Tederick.com: December 2006 Archives
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December 31, 2006

2008's girl

Check it out: I'm fucking Superman!!

Your results:
You are Superman

























Superman
95%
Supergirl
70%
Spider-Man
65%
Wonder Woman
65%
Green Lantern
65%
Robin
60%
Hulk
60%
The Flash
55%
Batman
45%
Iron Man
45%
Catwoman
20%
You are mild-mannered, good,
strong and you love to help others.


Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

So glad I didn't get tarred with "the spider."

A merry New Years to all my Tederick.commies, may 2007 be generally flavourous. I don't have anything particularly penetrating to say here to sum up '06 except to say that it was better than '05, and we expect further improvement in the time ahead. Other than that... well, you know the rest. You've all been here.

The Top Ten Films of 2006

I love this part of the year - the part where the Top Ten list has been in draft mode for a solid six months, but there are still a few tantalizing films being dribbled into theatres that threaten, on reputation at least, to displace at least one of the hopefuls for a slot in the not-really-very-coveted Tederick.com Top Ten.

2006 was pretty easy overall. After a moribund spring and a lacklustre summer, most of the entrants made their way through my eyeballs in the ten days of the Toronto International Film Festival, which must make it far and away the best fest I've attended in my lifetime, to have added so significantly to my annual filmgoing as a whole.

Based on this list it seems that this year, I was looking for a saviour, which isn't particularly surprising after all that shit last year. Redemption, faith, meaning, and hope... they are challenged and affirmed by every single film in this list, which in turn saved me a little bit. Maybe we'll get through after all. Maybe I will.

The Top Ten begins after the jump...


Sure, I'm an easy mark for this sort of thing, but a more intensely visceral filmgoing experience of this type is one that I would be hard-pressed to remember. The problem with becoming a full-time film fan is that it's far easier to get numbed to the effects of most movies; the ones that really grab you by the throat, therefore, tend to stand out. More importantly, I guess, it is the bleak stories that tend to shine the most light, and few have gone darker and colder than this.



The movie has more than its share of slips and maybe it's a little too easy, anyway, to make a thriller about a child molestor getting tortured by a child... but I'll remember Haley for a very long time, and the icky feeling in our stomach when I realized we couldn't decide if I was with the child, or the molestor.



death is the road to awe



I have more than a passing interest in getting the West out from under its puritanical rock, but what strikes me most about Shortbus is that it's an argument for more intelligent use of sexuality in film almost by exclusion, because after those first ten minutes, the sex barely seems to register any more. It's all about the characters. (Even when the characters are singing the Star Spangled Banner into each others' anuses.)



What do you do with an animated film that involves a toddler reaching for a man's crotch during bathtime, that same little girl beating a criminal to death, and fails to stick its own landing so conclusivel that you have to wonder if the last five minutes were made by someone else? Put it at #6 on the year, apparently, and think about it a lot, and its strange, sad spell.



Somewhere buried in this workmanlike quest across the U.K. in a future in which we have destroyed ourselves, is the smallest fragment of hope - not the big chunky hope that says we'll figure a way out of this mess no matter what, but the small one saying that no matter what happens, what we did will have meant something.



Why the World Needs Superman



This is not a happy ending. Watching Ofelia construct the nightmare world of the Labyrinth to organize and understand the nightmare world of her evil stepfather becomes a testament to the power of choice and faith. The lynchpin line is given to a smaller character: when the fascist Captain asks the doctor why the doctor disobeyed him, the doctor merely replies "someone like you would never understand." Choice, hope and wonder are the true keys to the labyrinth.



It's rare that I've had so much fun in a movie, had my heart broken so many times, or remembered why I love my life so much. This movie is a gift to all who see it. At the screening at TIFF we jumped to our feet and gave Penelope the most enthusiastic standing ovation I've ever been a party to, and every single moment of it was earned.



I suppose this was the beginning of the end for my regular film reviewing - the first review in five years I just couldn't write, where whatever negligible skill is at my command completely failed to be able to convey what this film did to me, or for me. I've tried writing it a couple dozen times since September, and I just can't. Lake of Fire is too personal to me, kept me on the verge of tears or throwing up for too long, is to easy-handed and penetrating a look at the futility inside not just the abortion debate, but religious belief and partisan politics, and maybe, being human altogether. How can we call ourselves men when we hold women at the barrel of a gun?



Honourable Mention

Brick - So close to being in the list. Booted out at the very tail end of the year, in fact; such ignominy. And admittedly, Brick was a package I liked a bit more than an execution... but what a package. One of the most enjoyable cinematic experiences I had all year was just watching Joseph Gordon-Levitt spit Chandlerisms into a blistering California sun. Cinema from the gods!

More Honourables

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story, Rescue Dawn, Hinokio, Walking to Werner, Venus, Deliver Us From Evil, Ten Canoes (non-subtitled version)

Best Director: Guillermo del Toro

I haven't given out a Best Director nod before, but I thought it was appropriate this year. Watching del Toro ascend from craftsman to master (or in this case, maestro) was the great cinematic pleasure of 2006. Give this man a cheque and let him do whatever he wants.

Worst Film of 2006: The Da Vinci Code

Notably, I walked out of more films this year than I ever have in my life. But of all the ones I stayed through, Da Vinci Code was the only one that made me sad to be a human. This allows it to beat even X3: The Last Stand, which made me sad to be a mutant.

Best Original Score: The Lady in the Water (James Newton Howard)

The film almost got an Honourable for being the "mess I enjoyed the most," but I think most of my emotional engagement with the picture was due to Howard's soulful fairy tale score, which weaves meaning behind the myopia of Shyamalan's torturous script. Howard has now won Best Score for most of the years of Tederick.com's existence. I guess he's my favourite composer...?

And the rest...

Discovery of the year: A Nos Amours (Maurice Pialat, 1980)

Best DVD: A flat-out tie between the 2006 Criterion editions of Dazed and Confused and Seven Samurai. Honestly I've been trying to pick for months. I just can't. Don't make me pick!

Movie to grow a boner: the first 30 minutes of Cashback; the massage scene in L'Intouchable (also wins "Best Use of an Oiled Butt")

The "Holy Fucking Hannah" Award for blindness-inducing hotness: Dany Verissimo in Banlieue 13

The "Holy Fucking Hannah" Award for blindness-inducing hotness in men: Daniel Craig in Casino Royale (who would also win "Best performance by a male actor to rejuvenate a dead film franchise, make a script significantly better than it could otherwise have been, and bitchslap his way into our wildest homoerotic fantasies)

Best title: Bugmaster (Why? Because he's the motherfucking Bugmaster, that's why.) Honourable mention: Sheitan (SHEITAN!!)

Best use of the anus on screen: Tie between Taxidermia and Borat

Movie that made me quit film reviewing: Catch A Fire

Been there, done that: Fuck

Best public service announcement: An Inconvenient Truth

Only Canadian film I didn't walk out of this year: Paper Moon Affair

Biggest disappointment involving a woman felating a canine: Sleeping Dogs Lie

Biggest disappointment involving a man felating a donkey: Clerks II

Biggest disappointment not involving fellatio: Miami Vice (wait... was there fellatio in that?)

Most anticipated film of 2007: Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (where's the trailer, Gore? Where's the fucking trailer?)

Catch you on the flip...

Tederick.com's Men of the Year: The Civil Warriors

This is our first multiple-persons win for Man of the Year, because to attempt to pin Civil War on one, or even two, creators is an exercise in futility. The great Marvel tale of comrades being torn apart over issues of law, privacy, and homeland security is also, most endearingly, a stunning example of the very best in the business working together without ego or vanity to produce something that will be remembered in ten, twenty, and fifty years. Quesada had the stones to do it, Millar guided a clear course through an incredibly tricky narrative, Bendis turned New Avengers into a cunning series of one-offs ripping straight to the soul of all our principal characters, and Straczinski defined the art form for the year in Amazing Spider-Man. The Runaways met the Young Avengers, the X-Men went back to basics, and somehow this cadre of incredible writers and artists turned the usual fanboy whine-fests into a nation-wide debate on the nature of freedom. Sure, we're all with Cap... but we're also eerily aware that Stark is probably right. That's great storytelling, in any medium.

Previous Tederick.com Man of the Year honourees include:

  • Richard Hatch
  • Mark Brown
  • Master Yoda
  • Woogie
  • Matty Price

Tederick.com is pleased to honour the Civil Warriors as Men of the Year, for making the greatest contribution to the Tederick.com landscape in the year 2006.

moviesto #60: The end is the beginning is the end

God-damn.

The last show.

What can I say? Very emotional right now. But happy!

Click here to download moviesTO #60!

December 30, 2006

Children of Men

I think this is what the future will actually be like: more ads, less God. Children of Men, by positioning a future world so similar to our own - where all commercial industry is laughably futile, yet rolling onwards anyway - has the uncanny effect of peeling back the lie that we live with every day. Our commercialism is equally futile, but no one has noticed it yet.

Click here to read my review.

That's it, my last regular review. I'll still be writing plenty I'm sure - just not every film, every time. And hopefully a few more important classics on DVD and a few less crappy Hollywood blockbusters and "think pieces" that I don't care about.

Back tomorrow with the best of the year!

December 29, 2006

You cheat, Dr. Jones, you cheat! You take four cards! I very little. You cheat very big!

Yeah, I've said it before and I'll say it again, I don't care how many behind the scenes stills and Time magazine human interest pieces we see, I'll damn well believe it when I see it in theatres.

An actual fourth Indiana Jones movie. God damn.

Two girls; one vagina

The other day I was having dinner with Sandy and at some point, the conversation just turned to the incredibly bizarre. It occured to me, in fact, after about 45 minutes had passed, that Sandy might have just suddenly decided in her brain, "I am going to shine my friend Matt on, for as long as I can, and see how much he can put up with before he has to call me on it." But no, it turns out that everything she told me was true. And the weirdest such anecdote? Abigail and Brittany, the conjoined twins.

Now, there are a kajillion reasons why this is fascinating. Honestly, a kajillion. I can't even begin to imagine all of the ways that this can be looked at as an overwhelmingly intriguing slice of how the human body can work, and more importantly, how human life can work. The self, the soul, the meaning of individual identity, even the implications of death... it's all in there. And I don't mean to trivialize or sensationalize the lives of these two people, by any means. But to boil it down to V.F. subject areas and look at it in terms of the social construction of a sexual self... how the fuck does this work. They are two unique, separate individuals (they're sixteen now) who share the same body, who control their respective halves of the overall body but can control the other, and have spoken openly of their ambitions for romantic lives in their future.

Honestly. How does this work.

I can't even begin to fathom the complete set of issues that would be involved with facing this problem. I mean, my goodness, on a basic theoretical level, how can one body be owned by two people? How can sexual consent, for example, be given or refused if there is disagreement between the two sisters? Who "owns" the reproductive rights of the uterus, who "owns" the pleasurable rights of clitoris, who decides if they're in the mood for sex or just want to lounge out on the couch and watch Oprah?

What's better: separate boyfriends (shared body), or shared boyfriend (separate minds)? Is it legally possible for them both to marry the same person, or legally possible for them both to marry separate people? (If the former, does that mean the state sanctioned control of female reproduction is based on the vagina, not the mind? If the latter, does that mean the state can legally yield control of a single reproductive system to two separate partners?)

I mean, entire books could be written about this. Doctoral theses could be constructed. The gender identity theory implications alone could fill a wing of a university library. Good lord, what if one of them is gay???

The natural social impulse would be to deny them a sexual identity or a sexual self, because confronting the reality of what their lives will be like is just too complicated for a species that consistently craves easy identifiability. That makes the Vagina Twins queer icons almost by default.

The mind spins. And spins... and spins...

The toy report: 2006

In one way or another I've been doing toy reports for most of my life. I did one with Geoff MacDonald when I was about ten years old where I espoused on the virtues of that year's Transformers, G.I.Joes, and Sectaurs. (Yes, Sectaurs!) In latter years, obviously, I've also been doing a year-end wrap of everything I really enjoyed putting on my shelf in that calendar year.

And then there was 2006, the End of All Things. The year I pretty much decided to stop collecting Star Wars action figures which were, are, and always have been, the backbone of my entire toy collecting hobby.

Now, I didn't stop stop. I bought a clone trooper just the other day (and he's lovely). I will totally buy this guy when he comes out. But given that last year I bought about a hundred of the things, and since "stopping" I've bought three, I'd call that a pretty significant change in the way we do business on the Tederick.com shelfspace.

Anyways. BEST TOY OF THE YEAR:

Well, obviously. I mean in spite of the sheer ballfucking awesomeness of Sideshow (I'll get to that in a minute), Hermione squeaked ahead because I just love her so much. But please don't make me choose between my dollies. There was also:

Who, by the tiniest plastic nose, gets ahead of:

and

Which is my way of saying that Sideshow Collectibles is the best toy company, pretty much, I have ever bought from. What they've done with the Star Wars license in the past 12 months almost defies description for someone who has grown up ("matured" if you will) with Hasbro. I'm a man what likes his on-screen perfection represented in toy form, and I have three perfect miniature Star Wars characters on top of my desk right now. (And Anakin, a rare miss.) I'm very much looking forward to Boushh, and Boromir from Lord of the Rings, and hope they won't be dawdling in Expanded Universe characters for long in '07 before getting back to the good stuff. I really wants me a Cody.

Most of the other stuff released this year - the Lost toys, the Pirates 2 toys, the Superman toys - were pretty much flash in the pan, amusing for a minute or two but eventually just space-wasters. I will mention Medium Sized Fucking Hellboy, however, as an honourable. He's fun to have.

December 28, 2006

James fucking Bond.

The office is pretty much abandoned this week so I've been getting so much done. Today I updated and launched two courses, made major prep work for Adam's big project next week, and wrote first drafts of three e-learning storyboards.... and I was still able to knock off at 3:30 because there just wasn't anything left to do. I'm going to work from home tomorrow with my brand shiny spanker of a laptop that they gave me and a ream of printed research documents I have to go through. And then bazaaaam, Happy New Year. It all starts again.

I suffer from profound journal envy. Any time I read somebody else's journal - in this case it's Steven Soderbergh's snippets in Getting Away With It - I feel like my journal just doesn't achieve. No details, minimal reference context, almost no writing style or character. What's the point? I never even go back and read old journals any more like I used to, because there's just so damn much of it. I'm coming on twenty years here. And the blog. And the various other writing projects which should be, in an ideal world, emotionally journalistic and contemporarily encyclopedic. W.T.F. Ah who am I kidding I just enjoy the pitter patter of this keyboard.

I am going to buy a martini shaker today, and go see Children of Men, after I've dealt with the miscellany.

I feel like I'm ahead of the game. Standoff not done, IBP DVDs on indefinite hiatus, blog unfixed, haven't even started looking at how I'm going to do Chris' movie or Daniel's movie, and yet:

Pirate party pictures!!

Yo, ho, ho, ho (and a bowl of ice cream):

That one's going on my desk at work.

Me and Bex with our pirate on:

Chris performing a homosexual act:

Every time you get two drinks into that guy, Chris performs a homosexual act. What's amazing to me is that this time, I have no memory of the event at all, because after so many homosexual acts performed by Chris, they all seem to blend together, particularly while under the influence of rum. Note Matty Price looking on in what we must assume is the Horror of the Damned. Or maybe that's the look on your face when you throw up in your mouth a little.

Me and Jess, with our heavy drunk on, in what Bex says will be our engagement photo:

Chris and a bird, with their heavy drunk on, in what Bex says will be their engagement photo:

Pix by Bex!

December 27, 2006

Whatever this is

The problem with not blogging for a couple of days - when, on other days, you blog quite frequently - is that it's difficult to figure out exactly how to come back. THERE'S - SO - MUCH - TO - TALK - ABOUT!!! Extreme Steve would have something to say about that, I'm sure. But he's not here right now.

Let's rely on the Bendis! items again, for simplicity's sake.

ITEM!: SNOWBOARD!!! Wooo motherfuckin' hoo!!!! I done bought it yesterday at Sport Swap, which is having a "we're moving" sale so all the new items in the store were 30-70% off. (My aunt tipped me off to this, with timing that verges on the uncanny.) So I got about $1600 worth of the four B's (board, bindings, boots, bag) for nine hundred and change. And for this, I can honestly say, I have the Best Parents Ever.

ITEM!: Best parents ever!! In addition to the fact that they snowboarded my ass, my parents also threw the family Christmas party this year at their house and man howdy, that was a pitch-perfect evening of Yuletide splendor. My mother (like any hostess) gets a bit nervous before having to deck the halls for a party of 14, but all the planning was freaking worthwhile this time around. The food was fantastic, the booze was fanastic, everyone had a good time and Mark even sneaked the "kids" off to Adam's room to watch Razor Burn like in the old days when we'd sneak away to look at pornos. No wait that never happened. But you get the idea. Monday night was like working at a high-end restaurant where everything goes off without a hitch. So pretty much, my family rocks. It sucks to be anyone else's family. Even yours.

ITEM!: Family Christmas photo!

ITEM!: In spite of the Lord of the Ringsathon I watched Return of the King again. And I'll probably watch it a third time. I am finding that movie very comforting right now, and on the whole last week was not the best week of my life, depression-wise, so the comfort was appreciated. The sadness broke on Christmas Eve, though, which is nice, and my brain even gave me an endorphen-pumping Christmas present in the form of a simple dream, which nonetheless effectively re-routed a week's worth of negative energy and made me giddy and warm. So that was nice.

ITEM!: No Godfather this year. Snowboard took precedence, and then I saw Bex and Matty Price and went to the Silver Snail and Bay Street Video and watched Fat Girl and loved it. So it was a good Boxing Day.

ITEM!: You will not believe the Pirate Party pictures that Bex took. I'm not a framer by any means but I've already bought picture frames for several of these. I'll post the photos later in the week.

ITEM!: Vaguely unnerved by just how good the Fantastic Four Two trailer is. Actually unnerved by how good everything is looking for summer '07. And as MP and I expounded yesterday in what was effectively a live Mamo for an audience of Bex, this summer is looking like a big bad dinosaur fight in terms of grosses. FF2, Harry Potter 5, Spider-Man 3, Pirates 3, Shrek 3, Die Hard 4, Bourne 3, Transformazoids and The Simpsons Movie... Hollywood sure may have run out of new ideas but it's gonna be a hell of a thing to watch all the old ideas fight it out for top geezer.

ITEM!: I'm looking forward to 2007, and not just for the reasons mentioned above. Gotta slough through this last work week, though, and get my Tederick.com ducks in a row for the weekend along with all the other weekend ducks that need rowing. It shall be a time.

EXTREME STEVE BEGINS!!!!

The Good German

Though the technological improvement of filmmaking has been substantial, the lion's share of the development of film as a medium is all on this side of the camera, where we as audiences have improved by leaps and bounds in our ability to interact meaningfully with a filmed image. This is all by way of saying that The Good German is really boring.

Click here to read my review.

December 24, 2006

I am Optimus Prime!!!

When I was a kid, a boy in my class got in trouble because he went into the little boys' room, stood up on top of the sink (it was one of those big circular dealies with the bar around the bottom that you pushed with your foot), pulled down his pants, declared that he was Optimus Prime, and opened fire on the room with his willie. Somehow this got mixed up with a story Mark told me about a kid at his school who declared that he was Optimus Prime and underwent a transformation into car form (actually a low crouch) in front of other kids, making the "pitchoochoochoochoo!" sound of the transformation from the TV show. And yet another person in high school declared himself to be Optimus Prime and opened a locked door using sheer force of will.

Those stories don't really go anywhere, I just thought they were funny. The new image of Optimus Prime (Michael Bay version) made me think of them. Plus I like the image of the penis as ray gun.

In like kind, and just in case someone out there doesn't have their Christmas shopping done yet, here is a list of detailed instructions on how to make a lightsabre dildo. I am going to try this as early as next week. I shall spare no expense. I must have a lightsabre dildo.

Housekeeping: moviesTO #59 (59 down, one to go!) is here.

Yesterday we had our demi-annual N.T. posse Christmas/birthday/reunion dealie. Mark tripped Razor Burn on our asses and man howdy, that is a tight film. This is the one we shot way the hell back in the day when Mark had about a four-month beard on, and wanted to shave it off in stages and improvise a new character for each level of facial growth. He interspersed sequences of him shaving while we talked about characters in the bathroom, with the actual improv proper. It's a damn work of art, that film. I'm really, really impressed with it. And we also watched the movie he made for my birthday over again, which was only the second time I'd seen it (first time sober). That, too, is a mighty piece of filmcraft. Mark is carrying the Infinitely Brown torch pretty substantially at this point. Between that and writing the VCR script the other day and a couple of other small things I've got in the cookery besides Standoff, I'm feeling very good about where 2007 looks to be going, filmmaking-wise and focus-wise. Suddenly, quitting all this shit (podcast, festival, film reviews) seems damned intelligent!

Off to make the merry with the family of mine, and so on and so forth. Drink rum, be glad, may your disks be shiny and bright and all that.

December 23, 2006

Two stands enter; one stand leaves

Now thoroughly motivated to get Standoff done before the end of the rolling year, I spent this morning doing some sound editing. My foley session turned out better than I thought it had; the material cuts into the location sound pretty nicely. My original plan had been to throw out the location sound on this altogether and build an all-new sound mix from scratch... but I got about five minutes into that idea before I realized just how gigantic and useless an amount of work it was going to be. (Or more accurately, that it would be next-to-impossible to achieve the bleak phantasmagoria that I had in my head at the level of technology where I currently sit.) So I'm using some location stuff, some foley, and I'm probably going to have to record a few additional elements here and there. Oh, and the music. An actual Jessica Fletcher music track. It's been a long time since I've jammed on the didgeridoo, but I'm pretty happy with the result. The two tracks are called "Entrada" and "Requiem for a Gleet."

So, this thing should be in the tail lights by New Year's. Which is good.

December 22, 2006

Step two: put your junk in that box.

It's worth noting that in Jesus is Magic when Sarah Silverman dances like an ape to show that Jews are sexy, she looks exactly like my ex-girlfriend.

Tonight (and based largely on my last entry) I closed the loop on two very, very, very longstanding filmmaking projects... in script form anyway. I wrote two scripts, each ten-ish pages in length, that I literally can't believe popped out of my head in the form they currently inhabit. You know what actually made the difference? They were fun to write from a pure craft perspective - they were the writing equivalent of a good round of jumping jacks. And after having been relatively blue in the last couple of days with the holidays and whatnot, writing those two drafts completely recharged my sense of self (which must, therefore, have been what was lacking). Mmmmm self. Sensey, sensey self.

I am delinquent on today's vagina post but instead, here's Brandy's banana-holder. Yes, that is actually what this is:

in spite of what it also looks like.

And to balance out the giant yellow cock, here's the 3QFmas tree all bedeckled with holiday finery:

Whoa this post turned out less focused than I'd planned. Sorry.

Crunchable birdses

Admittedly, I dropped the ball in not posting the link to smashmyps3.com the moment I found it (weeks ago), if only for the communal support that the makers of VCR should bring to an important social project like this. Well this time I'm on it as quickly as I know how: Will It Blend? the iPod edition. I was surprised and amazed by what I saw there, my friends, and I am a fellow who has seen a lot of electronica smash apart into tiny little bits over the past five years. There is a kind of visual wonder in watching that iPod turn to silver dust.

YouTube has made the VCR Decalogue largely irrelevant in a post-2006 world, which is unfortunate since I never actually got to make the last few installments. Well, I've actually got a concept for a closer now but no idea how to slot it into the VCR10y matrix. Algebra may be involved. Come to think of it, I've got a few little ideas burning around right now. If it weren't for the stunning quantity of guilt and nausea that the Standoff debacle has founded in my heart, maybe I'd write some of them down.

BREAK SHIT NOW

December 21, 2006

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

There ya go.

Gee, wonder what's gonna happen in that one.

Look! An undead monkey.

Keith Richards is like a leathery Vietnam vet version of Captain Jack!

December 20, 2006

A hero for a new generation!

Ok phew: Christmas presents achieved! And then some.

I can honestly say I wish I had been watching Survivor: Racism all season (and not just because I called the winner of the game in the first episode... again!). I caught the last two episodes this week and was genuinely stunned to see people actually playing the game intelligently and at a level of craft equal to or better than what others had done in the past. I know this sort of casting miracle is an utter fluke, particularly now, but at least it's enough to make me want to watch Survivor 14. Fuck yeah: let's get SURVIV.ORg going again! Just to fuck with the man, man! Why not?

It seems I'm delinquent in my podcastery:

moviesTO #58, in which I again plead for replacement

Mamo #68, in which much is discussed.

Rest of the Buffy comic writers are here. (Meltzer, Loeb, Espensen, Goddard, Greenberg and DeKnight. What, no Petrie?)

Ocean's 13 trailer - woot, I'm like six years late on board.

Transformers trailer - ok, I admit, that's pretty cool.

MERRY STEVEMAS!!!!

An army of frogs

Time to rethink that Man of the Year thing: Brian K. Vaughan has been hired onto the writing staff of Lost. And in so asserting, he also mentions that he will be writing 4 issues of the Buffy Season 8 comic book. So... basically he is The New Joss. BKV is my master now (in the unlikely event of the Original Joss' death). Creamy.

I STILL DON'T HAVE ALL MY CHRISTMAS SHOPPING DONE! Dirtnap. Going to see what the Silver Snail can do for me tonight but I seriously doubt they can fill the bill for my mother's present. Serious, serious dirtnap.

December 19, 2006

I saw a penis on the Internet today and I thought to myself, "Well, that's... that's just fine."

Oh, I really did.

So I am now officially the sole surviving writer of Tn'O. Jenny quit the other day. I am trying to find a few new co-'s, because this is way too much of a job for one man, especially one man with my sex life. Hopefully the column doesn't have to go away because as per our blogTO meeting last night, it's getting MAD hits - my Lost Girls post scored second or third for November, and Jenny's various titillations have been huge scorers so far too. Yup, mention sex and everybody comes a-runnin'. Pervy! But I guess regardless, I get to stroke "write a sex column" off the list of 100 stupid things to do before I die, so whatever.

Yesterday I got my brother some temp work at my office. That was my good deed for yesterday. Today I gave away the Obi-Wan figures I was talking about. That was my good deed for today. Tomorrow I shall SLAY THE INNOCENT!! to balance the karmic scale. Or maybe I'll just eat a pastry, I haven't decided yet. Anyways things have damn well drained completely dry here at work this week. There are less and less people here by the day. Yesterday I took a fifteen minute soccer break in the elevator bay with my company soccer ball, which turned out to be a surprisingly effective way to reinvigorate the brain's ability to solve problems. It's like Mom always said: exercise is good for you.

Anyways, I am now officially going on record and saying that ILM is lying when they say they made Davy Jones 100% digitally. I'm sorry, but it just doesn't track. They're saying they never used Bill Nighy's actual eyes, that everything you see on screen is CGI... but it's just way, way too sophisticated and way too consistent for the state of the current art form.... even when compared against the other digital creatures in the same shot with Jones. My theory is that they are lying to the media in an attempt to bring the Oscar back to ILM for the first time in the 21st century. And if so... YARRRRRRR!! they be pirates.

Mmm. Pirates and rum at my place tonight!

December 18, 2006

Desperate-for-a-shag Giles

Oh, I really am.

Last night 3QF+1 broke four cherries simultaneously as Matty Price, Leah Gryfe, D-Coc and B-Gold were all brought into the fold of Those Who Have Watched The Buffy Musical Episode. Daniel took notes. Now a grand tradition among my kith and kin, this process of watching "Once More" en masse is really quite entertaining. Especially all the wriggling I have to do to keep from singing along to "Going Through the Motions." I love the pants offa that show, I tell ya.

Meanwhile, I now own what can only be called the Most Uncomfortable Pants. I did not know it was possible to make pants this uncomfortable. They are jeans that I bought at Club Monaco on sale, and I should have known better. I was lead into the store by a wily homosexual man and these are the kinds of things that happen. I mean honestly: I don't consider myself to be any great shakes in the genitalia department, but that being the case, I just don't get it. There is no room for balls in these pants. Either my wang is literally twice the size of the average Club Monaco consumer, or the designer didn't make the jeans with boy-parts in mind, or I'm some kind of genitalia gene jean freak. But whatever it is, they are and remain the Most Uncomfortable Pants.

Today my Christmas shopping list achieved a new level of hilarity when I filled in all the blank spots (i.e. places where I hadn't figured out what to get people) with the same five-letter word over and over again. I won't put the word up here because that would RUIN CHRISTMAS!! but I will say that it is highly amusing when spelled backwards.

Good news for Extreme Steve fans! Yesterday, Chris turned in his first script for a planned 3-part Extreme Steve limited series to be written in its entirety by he himself. I shall still be doing the artwork. This series is currently scheduled to run in February. I'm also angling to have my brother do a 3-issue run in January that he will both write and draw. But he and I have to work on that over Christmas.

I've no plans to retire from Extreme Steve anytime soon, but it's nice to see that it's basically running itself at this point.

December 16, 2006

The few, the brave, the Lord of the Rings

Today Chris, Brandy, Steve and I are watching The Lord of the Rings all the way through. I will be updating this blog post as it happens, to keep you abreast of the ring's progress.

10:30 p.m.: "The End" hit the screen at 10:11. Then we sort of sat around for twenty minutes and let our heads spin, because spinning they were. Then we discussed the Watcher in the Water. Then we talked about whether we know too much about the making of these movies given that in bringing up the Watcher in the Water, Chris and I immediately said "enormous sphincter" in a Richard Taylor impression. Then Steve called Bridget. And then... now we're trying to figure out what we're doing for New Year's. Yeah it's sort of hard to concentrate right now.

We sort of all agree that we alpha-waved through the entirety of The Two Towers but that Fellowship and King were pretty kick-ass. Also I'm a extended edition boy through and through now. I know it took me a long time to get to this point, but I'm on board. Don't think I'd ever need to watch the theatrical cuts again except to explicate some unforeseen point about something.

Here's what the living room looks like post-flix:

Note Chris on the far left holding his head in his hands. That's how we all feel right now.

This concludes LOTR '06. Fuck.

8:09 p.m.: The hammer of the underworld is out, the battle has started, the home stretch is in sight. Good thing this thing's ending can be described as "succinct."

I tell you what: that Bernard Hill guy is one tough old son of a bitch. I am behind that guy 100%.

6:30 p.m.: We just concluded a discussion of who we think is the hottest person in the trilogy (Chris: Eowyn; Brandy: Aragorn; Steve: Gimli) with me saying "I'd like to have Arwen for a wife and Pippin for a plaything."

6:00 p.m.: Steve just threatened to not let us start King until we'd positively determined which mid-film disk break was the best (Pippin's "Where are we going" in Fellowship, Faramir's speech in Towers, or Grond showing up in King.) But we shot him down.

Also: there's rum now. Music's starting, film is going, shut up!

5:53 p.m.: Hey, if you ever need to reboot your head after too much flickwatching, try brushing your teeth. It's totally effective. I'm going to try to remember this for the next film festival.

Where are the others?! I should be balls-deep in Frodo right now, and instead I'm sitting here blogging like a chump! Wait I just heard the door open.

5:48 p.m.: Becoming impatient... becoming impatient with all the... well the word my brain wants to say is "waitnapping." But that can't be right. Although if "waitnapping" were a crime where you abduct waiters I think that would be pretty cool. (But what's the upside of abducting waiters? Or waitresses? They work for shit salary and basically live on tips. It's a tough life, folks, being a server. Tip high whenever you can. You have no idea the difference you'll make.)

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GET A CHEESEBURGER?! Fuck!

5:34 p.m.: I've been abandoned while the rest of the Fellowship goes for food. Chris and Steve went to Lick's and Brandy went to Pizza Pizza. I never want to eat again. Brandy is bringing me back some wings though because I think I need protein and not salted snack foods. Wait I guess wings are salted snack foods too. Fuck.

MAN I hate having to take a protracted break in the midst of the proceedings but that's how it goes. And hoochie mama, all of our brains are in desperate need of a bit of freshening right now anyways. I think I'll go out on the back deck and get some air.

Towers done, King beginning...

3:39 p.m.: Faramir, a young captain of Gondor, has just appeared. I rather like that chap. I like his outfit, I like the cut of his jib, and I covet his hoodie. It's all about the hoodies right now. Hey why don't they do "dramatis personae" type things at the beginning of movies? "Faramir, a young captain of Gondor" is the type of thing that should appear at the head of this flick, along with "Frodo Baggins, a hobbit," "Elrond of Rivendell, an ageless elf," and "Gollum, a small homunculus man."

3:34 p.m.: People keep calling, and we keep ignoring the phone...

2:45 p.m.: Ian McKellen is back. Fuckin' A.

You know, that poem Treebeard recites is like something you'd hear a stoner say at a party at 3 in the morning. The first hour of Towers is always really hard for me. It's not that there's anything wrong with it, just that it seems to be where my brain finally collapses into an alpha wave. Talking trees... dreamy stuff.

1:38 p.m.: You know, the battle scene at Amon Hen at the end of Fellowship is a master class in cinema editing. I don't think I'd ever really had a full appreciation for just how brilliantly constructed that entire scene is. Every single technique of editing is used to brilliant effect - particularly the impressionistic elements. Eisenstein would split his britches watching that thing.

It occurs to me that if PJ ends up making The Hobbit we're going to end up having to do this again. And if it's in fact 2 three-hour movies then it's going to be a really, really, really long Complete Lord of the Rings screening when all is said and done.

11:59 a.m.: I have taken additional vitamins as a precautionary measure.

11:51 a.m.: We're done the first disk. Everyone's talking about which movie's their favourite. Brandy can't decide if she likes the first one better or the extended cut of the second one. Chris thinks the first half of Fellowship is the best half of a movie ever made. And me, I don't know why I ever thought the extended cut of this film was weaker than the theatrical cut. It is fucking exempliary. It was the scene with the Gaffer that convinced me of this. You need that shit, man, you need it.

But I'm a Boromir man. I think Sean Bean's is my favourite performance in the entire trilogy. As soon as he rides in his horse it becomes a whole different film for me.

Anyways now there's talk of lunch. We've also told Steve that he is essentially a member of the household for the rest of the day, because he keeps asking if he can have water, snacks, etc. There's no room for that kind of politeness in a viewing marathon like this, sir. No.

10:13 a.m.: That is the best opening of any film ever. We'll probably get into the Peter Jackson Hobbit situation later but for now let's assume that he will make the film(s) and that he will use the X3 gizmo to allow Ian Holm to play Bilbo, as it should be.

Now Ian McKellen's here. Fuckin' A.

10:03 a.m.: OK we're starting now.

9:58 a.m.: We're almost ready to go. I have been to the IGA to get provisions. We have salted pork. Actually salt seems to be the mainstay of most of the foodbits, there's also a lot of chips and pretzels and so forth. But that's okay. You know back in the medieval days, what they used to keep meat fresh? Salt. We shall hope it does the same for us.

There are two complete copies of Tolkien's work on the coffee table, including The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and The Silmarillion. This is in case there is need of immediate referencing at any point during the day. I also have Wikipedia's LOTR section open on my Macbook. For gear I'm wearing ripped jeans and a Revenge of the Sith t-shirt (iconoclasm!), along with my elf-green hoodie. I also have my glasses cleaning cloth, for the inevitable moment when the lenses mist up when Sam is cradling Frodo in his arms on the slopes of Mount Doom.

For toys for the day's proceedings I have brought the Mouth of Sauron, the King of the Dead, Samwise Gamgee, and Gimli (son of Glóin). In the Gimli/Legolas scrap I'm a Gimli man, always have been, that fellow amuses me. So many axes!

This is what the room looks like right now:

Brandy isn't here yet. She said that laundry takes precedence over The Lord of the Rings but that she'll be here soon. Chris is making a pizza because that's how he deals with stress.

New animated Trek?

I like everything about this pitch except the nut: why a 6-minute animated series? This is the kind of forward-thinking that should launch the next live action Trek series.

(No, I still haven't watched Battlestar. Yes, I will. When I have a minute.)

Also: scroll down to the comments on that page to see why Trek nerds make Wars nerds look positively well-rounded and easy-going. Losers!

December 15, 2006

Dans le Montreal avec la Marie-Sylvie et also la poutine!!

Today I went to Montreal. AND CAME BACK. Crazy! Yup I was comfortably Via 1-ing it out of the T-dot before seven this morning, arrived at Dorval station by 11:30, was back at the same station at 5:30 and homeward. And yet I got a stunning amount of really good work done in the four and a half hours I was in Montreal. Solid, focused team building mixed with high class travel. This, as far as I'm concerned, is further proof to me that my job is ludicrously enjoyable at surprising intervals. VIA FUCKING ONE. There is wine on this train. And rum. Top that, Amos.

Also, in terms of my French comprehension: first of all it's amazing to hang out with my Montreal colleagues who slip in and out of French mid-sentence and keep going back and forth and back and forth with each other, not for my benefit, just as a natural part of the way they talk. They speak both languages, all the time. I really enjoy multilingualism. (Mmmm... multilingualism.) And to top that off, I realized just after I got on the train home that I had been listening to entirely French P.A. announcements at Dorval station, and understood every word. Brill.

Lingual.

I watched DVD commentaries on my laptop, read comic books, did some writing for blogTO, listened to music, and worked on the comic. Chad and I are co-drafting patchwork page pieces of the first issue of Terra this week, and I did all of my pages this morning on the train. Fucking loved it. This comics writing thing could grow on a man. For about ten years I've been throttling every creative impulse I've ever had into what can be shot, paid for, and/or digitally rendered. Now I'm tossing 75-year-old men through the hatches of space ships and having harpoons the size of telephone poles drag shuttles into cargo bays. And though I am indeed a big sentimentalist who comes back to the same character over and over, I actually got nipply when, on the last page, I wrote Terra's first line... because this comic is about her.

Anyways, those were my adventures. And they were excellent.

Periods, politics & personalities

The fine women at Lunapads - makers of outstanding natural menstrual products, not to mention everyone's favourite crotch goblet, the Diva Cup - have a damn blog!!

blog.lunapads.com

I think there's a lack in menstrual blogging. I would like to see more of it. There's a lot I am learning here and I would like to learn more. This is the kind of end-user detail we are lacking in popular social conversation. Why not? Why should the fact that commercial menstrual products can chafe, for example, be kept secret/sacred/stealthy? I am looking forward to buying Breakthrough Bleeding, the menstruation book.

Ugh: IT'S FIVE THIRTY IN THE DAMN MORNING.

December 14, 2006

She certainly knows her cheeses

Mom: "How would you compare [this cheese] to cheddar?"
Me: "Favourably."

Die Hard Four? TRY SOME MORE!!

I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine

I can now independently confirm what others have been telling me in the 20-odd years since I last saw the film: Superman III is a fucking terrible movie. I guess I liked it when I was a kid, but man alive! Watching that movie is like watching the drop ship crash in Aliens. At first it seems to be kind of flying okay and then the wing banks a little and Ripley gets all freaked out and then the wing clips that embankment and the ship is spinning, spinning, and Hudson's running his ass off and KA-BOOM the shrapnel is over our heads and Newt is talking about how the mostly come out at night. Mostly.

(That was a very specific example.)

ITEM!: For a guy who doesn't keep toys in the package, I sure have a lot of toys in the package. This is because for several years I had a minor ambition to own a carded version of every Obi-Wan Kenobi action figure. I got all the way to Revenge of the Sith and had 'em up on my wall and they looked very pretty, thank you very much, but I don't really want them any more. They've been in a box under my bed for over a year. So I'm giving the majority away to the CHUM City Christmas wish. I rather like the idea of a flock of Obi-Wan Kenobis from my hand floating through the karmic ether this Christmas. Particularly the notion that some kid out there is going to get the crazy longsabre 1995 version - which many a Star Wars nerd would consider a fundamental oddity worthy of museum status - and toss it over his shoulder saying, "this thing sucks!"

December 13, 2006

You think you know somebody, and all of a sudden they start acting like they're being written by an entirely different person

Brian K. Vaughan came this close to being Tederick.com's Man of the Year. I'm going to spoil you on that much. Between The Escapists - which included inspirationally today with issue #6 - and Pride of Baghdad, he's easily got a lock on being the writer (in any medium) I enjoyed the most in the calendar year '06... and that doesn't even include, of course, my darling baby loveyface, Runaways. And I haven't even started reading Y: The Last Man yet, for fear that it will completely devour my life. I'm waiting another few months on that one. Yup, in the year where I went from being a burgeoning comic fan to a full-on comic enthusiast, BKV was pretty much The Guy. But Man of the Year goes elsewhere this time 'round.

And I read Superman For All Seasons in its entirety today and could almost declare it the best Superman story ever. (Almost.) It certainly increases my enthusiasm for this Superman Confidential deal, even though Sale's art is the only connection there; I'd show up to see that guy draw Lois Lane anytime. (And man howdy, did For All Seasons make me want to dive right back into Smallville in a big way, if only to see La Kreuk. But then I remind myself that the show... oh... sucks.)

I also bought a Wolvie issue that I haven't read yet. But I'm telling you, an entire psychology book could be written around the creation of X-23 (featuring this month in a ripping new solo adventure, X-23: Target X). You take Wolverine, who is adored beyond measure by fanboys but reeks of enough homosexual fetish iconography that the roots of his devotees' interests probably run at odds with a great quantity of inner inability to express their queer desire, and solve the entire problem of his arousal factor by turning him into a girl. Give him boobs and a vagina, and a slight form that would make Lolita proud. Lose a claw from each hand (leaving a pair on both), and add a claw to the nymphet's foot so that when she kicks you in the balls, you feel it. Program her as a murder machine so vulgar and brutal that she can't get through more than four pages of a comic without sending a fashionable spray of crimson ink rocketing skyward to the panel above, some of which will usually end up dripping money-shot-style from her waify features as her hentai-inspired oversized green eyeballs look sadly to the heavens with forelorn self-doubt. Dress her up in refugees from Trinity's wardrobe of fashionable shiny PVC, and give her a will and desire to walk the earth doing badass shit that nobody in squaresville will even have the honour of hearing about, and there you have it. An entire laundry list of questionable urges to fuck Wolverine transmuted into an entirely new laundry list of questionable urges to fuck X-23, a laundry list where you might be a pedophile, might be into little girls hurting you, might be sadomasochistic, a vampire, or horny about razor blades but above all and thank mercy, at least you're not gay.

EXTREME STEVE!!!! episode twenty-three

December 12, 2006

Girls on roller skates punching the sh** out of each other

Current metaphors in heavy circulation during my standard business day:

  • Laying train track two feet in front of the speeding locomotive
  • Standing in a dark room throwing darts at a spot where there may or may not be a dart board

It's interesting; I still seem to be congenitally incapable of bringing any work stress home. I know I was stressed about 8 hours ago; I cannot for the life of me remember why.

It was around this time about a year ago that I was pretty much surviving on free appetizers given out at various film festival launch parties. My brief tour through the Canada's Top Ten shmooze, which I loped into after work tonight, reminded me of that. The duck wraps were a significant improvement on any appies I had last year, but the sushi and chicken-on-a-skewer were notably below-par. I should probably do a food guide for film parties: what to eat, what to avoid, and where to stick your skewer when you're done with them. Oh: and how to get out of a conversation by faking a cell phone conversation about Mennonites. Yes, I did.

Came home and watched The Devil's Backbone. That is some tight, muscular fright-work, my friends.

Attack of the Spockbat!

Few were more feared than Batman's great nemesis, his opposite number, the dreaded Manbat. In like kind, a similar terror threatens the night in the Batspock universe: the horrifying Spockbat!

The Extreme Steve Art Department (The X-SAD) has once again done a quick mockup of the Spockbat concept to show to investors:

December 11, 2006

Understanding comics

Tonight after many months of outlining characters, redrafting arc maps, and laying out plot points, Chad and I finally got to start drafting the first issue of Terra. It was bloody brilliant. We did a deep outline of issue #1, blocking out by page where each of the beats would occur in the issue. We ended up with 21 pages instead of 22 - oops - but still it was pretty goddamned energizing to see the work we'd done thus far actually come out into a workable storyline that fit the proscribed time and length requirements. And it was fun. At one point I actually did the cliché writer thing where I was lying on the couch, and then suddenly what I had to describe couldn't be described adequately enough in words, so I jumped off the couch and ran around the room ACTING BEATS OUT WITH MY HANDS and jumping back and forth like two different people talking to each other.

Overheard at the writing table this evening:

Chad: "How's the ship gonna fly without a windshield? Do they have a metal thing?"
Me: "Metal thing!"

Me: "We need another ship."
Chad: "Or a... cannon."

It's funny, it was only on the way home from work today when I started reading a Runaways script (the first time I've read a comic script since I decided I wanted to write a comic) that I actually started getting very nervous about this prospect of writing comics. It just stunned me how much was not on the page. Getting a comic to come out looking the way you want it must be like trying to jump backwards onto a moving skateboard while blindfolded. I'm the guy who is flowery and over-precise in his screenplays so I suppose that will translate into comics but still there is so much about this book that is up to an artist we haven't even started to look for yet. Scary shit.

Not as scary as The Butch coming through a shuttlecraft windshield in a quarter-tonne power suit, though, so I'll leave it at that.

Batspock Begins!

A colleague and I were discussing the upcoming Trek prequel movie today and I said "It's gonna be like Batspock Begins." And now that is a concept, my friends! Not the Begins part, but Batspock!!! I think Spock would make an excellent Batman. I have done this mockup to help sell the idea to studios:

As you can tell, the mockup was done by the Extreme Steve art department. But I think it gets the point across. Whaddaya say, internet? Letter-writing campaign?

December 10, 2006

42 hours

Give it up for the writers at Empire magazine - to prepare to write their feature on Casino Royale, they watched all 20 (at that point) James Bond movies back-to-back. It took forty-two hours. They started at noon on a Saturday and got done at around 6:30 in the morning on Monday. That sort of bravado makes our impending Lord of the Rings marathon look like watching a couple episodes of Seinfeld and an Aqua Teen.

Among their on-the-fly quibbles: taking the piss out of On Her Majesty's Secret Service (fie!), giving the ups to Roger Moore's first three films (rah!), finding it almost impossible to deal with Brosnan after 36 hours of the other guys (hep!), and guiltily determining that Dalton was probably the best of the lot (which I might have agreed with once, before Craig hit the scene). Oh: and that eating KFC in the midst of a 42-hour movie marathon is bad. Which I coulda told you.

The Empire issue in question, by the way, is really terrific. I still have a Tribute magazine from way the hell back in the day when Living Daylights was being launched, and picking up something with Craig on the cover sort of brought things full circle... but finding it to be an actually well-written movie magazine ([cough] Premiere! [cough]) was a damn treat and a martini.

And as always, have fun watching!

Did an episode of The Simpsons just present the most positive depiction of human sexuality in the history of American television? And then define "faggot" as dictionary text on screen?

Sunday, bloody Sunday

Well, the cat is officially out of the bag: in addition to all the other things I will be stopping doing at the end of this year, I am also retiring from the moviesTO podcast. This was a really difficult decision for me because obviously, the podcast has a very wide reach and can be a lot of fun to do, and people speak highly of it. But looking forward to 2007, it was very clear to me by October of this year that my heart was no longer going to be into the ongoing coverage. So I figured that it was time to quit while I was ahead and divert even more of my suddenly-freed-up time to the more significant strategic imperatives on my plate for the new year. And as soon as I'd made that call, I felt a lot better about things. So I think this is a step in the right direction.

The good news is that if you want to be blogTO's fabulous new movie podcaster, they are accepting demos from any Toronto resident looking to fill the gig. So if you're one of the hundreds of Tederick.commies who sit comfortably back in your easy chairs thinking to yourself, "I could replace Matt Brown in a cold heartbeat," this is your moment! Send Tim a demo and we'll see where it goes.

OK, with that out of the way, moviesTO #57 is up and running right here, covering the suicide documentary The Bridge at some length, and also sending out the call for my replacement. (The musical pun at the tail end of the show, re: the upcoming retirement, was entirely unintentional, but as soon as I realized what had happened I left it in place out of sheer delight.)

And to Bridge it up morelikes, my review of the film has also been posted:

The filmmakers' hearts, at least, seem to be in the right place. They spent a year photographing the Golden Gate Bridge, waiting for a few of the 40-some individuals who would end their lives by leaping from the world-famous structure in 2004. They settled on 7 such people, and used the footage of their suicides as the - ahem - jumping-off point for an exploration of not only their lives, but of suicide as a whole and of the Golden Gate's unique pull on the victims. This, my friends, is what we call high-stakes poker.

Click here to read the review.

Not with the power of Christ on my side, sir!

Yesterhoo, myself and The Christopher decked 3QF with the holiday Christ tree. The process took us from 11:30 in the a.m. until about 6:00 at night. It necessitated three separate trips out of the house. It involved the purchase of a hand saw so enormous, it could easily be used to decapitate a furry animal or brace a falling air conditioner. But in the end, it's a pretty tight looking Christmas tree if I do say so myself, sir. These halls are decked, son. Decked hard.

I also made a vat of the proverbial Christ Nog. I have got to remember to start cutting this recipe in half. It yields about three fucking litres of the stuff. And every single year I make it exactly the same and then spend half an hour picking through the recycling bin for bottles I can put it in. Boy that sounded appetizing didn't it? But I assure you: my nog kicks hard nog ass. And given that 3QF is prodigiously swimming in rum these days anyway, I couldn't resist the opportunity to get my rum and brandy on. Wait a minute: 3QF is actually swimming with rum and Brandy, too, now that you think about it. So nog is the perfect drink.

Few things more enjoyable than waking up on a lovely Sunday morning and continuing my slog through the Superman DVDs. I am now of the opinion that I would find anything compelling if it was accompanied by the Superman March. I am fairly certain you could play the Superman March under scenes from Dracula: Faggoty Dancer From Beyond the Moon and I would enjoy myself thoroughly. Or porn. You could put it under porn and, I guarantee, the sequences would attain a magesty and dynamism as yet unseen in all pornography. The Superman March, sirs. That is where it is at.

December 8, 2006

But what would you do with a longsword?

The five-minute video of Keira Knightley rehearsing her swordfights for Pirates of the Caribbean 2 in the supplemental features of the DVD is better than any porn I've ever seen.

Personal grooming

Britney Spears' vagina has been all over the news in the past few weeks, which is interesting not just because a little upskirt action is always entertaining, but also because we at Tederick.com continue to posit that Spears is, in fact, Satan - and how gifted are we to now be able to say that we have seen the cooch of the Morningstar? There is a going theory now that the bare-fanny (british usage) look is an "initiation" process for people who want to be cool enough to hang out with Paris Hilton (who pioneered the look among the dimwitted celebrity elite in a Vagina Friday earlier this year), and that Lindsay Lohan is doing it too.

But what I wanted to post was this interview with Paris Hilton's bikini waxer, whose comments do nothing less than stun the human mind into amazement. This is a woman who, to deal with the fact that she makes her living ripping the pubic hair off Paris Hilton's vagina, has determined that the major upside to going the full baldy on the vag is that if you accidentally flash your business, there is no need for embarassment "because the area is groomed." Funny: I thought the cause for embarassment was the fact that these women are fucking morons, not the amount of fur on their front-bums!

Blood and music stands

Blood just fascinates me. I did a number on my finger about a half an hour ago doing the dishes, when one of them broke in my hands and took a fairly significant gulp of my right index knuckle, and I watched the blood go for a few minutes... and then I busted out the camera and started taking pictures. (See below.) Anyways it's ironic that my mousing finger should come to grief while I'm attempting to finish the long-procrastinated fine cut of Standoff, but that is indeed what happened. I have bandaged things up as best I can and am pressing onwards - it's very close now, I am just doing a final pass to clean up a few cuts that aren't quite as smooth as I wanted them to be... but the flick should be picture locked this afternoon which means I can move on to colour grading and sound design... which at the rate I've been going oughta take me another half a year, but I'm committed to getting this done by Christmas so I guess I'll have to ramp up the production speed a bit. Was that sentence just really long and meandering? How many times have I used "just" in this paragraph? Boy - how much blood did I lose here? Woooo.... zee.

Off to buy Spider-man bandaids and polysporin. I'll put the bloody picture after the jump (never used the jump before!) because it's sort of like Tederick.com: The Horror Movie and you shouldn't have to watch it if you don't want to. Like The Passion of the Tederick.com. And seeing the snap right at the top of the page would send my mother into paroxysms of grief and make my father pass out, so best that they not see it when they come here looking for Benedict reviews.

No I do not need stitches. So shut up.

Oh, and yes: I gotta ease into that shit. But folks, if you ease into it, it's done.

Mamo #67: It's beginning to look a lot like Jesus

Better late than Mamo, as I always say. This is the Jesus show, recorded live after watching the Jesus movie. Jescelsior!

Click here to download the podcast.

December 7, 2006

Old magic

When I was a kid I had a magic box. It looked like this. I never sold lemonade but on a couple of occasions I held impromptu magic shows on the front lawn at my parents' house armed only with the magic kit, a fridge box for a backstage, and a "crystal ball" that my father must have rescued from the rafters of the briniest dive of a tavern in all of New England.

I had completely forgotten about this thing. It was long since gone, scarred over in my memory and indistinguishable from all the other parts around it. It was reading Kavalier & Clay last month that finally brought that tiny shard loose of the tissue. Old memories tend to carry dust and spores, like the vaguest memory of what it was like to be that kid back then that would do that sort of thing. I notice that it's getting harder and harder to draw a straight line back through all of the things that have happened and arrive two decades prior at that kid and the way he looked at things and the world. I can get a sad-on pretty quickly these days just by thinking about the vast distances, the ages of time in which so many things have happened.

On Saturday Chris and I (still somewhat good Protestant boys deep down inside) will go get a Christmas tree for 3QF and make with the merry, but for the first time in my life I've ducked out of decking the halls at my parents' place, because it's just getting too hard for me to still be seated so squarely in the "kid" generation of my aging family. In any sane or rational version of the universe my parents, aunts, and uncles would have grandchildren to frame Christmas around, not a generation of twentysomething (and now thirtysomething) loners and misfits playing the same holiday routine we've been running since we were babies. It's not fair to anyone. Christmas is an increasingly dangerous time for me, not so much in the usual loneliness and depression factors that you read about in the papers, but because it makes me feel so incredibly delinquent. I want my own part of the tradition, now. My own closet in the back of the house where the presents are hidden which will blow the doors off the whole "Santa Claus" thing when the kids break in there and run amuck. My own misbegotten attempts to turn the tree outside into a beacon of Noma lights that can be seen with the naked eye by men standing on the Moon. My own sounds of the house at night after the kids have gone to bed but are still waiting up, genuinely listening to the blackness for the sounds of fat men traipsing on rooftops. Instead, I have this: these last few years and certainly the next several, a shallow, shadowy no-man's-land. I go to bed listening only to the sound of the world, and troubled by thick, uncomfortable thoughts.

Do not trouble me with Faramir; I know his uses and they are few.

Two toys posts in one day, but there you have it. Faramir pre-order goes up tomorrow. Looks like there's a much larger potential for variance between the proto and the final on this one but I guess I'm taking my chances. Not sure when I got it in my head that I wanted a Boromir and a Faramir to look all rangerly and fabulous on my desk, but there'll be no shying away from the goal in the eleventh hour from me, no sir.

Rebel Doorman

This is what the toymaking empire has come to once every other character has been done multiple times: a pitch-perfect replica of the guys standing by the doors in the last scene of Star Wars. I shall buy two for every door in my house.

Yeah Buffy. What are we gonna do now?

It's of interest to me, whether Buffy fans will read the Buffy comic book "Season 8" that is now being crafted. It's as canon as you can get, yet it's a jump to a completely different medium that only some of the existing Buffy fans have experience with. And yet... it is canon. It is the actual story of what actually happened after the show actually ended. Some of the Buffy die-hards I've mentioned it to, having never read a comic in their lives, are already asking me to buy them copies of the first issue when it arrives. Others are giving it the big fat meh. Whose side are you on??

(Rhetorical question; comments still broken.)

Meanwhile, here's a fairly definitive Joss interview about the comic among other things. 20-30 issues... that's a goddamn long run of a comic book and no, Joss will never live down the year between Frays 6 and 7. But an actual story with actual Buffy writers and from the sound of it, actual stakes (what is that bastard gonna do to Dawnie?!)... it's in many, many ways like the answer to a dream.

Why? I'll tell you why: because he's the motherfucking BUGMASTER, that's why.

For god's sake, man, get me an easement!

December 6, 2006

Everything I've just said is a lie. Except the part about the rum.

I've just consumed rather a lot of rum, while watching the Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I quite like the film. This was the first time I had opportunity to simply watch the thing, not as a sequel to the other Pirates of the Caribbean movie but as a movie unto itself. Smashing. I am also now called upon to recall something Bex said about me at the pirate party: "You stayed in character until about 2:00 in the morning. It was really fairly impressive." I agree: it really was. That is not related to the film itself but rather to the pirates, the Caribbean, and also the rum. Smashing.

Runaways Vol. 2 came out today in hardcover so I purchased it. I also purchased the first issue of Spider-Man: Reign, which is essentially an attempt to do Dark Knight Returns with Spider-Man. Which is lame. But also so cool!! And surprisingly involving from a reading standpoint. Looking forward to seeing more.

I am on a mini-vacation for the next few days. I spent most of today banging away at the keyboard at the Starbucks at Spadina and Richmond, working on Terra. I consumed many coffees and free hot chocolates. Mmmm free hot chocolate. Like non-alcoholic rum.

Off to a rollicking start here, enjoying myself immensely, love to the wife, ta.

EXTREME STEVE NEVER DIES

December 4, 2006

The first time I smoked guess what? Paranoid.

Now we enter the dog days, the hog days of the blog days, the days that separate the men from the boys and the boys from the men who ruin surprise birthday parties. Having failed to inter the proper instructions for Josh/Mark's surprise birthday party yesterday, I showed up at Josh's house twenty minutes early and rang the front door bell. Josh answered. I could see Mel over his shoulder. I have never seen two people so shocked, for such completely different reasons, in all ma puff. I am the Destroyer of Worlds.

Foggier, yet, and colder! Colder anyway, it's damn well biteable out there. You can actually put your teeth around it and break off metallic chunks. In recompense (though unrelatedly) I have received many man-hugs. Man-hugs, though well meaning, are gross. I don't know how women stand them. This is not some long-buried homophobia; it's just that when you hug a man it's like hugging a brick wall. Does hugging a brick wall sound cozy to you? No.

Hugging a woman, on the other hand, is like anything else involving a woman: goddamn sensational!

When I arrived at the Paramount yesterday to see Whale Rider give birth to the son of God, there were a couple of people outside smoking up. On the whole I'm glad I didn't see The Nativity Story stoned, although it seemed like it might have been a really good idea at the time. But no, there was an actual minister in the audience. And people crying. It wouldn't have been right.

Review of Nativity Story here. This is as good a time as any to announce what's coming up: at the end of this year, I will stop regularly reviewing films on Tederick.com. I will continue to review sporadically. I would have reviewed this flick regardless, for example, because I unexpectedly enjoyed it; and I will review things like Pirates of the Caribbean because they're Pirates of the Caribbean. But five years ago I set myself a task of reviewing every film I see on the big screen, without fail, and just recently I realized that that goal no longer aligns with any of my strategic imperatives. So the film criticism is but one thing among many that will be left behind for the time being.

I love that phrase. "The time being."

The time was being fast over the past few days. I took some leisurely Superman time on Saturday, but Sunday was Whale Rider and surprise party ruination and Mamo and moviesTO and the Silver Snail and D-Cocker Spaniel's movie and the cold, and today was the beginning of my first truly monumental task at work, and a commensurate increase in my at-work stress level (though in a good, motivating way). I am becoming increasingly deft at resource allocation, both personally and professionally, and resources in terms of time, energy, emotion, commitment, and actual labour. I laid out a rather delightful workback schedule today, and realized that the Gospel of Luke applies: "Not unless you can alter time, speed up the harvest, or teleport me off this rock." And that about brings us to now.

More sometime.

moviesTO #56: It's beginning to look a lot like...

You know it's the holiday season when DVD stores abound with sugar plum fairies, and Whale Rider gives birth to the son of God. Make with the Festivous, it's moviesTO!

Click here to download the podcast.

December 2, 2006

This goes for everybody: the story isn't the blackout! It's Superman!

Writing the Tn'O sex-toys-for-Christmas post today did two things: 1) it made me want to own pretty much everything on that list. (How have I not bought an iBuzz yet?) and 2) it made me figure it was time to get my DVD wishlist sorted for Christmas. So that's done. I ended up deleting pretty much 70% of the list. So at this point if something's on there it's because I genuinely want it, not because I think it might be nice to have. This applies to everything from the "Needs" down to the "Vague Interests." In the case of the latter, the interest may be vague, but it remains interest.

You may view my DVD wishlist by clicking here and then clicking "wishlist" at the top of the page. It's really quite the work of art, I urge you to go look even if you have no intention of ever buying me any kind of present.

The roomies are sick of hearing about Superman. But it is so about Superman right now, team.

Things I am sick of:

  • Scott on Fanboy radio, the single least listenable human on the planet Earth
  • The "mythology" storylines on Ugly Betty, involving a creepy old CEO, a woman in a mask, and horrifically bad dialogue (all of which take time away from Betty, Marc, and Amanda)
  • Film critics who start their reviews by complaining about the corporate decisions of the studio (yes, I am guilty of this... so I shall retire!)
  • Movies being released in both Blu-Ray and HD-DVD. It's a format war, people. Cap didn't get where he is today by sitting on the fence.
  • People bitching about Kate Bosworth. She is fundamentally fucking integral. You have no idea how much she's doing for that picture at every single moment. Bastards!

Is this the most blog-y (in a bad way) blog post ever? Have I just a) linked to a sex toy wish list, b) commanded my legions to buy me presents, c) whined about my roommates, and d) rattled off a list of current pop cultural pet peeves? Could I be any more of a cybercliché? FUCK NOW I'M CONJUGATING WORDS WITH THE PREFIX "CYBER!" I'm outta here, internet, I'm gone.

Holy moly I'm in a movie! Which isn't too unusual now that I think about it.

This is what I get for not reading my own press clippings: the folks over at Bookshorts made a little video about the One Minute Film Festival screening, and have posted it to the world wide interweb. Some good interview footage of me and The Dault, and a couple clips of the monologue. Too bad it's so long, they coulda slung it into next year's festival.

Shock of white!

I love that moment when you open the curtains and there's snow everywhere!

A new Superman movie

Mmmm. Bed blogging.

Last night I watched the real gemstone of the Superman boxed set, the "Richard Donner cut" of Superman II. This was significant for all the obvious fan reasons of wanting to see that original cut of the film that was taken away from its director, but even more significant because I simply haven't seen Superman II at all since I was at least five, and given that so much of this cut is entirely new footage anyway, the result was sublime: I watched a new Superman movie starring Christopher Reeve. I didn't put two and two together on that until the movie was rolling and didn't really notice it until I realized that I was basically as excited as a little kid. I was making sound effects during fight scenes, I was booing bad guys, I was saying "wuh-oh" to major plot points.

We bandy this idea around a lot but it bears saying: Superman II made me feel like a kid again.

It's a hell of a flick, too, pretty stupid sometimes (but then so was Superman I) but still strikingly dramatic given the inherent limitations of this reconstructed cut. It is narratively and tonally the proper successor to Superman I; it is also narratively and tonally the proper precursor to Superman Returns. (Anyone surprised by Returns' darker, dreamier style needs to see the last act of this cut of Superman II.) In fact at this point I'd say the proper way to wend one's track through the 14-disk boxed set is to watch Superman I (I watched the theatrical cut, although I suppose it doesn't really matter), then the Donner cut of Superman II, and then Superman Returns, and treat everything else as support material - including Supermans III and IV. There's a stirring narrative line buried in these fourteen disks that took almost thirty years to complete, but it's finally visible where before there was only rock. Once again I say: praise DVD, for it is the archaeological wing of Film University.

December 1, 2006

Black-u-weather report

It has been a rich, solid week and a rich, solid day today and I have many things of a profound nature to blog about, but instead I shall write about DVDs and toys.

Today I bought the Six Feet Under complete series boxed set for $250. I did this already owning the complete series on DVD. I did it because the package is fuzzy and because my Season Two is fucked up anyway and because I can sell the others for good money and because ... uh ... fuck you I wanted it!! But the wild thing is that having bought my 500th DVD on Tuesday, I am back down to 493 today. So maybe there's hope for that DVD poll after all.

By the way, if you bought the Superman boxed set (14-disk, 4-disk, or however many disks are in the Christopher Reeve collection) you should be aware of this issue with the theatrical cut of Superman I and also the Superman III DVD. I called Warner Home Video today about getting the replacement disks and yes, they are shipping to Canada, so get your calls in soon to ensure that your replacements arrive before the new year.

I was initially going to object to the term "action figures" when applied to McFarlane's line of Lost toys, because when I popped Kate out of the package on Wednesday the first thing I noticed was that she is in fact a plastic statue. A plastic statue that comes with the single hardest-to-assemble display base in the long history of my toybuying. But then tonight I picked up Jack, and he wasn't out of the package five minutes before I had his semi-articulated right hand doing a doctorly mambo down Kate's nethers while his sculpted nose found the sweet spot between her plastic boobs. So I guess they are action figures after all. I am enjoying them quite a bit more than I thought I would after a long week. And it's nice to have a Kate that I can stick in the microwave if she fucks with me.

It's a fucking gale force wind outside! I've had a good day, I am reading a good book, I have watched a good movie and eaten a good pizza, and have a good feeling about a good week ahead. So all signs currently point to Milhouse.

IT'S RAININ' SIDEWAYS!!

Thanks, Ollie.