Tederick.com: January 2009 Archives
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January 30, 2009

I want a Daniel Farraday action figure.

The accessory would be awesomeness.

Yeah I'd say that was the best episode in north of a year. I'll tell ya one thing: that director (Rod Holcomb) sure shot the hell out of that show. Do you figure he got the script and thought to himself, "what can I do to make the island- which we've seen in every episode for five years - look completely different?" Cuz however he conceived it, it paid.

Today I wear the pirate heart. Because I'm in love. (Not with anything Lost-related. Just in general.)

January 29, 2009

And so, by their own hand, they obliterated their medium.

Print, as of this writing, remains dead.

January 28, 2009

Why can't the TTC just admit they have a problem?

Some days are Jack Daniels days, and Jack Daniels (generally speaking) is little more than sour mash by way of shite. Today the Teet got one over on me again; what I cannot understand is

  1. why they refuse to admit when the system has broken down, and
  2. why (if the system breaks down every 2 days like clockwork for the entirety of December-March) they don't have a series of processes and procedures in place yet.

Every single time is like it's the first time it's ever happened; pandaemonium reigns in the streets. Nobody knows the answers, information is unavailable, phone calls have to be made. Guys - the system breaks every 48 hours. WRITE A MANUAL ABOUT IT OR SOMETHING.

While entombed in the rolling ball of vomit that is a TTC shuttle bus in winter (all windows fogged to utter opacity as it dips, weaves, and spirals through rush-hour traffic), I read this article about research into female desire being conducted at Queen's University; many comments about Queen's relationship to sexual research have been made on Facebook already, so I shall not add to the pile. I will, however, say that when leafing through the digest-sized bits of information that is the New York Times mobile site (i.e. what you're reading when you're reading it on your BlackBerry), I considered what the digest-sized information squirt of a typical tederick.com entry would be. I think it would go like:

  • TTC complaint
  • Sex article and/or concern about the end of the world (could be shortened to: sex and/or death)
  • Comics discussion and/or Lost theory
  • Comment on weather and its relationship to mood.

Alternate with occasional film reviews, Mamo! postings, and pithy rejoinders about cyberspace anomalies, Batman, or work stress, and you've covered the gamut.

Today I started my 200th journal. The very first one, I believe, was started in the summer of 1989 when I was 12 going on 13 years old. As I recall, it concerned my thoughts about my family, some information about Woogie and G.I.Joe, and some Andrian Mole-esque commentary on my progress through puberty. So, as you can see, little has changed.

January 26, 2009

Let me take you down, cuz I'm going

Laserdisc is eulogized here. Funnily enough, I read that line in the last paragraph as "I'll always associate you with evenings of passionate love-making," and my brain didn't even flag it; of course laserdisc and great sex were related. I have no idea how: I was ten. But then, I didn't understand the sex in A View to a Kill, either. I just knew that it was important. When I was a fledgling(er) cinephile, I heard rumour of things like the Blade Runner director's cut or the three-disk Frighteners special edition; I had no means to ever see or encounter them, but I knew they were important, too. Porting all that shit to a DVD seems cheaper somehow. Laserdiscs are buried in the collective unconscious.

For Christmas I got Acme Novelty Library #19 from my mom; that is an utterly outstanding piece of art. The entirety of it can be read in a single day, and yet it wrecked me six or seven times. I want to read it all over again right now, and maybe make a movie of it, and maybe read it to my kids. Big, sad, and scary. How do people do that? Fuck, he marveled.

I owe about four emails back, though in the wake of last week's computer failure I am even more solidly committed to letting email go, altogether. People keep pinging me on BlackBerry messenger; I'm more certain than ever that there are more than enough ways to become instantly in contact with me, thank you, and the world needs no more. Solitude, clear-mindedness, the ability to think for eight seconds. These are the commodities now, though we're selling everything else instead.

Winter, man: it works its ass off to getcha. Something as simple as forgetting my security pass came close to unseating my entire day. Mindfulness, though; concentration; and don't let the door catch you on the way out.

January 25, 2009

If you were a castle, I'd be your moat, and if you were an ocean, I'd learn to float.

Folks, last week was crappy. Between my work computer self-destructing and me getting sick, I basically lost a whole week. An entire five-day span slipped into utter nothingness, as though it had never been. That's a surprisingly disconcerting feeling. But it's over and done now, and one trip to the Central with Sarafina later, I am aces. What a difference a date makes.

Yesterday I sat in on Demetre's casting session. I enjoyed myself thoroughly, but casting is a damn strange business. It's nice to sort of get to toe-test the filmmaking universe a bit without actually having to commit to spending every second of my day and night worrying about a project that's going off a week from now, but sitting in a casting room you become very uncomfortably aware of why the world is the way it is. You actually can't just go by objective performance merits; you have to consider whether the girl's boobs are too big, or whether your lead character can be ethnic, or whether the gay guy comes off too gay. You become so instantaneously hyper-aware of every goddamned cliché, stereotype, and unwanted subtext that could possibly flood its way into your picture just by picking any one person who is not statistically identical to you (6 feet tall, male, 32, white). It's amazing anything interesting ever gets made at all.

Nerd alert: toys for new Star Trek movie to be in same scale as Star Wars figures, plan your fights accordingly. (Captain Christopher Pike vs. J'Quille the Wiphid, FTW.)

Nerd alert 2: I am sick beyond words of hearing about Dollhouse. I feel like I've been hearing about this crappy show with no definable premise for half my fucking life. Just get it on the air so you can cancel it already, Fox! It's Joss Whedon's, which makes it an obligation, but also means it will be canceled by its second act break (having been moved to a different timeslot during its first). Get 'er done.

A big fancy feast (and further fondue frip-frappery) this afternoon, a lovely end to a week (or start to a next), and now having felt like I've not had ten minutes to myself for 72 straight hours, perhaps a bit of couch, perhaps a MacCutcheon, perhaps some television like regular people.

Lord of the Da Vinci Code

Mama Farraday was using the Foucault's Pendulum (and her computer) to determine escape vectors from whatever space-and-time conduit whamma jamma a) deposited Ben and the polar bear in the Tunisian desert, and b) can therefore jump the O-6 back to Lost Island in exactly 70 hours?

Is this season('s 2007 storyline) going to take place over just the 70 hours it will take to get the O-6 to that church standing on that very spot, before blinking them back to the island and into next season? Lost does 24?

(This kind of episode-by-episode spitballing is annoying, but right now I just gotta get it out of my system.)

"Oh I think choo-choo knows better than that. He goes into that tunnel, he's never coming back out." - Kate

January 24, 2009

Your (belated) Lost discussion entry

Now that I've finally seen the two-part season opener, it's time to download my personal state-of-the-nation on the what-the-fuck-fest. And just to not be a dick about it, I'll even do it after the jump.

The ballpark overall: First hour quite asorbing; was fairly weak on the second hour (the Hurley episode).

The storytelling: At some point over the summer, someone mentioned that a benefit of the hinge-point in the series where the writers found out how many seasons they had left was, "no more episodes about how Jack got his tattoo." With an end clearly in site, season 4 (and now season 5) are straight and to the point in a way that the more meander-y seasons 1, 2 and 3 could never be, back when the writers might have had to tease out the storyline for a decade for all they knew. Now that the end is defined, the meandering has stopped. (We're never gonna see more of how and why Kate was married to Captain Malcolm Reynolds, for example.) And at the kickstart of season five, the storytelling is moving so rapidly that it's actually a bit overwhelming on first pass. (The time-jumping aspect of the tale doesn't do this phenomenon any favours.) I don't mind - I can handle the speed - but the fact that we'll likely never again see a single stand-alone character-based episode, like the first Desmond time-jump one (and the one with Jack's tattoo), is a bit sad. Additionally, I must say that from a dramatic structure perspective, that first hour is about the weirdest episode of television I've ever seen. Again, perhaps this befits the time-jumping milieu, but look at that episode: what is the beginning? What is the middle? What is the end? It's utterly directionless and doesn't focus on a single character. Frickin' weird.

The answer: I remain strongly aboard the Jack-is-Jacob train, which I think I first started seriously considering at the tail end of season three. It comes out of wondering: what is the logical end point to this story? If the question posed in the pilot ("Guys: where are we?") formed the basis of the show, I do not believe its answer ("The island is ______") forms the end; rather, the end will be about the characters' final destinations. Given that they've shot the Jack/Kate wad in season 4, it's unlikely those two "end up together," which means Jack has a higher heroic purpose, some form of transcendence, which could mean he is the island, somehow. Now that the island is unstuck in time and all manner of relative time periods seem slippy, the idea that way-in-the-future Jack is living in a cabin in the woods makes even more sense than it made 2 seasons ago.

That said: Somewhat disconcerted by the degree to which Jack hasn't been spotlit, at all, in these first two hours. He's playing side-man to Ben, and even Ben is barely in the thing. Where's the Jack episode?

New question, sorta unimportant: Hope my inner bigot ain't showing, but is psychic asswipe Miles Straume the son of Dr. Candle/Wickmund/Halliwax/Chang (i.e. he's the baby we see the Dharma orientation tape guy cradling at the beginning of the first episode)? And while we're on the subject, when are we going to find out how Charlotte Staples Lewis had been to Narnia before?

Strands that still don't fit any of my schemes: The walking dead, the Walt equation, and the nature of Old Smokey.

Sawyer, put on a shirt: Seriously. It takes a whole episode?

This year's killstroke: Because they apparently needed to out-Sayid the season-three finale where Sayid killed a dude with his feet, this time we have Sayid killing a dude with an open dishwasher. Nearly displaces Jin vs. Mikhail as best fight on the series thus far.

Keamy unstuck: All this talk about "the rules" of time travel, and Desmond's apparent invulnerability to them, makes me wonder if Mr. Keamy (scary military guy from last season) was another time-variable player like Desmond, thus giving him the ability to "change the rules" and kill Alex. If that's the case, has Ben been through this timeline already?

Michael unstuck: Same question, different shape: does Michael's inability to kill himself mean that he, too, was subject to some "rules" of the timeline which dictated where and when he was going to die? Has he been through this before, too, always ending up on that freighter taking a hundred pounds of dynamite in the face?

Island unstuck: If the island has only just now become unstuck in time, what was its previous temporal phenomenon (that caused Farraday's rocket to arrive an hour after it was fired)? If it was always unstuck in time (which made sense to me before this week), what changed when Ben spun the wheel? If the people are unstuck in time (but not the island), how did the island disappear, and why are only our people unstuck (but not the Others)? How does all this relate to Ben, and Charlotte's polar bear, being beamed across the planet to wake up in Tunisia? And since it's now relatively obvious that somehow, John will come back from the dead... well, how? And what does that mean?

Mama Farraday: Saw that coming and love it to bits, but what's with the Lord of the Rings meets Da Vinci Code garb/venue/vibe?

Two words: Monkey. Foot.

January 22, 2009

Well this more than makes up for it.

George Clooney is going back to the E.R.

The Mark Greene flashback-but-everyone's-fatter episode was so hackneyed I couldn't help but love it, and now I'm throwing down and calling for a full-on Abramstrek reboot of E.R. Come on - none of the originals are on the show any more, and that, uh, sucks. Boot it back, oldschool! Have the rest of this "final" season take place in 1994, when we still cared about this shit! Have other notables from the television landscape of that era (Sipowicz, Mulder, funny Homer Simpson) show up too! Why not? You telling me Joey Tribiani wouldn't make a hilarious E.R. patient? That a surgery scene could not be improved with the liberal addition of a little Kramer? Hell, bring those bastards from Chicago Hope aboard, too! We need doctors! Address Ally McBeal's anorexia in a 2-part "very special Blossom"... or Felicity! And while we're at it, let's have Ewan McGregor do his entire guest-spot over again. Put Carol back in that convenience store with a gun to her head, have Chloe running around crazy, George Clooney can save that kid from the drainpipe exactly like he did it before. Give an episode to Quentin Tarantino, and another one to explain just what the fuck happened to Dr. Div Cvetic. (He ended up on the Lost island, obviously.) I WANT IT ALL. Give it to me.

Whoa. These meds are fucking me up.

January 21, 2009

GOD. DAMN. IT.

THEY MOVED LOST OFF CTV AND IT'S ON SOMETHING CALLED CTV A AND WHAT THE FUCK IS CTV A AND NOW I CAN'T WATCH IT ANY MORE AND I HAVE TO DOWNLOAD IT AND WAIT TILL IT'S DONE AND EVERYBODY'S GONNA HAVE SEEN IT BEFORE ME AND WHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Boy the best day ever turned into the worst day ever in a hurry, huh?

Well anyways. I was sick today. I lay in couch-bed and watched movies. I watched Madadayo, Man with a Movie Camera, and Une Vieille Maitresse. All foreign films. This forced me to keep my eyes open and not get lazy. And I was quite pleased to enjoy Maitresse just as much as I did at TIFF last year, for sometimes your festival experience can fool you. It really is quite good. I'd recommend it to anyone (who would enjoy startling sex scenes and an enormous amount of drawing-room conversation en français).

I read Dark Avengers #1 today, and I'll say this for Bendis (in addition to all the other Bendis-suck I regularly perform): man knows how to write the first issue of a new Avengers book. Every single time he has to do a "let's put together the team" issue (which, by my count, he has now down forty-six zillion times), he not only gets the pomp and circumstance all juicy and nice, but he somehow manages to trick the shit on its way out. Like how all but two of the people on page 4-5 of that issue aren't who you think they are. That's dark.

(I assume this means, btw, that Mighty Avengers is kaput. I mean I know Dan Slott's writing it now, but based on the New Avengers vs. Dark Avengers fold-out poster that my comic book guy put in the bag for me, it doesn't sound like the M.A.'s gonna be terribly relevant in the coming months.)

Anyone who spoils anything from tonight's episode of Lost, before I get to watch it, will be shot. On the spot. Actually, I'll probably just stop answering the phone and checking Facebook or engaging with the world in any way until I know what the funk went down. (It was rather adorable, today, watching over half the Facebook statuses become Lost-related before the end of the day.)

CTV A. Ugh. CTV A, I ask you.

This year's Sayid

Who will be this year's Sayid?

The first season's Sayid was, obviously, Sayid.

Season two's Sayid: was Mr. Eko.

Season three saw the advance of Desmond as that year's Sayid.

Last year, clearly, the most excellent Dr. Daniel Farraday was the Sayid.

This year, to the best of my knowledge, there will be no tailies, no hatchies, no new others, and no freighter folk. What new population of people will supply this year's Sayid?

My guess for this year's Sayid: Guyliner.

Wheeeeee!


Because the island moves backwards and forwards in time, you can already order Season Five of Lost on Blu-ray. Shipping date TBD.

January 20, 2009

BREAKING NEWS: BURRITO BOYZ NORTH NOW CALLED "BURRITO BANDIDOS"

More information available: here

Well, my cold has gotten the better of me. I'm in bed watching Wrath of Khan. My wonderful special perfect girlfriend brought me a burrito. My life is literally perfect.

Good speech.

Complete text.

Study questions:

  • Which key crises does Obama target in his initial words, and which does he omit?
  • Does Obama quote scripture as a believer, or is his quote a concession?
  • What does Obama consider science's "rightful place?"
  • In which direction will Obama balance the choice between "safety and ideals"?
  • Does Obama widen the space for non-belief in the moral majority of American thought by including it among the names of major religions?
  • Do the speech's patriarchal overtones and omissions suggest direction for women's rights under his administration?
  • Does, and could, the speech live up to the expectation?

Negasonic Teenage Warhead

Superman IS Todd Ingram, and other casting news. Honestly since Zack & Miri, it's become clear to me that I'll pretty much sign up to see Brandon Routh do anything. Not because I'm necessarily onboard with him being a good actor, just because I seem to find him oddly mesmerizing. Unfortunately, the casting news for Pilgrim also puts a nail in the fact that Sarafina will not be playing Kim Pine (and will therefore not get to slap her sticks together and shout WE ARE SEX BOB-OMB!!) in the film. But that's okay, she's more my Ramona V. Flowers anyway.

I am sick today, and would like to go home. I tried to "feed a cold" by eating everything on all four buffet tables at the Mandarin last night, but it didn't work. Nonetheless I wouldn't trade these midwinter Mandarin trips for anything. They're having a dumpling festival right now! A festival! For dumplings! In the middle of winter when it's nasty out and the subway almost takes you right back home without even going outside! I got home, collapsed on the couch-bed, and fell asleep to the sounds of Superman and typing.

January 19, 2009

POTUS.

Take your ease, people of the earth. George W. Bush is no longer President of the United States. At least not in any significant way. (Which differs from the past 8 years... how?) Obamabia (I spelled that wrong but I kinda like it like this) reaches its zenitharack tomorrow, and then who knows what happens. At what point in the week do you reckon they take Barack in the back and tell him about the proof of the existence of extraterrestrials? Do they wait till Thursday, then take him on a tour of all the downed spacecraft and alien corpses? Or do they just show him Crystal Skull on the weekend, and when he looks over at them quizically, they nod and say "yeah"?

Weird that at some point in the last year, and in spite of its suckitude, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull became the definitive treatise in my mind on the American relationship with extraterrestrials. Huh.

EDGAR WRIGHT IS MAKING SCOTT PILGRIM IN TORONTO STARTING REALLY SOON! I know we knew that already, but with day-and-date pix of the director standing in our current blizzardscape, it became scarily present in my mind. I pretty much don't agree with any of the casting, at all. (Mary Elizabeth Winstead? What? The?) Though i can certainly see a Culkin as gay, slat-eyelidded roommate Wallace. The last few weeks, though, have made me realize that if they ever get off their ass and make a Runaways movie, I'll probably have to just leave the country.

So after 2 weeks of near-nonstop computer troubles, I arrived at work today (sick, sad, tired) and found that THE GODDAMN THING WOULDN'T EVEN TURN ON. I'm on a loaner right now while they re-install Windows. The loaner has all the functional capacity of a brick of soft cheese. I can read and reply to emails, maybe. If I try real hard.

I think the next time I am sick, sad and tired, I am gonna read the damn tea leaves and stay on my damn couch. Damn it.

January 18, 2009

Worth it

You gotta admire the fact that some cheeky bugger out there created a custom Nurse Joker outfit, packed it up with a TrueType body, and is selling it on Ebay, at Hot Toys prices no less. Never slow to catch a drift, Hot Toys themselves are now hinting that a third incarnation of their Joker series is on the way. Me, I'd just run down to the general store and buy an Art S. Buck, make/bash the costume from Barbie paraphernalia, and have the whole thing over and done with for about forty bucks. If I were so inclined.

(That's not the "worth it" of the title.)

What I really wanted to say vis à vis the long-awaited Joker is,

drooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooollllllllllllll.

Done now.

Walk like a dog for all crossings. Walk like a dog for all crossings.

I've said this before and I'll say it again, the only real problem I have with winter is the quantity and weight of the armour. I just walked from my place to Bay and Dundas and back, and I am frickin' wiped and my back hurts. Hey: while we're on the subject of stuff I've said before, the retail industry can/must self-destruct within the next decade. I can't remember the last time I went to a chain store to buy something, and actually found it on the shelves; nor can I remember the last time I walked into a chain store and didn't find them blowing out merchandise at bargain-basement prices to clear room that they can no longer afford to clog. The methodology of stocking and then selling items in a large-scale environment just doesn't make sense in the new economic landscape. (Nor does ordering everything online, unfortunately, due to environmental impacts.) I guess that means the real answer is: stop buying shit altogether. Which the econopocalypse will, of course, shortly make viable. Woot for our team!

The good news is, the rest of the world might be falling apart, but I can now command 80% predictability accuracy on the scramble crossing at Dundas Square.

I went to see The Fly last night, not the Jeff Goldblum one, the Vincent Price one, although Vincent Price is barely in it and certainly doesn't get turned into a giant fly which would be awesome. ([Vincent Price voice] I'mmmmm a giiiiiiiiiant flyyyyyyyyy!!![/Vincent Price voice]) Not to take anything away from the Jeff Goldblum one, but if they ever wanted to make another remake of that flick, they should try to adapt the original story - because it's crazy. The thing starts with a berserk Montrealer getting his wife to squash the parts of his body that have turned into fly, and then proceeds to observe Vincent Price wheedling the backstory out of the wife for about 20 minutes, at which point the entire picture goes into flashback for an hour where we learn the terrible tale of how the man knew that his telepods did whacky shit like reversing the writing on his "Made in Japan" dinner plates, but thought he'd give human teleportation a go anyway and turned into a table-thumping rum-sucking freak. (Now that, my friends, is a run-on sentence.) But I guess in 1958 (Back When We Weren't Jaded) if you were going to see a movie called The Fly, you really would wait through an entire movie for five minutes of a dude running around with a fly-head at the end of the picture. That was thrilling enough, and you left satisfied, because you a) believed the illusion, and b) had never seen anything so freaky in your damn life. If, on the other hand, a 1958 audience had to put up with Jeff Goldblum puke-aciding on Stathis Borens' foreleg, I think they'd all have six-month hairy conniptions and retire to bed without supper.

My lady love has been ill for the past few days so I have spent much of my time hanging out on her couch-bed watching Ugly Betty, or UgBet for short. We watched about half of the second season, enough time for me to go through the entire cycle of starting to wish I were gay and pretty, actually wishing I were gay and pretty, and then no longer really wanting to be gay or pretty but being happy just being me. As a series, UgBet is perfect for days like this, because it is attractive and undemanding and fun. (Like me!) But lord goodness gracious, I can't waits till Lost, and may order the shinybluthirdseason on teh intrawebs, just to be sated.

Round about when Harvey's got the gun to Gary Oldman's kid's head, it's time to go home.

January 15, 2009

Or whatever

Star Wars: retold by someone who hasn't seen it.

Ironically, very similar to how Sarafina describes my day job.

January 14, 2009

Final crisis

I can't believe the Prisoner, Khan, and Batman all died on the same day.

Saint Walker

Yup, today was one of those days where, when checking my BlackBerry on the way out the door, I thought I was looking at the wrong day's emails because no way could it possibly be Wednesday. It's Friday! Clearly it's Friday.

Is it Friday?

It's not, is it.

The nice thing about the blistering cold happening in Toronto right now is the sheer number of things I can achieve without ever leaving my building. Last night, Sarafina and I had dinner at Windows, the restaurant in the hotel. It was not bad, given that it's hotel food, American-sized, and expensive. Today I might try ordering room service and seeing what they do. I can also:

  • Get a haircut
  • Go for a massage... potentially with extras but I haven't explored that
  • Book travel plans for Asia
  • Sample exotic beers
  • Rent a car
  • Steal dinner mints.

Switching tracks, I read The Sinestro Corps War in its entirety, and am absolutely obsessed with how good it is. For a run and jump superhero story, that sorta feels like the biggest widest grandest most ambitious most exciting thing I've read in years. When Coast City lit itself up green at the beginning of the climax in the last issue, I was sorta beside myself. I fell ass-backwards into this thing just in time for this whole Blackest Night dealie that is supposedly coming, and before that I don't think I'd even had two thoughts to spare about Green Lantern since I was playing with his action figure when I was eight. Now I'd say it could even be my favourite thing I'm reading. Really, really impressed across the board.

January 12, 2009

Aw hell. I'm a fan of all seven!

In the Kirk Cameron have-you-broken-a-Commandment test, I am ten for ten. YES! I have defied all of god's laws! This is a lovely gloss on Cap'n Malcolm Reynolds' line quoted above. I am as filthy sinful as it's possible to be, even if being so requires hanging my commission of murder and adultery upon defining murder (as the bible does) as having even a moment's hatred in your heart, and defining adultery (as the bible does) as ever having lusted after a woman, at all. Fuck, if that's the definition, I have committed adultery just by looking at my own girlfriend when she got on the train just now. (She's cute.) I cheated on her with... her. Way to go!

Today was one of those days they warn you about when they tell you not to sell out to "The Man." Phone never stopped ringing. Wall-to-wall meetings. Benefits claim rejected. Overdue invoice got sent to the wrong place. And so forth. God is aware of my sins, and he is comin' at me! HALLELUJAH.

I'm watching The Long Way Down, which is the sequel to The Long Way Round, which is the continued adventures of Charlie Boorman and Ewan McGregor on motorcycles around the world. This time, Ewan=no beard. It's sort of the perfect life, isn't it. Be an actor, become well off enough that you can afford and organize a massive 10-man expedition across the planet, go and tape it and have the world's best-produced home movie to watch in your rocker when you're a hundred and eight. Not a bad life. I've been thinking a lot lately about sustainability and where it's all going and what we're all supposed to be doing, and I guess chugging around the planet on a diesel engine isn't really useful along those lines, but then neither is sitting here, doing this. It's excess traded for excess, and I bet on a highway in Zambia, even burning through dinosaurs, you're probably on balance eating less of the world than I am right now. And there, there's wide open spaces and a sense of direction. Here everything's vertical.

Shish tawook

It's hardly fashionable to admit this, but some little part of me went bare-ass nuts when I read the Kate and Leo quotes from the stupid godawful Golden Globes last night. This is because I am, as you already know, a 12-year-old girl. Clearly I need to get out to see Revolutionary Road, for reasons that have nothing to do with the fact that for its being a Sam Mendes flick, I would have seen it anyway.

(All right, admittedly, the prospect of a new movie completely annihilating the 90s' premier romantic couple does have its own level of malicious glee.)

And when I see it, I will have to review it. I was reading my TIFF 2006 film reviews the other day and I realized that, after a 2-year absence, it's time for me to start reviewing the films I see again. Who knows how long this will last, but in the meantime I've written up Speed Racer and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (though the latter is more of a neurotic rant) and will proceed forward from here.

And speaking of write-ups, Chris is interviewed at rather extraordinary length in Toro Magazine, about my favourite of his flicks, Tera/Tori. It's nice to know Chris can articulate the subtleties of his work with such dexterity in one breath, and then preach the gospel of Leroy Jenkins to me, Daniel, Brenda and Demetre in the next. It's like using the whole brain. Now that he has outlived 2008, is Chris this decade's Renaissance Man?

January 11, 2009

Gary's garage, scouting Paper Places

There's something about the stupid useless camera on my Pearl that I like; I just can't figure out what it is. In some spots, and with a lot of Photoshopping, it's within a stone's throw of being this century's Polaroid.

I really oughta carry my real camera more.

January 10, 2009

Sushi: the food of sadness and despair.

Hey, you ever have that thing where you just got out of the shower and you take a call on your cell and when you're done you realize your cell is completely soaked because your beard was still full of absorbed water? Cuz I have.

Listen: internet: last night Sarafina and I couldn't sleep at around 5 in the morning so we got out of bed and watched The Golden Girls on DVD. Recommend. It sure messed up the next few hours when my body just couldn't seem to do the math on how much accumulated sleep it had actually received, but it was still just about the pleasantest time you can have with four old ladies at any hour of the day, and especially the pre-dawn hour.

DAMMIT - the link I was going to link to right here, which was really the meat of this post, has apparently been removed. Well now the wind's gone right out of the thing.

I was going to spend today doing various miscellaneous admin and working on Guy in the Sky, but after being kicked around more than a bit by the week just past, I am instead going to do what I do best: indulge.

January 9, 2009

Them damn burritos ain't good for nothing but a hippie, when he's high on weed.

I'm neither, but someone remind me never to skip my Wednesday night burrito again. FRICK LORD could I go for a burrito right now. I feel like my whole planet's off-keel.

Harm's way

Last night I had a dream that I went back to 3QF, and found out that half my DVD collection was still there, along with Chris and Human Rights Lawyer, who were a) living there together in connubial bliss and b) surprisingly athletic. (This dream could not possibly be related to current anxieties about career, life planning, or the end of the world). The fact that I can remember this dream seems to demonstrate that I did in fact sleep, which does not tally with my recollection, but there ya go. I do recall shoving my now-22-minute Guy in the Sky assembly cut into a kind of rough order before retiring to the bedroom in a spectacularly bad mood, and after that there was a lot of tossing and turning and accidental punching of Zam. Which is fair, given her behaviour lately.

I watched Rhapsody in August the other day, which I rather enjoyed, and puts me within a single movie of getting to the end of Akira Kurosawa's rather significant body of work. (I do then have to do some back-catchup thanks to that Eclipse set of the postwar years that Criterion released recently.) I also redirected some Christmas Chapters money towards The Sinestro Corps War, which is shiny and absorbing and much more enjoyable than The Silmarillion which, Beren and Luthien aside, just ain't any fun any more. I also, after a treat of a date with my ladyfriend the other day, finally found that goddamned Joker, so I can stop prattling about that. I still wouldn't mind finding myself a pair of the socks, though.

Today, I am trying to ride out what has been a spectacularly frazzling work-week with a modicum of grace, before fading into the weekend. I may walk home.

January 7, 2009

Value to strategy

When I'm done with all this, I'm going to write a business book called Demonstrate Value or Get the Fuck Out. It'll be about strategic thinking as applies to the corporate world but also your life. It will end up being one of those books you see that get blown out for five bucks on the front tables at Chapters, and you read it and think "well, they'll just let anyone write one of these."

Last night I dreamed I had a baby. I mean, not me personally, but some offscreen wife besotted me with child and then, as I recall, took off (this could not possibly be related to current anxieties about career, life planning, or the end of the world). Babies are goddamned frightening! Especially when they look like newborn Benjamin Button crossed with newborn The Newborn from Alien: Resurrection. Fuck: what is wrong with me?

There is very little else remarkable going on, so I'll go now.

January 6, 2009

Orgies are not too much fun if no one wants to do it with you.

The sandwich of the decade?

Last night I made what might be the sandwich of the decade. On freshly baked Ace bread, I put two strips of skewered steak, one of which had been wrapped in bacon; I added some sharp cheddar cheese and then doused it in the Dinosaur Barbecue's Wango Tango habanero hot sauce. Salt and pepper and wrapped it up. Ooh - my knees are shaking.

Speaking of "of the decade," it occurred to me that in about 360 days we're gonna get to do a best films of the decade list. For some reason I had it in my head that it was gonna be next year, but no, this is the year. We're in the last year of the goddamned decade. When did that happen? The decade never even got a catchy name!

I am feeling much better than yesterday.

Let me tell ya something: for a guy who didn't read Green Lantern a year ago, I am enjoying the living shit fucking piss crack out of Green Lantern right now, what with the Blue Lanterns and all. I've read #36 three times already. Boy, for a whacked out space doodad comic book about weirdness, it's sorta thoughtful, isn't it? Hope and will and fear and rage and all that. And all in colours.

I am also so unbelievably satisfied with Indiana Jones: The Soundtracks Collection. I think it has everything I want, except for (inexplicably) the track in Skull from the arrival at the area 51 gates to the reveal of Indiana Jones, which is missing for no reason I can think of and is probably my actual favourite piece of music from that film. But otherwise, this is a long, long, long awaited pleasure, particularly all the missing stuff from Temple of Doom which I have wanted in my collection for, literally, three quarters of my lifetime. Boy. I didn't expect this to make me this happy.

Still owing much backstory of the preceding several days and its realizations, I am meanwhile sinking comfortably into my new status as a cranky old man.

"... and I passed out and hit my head on the toilet paper dispenser." - Matty Price
"Jeez, did you have a vision of a cottony-soft flux capacitor?" - Me

January 5, 2009

Rage of the red lanterns

Was today the worst day of my life? No. No, comically, I have had significantly worse days than this. Today was excruciating. Every single part of my body hurts.

"I cried. Like a baby. A hungry, angry baby." - Mr. Universe

"His game plan for 2009 is to increase revenue by between 4 per cent and 6 per cent, to slightly more than $10-billion; boost capital expenditures by 12 per cent, to $2.1-billion; and spend between $50-million and $75-million to eliminate more positions and continue restructuring." - Report on Business

Chickens chickens chickens. It's all about chickens.

Mamo #129: A Top Ten and a Half

A big, thick, fat, satisfying Mamo closes out the end of 2008, sort of like the steak-skewers Sarafina and I had for dinner last night. Yum.

January 4, 2009

This year, I was unimpressed

Just about to roll the year-end Mamo, so I guess there's no harm in finally publishing this:

What a weird, bad, troubling year it was for movies. Nominally, I assign a top ten list to the films I've seen in a given year - but some years just don't get there. In my head I call these "A.I. years" - because 2001 was the best recent example, a year where the overall offerings were so poor (or at least, the ones that I saw were so poor) that I ended up, not with a top ten or even a top five, but in that case with a top four - a "hopeful" top five list where I left an empty seat at the table for a guest to arrive later. (I ended up filling that fifth slot with A.I., not because the movie is good, but because Chris and I spent the better part of the next 2 years having occasional, enthusiastic discussions about just what in the hell we were supposed to make of that movie. It affected the moviegoing landscape profoundly for the year, which was more than I could say for most of the rest of the flicks out of 2001.)

This year came out about the same. For a year where I saw a handful of films that I pretty much loved as much as any others I've ever seen, 2008 was a film year without a middle class - a few greats, a number of goods, and an almost overwhelming slew of "mehs." You can tell you're in a year like this by examining the reviews of your three favourite critics: I guarantee they will not agree. Two of the critics I greatly admire put Benjamin Button on their Top Ten list; the third thinks the film is profoundly misguided and unsettling. Perhaps this is par for the course, but it felt like the waters were more troubled than usual in 2008; subjectivity ruled. Picking and choosing from among the informed masses was pointless. I returned to the basic set of tools: find out what a film's about (but not too much), who made it and who's in it, and go with your gut. The result, though, was a pretty wobbly year.

As a result, 2008 has a top five instead of a top ten, and even that just barely. I was tempted to leave an "empty seat" again, given that there are a number of films I haven't seen yet which might otherwise have proved list-worthy. Among those are Valkyrie, Man on Wire, Doubt, Rachel Getting Married, Milk and of course Revolutionary Road. In the meantime, though, the films of the year are...

  1. The Dark Knight
  2. Let the Right One In
  3. Wall-E
  4. Ché
  5. It Might Get Loud

Sure, it's become unseasonably fashionable to skewer The Dark Knight since its release; American culture (and ours by inevitable association) is nothing if not bipolar in its twin barrels of a) insistence upon enormous achievement, and b) resentment of same. Now, six months later, even some of the same people who were singing in the rafters about the newfound strength of the comic book movie in July, are down in the church basement fucking alter-boys a billion dollars later. Everybody hates a winner. But a winner it was, glossy and canny, and between The Dark Knight and Let the Right One In, 2008 continued one of this decade's key filmic movements - the LOTR-inaugurated march towards fully exploiting and expurgating the mythic strengths of archetypal stories. Fantasy is a genre in glorious bloom, unlike almost any other genre in movies right now. For a comic book movie and a Swedish vampire movie, these two films were, also, among the most cunning excisions of American political, moral, and sexual mores that have graced our screens this year. Not bad for "pop."

WALL-E, of course, is pop beyond pop; it is not a film of subtlety in its razing of American consumerism, but doesn't need to be, because it is furthermore such a lovingly enraptured tale of two individuals just plain needing each other - a strength in Let the Right One In, as well - that it's difficult not to be utterly beguiled. Love seemed to return to the movie screens this year after a long absence - real love, love where each partner completes the other and thereby opens the boundaries of the possible, not the grim (and dramatically facile) tragedy of love-of-the-doomed. 2008 held a number of refreshing returns to stories that say that great love does not need to end in poisoning, sinking ships, or Alzheimer's.

Ché gains the list almost by virtue of sheer mass; in essaying a guerrilla movie about guerrilla war (using guerrilla cameras, no less), Soderbergh generates enough electricity in 5 hours of running time to more than overwhelm any 2-hour entry on the list. The distinct halves of Ché, though, are also sharp, entertaining, and thoughtful, refreshing the memory of the landscape of possibilities of a filmmaker, a camera, and a sense of artistic fun. This was true of It Might Get Loud as well, to a surprisingly strong degree; for such a humdrum premise (2 hours on the cultural importance of the electric guitar?) it's stunning how much this film makes you want to run outdoors with a camera(/the artistic tool of your choice) in your hand and just make something beautiful.

Honourable Mentions

In spite of the overall weakness of the formal list, this was the year of Honourable Mentions. The Honourable Mention slot, for me, goes to the film that was quite usefully distinct in the overall viewing, but "missed it by this much" because there's something about it that just doesn't seem inherently list-worthy. Normally, I pick one. This year, I picked four:

  • Citron and Flame, the movie Valkyrie wishes it could be
  • Ce'st pas moi, je le jure, another meaty and grim essay of troubled boyhood that would make a fine real-world companion piece to Let the Right One In
  • The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, one of those rare films which was actually originally included in my top five but slowly dropped as the days since I saw the film passed. Its strengths do not linger, and its weaknesses gain scale after the fact.
  • And for whatever reason, I am quite after-the-fact obsessed with Sauna, a movie which everyone (and me) didn't think very much of at the Toronto Film Festival, but which has sort of kicked around the back of my head since then. It would probably earn the "A.I. slot," if one were available. Flawed, disturbing, fearless.

I would also heartily suggest that while Cloverfield might not belong on this list, it belongs on some list, somewhere, because from a purely technical perspective, it is one of the great achievements of the year. Would have loved it if they'd come up with some miraculous solution to the clichés, but it's still film school in a can for anyone who wants to deconstruct the Bourne run-and-gun filmic style. Additionally, obviously, it is a master class in film marketing, and unlikely to be challenged in that regard for years. (Incidentally: if you watch the film with the presumption that at the instant of the attack, Hud goes completely insane and can no longer rationally assess "reality," the movie works significantly better.)

Worst film of the year

There was no clear winner this year for worst film, either, probably because I just didn't end up going to anything that really made me want to skullfuck my eyes out at the Van Helsing level of awfulness. Even Martyrs - certainly the worst filmgoing experience I had this year - is too disreputably vile to be counted against real movies; it is not so much "bad" as "horrid," and as useful to me as rotten salad.

Instead, I am going to name Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull in this slot, which is unfair and whiny; it is not a terrible film nor even a terrible disappointment, but certainly ended up being the most negative relationship I had with a movie this year. For such an underwhelming and ultimately unimportant film, Indy 4 sure irritates the fuck out of me, and my empathy for the Phantom Menace haters grew tenfold this year. It's foolish to think that your "childhood" is some sovereign territory that lives for your agency only, but it's also horrible when you willingly allow some piece of it to be despoiled by fallen men. We should all be stronger.

Best technology of the year

Nonsensical made-uppy category, but shinybludisks made a major impact in my film enjoyment this year. It took a while, but I am apparently turning into the sort of loser who would rather be home with his home theatre than out at the Scotiamount with the assholes. (Well, the Scotiamount sucks regardless.)

Other and miscellany

Best original score: The Dark Knight

Best performance: Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler

Best sequence of a boat hitting another boat: At the Edge of the World

Better on Blu than at the movies: Encounters at the End of the World

Best Blu-Ray overall: The Dark Knight (picture), WALL-E (features & extras), Lost: The Complete Fourth Season (watchability), Juno (huggability)

Most overrated film of any length: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

You'll never see it, but you really should: Medicine for Melancholy

Biggest disappointment: Hellboy 2

Best karate kick... to my heart!: Jean-Claude Van Damme's soliloquy in JCVD

Best... something: Synechdoche, New York

Unexpected words to live by: "If I run, you run." (Mila Kunis to Jason Segel in Forgetting Sarah Marshall)

Suck It: Three.

Suck it!

January 2, 2009

The toy report: 2008

You have no way of knowing this, but when I was... I'm gonna go with 10 years old, me and my best friend videotaped a "Toy Report," which was just us doing a news show about our favourite toys. Yes: I've been this pathetic, for that long. Although I guess one would argue that 10-year-olds are supposed to talk about toys.

In '08, as with '07 and '06, I stopped collecting toys. In the meantime, though, these were the best ones I got:

#1: Davy Jones (Hot Toys)

Sweet googly crap, the entire Movie Masterpiece series for Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End is pretty goddamned impressive, but they absolutely cranked it out of the park with their final entry, Davy Jones. Unlike every other Davy Jones toy ever produced, this thing actually looks like the character from the movie... and not just a little bit like. SCARILY like. I have the good captain on my desk at work, to remind my underlings what awaits them if they fail.

#2: Sarafina action figure (Tederick Limited Releasing)

Aw no, I guess I can't do that, but I do thank everyone for the kind comments. YEAH! PARKDALE!

The real #2: Yarna D'Al Gargan (Hasbro)

Long ago I promised that if they ever actually made Gargan, I would buy her, and then quit collecting Star Wars figures. Well, done and done.

#3: Mola Ram (Hasbro Mighty Muggs)

Credit to Hasbro for going with the Mighty Muggs concept, which they can just basically repaint endlessly into any number of adorable little squashy men. Adorable little squashy man with ripped-out heart, however, is ingenius! He rips out your heart, cutely!

#4: Deep Space Nine (Diamond Select Toys)

Kicking the line off with Sisko and the Daxes seemed sorta weak and strange to me, but I still get gazoodles of thrill out of having the DS9ers on my desk. The Odo is the best of the lot, with Ezri second, the too-slender Sisko third and Jadzia a distant fourth... and I remain stumped by the continued lack of Ferengi... but with O'Brien, Kira and Bashir joining the line in '09, Trek's own Wild Bunch is gonna keep dominating desk-space for some time to come.

#5: The Crystal Skeleton (Hasbro mail-away toy)

As opined earlier this year, nothing quite ever beat the thrill, as a kid, of cutting out those circular proof-of-purchase tabs from the back of my Star Wars figures and getting a Nien Nunb in the mail 8 weeks later. I got to relive it a bit this summer, even if Hasbro's stupendously slow service meant that I had to go back to 3QF in October to recover a toy that was supposed to arrive in July. It was made up for by the fact that the Crystal Alien, in its fancy chair, is significantly more enjoyable than the entirety of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

And furthermore:

Best toy from a different year: Batman Begins from Takara. They had him at the Silver Snail in 2005 and I didn't buy it because of the exorbitant cost, and probably regretted it on a weekly basis ever after. The new movie finally prompted a reissue, so I snapped it up; still easily the best Batman from any source material at any scale. Phenomenal piece.

Best toy I did not buy: Gandalf the Grey from Sideshow Collectibles. So movie-accurate ya sort of wanna kill yourself. If I had an extra hundred and thirty bucks, and I assure you I do not, I would purchase this right now.

If I could only buy one thing in 2009, I would buy (and I already have): Meltyface McTohtsalot from Sideshow Collectibles.

Toy I thought would top this list but never got the chance cuz it just plum didn't come out: that goddamned Joker.

Behind

Yeah, I haven't posted 2 of my year-end lists: movies and toys. Neither have you! And yes, I haven't posted the Suck It we just recorded, or gone out to buy Serenity on blu-ray, or been to the Snail for this week's comics. I also haven't showered yet this morning. Have you? Hey: listen: throwing a dinner party is hard work. You're laughing at me right now because you knew that already, but you didn't tell me so you don't get "I told you so" cred. You're just a dummy rotten stupid-face.

January 1, 2009

Who am I, Mesmer?

Always happy to be proven wrong, as of 12:09 a.m. Chris MacLean was still alive.

2009 feels like such a non-year, doesn't it?