Now Playing: Invictus

Slight detour from the Golden Globe quest. I wanted to see Invictus long before award season rolled around for a number of reasons: Nelson Mandela is one of my heroes; I like a good civil rights movie; I'm kinda in love with Morgan Freeman. Thus, this afternoon found me at one of my local theatres playing hooky from my own syllabus. It's not a total digression, though; Freeman is nominated in the Best Actor category.

You know what makes this movie so good? It's real. You know, real people, real wars, real history. It's no surprise that I think Mandela is one of the best humans. Ever. Francois says it best: "I'm thinking how a man can spend twenty-seven years in a cell and then come out ready to forgive the people who put him there." Yeah, that's kinda what makes his great. No wonder they let him have a say in casting himself.

But on to the movie. Having watched The Road and Precious, I feel like this year we're all dealing with the economy by watching (and needing?) feel-good movies that are all about triumph over adversity. Where The Road uses a could-still-happen post-apocalyptic world and Precious is all about a may-have-happened Harlem teenager, Invictus is about a really-did-happen sporting miracle that just happened to bind a wounded country together... if only for a moment. Freeman is his usual amazing self; yet, it's Damon's authentic performance that surprised me most. Add to it the plethora of smaller parts (from the township kids to Brenda to the security detail) that added tonnes of subtle layers without distracting from the central plot: winning the rugby World Cup. I may be biased, but I loved it. 4 out of 5 stars.

Now Playing: Precious

The road to Oscars begin with the Golden Globe nominations. When I took stock of how many movies I'd already seen that were nominated, I was pretty disappointed, in both the list and myself. I've only watched one, have nine to go and that doesn't include movies that are up for non-best-movie spots. Time to get started.

First up: Precious.

So, this isn't the feel-good movie of the year. Synopsis: barely literate sixteen-year-old, physically and emotionally abused by her mother, is suspended from school because she's pregnant for the second time by her father. I'll give you a moment to digest all that. ... okay? Precious, stoically played by newcomer Gabourey Sidibe, is the kind of girl that breaks your heart. Like any sixteen-year-old, she too dreams of being rich and famous and in love and beloved. Her opening sequence, featuring a fairy godmother, grabbed me by throat and the film just didn't let go from there on in. I can't talk about the plot without saying that, like life, it has it ups and it has its downs. So, just when things look like they're getting better, they get worse; and just when you think you should just kill yourself, hope shines through.

Mo'Nique has a particularly standout performance (wait for Oscar nod and possible upset). I wouldn't necessarily say you have to run out and see this movie. But I will definitely recommend it for a rental. In fact, this movie may be best digested at home, without floodlights to break the stun lock that the film keeps you in. 3.5 out of 5 stars.

The Shadow of the Wind by Jorge Ruiz Zafón

I have taken far too long a time to finish The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón.

Let's put all my cards on the table: I don't really read genre fiction or mysteries. TSoTW is like a fantasy mystery. So, yes, it took a while before I actually started reading it. Too bad for me. From the first line ("I still remember the day my father took me to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books for the first time" -p.5) to the last (Soon afterward, like figures made of steam, father and son disappear into the crowd of the Ramblas, their steps lost forever in the shadow of the wind - p.487), the novel basically drags you into "bewitched" Barcelona, and holds you captive, unable to look away from the grotesque story unfolding before you.

The story revolves around Daniel Sempere, a young boy who discovers that book at the tender age of ten. You know, that book: the one that makes you see the world in a whole new way, the one that you’ll hold every other books up to as a standard, the one that stays with you long after you’ve put it down. For Daniel, that book is The Shadow of the Wind by Julián Carax. In his quest to find every book that Carax has ever written, he stumbles upon a decades-old plot, sinister enough to involve the devil himself, which would see every last copy of Carax’s work incinerated. He is quickly pulled into a drama full of twists and turns, of clandestine meetings and dripping dark rooms, of love and betrayal and hatred.

Zafón’s writing simply oozes with heartbreak and longing. Reading it was like watching an intense Pasodoble full of passion and drama. This is the kind of book I wished I had saved for riding a train through the midnight countryside of Spain; helpfully, it includes a walking tour of all the places in the book, so when I do visit Barcelona, I feel, somehow, prepared for its tragically romantic façade.

Clocking in at just under five hundred pages, filled with dense writing, this is not a novel for the casual reader. It is, however, a novel that satisfies every appetite when finished. A high recommendation.

Now Playing: The Road

So, yesterday, in what seems to be a disturbing emerging Yuletide tradition, I inflicted The Road upon myself. Two years ago, almost to the day, I had finished the Cormac McCarthy's novel by the same name, and thought it would be a great movie. I hadn't realised it at the time, but the book would become my go to recommendation for reluctant male readers. Thus far, I have converted at least four non-readers and am satisfied with that stat.

On to the movie. Casting Viggo Mortensen was genius. I felt some trepidation when I read the rest of the cast; it was full of big names and I thought, "Uh oh, I hope this story doesn't become less about the Man and the Boy in order to accommodate all these egos." I shouldn't have worried. John Hillcoat focused his lens right where it needed to be: on Father and Son. But let's talk about those surprising, almost-cameo-like, appearances of familiar faces. Robert Duvall almost stole the movie as the Old Man (much like the Old Man in the novel almost stole the book); Charlize Theron did some of her best work in those abbreviated, often wordless, flashbacks; and I was thrilled to see Michael K. Williams, whom, as you know, I love and adore. Not to forget: Guy Pearce, Garrett Dillahunt, and (the wonderful) Molly Parker. The acting, suffice it to say, was stellar.

I am disappointed that it wasn't considered for a Golden Globe this year. This is one of the faithful adaptations to a novel I've seen in a long while, especially in terms of look and feel. Some scenes seemed to be plucked from my brain and splashed on to the screen. Out of necessity, there is much more dialogue in the movie than in the book; however, it certainly seems appropriate and well-done. The intensity of the novel is the one thing I really worried about: how would it translate? ...Boy, did it ever. I felt like I watching a horror movie (which, in many ways, is exactly what the book was like), complete with eye-and-ear-covering. It didn't help that I knew something bad was going to happen and that I just couldn't remember when. The scripting was great.

So I don't know what else you could want from a movie: good cast, good script, great cinematography... I recommend this one highly. 4 out of 5 stars.

boom goes the dynamite

Save me from menopause!

Last night, like a dutiful daughter, I went to the 'rentals to continue the 29-year tradition of decorating on the first Saturday in December (and mark the twentieth anniversary of eating pizza while doing so). I showed up at 1930, arriving directly after the staff Children's party, with a change of clothes. I noticed that everything was basically done, with only a few tree trims and some rejigging of the North Pole (apparently, Dad did not remember the "story" and the elves were all just placed willy nilly!). So I did what I could to finish it off and at around 2145, the three of us sat down for pizza; LilBro had long fled the building. I have no idea how we got to this place in the conversation, but we were discussing trees when Mom says: "if it were up to me, I wouldn't even put up a tree!"
I say: "You mean, you wouldn't decorate for Christmas?"
She says: " I didn't say I wouldn't decorate; I said I wouldn't put up a tree."
I: "Why not? what's wrong with a tree?"
She: "A tree is for children. Everyone here is grown up now. There's no need for a tree."
I: "Where would you put the presents? and who just puts up decorations and no tree? I mean, you can put up a tree and no decorations, sure."
She: "oh, you've been to everyone's house? you know that no one ever puts up decorations with no tree?"
I: "No, but I've never seen a house decorated that had no tree. Besides, it's tradition. You might as well say we won't go to Midnight Mass anymore."
She: "Oh, so if we have no tree and presents then we don't go to Church? We can't just celebrate religiously?"
I: "I don't think Jesus would begrudge us a tree on his birthday. besides, it would be weird, to go to Midnight mass and then come home and just go to bed."
She: "So Midnight Mass isn't worth going to without gifts, is that it?"
I: "No, Midnight Mass and opening presents afterwards and calling family until 4am... that's tradition. That's what makes it special.
She: "Church is special on its own. I don't like that you think you go to Church just for the gifts."
I: "I didn't say that. I said that decorating and Midnight Mass and gifts and all that are all part of what makes Christmas special."
She: "Well, Christmas isn't about gifts!"

…What just happened? Christ, I don't care about gifts! I would rather spend the same money and buy myself stuff, but instead we do this whole exchange thing because it's tradition. And tradition is what binds families together. At least, our family. Honestly, I was pretty close to just going back to my own home after that stupid exchange. Why do we do anything, if not for tradition? Why do I go over to decorate a house I don't live in? Or bake cakes when I'm diabetic? If it wasn't for my Dad who just whispered, "Don't worry, your mom is a little cranky these days. Don't take it personally." I would have spent the night in the comfort of my own bed, TYVM.

God. Conversation with my mother has become like negotiating a minefield. Save me.

harbinger

One day, a hundred or so years from now, someone will write a paper about the absurd statistics and anomalies that, with a century of hindsight, clearly paints a picture of what went wrong. Like how crime rates can be predicted by birth rates twenty years previous. On that day, in the twenty-second century, a studious little environmental ethics major (yes, they will have many of these, if we keep on our current course) will read an obscure report that says " home policy premiums have risen 5 to 20 per cent and that in 2009 almost 41 percent of the claims reported are water-related and that the cost of the average water-related claim is now almost $12,000 – up 25 per cent since 2007. Although not all claims made sought compensation, applying the $12,000 average claim cost to the 113 August 4th flooding claims results in a total cost of $1,356,000." They will read this and think "why didn't anyone see it? A rise in flood claims has got to mean a rise (even if minute) in water levels. Shouldn't they have thought of this as a harbinger of the much worse things to come? Shouldn't they have recognised this as a tipping point?" In a passionate outburst during her seminar, this student will express much of these observations and her colleagues will all shake their heads. Clearly, our ancestors were idiots, they'll think. And as they get ready to head to the pub to discuss ancient Marx theory and the Bush dictatorship, they'll don their masks as much for the oxygen as for the delightful side effect of covering the rank odour of sewage and algae that permeates the campus. After all, that's what happens when everything is at the new sea-level and old infrastructure now floats on top of stagnant sewage water. Yes, poppets, humans really are that dumb.

Now Playing: Ninja Assassin

I'm not sure what I expected from Ninja Assassin before I walked in. I knew the Wachowskis were involved, so I guess I expected some cool action (check). I had heard that the lead actor was all the rage in Korea, so I certainly expected some hotness (omg, check). With such a cheesy title, I definitely expected lots of blood (check check check). So, what do I rate a movie that meets (but does not exceed) my expectations? Hmm - a tough call this. It was a fun movie, for sure. The fight scenes were simply superb. AND a cameo by the keymaker didn't hurt. I guess it just wasn't revolutionary enough or philosophically mind-blowing enough or edge-of-your-seat enough to deserve any higher than a 3.5 out of 5 stars.