96.3: New Classical

Had an out-of-life moment last night.

Driving home on a well-travelled, well-lit, well-known highway watching the city fade into suburbia. Except, tonight, there’s a fog that blankets everything around me, making all those familiar landmarks disappear and turning the yellow halogen overhead lights into non-specific glowing haloes. The red rear lights of the one car that’s close enough to see is the only thing that keeps me in my lane. There’s a light drizzle – too light to turn the wipers on – that creates soft patterns on the windshield. It’s Sunday night and there’s nothing good on commercial radio, so 96.3 fills the car: Borodin’s “In the Steppes of Central Asia”… a lonely piece full of longing and sad drifts. Suddenly, I enter a patch of highway that runs under another major highway and all the lights disappear and for about 6 seconds there is just me, the patterns on the windshield and Borodin. Two simultaneous thoughts run through my mind:
1) new classical isn’t a total oxymoron: just like one can rediscover a country once thought lost or look at an old friend and see something that wasn’t there before, anything old can transform under new eyes (or new ears).
2) twelve inches of unoccupied black microfibre can be the same as the yawning chasm of the Grand Canyon, given the right circumstances. I could easier contemplate crossing the Canyon on a rope bridge than closing that one foot of space.

Now Playing: The Great Debaters

"Who is the judge? The judge is God.
Why is he God? Because he decides who wins or loses not my opponent.
Who is your opponent?
He does not exist.
Why doesn’t he exist?
Because he is a mere dissenting voice of the truth I speak."

When I saw the preview for The Great Debaters in September, I was so excited. As a former Debate Captain and coach, I really looked forward to a DEBATING movie! And it had Denzel Washington in it to boot! Debating made sexy and relevant… totally pumped. To top it all off, its main theme is one that I enjoy: the Civil Rights movement. Not usually a topic that makes one happy, but one that I usually feel compelled to watch. Perhaps I’m just weird. Anyway: much anticipated.

Unfortunately, the movie fell quite flat.

First of all: why give away the ending of the film in its byline? I would have been completely oblivious to this, because once I decide to watch a film, I don’t feel the need to watch advertisements or read reviews about it until afterwards. Of course, attending the movie with Mishu means knowing lots of useless facts; the description of the movie on IMDB: “[a] drama based on the true story of Melvin B. Tolson, a professor at Wiley College Texas. In 1935, he inspired students to form the school's first debate team, which went on to challenge Harvard in the national championship.” What the hell… this isn’t like the Titanic, not everyone knows what happened… kriminy. At least they didn't say who won.

Second: the characters weren't nearly fleshed out enough to actually make you care about them. I don’t know what it was: lacklustre directing, a boring script, bad editing decisions… but something was definitely missing. So, their heartache didn't become your heartache. Being a sap, I expected (and came prepared for) tears... but none were forthcoming. The only time I felt a leaping of the heart was when one of the characters gets slapped so hard, it turn his head with a snap (and no, given the subject material, it’s not what you think). Even the “bad guys” didn’t seem nearly as menacing as they ought to have (from the bigoted sheriff to the Texas Rangers to pig farmers)… perhaps this was on purpose? An attempt not to demonise the other parties in a bid for even-handed portrayals? Can lynching be anything but demonic?

Finally: the shocking and scary moments just weren't shocking or scary enough. They seemed glossed over and used as fodder. Which is terrible given the subject matter. In the end, what I appreciate most about movies such as these is the history and I love learning things (i.e. the Willy Lynch speech)… however, it puts the whole movie into a suspicious light when you find out that the history has been tweaked for movie sensationalism: Willy Lynch may have invented lynching, but he never delivered those precise instructions. Perhaps Mr. Washington needs to cut his directing teeth on more palpable movies before biting off more than he can chew because, sadly, the fake lynching speech was more moving than the actual thing as portrayed in the movie.

Good bits: the younger actors were wonderful. They really did a lot for the movie. The acting in general brought this movie up 3 stars. But there is only so much they can do. The actual debating was not as passionate as it could have been (with the exception of the trailer-bit “the time for justice is always right now”), but it was full of wonderful quotes and history (although, ironic for debating a movie, I feel a little cheated and more than a little dubious of their sourcing).

Rent it; don’t expect too much. 3 out of 5 stars.

Now Playing: Juno

I wanted to see Juno before the Golden Globes were announced, but couldn't find anyone else who was with me. That situation was rectified today.

What can I say about this movie? I loved it.

I loved the casting: Ellen Page and Michael Cera are just so perfect. Her witty snappishness is a great foil to his sincere geekery. Lots of criticism about Cera's performance - that it was bland and underused... I thought it was just right. We all know he's capable of playing the affable nerd (see Superbad)... but playing the quiet and completely awkward Bleeker who IS actually much cooler than he thinks he is was much better. He made me fall a little in love with him (even though i'm fairly certain that illegal). It's a very sweet relationship they have - tender and barbed at the same time, full of all those bravado-masked insecurities that we all seemed to live and breathe in high school. Sweet without becoming saccharine. Jason Bateman was his usual fabulous self. The supporting cast in general were very well played. (Nice to see J. Jonah Jameson play sensitive!)

I loved the script: it was tight, funny and relevant. It made fun of itself (the store clerks one-liners were enough to make anyone laugh); yet, it was serious. Lots of pop culture references, which I enjoy.

I loved the directing. It all seemed very unintrusive and yet piercingly accurate. Jason Reitman seems to have a way of bringing out the best in his actors. Also loved the little things (i.e. hamburger phones? Watch for them; yes, there are multiples. Loved the soundtrack and the use of the songs themselves (watching Juno and Mark jam to Hole was priceless).

Great movie - makes me happy just thinking about it. 4.5 stars out of 5.

Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen

An autobiography from yet another unreliable narrator. Kaysen doesn't even try to hide that it's her medical records being reproduced in the book and that it's her experiences that she is expunging (and it is catalogued under 616.89 Kayse). Not much to say about this novel except that it does have some great passages:

Take two valium and don't call me in the morning because there's nothing to talk about.

I started to laugh, standing outside his office, because I'd understood something about him, and it was funny. I couldn't wait to tell him.

When I got into his office I said, " You have three cars, right?"

He nodded.

"The station wagon, the sedan, and the sports car."

He nodded again.

"It's the psyche!" I said. I was excited. "See, the station wagon is the ego, sturdy and reliable, and the sedan is the superego, because it's how you want to present yourself, powerful and impressive, and the sports car is the id - it's the id because it's irrepressible and fast and dangerous and maybe a little forbidden." I smiled at him, "It's new, isn't it? The sports car?"
This time he didn't nod.

Nice, short read. A good break after Atonement. An excellent way to start the year.

prognosis

We all have them. They’re the things we keep hidden under our pillows: free to turn our dreams into nightmares, but afraid of the light of day. And we like it that that way. We’re okay with having our doubts niggle at us, scratch at us with their malicious little sharps, mock us with their threats of exposure and embarrassment. Foolishly, we feel we have control over them that way. We give them this tiny freedom, we think, as a trade-off for not letting anyone else realise we have them. We walk around with fake smiles, fake confidence, fake self-awareness – all in an effort to seem composed and fearless. Like wearing a fabulous pair of Manolos that give you a bleeding blister, you never confess to that discomfort, lest you ruin the illusion.

Which is ridiculous: would you believe anyone who said they were afraid of nothing? You would think them mad! But naming those fears? That’s madder still!

Why is it that the older I get, the less important I feel? I seem to have lost the courageous audacity of youth, become whitewashed and dull in this quest to become respectable. I seem to have lost some spunk and drive. I know I have lost the riskier side of my personality. 10 years ago, I had so much more planned for me. My 17-year-old self is sadly disappointed. I’ve become boring, monotonous, predictable. And I have no one to blame but myself: no kids to drag me down, no partner to hold me back. I’m young, gainfully employed, marketable… and yet… yet.

What is it? What’s missing? I don’t even know. Elle says I’m “beautiful, intelligent, witty and charming”… why can’t I see it anymore? Why can’t I embody it? Why can’t I believe it?

In my mad rush to fill this void, I’ve cluttered every nook and cranny of my life with things to finish, people to visit, experiences to have. I’ve glutted on a buffet of theatre, books, movies, games, friends; my biggest nightmare is time alone, to think. Thinking leads to dwelling and dwelling can only lead to sadness. So, what is it?

I am blessed – please don’t get me wrong. I have wonderful companions who indulge me like the pampered princess I wish I were. I don’t lack for lunch dates, movie buddies, gaming rivals. I don’t want for things – I have books on my shelf waiting to be read, DVDs still in shrink-wrap, clothes that I re-discover on a regular basis. I have my own castle (albeit, still in the air) and an easily rewarding job. On paper, I am whole. Complete. Self-actualised. Maslow would be proud.

Today, I went for a long walk. It was negative fourteen and little icy. I haven’t gone for a walk in months. I usually don’t allow myself to have the time to do those things. Today, I was foiled. An hour to kill, far away from my computer and my books and my life, I was forced to walk or brood. I walked. I thought: isn’t this nice? Cardinals playing in snow, black squirrels running about, crisp bright winter day. I thought: why don’t I do this more? I thought: my hands are cold. I thought: wouldn’t it be nice if someone warmed them up? Then I stopped thinking.

****

Things I learned at the doctor’s office:

- Did you know that women who do not have children or who have them late in life have a higher rate of breast cancer? The same study showed that these women tend to have higher educations and/or rewarding careers. It’s because our bodies haven’t created all the hormones they’re biologically meant to and these hormones are one of the best fighters against cancer.
- Botox is considered a viable medical option.
- A father taking care of his child is sexiest thing on the face of the planet.

Atonement by Ian McEwan

Perhaps, for the first time in a long time, I was spoiled by the movie. As you may know, gentle reader, I rather liked Atonement in theatre. I had begun the novel before I had watched its cinematic companion, but decided to stop reading: usually, what happens is that the movie is disappointingly shallow. I had thought to give the movie a better chance. Little did I know that the movie would be so well produced.

So, instead of comparing the two, I shall only talk about the things that compelled me to keep reading, even when I hit the soul-sucking section called Part II. The two major themes I picked up on in Atonement by Ian McEwan were as follows:

1) Fiction v. Reality: it is absolutely masterful the way McEwan deals with this idea. He readjusts one scene several times, until every facet of it shines like a well-crafted gem. The idea of truth, like beauty, being subjective to the eye of the beholder is cliche; but it doesn't feel old or tired when McEwan portrays. In fact, it comes across as fresh and surprising. Not only is this is a classic case of an unreliable narrator, but it is a shocking revelation. Given the events unfolding and the characters involved, it's easy to get sucked in by the plot and escape into a wartime tragedy. How truth is dealt with - the very nature and essence of it - is what is at the core of the novel. The quest for it what drives the reader on to the bitter end. As such, I cannot divulge more without robbing you of the pleasure in its attainment

2) Forgiveness: goes without saying, no? Before we get to atonement, a word about Love, with a capital L. It isn't the insipid hearts-a-flutter that propels Romeo and Juliet. It's a deep and shattering love that binds the characters together and us to them. We want for them to achieve their desires, especially after all that has happened. We expect it and nurture the dream. This book isn't about Love, though. It is about forgiveness and our inability to sometimes reconcile Love with Forgiveness ; to love a character so much, we are willing to pillory any who stand in their way - author included.

These two themes work so well together in the novel, that its within this seamlessness that we find McEwan's brilliance. Much like Milton pulled his reader down Lucifer-Lane, McEwan gives us every reason to question Truth only to show us how innately human it is to ignore Truth for Fiction.

A Must Read.

in with the new

Happy New Year!
And although it's just an arbitrary date on the calendar, Jan 1st seems to inspire a lot of things: hope, renewal of commitment, promise. Personally, this year I'm making no resolutions - I never seem to stick with them anyway.

There are, however, a number of things to which I am looking forward:

1) My Condo: I really hope to be moving in this year. After 15 months of delays, innumerable purchases (i.e. bed, dishes, curtains) and so many chants of "moving out soon, moving out soon" in the face of illogical 'rental craziness, I am so ready to move. It's times like these that I envy my friends who moved out long ago, opting to rent rather sell their sanity to live at home. I know it wasn't an option for me when I moved back home after undergrad ($60,000 in debt and nowhere to go). I would even be okay with putting up with all this if I was a big mooch and allowed to live rent-free. Alas, no. It's like salt in the wound.
...Anyway - June 25! Despite the anxiety I have over pre-inspections and post-inspections and living alone and figuring out who's going to take out my garbage, I look forward to waking up in my own place before my next birthday comes around.

2) Fulfilling Chosen One duties: H2 gets married this year and I am one of her bridesmaids. Aside from the usual mushy-gushy wedding stuff, I'm looking forward to the DRESS! Yeah, that's right - the dress. My bridesmaid dress is not ugly - in fact, it's awesome. and DARK purple. AND I have permission to wear sneakers underneath it (don't worry, they're dressy sneakers - I'm not totally devoid of class). In true Buffy fashion, I suggested that Chosen Ones get to bring a weapon of choice - I like a crossbow personally, maybe with a little stiletto knife in my garter-belt. No word on this yet; although, have been asked about flowers. Do these flowers have deadly poison in them or something? Will keep you posted.

3) A vacation, of some sort. Nish and I had a plan to go to Australia this summer. It was a good plan. However, that was when I was still moving into the condo this past December. Now with all the uncertainty of move-in dates and inspection dates, I have a terrible feeling that Australia may have to be postponed for a while (even as late as 2010, because NEXT year is a planned reunion in England - which is the perfect stopover for another trip I'd like to do... in Africa). In consolation, we may take a cheaper but no less cooler trip around North America. This would have us train it to Vancouver, stopping in any cities we'd like to see on the way. Either renting a car from Vancouver or Portland, and driving down to LA (picking up Leanne in SLO), getting on Route 66 and driving all the way to the beginning in Chicago. Again, depending on the rental situation, we make our way somehow back to TO from there. Whole trip? 4 weeks. And, sadly, still cheaper than Australia.

4) Relearning how to belly dance. Does this really need elaboration?

Here's to 2008!