughter is in luuurve with her. So far it looks like she's going to be a good fit for our family. Of course the cat would disagree. She only came out from under the bed last night about an hour after the dog had fallen asleep (snoring! so cute), cautiously creeping and sneaking her way around the edges of the room until she reached me. She could totally rule this dog if only she'd try, which I tried to tell her, but in her usual cat-like way she's chosen to handle this her own way and is hiding again (this time in the closet).

We went yesterday to see 300 and it's fantastic. I'd been assuming before it was released that the Battle of Thermopylae was one of those things so famous that it was common knowledge - like how people might not be able to describe the Tet Offensive or the Battle of the Bulge or even Napolean's experience in Russia per se, but they at least have the broad strokes of what happened. No doubt my idea of what actually constitutes "common knowledge" means there's true "common knowledge" of which I'm completely ignorant. Anyway, I think it's a fun way to learn some history (there are some embellishments, but I think most anyone would expect that) while seeing something that's just visually amazing. I kept thinking again and again that nearly any shot of the movie could be taken on its own as a piece of art that can tell a story independent of the action and dialogue. (I also wondered if Frank Miller had seen the same documentary I had on PBS a few years ago - the opening particularly was very reminiscent of that.) It's been fun how graphic novels have been influencing the media of film in recent years and changed some elements of how some stories are filmed and presented. And of course all of this is leaving aside the total eye candy available for the women - and gay men - with all of the soldiers and their costuming. (Plus Xerxes - as played by my celebrity boyfriend - looked amazing and yet not at all like himself. Wow.)

All right, I think I now have a date with a pair of rubber gloves. And not in a good way. ::Sigh:: Off to clean I go.

Tags: books, movies

( Spoilerish ramblings... )

Finally, as a last word, here's a joke related to bears that my husband came across today that perfectly encapsulates the dark humor akin to schadenfreude we felt while we watched:

Bear Advisory

The Forest Service has issued a BEAR WARNING in the national forests
for this summer. They're urging everyone to protect themselves by
wearing bells and carrying pepper spray.

Campers should be alert for signs of fresh bear activity, and they
should be able to tell the difference between Black Bear dung and
Grizzly Bear dung.

Black Bear dung is rather small and round. Sometimes you can see
fruit seeds and/or squirrel fur in it.

Grizzly Bear dung has bells in it, and smells like pepper spray!

Tags: movies

Am feeling a little better able to express myself on this subject today. I've had images and conversations and thoughts from this movie popping into my consciousness off and on since yesterday evening. I really love it when a story can change the atmosphere of a room, change the elevation of your thoughts, put you on a trajectory you wouldn't have been on otherwise...this can be one of those stories, if you let it.

By now, I'm sure no one has any questions on what the movie is "about". I walked into it yesterday knowing the general arc of the story.

( Even so, there were some things that surprised me... )

Tags: movies

...the daughter and I went to see Match Point. Here's the thing: I read about 1 sentence of the review on that link, saw the critics and audience grades, and said, "OK, that'll be fine." I just wanted anything to get me out of doing chores all day. Honestly, I had no idea what it was about, who wrote and directed it, or who was in it beyond Scarlett Johansson.

I recommend it. It's one of the most enjoyable Woody Allen movies I've ever seen. The themes - both visual and spoken - are subtly and skilfully woven in so that the whole is greater than the sum of it's parts. It has a good story, a plot that you think is predictable a couple of times, but takes a slight turn so what happens isn't precisely what you'd expect. It has a solid cast. It has a setting that may not be fully realized, but doesn't really need to be because the audience can easily fill in the blanks. Yeah - go see it. I think you'll like it.

And, tangentially speaking, the theatre was utterly packed (we ended up 3 rows back from the screen - oy) and contained the largest number of free range old people I've ever seen outside of an Eastern Star meeting. I know that sounds ageist, but seriously, I have never seen so many senior citizens at a movie before. I was literally looking for the tour bus outside the theatre because it seemed so unusual to me. I guess Woody's a big draw for the retiree set, which makes sense since he's no spring chicken himself, I just never thought about who might be his target audience, age-wise, before.

After we left the theatre, my daughter and I stopped in at this stationery store because she heard they had scented pencils and she had to check them out. Man, I love paper and all those acoutrements that go with letters and announcements and cards and such. I used to adore writing letters - hearing the scratching of the pen on the paper, composing thoughts in complete paragraphs before committing them to paper because it was hard work doing all that by hand. I always imagined when I became an adult that I'd have more money so I'd be able to indulge in the wax and seals and ink wells and textured papers and typeset stationery. And now it turns out I don't write letters any more. I mean, I have a couple of friends who wouldn't think it strange so I could write such letters to them, but it's just not the done thing any more, is it? Just another one of life's little ironies.

The day also included the bathroom cleaning and working on the computer problem (made some progress and will tackle again tomorrow with some helpful suggestions received from phoenixborn's boy). I was intending to go in to work tonight for a few hours, but I saw my husband's face when he got home from work and immediately knew that was a no go. I was out last night with the Jungians (report to follow) and I was to be home tonight to spend with him, case closed. So. Sometimes you leave chores aside for the good of your relationship(s), and tonight was one of those times for me. C'est la vie - the chores aren't going anywhere.

Tags: movies

A few years back, I had an evening where I could choose to get out of the house and do something just for me. I decided to geek it up and go see a foreign movie that was playing at this little independent film house. My husband loves and adores movies like there's no tomorrow - unless they're foreign. I couldn't think of any friends who live near me that would enjoy going with me, so I decided to go alone.

It was a soft summer evening, with warm but not hot temperatures and a cloudless blue sky. The air had the fabulous mixture of scents that are rife during summer in Portland: water and roses and rich earth and leafy trees. This seemed more suited for a night-time picnic, but I was ok with sitting inside to see a movie instead.

Part of what made the experience so fun was the old-timeyness of going to a theatre that shows only one movie at a time and charges reasonable prices for admission and concessions. Then there was the opportunity to see the trailers for other arty-type movies you can't see anywhere but at places like that particular theatre.

The movie I went to see was Italian and was called L'Ultimo bacio. I was charmed by it, though part of that was because of getting to see the Italian settings and locations where the characters acted out their stories, and part of it was because of my interest in how certain cultural mores were different from my own. I thought it was a good story, and one I'd probably like to see again some day, but figured I never would since those kinds of movies rarely get to DVD with sub-titles or dubbing here in the US.

I left the theatre that night feeling one of those rare and perfect moments of peace and happiness that you are alloted for your whole life. There aren't words to explain exactly why seeing a movie, alone, and on a beautiful summer's night would thrill me so much - it just did.

I've thought of that movie a few times since then, as I've thought of a Scandinavian movie I saw years and years ago and liked called (in English) Pathfinder, with a tiny bit of regret about the fact that my memory of it would fade and distort things over time and I'd never be able to see the original again to refresh myself on the story.

Today I randomly picked up Premiere magazine in order to have something to read while I ate my sandwich at lunch time. While idly flipping through it I saw a small note about Zach Braff working on a new movie called The Last Kiss. It gave a very brief outline of the plot and I thought, "That sounds familiar" then read a few words more and saw "it's based on an Italian movie". This gave me, simultaneously, a thrill and a feeling of dread. The thrill was because of the recognition that someone else had seen the Italian movie and had been charmed by it (I'm not the only geek out there!). The dread is because there's no way it will be as good as or as charming as the original, and it always seems to reflect poorly on the original when remakes are done that just aren't that good.

I've decided to be happy about the re-make because, if nothing else, seeing that a re-make is being done brought to mind my pure enjoyment of that night. I don't know if I'll go so far as to actually see the re-make, but maybe one of you can do that and report back on what you think. Who knows, maybe you'll get your own little moment of zen out of the experience?

Tags: movies