When it comes to video games, women are from Vulcan, men are from Kronos.
Some time ago my girl Leen and I played through Black & White 2. It's a 'God game', where you control a settlement of villagers and your animalistic avatar as God. The aim is to take over all the villagers on each map. The joy comes in the open-ended game play. Your power is proportional to how many people believe in you, but you can achieve your goal in two ways.
Leen, being of sugar and spice, treated her followers well, providing for their every need. This led all other to migrate to her village, and she won that way.
I, being a gamer nerd psychopath, took the second approach - conquering opponents through warfare.
Nerd Tangent: Leen and I also encounter this situation while watching Star Trek. She's a huge fan of the episodes where Janeway kicks ass or the Doctor changes his program, while I want to watch the one with the most explosions - and time travel.
Sadly, it all kind of broke down in the last level. In what I assume was a way of building to a crescendo, the last level was a map packed full of enemy villages, who attacked almost immediately amidst a rain of fire and brimstone. It worked well as a pay-off for the style of play I was using. It was a challenging fight.
For Leen however, it sucked. These constant attacks made it nigh impossible to complete the game without resorting to warfare in this last instance.
That's not the game she was playing. It was a disappointment.
I see this kind of thing happen a lot. I was reading a review of Age of Empires online. It's a game with a similar structure but the reviewer paid almost exclusive attention to the warfare elements, saying something to the effect of 'you could win through peace, but why would you?'
That's a fair statement if that's your bag, but what if it isn't.
There's a lot of women out there. The Sims, about as far removed from the graphics-rich, n00b fragging, FPS slaughter-fests many gamers consider to be the real deal, sold more copies than just about anything else. Why? Easy, it appealed to women. If you wanna get rich making games, just appeal to the 50-odd per cent of the population that often gets left out.
I've seen similar experiences playing Dungeons and Dragons. In the games I've run, the guys are bouncing from combat to combat, with everything in between simply filler before they get to bust out their combat machines.
The girls tend to build their characters with combat being somewhat of an afterthought, with their focus more on roleplaying and interaction. Together they make for a balanced game, but it took my a while as a DM to adapt to this, as I was at first firmly in the 'combat is king' dude camp.
I believe this stems for a misunderstanding rather than any sexism of malice. Maybe we could all stand to look at the people across the table/couch/console from us and realise there are differences in interests, as well as reproductive organs.
PS. Happy new year! The above lack of jokes stems from my 2007 brain having been put to bed, and my 2008 brain only now starting to rise. I expect it to come online sometime around February.
Stefan tells stories, writes about stories and tells stories about stories.
Friday, December 28, 2007
A Spot of Tea
My friend and colleague Darrin today introduced me to the joy that is nicecupofteaandasitdown.com.
"Nicey", who runs the site, assumedly out of the UK, declares therein that it is the "premier web site for tea drinkers who are keen on sitting down and biscuits."
He quickly includes cake into the bargain, as "if you eat biscuits then its a fair bet you'll have some cake if its on offer."
But it's really all about the biscuits.
This website is frankly amazingly outstanding. Witness this:
UNDERPANTS TOAST! An inspired recipe involving a piece of toast lathered in Mayonnaise - "the type you normally use for stuff" - and cut out in the shape of underpants. Hilarity, and a pleasant fullness, is bound to ensue.
Sadly, the demo model lacks a sufficient mayo coating in a key area, leading to the appearance of a somewhat overexcited underwear model.
Pictured above is the "Standard Pants" model.
Now, when I first saw the site I assumed it was some colossal work of satire. As I delved into its perfectly-baked goodness however, I've come to believe that it's on the level. The work of a man earnestly sharing his love of having a cup of tea and a bit of a sit. I applaud him. It's fantabulous.
The language is rich, but Nicey freely admits there'll be some bumps in the grammar road on the way to biscuit town.
As he puts it, there are people who spell well, and there are those who instead are "quite handy at making Origami animals out of biscuit wrappers." He admits to firmly falling in the second camp.
In his world of sit downs and teas, all is nice and lovely. News items fall under the heading of "Nice News". His wife runs a "really lovely" section of the site. It's warm. It's inviting.
However, this seems at odds with the subtle current of hatred that emerges whenever the French are discussed.
Although the term biscuit is French in origin, Nicey assures us "the french don't really have a clue about making decent biscuits." Harsh criticism for such a well-versed biscuit advocate.
He rails against "Nice" biscuits, decries their poor taste and denies they are named after a town in the south of France.
"They're not from there, nobody there has ever heard of them. Hop on an Easyjet flight get yourself down there and ask around, you'll get even blanker Gallic looks than usual."
Harsh.
The website - which appears to attract a robust readership - has led to the publication of a book of the same title.
Here is the table of contents for the work's "A Nice Cup of Tea" section:
* Kettle Etiquette
* Tea bag technology
* Work tea making
* Personal mugs explained
* Tea notation, how to do it
* Teapot testing
* Sugar, how not to give it to somebody who really wants it
The last point puzzles me, as it seems to suggest - on a biscuit fansite - that sugar is a negative element. This seems akin to a movie reviewer declaring online that 'this whole cinema thing seems a bit like wanking about in the dark'.
Of course, a highlight of nicecupofteaandasitdown.com is its weekly biscuit reviews. Of particular note is an article on the Abbey Crunch biscuit, which is enthusiastically declared "the best biscuit ever". This factoid is also referenced in the biscuit FAQ.
Nicey declared the Crunch a "landmark biscuit" held in an "eye catching trademark blue packet".
Behold this excerpt:
"Its very name suggests that monks had been knocking them out since the middle ages, therefore allowing my Nan to comfortably buy a packet in the mid Seventies a low point for biscuit innovation, and there by dazzle my formative biscuit palette.
"Today the Abbey Crunch seems a little dated, its relatively small diameter, its ridiculously high sugar content. However, the thrill of a new packet of Abbey Crunch still remains one of the highlights of the biscuit world."
Biscuit bliss.
Lastly, here is the "Skimpy Pants" model.
It boasts similar fundamentals to the Standard Pants, but offers a more racey appearance to the toast and mayonaise enthusiast.
Nice.
Lovely.
"Nicey", who runs the site, assumedly out of the UK, declares therein that it is the "premier web site for tea drinkers who are keen on sitting down and biscuits."
He quickly includes cake into the bargain, as "if you eat biscuits then its a fair bet you'll have some cake if its on offer."
But it's really all about the biscuits.
This website is frankly amazingly outstanding. Witness this:
UNDERPANTS TOAST! An inspired recipe involving a piece of toast lathered in Mayonnaise - "the type you normally use for stuff" - and cut out in the shape of underpants. Hilarity, and a pleasant fullness, is bound to ensue.
Sadly, the demo model lacks a sufficient mayo coating in a key area, leading to the appearance of a somewhat overexcited underwear model.
Pictured above is the "Standard Pants" model.
Now, when I first saw the site I assumed it was some colossal work of satire. As I delved into its perfectly-baked goodness however, I've come to believe that it's on the level. The work of a man earnestly sharing his love of having a cup of tea and a bit of a sit. I applaud him. It's fantabulous.
The language is rich, but Nicey freely admits there'll be some bumps in the grammar road on the way to biscuit town.
As he puts it, there are people who spell well, and there are those who instead are "quite handy at making Origami animals out of biscuit wrappers." He admits to firmly falling in the second camp.
In his world of sit downs and teas, all is nice and lovely. News items fall under the heading of "Nice News". His wife runs a "really lovely" section of the site. It's warm. It's inviting.
However, this seems at odds with the subtle current of hatred that emerges whenever the French are discussed.
Although the term biscuit is French in origin, Nicey assures us "the french don't really have a clue about making decent biscuits." Harsh criticism for such a well-versed biscuit advocate.
He rails against "Nice" biscuits, decries their poor taste and denies they are named after a town in the south of France.
"They're not from there, nobody there has ever heard of them. Hop on an Easyjet flight get yourself down there and ask around, you'll get even blanker Gallic looks than usual."
Harsh.
The website - which appears to attract a robust readership - has led to the publication of a book of the same title.
Here is the table of contents for the work's "A Nice Cup of Tea" section:
* Kettle Etiquette
* Tea bag technology
* Work tea making
* Personal mugs explained
* Tea notation, how to do it
* Teapot testing
* Sugar, how not to give it to somebody who really wants it
The last point puzzles me, as it seems to suggest - on a biscuit fansite - that sugar is a negative element. This seems akin to a movie reviewer declaring online that 'this whole cinema thing seems a bit like wanking about in the dark'.
Of course, a highlight of nicecupofteaandasitdown.com is its weekly biscuit reviews. Of particular note is an article on the Abbey Crunch biscuit, which is enthusiastically declared "the best biscuit ever". This factoid is also referenced in the biscuit FAQ.
Nicey declared the Crunch a "landmark biscuit" held in an "eye catching trademark blue packet".
Behold this excerpt:
"Its very name suggests that monks had been knocking them out since the middle ages, therefore allowing my Nan to comfortably buy a packet in the mid Seventies a low point for biscuit innovation, and there by dazzle my formative biscuit palette.
"Today the Abbey Crunch seems a little dated, its relatively small diameter, its ridiculously high sugar content. However, the thrill of a new packet of Abbey Crunch still remains one of the highlights of the biscuit world."
Biscuit bliss.
Lastly, here is the "Skimpy Pants" model.
It boasts similar fundamentals to the Standard Pants, but offers a more racey appearance to the toast and mayonaise enthusiast.
Nice.
Lovely.
Awesome new awesome blog
Hark! I am interesting!
This is demonstrated by the 'having of the blog', a digital tradition that implies I have fascinating things to say.
Despite the foolishness of such a statement, I have finished migrating all my worthwhile blog posts from MySpace, as determined by me of course.
MySpace was cool, but I was really only there for the blogging. While my quote-unquote friends may not walk the distance to blogspot to keep reading over here, I am excited to be able to write in a world without the quizzy deluge.
Now the house is in order, I look forward to updating things more regularly. If you'd like to read some of my old posts and possibly leave a comment, they're over on the right under December.
In honour of this auspicious occasion, I present what is colloquially and accurately described as "the best five second video on the internet".
This is demonstrated by the 'having of the blog', a digital tradition that implies I have fascinating things to say.
Despite the foolishness of such a statement, I have finished migrating all my worthwhile blog posts from MySpace, as determined by me of course.
MySpace was cool, but I was really only there for the blogging. While my quote-unquote friends may not walk the distance to blogspot to keep reading over here, I am excited to be able to write in a world without the quizzy deluge.
Now the house is in order, I look forward to updating things more regularly. If you'd like to read some of my old posts and possibly leave a comment, they're over on the right under December.
In honour of this auspicious occasion, I present what is colloquially and accurately described as "the best five second video on the internet".
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Story time: Injuries
I never seem to get masculine injuries.
I've never 'pulled a hammy' kicking the winning goal. I don't have an awesome scar received in a bar fight. I've never sported a cast after breaking my arm diffusing a bomb that was about to destroy Metropolis. Those are the type of injuries that can be worn as a badge of honor. A cast full of names and pictures, scribbled on by the adoring public that visit your bedside as you recuperate from a severe case as awesomeness.
No, for me its always those embarrassing injuries. Take today for example - I have a sore elbow. Why? Well yesterday I helped my brother dig a number of ditches in preparation of his bathroom renovations.On the surface it certainly sounds manly. Injury sustained through hard, manual labor? Helping a mate and brother in the blazing heat? Blood, sweat and tears? Alas, no. See, the reason my arm hurts is because, over our 20 minute lunch break, we threw rocks at an old bath.
I hurt my arm throwing rocks.
I didn't actually get any to land in the bath.
Thus goes the story of my life. A childhood fraught with embarrassing injuries.
Embarrassing injury #1: Breaking my foot at the ATM.
When I say foot, I mean little toe. See where this is heading?I went to the ATM late one night and, after checking my balance, fell down the stairs, smashing my foot as I ungracefully fell to the pavement. I lay there for a full minute before limping back to the car. The next morning my foot was the size of my ego (large, embarrassing), so I went to the hospital. I didn't get a cast (masculine), I got crutches (not).Two weeks I hobbled around in my bandage. I still have a calcified lump there that hurts when it gets cold.The worst part of the whole thing? I didn't have any money in my account. The trip was a complete waste of time. Awesome.
Embarrassing injury #2: I burnt my elbow on the kettle.
Doing the dishes one night as a child, I was drying a plate when I held my left elbow over the steam emanating from a nearby boiling kettle. The result was a pus-filled burn roughly the size of a frisbee.
Embarrassing injury #2.5: Breaking the burn.
Days later, my mother took me, my brother and a friend to the pool. I was running along some hot concrete, interestingly enough with the words "No Running" painted beneath my excited little feet, when I slipped and fell.I scraped my gigantic, pus-filled burn across the ground, ripping the tender skin. This resulted in, well, pus, but also 10cm strands of skin dangling from the area. Mum took us home, complaining that she hadn't been able to finish her laps.Around the same time, My twin brother cut his chin after a mis-timed bomb jump into the pool. That's damn masculine, he even got a cool scar and stitches. Much cooler than scraping your kettle burn.
Embarrassing injury #3: Jumping off a cliff.
Sure, jumping off a cliff sounds cool. Unfortunately I did it because we were planning the stunts for the Predator 2 movie we were going to make, and the cliff was about a metre high.This was after we abandoned our Nightmare on Elm Street project, as we were uncomfortable with the thought of an unhinged friend walking around with knives on their fingers.This was the first time I broke my foot, as I landed quite awkwardly. I was cruelly denied a cast as mum didn't believe it was broken and by the time I went to the doctor the injury had healed.Instead of becoming the centre of attention that people in casts always are - people flock to sign your pain - a game developed where people would yell insults at me so I would chase them, take two steps and crumple to the ground in pain.The salt in the wound is that we later discovered there was already a Predator 2 movie, involving stunts much more impressive then a skinny boy with glasses and a "Skate or Die" singlet jumping off a small cliff.
Other embarrassing injuries: Burning my wrist on a test tube. Spraining my ankle after catching it under a see-saw. Scraping my hands on a pile of bricks I was trying to jump onto 'ninja style'. Breaking a tooth on a vodka bottle while swimming. Stomach problems after eating a kilogram of Milo for dinner. Developing a migraine after eating two packets of jelly crystals for dinner. Burning my fingers after grabbing a heated glass rod. Bruising my face after colliding with a team member on the Sandball court. Bruising my face after running into a sliding glass door. Numerous paper cuts - the most inglorious of all injuries.
The injuries still continue. Recently I slipped and fell quite heavily after unwittingly flooding a room while trying to clean a fishtank.
In the near future Eileen and I are going to begin renovations on our new house. Surely a masculine injury awaits. Pass me the drill.
One last point; People waste a lot of time debating whether certain people are gay or not. Take the above blog for example. A man whining about idiotic injuries would probably be gay, no? Surely straight guys never actually use the word masculine? Well that's where you're wrong. The real indicator of sexuality you should be looking for is whether or not the blog contains the word "awesome". In this case I, without thinking, used the word awesome about six times. This means I am straight. Try it yourself. Always works. It's awesome.
I've never 'pulled a hammy' kicking the winning goal. I don't have an awesome scar received in a bar fight. I've never sported a cast after breaking my arm diffusing a bomb that was about to destroy Metropolis. Those are the type of injuries that can be worn as a badge of honor. A cast full of names and pictures, scribbled on by the adoring public that visit your bedside as you recuperate from a severe case as awesomeness.
No, for me its always those embarrassing injuries. Take today for example - I have a sore elbow. Why? Well yesterday I helped my brother dig a number of ditches in preparation of his bathroom renovations.On the surface it certainly sounds manly. Injury sustained through hard, manual labor? Helping a mate and brother in the blazing heat? Blood, sweat and tears? Alas, no. See, the reason my arm hurts is because, over our 20 minute lunch break, we threw rocks at an old bath.
I hurt my arm throwing rocks.
I didn't actually get any to land in the bath.
Thus goes the story of my life. A childhood fraught with embarrassing injuries.
Embarrassing injury #1: Breaking my foot at the ATM.
When I say foot, I mean little toe. See where this is heading?I went to the ATM late one night and, after checking my balance, fell down the stairs, smashing my foot as I ungracefully fell to the pavement. I lay there for a full minute before limping back to the car. The next morning my foot was the size of my ego (large, embarrassing), so I went to the hospital. I didn't get a cast (masculine), I got crutches (not).Two weeks I hobbled around in my bandage. I still have a calcified lump there that hurts when it gets cold.The worst part of the whole thing? I didn't have any money in my account. The trip was a complete waste of time. Awesome.
Embarrassing injury #2: I burnt my elbow on the kettle.
Doing the dishes one night as a child, I was drying a plate when I held my left elbow over the steam emanating from a nearby boiling kettle. The result was a pus-filled burn roughly the size of a frisbee.
Embarrassing injury #2.5: Breaking the burn.
Days later, my mother took me, my brother and a friend to the pool. I was running along some hot concrete, interestingly enough with the words "No Running" painted beneath my excited little feet, when I slipped and fell.I scraped my gigantic, pus-filled burn across the ground, ripping the tender skin. This resulted in, well, pus, but also 10cm strands of skin dangling from the area. Mum took us home, complaining that she hadn't been able to finish her laps.Around the same time, My twin brother cut his chin after a mis-timed bomb jump into the pool. That's damn masculine, he even got a cool scar and stitches. Much cooler than scraping your kettle burn.
Embarrassing injury #3: Jumping off a cliff.
Sure, jumping off a cliff sounds cool. Unfortunately I did it because we were planning the stunts for the Predator 2 movie we were going to make, and the cliff was about a metre high.This was after we abandoned our Nightmare on Elm Street project, as we were uncomfortable with the thought of an unhinged friend walking around with knives on their fingers.This was the first time I broke my foot, as I landed quite awkwardly. I was cruelly denied a cast as mum didn't believe it was broken and by the time I went to the doctor the injury had healed.Instead of becoming the centre of attention that people in casts always are - people flock to sign your pain - a game developed where people would yell insults at me so I would chase them, take two steps and crumple to the ground in pain.The salt in the wound is that we later discovered there was already a Predator 2 movie, involving stunts much more impressive then a skinny boy with glasses and a "Skate or Die" singlet jumping off a small cliff.
Other embarrassing injuries: Burning my wrist on a test tube. Spraining my ankle after catching it under a see-saw. Scraping my hands on a pile of bricks I was trying to jump onto 'ninja style'. Breaking a tooth on a vodka bottle while swimming. Stomach problems after eating a kilogram of Milo for dinner. Developing a migraine after eating two packets of jelly crystals for dinner. Burning my fingers after grabbing a heated glass rod. Bruising my face after colliding with a team member on the Sandball court. Bruising my face after running into a sliding glass door. Numerous paper cuts - the most inglorious of all injuries.
The injuries still continue. Recently I slipped and fell quite heavily after unwittingly flooding a room while trying to clean a fishtank.
In the near future Eileen and I are going to begin renovations on our new house. Surely a masculine injury awaits. Pass me the drill.
One last point; People waste a lot of time debating whether certain people are gay or not. Take the above blog for example. A man whining about idiotic injuries would probably be gay, no? Surely straight guys never actually use the word masculine? Well that's where you're wrong. The real indicator of sexuality you should be looking for is whether or not the blog contains the word "awesome". In this case I, without thinking, used the word awesome about six times. This means I am straight. Try it yourself. Always works. It's awesome.
Transformers. A Review
Shortly before Transformers truly kicks into high gear, the film's protagonist has an excited conversation to himself about the lameness of the phrase "more than meets the eye". He's just blurted it out to the woman of his dreams in a moment of befuddlement, but members of the audience recognise it as the catchcry of the original cartoon.
It's a great moment, a sly wink to old time Transformers fans that won't take anyone else out of the film. It is one of a number of such moments scattered throughout the film that served to dispel my fears - as an 80s cartoon fanatic - that "Michael Bay destroyed my childhood", which seemed to develop into somewhat of an anthem across the internet in the lead-up to release.
Sadly, the goofy smile that this moment pasted on my face slipped a bit at the close of the film when Optimus Prime - leader of the good guy Autobots and main transforming alien - repeats the phrase. In that instance its used as the gun-ho morale of the film - 'like us, humans are MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE'. That sly wink has now turned face on and shouted to the audience, robbing it of its charm.
Transformers truly is a good film, one that I thoroughly enjoyed, but a smattering of bum notes marrs the wide canvas goofy action bonanza and robs it of being a great film.
Transformers owes much of its success the Shia LaBeouf, who plays the nerdy young man who buys a beaten up old car, discovers it's a transforming robot from space, and is propelled into the lead role. Any story based around characters as alien as the Transformers requires a human being in the forefront for the audience to identify with. This can backfire in some cases. In Aliens vs Predator the promised firefight between two uber-cool unstoppable engines of destruction was pushed back behind hours of boredom-inducing cardboard human space soldiers.
Transformers does not suffer this fate. LaBeouf acts flawlessly throughout. He is convincing and affecting as the lovable loser and it is he alone who sells the film's air of goofy fun. When Optimus Prime crashes to earth and starts spouting cheesy one-liners I'm laughing instead of cringing (most of the time - urination aside), largely because of the tone established by LaBeouf.
The sequence of LeBeouf driving around in his new car - known to only the audience as the living Autobot Bumblebee - is Herbiesque and fun. Use of the radio's spontaneous spewing of cliched love songs hits just the right note.
With Michael Bay at the helm, it goes without saying that the action is a sight to behold. The visual effects are magnificent. Seeing these creatures transform is awe-inspiring and seeing them fight is fantastic. Bay manages to keep the quick-cuts under control for most of the action, which was welcome, as sequences involving two giant, similar robots fighting alongside swarms of soldiers and military hardware could be difficult to follow.The Transformers look good and Bay knows it. Slow motion sequences are used to show them off as they fight, transform and even walk. None seem over-the-top, offering instead a chance to really look at these awesome creatures.
The only issue I had was the amount of screentime given over to the army and the Secretary of Defense.More than anything else, it's a testament to LaBeouf's performance and the success of the Transformers that every time the 'army plot' was onscreen, I was restless to get it over with and get back to the other story. It didn't seem to achieve much - save setting up the twinned cliches of 'army disbelieves random kid about friendly aliens to their detriment' and 'government meddles in matters beyond their comprehension to their detriment'. The movie would've been stronger without it. Likewise the extended shots of military hardware. It's not hard to realise that Bay loves his army toys, and I know many Transformers fans would appreciate the look at more machines a'shootin', but as the sixth minute ticked by showing a big plane shooting into a cloud of dust I was anxious for it to be over.
Given my tendency to focus on the negatives when I write, I'm going to fall on the well worn crutch of 'big list of things' to bring out some of the other stuff I liked/didn't like. Sure beats writing in pesky paragraphs.
Things that were cool! Uncool! There!
* Opening with a voiceover from Optimus Prime - voiced by the instantly recognisable original actor - was a great way to get me onside from the outset.
* Optimus Prime refuses to hurt humans, even to save his own troops. Soon has he sees a Decepticon? Knife to the eye! Awesome, although faintly creepy.
* Bumblebee responding to criticism by becoming an awesome car.
* Megatron being a bloodthirsty psychopath. Disdain for puny humans? Check. Ripping Jazz in half? Check.
* 'You've failed me again Starscream'. Awes.
* The necessary McGuffin of the plot - the All Spark Cube - was used to good effect. Although if it's purpose is to 'create life' within machines, why were all the creatures we saw it create evil? Soft drink shooting Transformer was cool though. I'd buy that toy.
* Like much of the Pentagon storyline, the young hackers didn't do anything I could tell, save giving Buffy actor and favorite of mine Tom Lenk some work. They seemed positioned, in true family movie style, to be the young folk who convince the stuffy old suits that the machines are alive. But turned out the government already knew. They already had one in the basement. "You'll be my adviser". "On what?" "Don't worry, you won't be onscreen again".
* Almost every gag LaBeouf said gave me a laugh.
* I didn't know how much I'd wanted to see Optimus and Megatron crashing through a building until it was upon me.
* Starting the action off instantly was welcome. Scorpinok carelessly ripping an entire army base a new one was spectacularly awesome.
* Megan Fox - who incidently did a great job despite being there solely for eye candy purposes - pulling a legless Bumblebee around while he shot a Decepticon to death was great.
* "One shall stand, one shall fall". So cheesy. So lame. So fantastically brilliamatic.
* Starscream's midair transformations as he took apart that platoon of jets was great.
* Wow. Optimus really got his ass handed to him by Megatron.
* That robot skated through a bus!
* Even though I'm already pretty sure I know exactly what the sequel will be - more transformers from both sides hear Optimus' call and come to earth, just in time to fight Megatron, who rises from the depths of the ocean as Galvatron owing to the All-spark's new home in his chest - I really wanna see it.
In closing, this movie was really good. Damn close to being great. I didn't have to fall back on the intensely irritating "just turn your brain off and enjoy the ride" defense of most action blockbusters.
Transformers was spectacular, funny, action-packed and - most importantly - entertaining.
If, shortly before shooting the sequel, Michael Bay could spend six weeks furiously masturbating over some 8x10 glossy pictures of military hardware to really get that out of his system, I'm sure that Transformers 2 could be even better.
It's a great moment, a sly wink to old time Transformers fans that won't take anyone else out of the film. It is one of a number of such moments scattered throughout the film that served to dispel my fears - as an 80s cartoon fanatic - that "Michael Bay destroyed my childhood", which seemed to develop into somewhat of an anthem across the internet in the lead-up to release.
Sadly, the goofy smile that this moment pasted on my face slipped a bit at the close of the film when Optimus Prime - leader of the good guy Autobots and main transforming alien - repeats the phrase. In that instance its used as the gun-ho morale of the film - 'like us, humans are MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE'. That sly wink has now turned face on and shouted to the audience, robbing it of its charm.
Transformers truly is a good film, one that I thoroughly enjoyed, but a smattering of bum notes marrs the wide canvas goofy action bonanza and robs it of being a great film.
Transformers owes much of its success the Shia LaBeouf, who plays the nerdy young man who buys a beaten up old car, discovers it's a transforming robot from space, and is propelled into the lead role. Any story based around characters as alien as the Transformers requires a human being in the forefront for the audience to identify with. This can backfire in some cases. In Aliens vs Predator the promised firefight between two uber-cool unstoppable engines of destruction was pushed back behind hours of boredom-inducing cardboard human space soldiers.
Transformers does not suffer this fate. LaBeouf acts flawlessly throughout. He is convincing and affecting as the lovable loser and it is he alone who sells the film's air of goofy fun. When Optimus Prime crashes to earth and starts spouting cheesy one-liners I'm laughing instead of cringing (most of the time - urination aside), largely because of the tone established by LaBeouf.
The sequence of LeBeouf driving around in his new car - known to only the audience as the living Autobot Bumblebee - is Herbiesque and fun. Use of the radio's spontaneous spewing of cliched love songs hits just the right note.
With Michael Bay at the helm, it goes without saying that the action is a sight to behold. The visual effects are magnificent. Seeing these creatures transform is awe-inspiring and seeing them fight is fantastic. Bay manages to keep the quick-cuts under control for most of the action, which was welcome, as sequences involving two giant, similar robots fighting alongside swarms of soldiers and military hardware could be difficult to follow.The Transformers look good and Bay knows it. Slow motion sequences are used to show them off as they fight, transform and even walk. None seem over-the-top, offering instead a chance to really look at these awesome creatures.
The only issue I had was the amount of screentime given over to the army and the Secretary of Defense.More than anything else, it's a testament to LaBeouf's performance and the success of the Transformers that every time the 'army plot' was onscreen, I was restless to get it over with and get back to the other story. It didn't seem to achieve much - save setting up the twinned cliches of 'army disbelieves random kid about friendly aliens to their detriment' and 'government meddles in matters beyond their comprehension to their detriment'. The movie would've been stronger without it. Likewise the extended shots of military hardware. It's not hard to realise that Bay loves his army toys, and I know many Transformers fans would appreciate the look at more machines a'shootin', but as the sixth minute ticked by showing a big plane shooting into a cloud of dust I was anxious for it to be over.
Given my tendency to focus on the negatives when I write, I'm going to fall on the well worn crutch of 'big list of things' to bring out some of the other stuff I liked/didn't like. Sure beats writing in pesky paragraphs.
Things that were cool! Uncool! There!
* Opening with a voiceover from Optimus Prime - voiced by the instantly recognisable original actor - was a great way to get me onside from the outset.
* Optimus Prime refuses to hurt humans, even to save his own troops. Soon has he sees a Decepticon? Knife to the eye! Awesome, although faintly creepy.
* Bumblebee responding to criticism by becoming an awesome car.
* Megatron being a bloodthirsty psychopath. Disdain for puny humans? Check. Ripping Jazz in half? Check.
* 'You've failed me again Starscream'. Awes.
* The necessary McGuffin of the plot - the All Spark Cube - was used to good effect. Although if it's purpose is to 'create life' within machines, why were all the creatures we saw it create evil? Soft drink shooting Transformer was cool though. I'd buy that toy.
* Like much of the Pentagon storyline, the young hackers didn't do anything I could tell, save giving Buffy actor and favorite of mine Tom Lenk some work. They seemed positioned, in true family movie style, to be the young folk who convince the stuffy old suits that the machines are alive. But turned out the government already knew. They already had one in the basement. "You'll be my adviser". "On what?" "Don't worry, you won't be onscreen again".
* Almost every gag LaBeouf said gave me a laugh.
* I didn't know how much I'd wanted to see Optimus and Megatron crashing through a building until it was upon me.
* Starting the action off instantly was welcome. Scorpinok carelessly ripping an entire army base a new one was spectacularly awesome.
* Megan Fox - who incidently did a great job despite being there solely for eye candy purposes - pulling a legless Bumblebee around while he shot a Decepticon to death was great.
* "One shall stand, one shall fall". So cheesy. So lame. So fantastically brilliamatic.
* Starscream's midair transformations as he took apart that platoon of jets was great.
* Wow. Optimus really got his ass handed to him by Megatron.
* That robot skated through a bus!
* Even though I'm already pretty sure I know exactly what the sequel will be - more transformers from both sides hear Optimus' call and come to earth, just in time to fight Megatron, who rises from the depths of the ocean as Galvatron owing to the All-spark's new home in his chest - I really wanna see it.
In closing, this movie was really good. Damn close to being great. I didn't have to fall back on the intensely irritating "just turn your brain off and enjoy the ride" defense of most action blockbusters.
Transformers was spectacular, funny, action-packed and - most importantly - entertaining.
If, shortly before shooting the sequel, Michael Bay could spend six weeks furiously masturbating over some 8x10 glossy pictures of military hardware to really get that out of his system, I'm sure that Transformers 2 could be even better.
Story time: Some things never change
It is often said that we shouldn't try to change the ones we love.
For generations, mothers have sat down their daughters and told them that changing a man is an uphill battle, and informed them of the benefits of buying a large shed so you can get your reading done in peace.Some things - such as the clothes he wears and the food he eats - can be altered slightly. Some things - such as an addiction to gambling or pornography - tend to be set in stone. Fact of life. If you met him playing the pokies and his pick up line was "life's kickin' when your knickers are stickin'", walk away. Run even.
Sidenote: The above quote, "life's kickin', etc.,", is something I actually saw on a bumper sticker someone had proudly placed across the back of their giant ute. It's easily the most amazing thing I've ever seen. I often wonder what the owner of this vehicle says when they drive up to visit their mother, and what sort of person would be impressed by it. If I met this person, would my mind explode? This will plague me for quite some time.
So, changing of loved ones is a no-no, but what about people we don't love? What about people we hate? Can we change them? Will they change themselves?
As this is such a Sex and The Cityesque topic up until now, allow me to rephrase that...
I couldn't help but wonder ... can we change the ones we hate? Are we sluts? [Insert pun here] Cunt. Men are bastards.
Anyway, This train of though took off from the following station; My attendance at the local football league's annual awards ceremony. I was required to attend for work. The 20 minutes I spent there were easily the least comfortable 20 minutes of my life thus far. Exaggeration? Yes, but it paints a picture.
There are few things that mark me as Australian. As the saying goes 'football, meat pies, kangaroos and Holden cars'. Unfortunately I won't touch a pie or tomato sauce - I have left many a canteen lady shocked into worried silence - cars hold no interest for me and one thing I despise above all others is the sport of football.
Kangaroos? Indifferent. Seem nice, could kill me.
I have never been a sportsman, it just never interested me. The problem was that growing up, I sported both ridiculously long hair and humorously thick glasses - allowing me to attract the twin insults of 'girl' and 'nerd' on a regular basis.
Sidenote: This persisted until I was 16. I cut my hair and got smaller glasses and people started talking to me. I realised this was quite a shallow situation but, overwhelmed by the attention, made the conscious decision that I didn't care.
Given the above facts, it is safe to say that footballers were not my friends. In fact, emboldened by their prowess and popularity, they were the loudest of my attackers.
Sidenote: Yes, I realise this is all very self-indulgent. What else are blogs for? I'm am at work and I don't want to work. What else can I do?
Strangely, no matter what these sporting elite subjected me to, it never seemed to truly get under my skin. Why? Because I felt on some level that I was better.Through teenage years yelling, screaming, cursing and generally being a crass, idiotic dickhead seem downright impressive. But I knew that, one day when we all went out into the real world, my ability to read, write and reason would far outway their ability to be a fuckwit. Surely their behavior, at the time applauded by their legion of ham-encrusted mates, would be looked down upon later in life.
That's the problem with all this, you see, as I was absolutely wrong.
Sitting at the annual football medal presentation, I was struck with how, well, 'high school' it all was.
One point of the evening involved calling out the names of players who had excelled for one reason or another. As the names were called, tables would erupt with fists pounding on wood, whoops, hollers and loud proclamations that the man had succeeded because of his giant penis, tiny penis, homosexuality, femininity, stupidity or what have you.
What really struck me though, was that the people presiding over this event were cheering on this behavior, laughing at the jokes, clapping at the hilarious pranks and generally getting into the hoodlum spirit.
I wanted to write this to warn future generations. Don't be fooled into thinking that the idiots you meet will be penalised for the things they do. Be aware of something I wasn't. Every weekend they're going to a club full of people who are doing the same things. Older generations are encouraging and applauding this behavior.
So that's the point I suppose. You can't change people whether you love them or hate them. People change themselves.
If you get a round of applause for drinking a litre of vodka and smashing a glass onto your face, you'll keep doing it.
For generations, mothers have sat down their daughters and told them that changing a man is an uphill battle, and informed them of the benefits of buying a large shed so you can get your reading done in peace.Some things - such as the clothes he wears and the food he eats - can be altered slightly. Some things - such as an addiction to gambling or pornography - tend to be set in stone. Fact of life. If you met him playing the pokies and his pick up line was "life's kickin' when your knickers are stickin'", walk away. Run even.
Sidenote: The above quote, "life's kickin', etc.,", is something I actually saw on a bumper sticker someone had proudly placed across the back of their giant ute. It's easily the most amazing thing I've ever seen. I often wonder what the owner of this vehicle says when they drive up to visit their mother, and what sort of person would be impressed by it. If I met this person, would my mind explode? This will plague me for quite some time.
So, changing of loved ones is a no-no, but what about people we don't love? What about people we hate? Can we change them? Will they change themselves?
As this is such a Sex and The Cityesque topic up until now, allow me to rephrase that...
I couldn't help but wonder ... can we change the ones we hate? Are we sluts? [Insert pun here] Cunt. Men are bastards.
Anyway, This train of though took off from the following station; My attendance at the local football league's annual awards ceremony. I was required to attend for work. The 20 minutes I spent there were easily the least comfortable 20 minutes of my life thus far. Exaggeration? Yes, but it paints a picture.
There are few things that mark me as Australian. As the saying goes 'football, meat pies, kangaroos and Holden cars'. Unfortunately I won't touch a pie or tomato sauce - I have left many a canteen lady shocked into worried silence - cars hold no interest for me and one thing I despise above all others is the sport of football.
Kangaroos? Indifferent. Seem nice, could kill me.
I have never been a sportsman, it just never interested me. The problem was that growing up, I sported both ridiculously long hair and humorously thick glasses - allowing me to attract the twin insults of 'girl' and 'nerd' on a regular basis.
Sidenote: This persisted until I was 16. I cut my hair and got smaller glasses and people started talking to me. I realised this was quite a shallow situation but, overwhelmed by the attention, made the conscious decision that I didn't care.
Given the above facts, it is safe to say that footballers were not my friends. In fact, emboldened by their prowess and popularity, they were the loudest of my attackers.
Sidenote: Yes, I realise this is all very self-indulgent. What else are blogs for? I'm am at work and I don't want to work. What else can I do?
Strangely, no matter what these sporting elite subjected me to, it never seemed to truly get under my skin. Why? Because I felt on some level that I was better.Through teenage years yelling, screaming, cursing and generally being a crass, idiotic dickhead seem downright impressive. But I knew that, one day when we all went out into the real world, my ability to read, write and reason would far outway their ability to be a fuckwit. Surely their behavior, at the time applauded by their legion of ham-encrusted mates, would be looked down upon later in life.
That's the problem with all this, you see, as I was absolutely wrong.
Sitting at the annual football medal presentation, I was struck with how, well, 'high school' it all was.
One point of the evening involved calling out the names of players who had excelled for one reason or another. As the names were called, tables would erupt with fists pounding on wood, whoops, hollers and loud proclamations that the man had succeeded because of his giant penis, tiny penis, homosexuality, femininity, stupidity or what have you.
What really struck me though, was that the people presiding over this event were cheering on this behavior, laughing at the jokes, clapping at the hilarious pranks and generally getting into the hoodlum spirit.
I wanted to write this to warn future generations. Don't be fooled into thinking that the idiots you meet will be penalised for the things they do. Be aware of something I wasn't. Every weekend they're going to a club full of people who are doing the same things. Older generations are encouraging and applauding this behavior.
So that's the point I suppose. You can't change people whether you love them or hate them. People change themselves.
If you get a round of applause for drinking a litre of vodka and smashing a glass onto your face, you'll keep doing it.
Story time: Sneaky, sneaky facial hair
My advice to you: Never trust a man with a moustache.
Now, I hold nothing against men who wish to cultivate some southbound facial hair. Well, I do, but that stems more from my own inability to grow a beard than anything else.I don't shave as often as I should - maybe once or twice a week - but really, after a week all I've ever managed to accomplish is a patchy teenage moustache and an irregular wispy patch on my neck. People often comment 'oh, you missed a spot on your neck', and I am forced to inform them that no, I simply haven't shaved since 1986.As a nerd of epic proportions, I should be genetically predisposed towards the growing of a nice goatee, but alas, no.
Nerd Tangent No 1: All nerds grow goatees at some time or another. Not sure why. Could it be the time-honored Mirror Universe principal handed down by Shatner and Spock? That a sci-fi character with a goatee is easily recognised as evil, mysterious and oozing with villainous cool? I suspect so.
Stripped of the conventional methods of achieving cool - drink, friends, fashion sense - we turn to that which God has given us, the goatee. In fact, it is probably my inability to bear a beard that stopped me from slipping into full-blown pencil-protector oblivion "a long, long time ago". I was forced to seek other avenues. I suppose I could have rocked the other way, concealing my bald chin behind a fly Darth Vadar helmet.
Nevertheless, a sole 'stache is not to be trusted. The thing is, I get facial hair, Even those elaborate sideboard extensions resplendent with carved designs as if the secrets of the Pharaohs lie within. As someone who used to have hair roughly seven feet tall and hard as stone, I get beard pride. I understand beard maintenance.
The thing is, a moustache sans beard is, well, creepy. At best, it implies the owner wants facial hair, but is to lazy to take on the full responsibility At worst, the owner does not want facial hair, but is compelled to conceal the lip ... they have something to hide.
You never know what is hiding inside someone's moustache, but it's usually highly illicit pornography or a hastily rolled joint.
Nerd Tangent 2: Superman is generally held up as the pinnacle of morality; the 'Boy Scout'. He's always zooming around saving people from death and he never, ever punches people so hard they explode - even thought he can. Even if he's finding out that Lois had a son with some dude or that his dad was vaporised. Pure class. But imagine if the guy had a moustache. No beard. It would change the whole dynamic. That single site of shaggy hair would change his clean-cut look which so informs public perception. Soon the Daily Planet would be running articles speculating on a possible mistress, and pretty soon the guy's throwing taxis screaming "leave me alone! I didn't even inhale!" This would be a lie of course, because at that point a marijuana cigarette would tumble from his moustache.
The exception to all this is of course the Handlebar Moustache, which I provide with capitalisation to denote its importance.The 'bar is a feat unto itself. While some members of society strive to keep their small business afloat, others are at home in front of a mirror, painstakingly applying an amount of product dense enough to maintain curl, but light enough to prevent droop. Laziness is not a word they understand. If they have something to hide, it's that they are pillars of pure awesomeness.
Nerd Tangent 3: Now, if Superman had a Handlebar Moustache, he could rule the world. Well, he could do that anyway, but you know what I mean. If the Man of Steel showed the world that, for all his vast power, he was willing to take care of the finer things in life, like the grooming of a perfectly curved 'bar, respect would flow like Kryptonian wine. It would show that he was in charge, in control. Crime would plummet as crooks and thieves realised that the Big S could freeze breath them to oblivion while still maintaining hold and shine.
Another thought: Hitler - moustache, no beard. What's more, it was a tiny moustache, and look at that guy. Taking this thought process to its conclusion, it's safe to assume that anyone with a moustache - no beard - wider than three centimetres is capable of genocide on a level the world has never seen.
Nerd Tangent 4: It is next to impossible for any discussion to occur on the internet, be it via blog, message board or MySpace page, without Hitler's name eventually coming up.
I now feel I have effectively demonstrated that my advice on whom and whom not to trust is accurate, and accompanied by rock solid evidence, such as the aforementioned Handlebar Superman.
With that in mind, I give you this: Never trust anyone who tries to tell you that Buffy the Vampire Slayer is not the most awesome show ever seen on TV - especially the musical episode and season three. This person, regardless of their follicle count, is a bald-faced liar. See what I did there?
Indeed, anyone who tries to tell you that Hallie Berry's delivery of one line of dialogue in X-Men the movie somehow illustrates Joss Whedon's talents more effectively than Buffy, Angel and Firefly, is a moustache.
Nerd Tangent 5: Now that I have grown obsessed with the idea of handlebar Superman, I am compelled to discuss the issue further. His only downfall, I feel, would be the loss of his secret identity Clark Kent. Kent wouldn't wear a handlebar, and Supes wouldn't stop maintaining it simply to retain anonymity and his family's safety. He'd have to be Superman full time. This would be better for the world, as that's a lot more saving people he can be doing. This also proves the awesomeness of the Handlebar Moustache.
And yes, I am aware that I labelled something as a Nerd Tangent in the middle of a Buffy conversation.
Whoa, I just grew a goatee.
Now, I hold nothing against men who wish to cultivate some southbound facial hair. Well, I do, but that stems more from my own inability to grow a beard than anything else.I don't shave as often as I should - maybe once or twice a week - but really, after a week all I've ever managed to accomplish is a patchy teenage moustache and an irregular wispy patch on my neck. People often comment 'oh, you missed a spot on your neck', and I am forced to inform them that no, I simply haven't shaved since 1986.As a nerd of epic proportions, I should be genetically predisposed towards the growing of a nice goatee, but alas, no.
Nerd Tangent No 1: All nerds grow goatees at some time or another. Not sure why. Could it be the time-honored Mirror Universe principal handed down by Shatner and Spock? That a sci-fi character with a goatee is easily recognised as evil, mysterious and oozing with villainous cool? I suspect so.
Stripped of the conventional methods of achieving cool - drink, friends, fashion sense - we turn to that which God has given us, the goatee. In fact, it is probably my inability to bear a beard that stopped me from slipping into full-blown pencil-protector oblivion "a long, long time ago". I was forced to seek other avenues. I suppose I could have rocked the other way, concealing my bald chin behind a fly Darth Vadar helmet.
Nevertheless, a sole 'stache is not to be trusted. The thing is, I get facial hair, Even those elaborate sideboard extensions resplendent with carved designs as if the secrets of the Pharaohs lie within. As someone who used to have hair roughly seven feet tall and hard as stone, I get beard pride. I understand beard maintenance.
The thing is, a moustache sans beard is, well, creepy. At best, it implies the owner wants facial hair, but is to lazy to take on the full responsibility At worst, the owner does not want facial hair, but is compelled to conceal the lip ... they have something to hide.
You never know what is hiding inside someone's moustache, but it's usually highly illicit pornography or a hastily rolled joint.
Nerd Tangent 2: Superman is generally held up as the pinnacle of morality; the 'Boy Scout'. He's always zooming around saving people from death and he never, ever punches people so hard they explode - even thought he can. Even if he's finding out that Lois had a son with some dude or that his dad was vaporised. Pure class. But imagine if the guy had a moustache. No beard. It would change the whole dynamic. That single site of shaggy hair would change his clean-cut look which so informs public perception. Soon the Daily Planet would be running articles speculating on a possible mistress, and pretty soon the guy's throwing taxis screaming "leave me alone! I didn't even inhale!" This would be a lie of course, because at that point a marijuana cigarette would tumble from his moustache.
The exception to all this is of course the Handlebar Moustache, which I provide with capitalisation to denote its importance.The 'bar is a feat unto itself. While some members of society strive to keep their small business afloat, others are at home in front of a mirror, painstakingly applying an amount of product dense enough to maintain curl, but light enough to prevent droop. Laziness is not a word they understand. If they have something to hide, it's that they are pillars of pure awesomeness.
Nerd Tangent 3: Now, if Superman had a Handlebar Moustache, he could rule the world. Well, he could do that anyway, but you know what I mean. If the Man of Steel showed the world that, for all his vast power, he was willing to take care of the finer things in life, like the grooming of a perfectly curved 'bar, respect would flow like Kryptonian wine. It would show that he was in charge, in control. Crime would plummet as crooks and thieves realised that the Big S could freeze breath them to oblivion while still maintaining hold and shine.
Another thought: Hitler - moustache, no beard. What's more, it was a tiny moustache, and look at that guy. Taking this thought process to its conclusion, it's safe to assume that anyone with a moustache - no beard - wider than three centimetres is capable of genocide on a level the world has never seen.
Nerd Tangent 4: It is next to impossible for any discussion to occur on the internet, be it via blog, message board or MySpace page, without Hitler's name eventually coming up.
I now feel I have effectively demonstrated that my advice on whom and whom not to trust is accurate, and accompanied by rock solid evidence, such as the aforementioned Handlebar Superman.
With that in mind, I give you this: Never trust anyone who tries to tell you that Buffy the Vampire Slayer is not the most awesome show ever seen on TV - especially the musical episode and season three. This person, regardless of their follicle count, is a bald-faced liar. See what I did there?
Indeed, anyone who tries to tell you that Hallie Berry's delivery of one line of dialogue in X-Men the movie somehow illustrates Joss Whedon's talents more effectively than Buffy, Angel and Firefly, is a moustache.
Nerd Tangent 5: Now that I have grown obsessed with the idea of handlebar Superman, I am compelled to discuss the issue further. His only downfall, I feel, would be the loss of his secret identity Clark Kent. Kent wouldn't wear a handlebar, and Supes wouldn't stop maintaining it simply to retain anonymity and his family's safety. He'd have to be Superman full time. This would be better for the world, as that's a lot more saving people he can be doing. This also proves the awesomeness of the Handlebar Moustache.
And yes, I am aware that I labelled something as a Nerd Tangent in the middle of a Buffy conversation.
Whoa, I just grew a goatee.
Story time: Broken Hill
Broken Hill can be an odd place. For a start, most of the thing is over a mine.
When I was a kid I used to make forts out of mattresses. I would sit inside and believe myself nigh invulnerable. The fantasy would always come to an end however, when my neighbor - who weighed about 74 grams - would lightly sit on the top, sending the whole thing crashing down.
It's a testament to mankind that the city I call home is not in a similar situation.
Most evenings at around 7pm they let off dynamite underground, and half the city shakes for a few seconds. If we were watching a summer blockbuster about an alien invasion and the plot involved setting off explosions below your nan's house, I'm betting you'd cry foul. "Wouldn't the ground collapse?" You'd say. "They've done their research," I'd say, nodding sagely.
We'd then have a long argument over who would win, the aliens or Darth Vadar, and then end up wasting half the night wondering whether the Borg could assimilate the Sith.
Sci Fi tangent #1: I think it would depend on whether lightsabers could cut through the Borg's adaptive shielding, and whether the individual Force user's ability extended to the manipulation of individual nanoprobes.
Sci Fi tangent #2: I'd also wonder what kind of bloody awful movie we were watching. Cinema has already taught us that alien invasions can be stopped simply by closing a cupboard door. On a related note, why would aliens who are killed by contact with water invade earth? Bad choice. Now this is true sci-fi discussion - quibbling over details that no-one cares about. Han shot first.
To many people who live their lives here in The Silver City, only three locations exist within the universe: Broken Hill, Tadlaide, or Away. It's quite a robust system, allowing all people to be swiftly classified as one of three things: A local (people you welcome into your home), an extended family member (as almost all people living in 'Tadlaide - nearby South Australian capital Adelaide to the uninitiated - either moved there from Broken Hill or are related to someone there) or those From Away (he is 'From Away' they say as they stare at them in the supermarket).
I've always been a bit skeptical of the system. The first two locations are quite intuitive, but the Away label is troubling, as it can be applied just as accurately to someone from Sydney as it can be to an Alaskan seal fisherman. Although I've tried to think of a better way, there really isn't anything that captures the Broken Hill mindset so eloquently.
I've never felt particularly isolated in this place. That probably has a lot to do with the current age. By the time I was old enough to give a toss, this whole internet shebang was in full swing. Back when Broken Hill raised the curtain though, people were too concerned about being crushed by a giant rock a kilometre underground to hunt for Transformers the Movie script spoilers.
Sci Fi Tangent #3: I found them, it's gonna suck.
Another quirk of the city is its tendency to refer to people by their 'grading'.To elaborate, to the best of my understanding:
An A Grader is someone born in Broken Hill;
A B Grader is someone not born here, but has lived here for quite some time, preferably marrying an A Grader and having children;
A C Grader is a 'blow in', they've moved From Away, haven't been here very long and aren't even the secretary of the Lions Club or anything.
I believe it goes down from there, but my knowledge is spotty. I think there's also a special A+ Grader category, wherein you were born Locally to Local parents and your nan lives in the same dynamite-laden street.
People of a different nationality can have trouble claiming A Grade status to some of the older, crustier locals, regardless of parentage.
Engagement in the community - such as adopting the local and its many patrons - can occasionally move you up a grade after a decade or so.
Extraordinary engagement can bump you up immediately.
This is why there is always a Secretary of the Lions Club.
When I was a kid I used to make forts out of mattresses. I would sit inside and believe myself nigh invulnerable. The fantasy would always come to an end however, when my neighbor - who weighed about 74 grams - would lightly sit on the top, sending the whole thing crashing down.
It's a testament to mankind that the city I call home is not in a similar situation.
Most evenings at around 7pm they let off dynamite underground, and half the city shakes for a few seconds. If we were watching a summer blockbuster about an alien invasion and the plot involved setting off explosions below your nan's house, I'm betting you'd cry foul. "Wouldn't the ground collapse?" You'd say. "They've done their research," I'd say, nodding sagely.
We'd then have a long argument over who would win, the aliens or Darth Vadar, and then end up wasting half the night wondering whether the Borg could assimilate the Sith.
Sci Fi tangent #1: I think it would depend on whether lightsabers could cut through the Borg's adaptive shielding, and whether the individual Force user's ability extended to the manipulation of individual nanoprobes.
Sci Fi tangent #2: I'd also wonder what kind of bloody awful movie we were watching. Cinema has already taught us that alien invasions can be stopped simply by closing a cupboard door. On a related note, why would aliens who are killed by contact with water invade earth? Bad choice. Now this is true sci-fi discussion - quibbling over details that no-one cares about. Han shot first.
To many people who live their lives here in The Silver City, only three locations exist within the universe: Broken Hill, Tadlaide, or Away. It's quite a robust system, allowing all people to be swiftly classified as one of three things: A local (people you welcome into your home), an extended family member (as almost all people living in 'Tadlaide - nearby South Australian capital Adelaide to the uninitiated - either moved there from Broken Hill or are related to someone there) or those From Away (he is 'From Away' they say as they stare at them in the supermarket).
I've always been a bit skeptical of the system. The first two locations are quite intuitive, but the Away label is troubling, as it can be applied just as accurately to someone from Sydney as it can be to an Alaskan seal fisherman. Although I've tried to think of a better way, there really isn't anything that captures the Broken Hill mindset so eloquently.
I've never felt particularly isolated in this place. That probably has a lot to do with the current age. By the time I was old enough to give a toss, this whole internet shebang was in full swing. Back when Broken Hill raised the curtain though, people were too concerned about being crushed by a giant rock a kilometre underground to hunt for Transformers the Movie script spoilers.
Sci Fi Tangent #3: I found them, it's gonna suck.
Another quirk of the city is its tendency to refer to people by their 'grading'.To elaborate, to the best of my understanding:
An A Grader is someone born in Broken Hill;
A B Grader is someone not born here, but has lived here for quite some time, preferably marrying an A Grader and having children;
A C Grader is a 'blow in', they've moved From Away, haven't been here very long and aren't even the secretary of the Lions Club or anything.
I believe it goes down from there, but my knowledge is spotty. I think there's also a special A+ Grader category, wherein you were born Locally to Local parents and your nan lives in the same dynamite-laden street.
People of a different nationality can have trouble claiming A Grade status to some of the older, crustier locals, regardless of parentage.
Engagement in the community - such as adopting the local and its many patrons - can occasionally move you up a grade after a decade or so.
Extraordinary engagement can bump you up immediately.
This is why there is always a Secretary of the Lions Club.
Spiderman 3: A Review
I've been finding it difficult to write a review of Spiderman 3.
See, whenever I sit down to think about the film, there's 12-year-old Steffie Jnr sitting in my head telling me that its awesome - the Spidey spectacle I would've killed to see at that age. But that kid is always competing for attention with another voice - my own personal black goop of realism yelling "we didn't think it worked as a film".
Walking out of the theatre at 2.30am on a Thursday morning surrounded by fellow nerds, I was wide awake. I loved the movie, and couldn't understand why everyone around me had greeted the credits with a resounding 'meh'. But as the days have worn on that black goop has roped its was up the arm of my sleeping inner child and dulled my appreciation.
The thing that finally told me I wasn't as impressed as I wanted to be was this - I didn't want to write a review. I'm the kind of bespeckled nerd who gets extremely passionate about comic books. My other great passion is talking loudly. Marry the two and I love to ramble endlessly, be it out loud or digitally, about things like Spiderman 3. But I can't form a cohesive review as I'm very much in two minds about the movie. When I'm awake I'm telling people how fun it was to watch, how cool it was to see Spidey in motion and action. When I'm asleep the black goop takes me on a tour of poor composition and lost focus.
With years of comic book reading behind me - especially Spiderman comics - I've digested more than enough story. I'm in the theatre to get what I can't from comics - to see Spidey in action and motion. When I say that a two hour movie of Spidey just swinging through the city stopping petty crimes would be met with my unabashed praise, you may understand why I can enjoy Spidey 3 where others have not.
I've retroactively read almost every appearance of Venom. I've seen the character go from alien cool to a diluted, overexposed anti-hero mess that is used as an example of '90s comics gone wrong. I've seen Peter Parker struggle with his inner darkness in the face of alien symbiotes, dead girlfriends, clones, shot aunts, dead-by-his-inactive-hand uncles and more sci-fi mashups than you can shake a webshooter at. I've seen Sandman grow from a one-note thug into a merc-for-hire into a hero and back again. With that in mind, I think I'll ultimately remember Spiderman 3 as a movie I enjoyed. It is deeply flawed, but it was fun. 12-year-old Stefan is ringing that church bell for all he's worth.
In lieu of a cohesive critique, I'm just going to list some things I liked or didn't like about the movie.
LIKED: Sandman. Effects-wise he was awesome. His rebirth spectacular when he first formed and touching when he reached for a symbol of his daughter. My inner geek loved his straight-from-the-comic appearance. Enjoyed the take on the character as a desperate man making bad choices.
DISLIKED: Sandman's inclusion in Uncle Ben's death. This felt unneccesary, and kind of makes the Peter Parker of Spiderman 1 an unnecessary murderer. I think Peter and our sympathy for the character would have been sufficient without it.
LIKED: Spidey in action. Enjoyed the three-dimensional, never-hit-the-ground nature of the fights. Effects looked great to my admittedly damaged eyes. Spiderman's unique abilities were showcased well.
DISLIKED: Spidey in action? While we saw Peter being affected by the black costume, we didn't see a lot of that from Spiderman. I missed seeing Spiderman swinging around the city doing miscellaneous good. I thought the opening fight with Harry could've had a cool reveal where Peter is smashed into a building and emerges in costume as a nice way to announce the character.The one fight where Spidey is in the black costume, fighting Sandman after learning of their personal connection, seemed designed to show us that Spidey was aggressive and powerful. That didn't really come across. His enhanced abilities didn't play much of a part and his rage could easily have come from what he had just learned. Nerd Tangent: Here's a five-minute scene that I think could've helped the movie's message: Woman is getting mugged at gunpoint. Spidey is swinging around. In a black blur he swings down, kicks the mugger in the chest and then carries on. The mugger is brutally sent flying half a block away and Spidey doesn't miss a beat. Doesn't stop to see if she's ok, no longer seeks praise. Certainly doesn't check to see if mugger is still alive. A montage of this a la Spidey 1 would've been great. Bloodied muggers caught in black webs. A Bugle headline showing that crime is down because criminals are shit scared. Show that this dark method is effective to make the issue complex. How about a car chase that's stopped by Spidey landing in front of the car and using its momentum to twist it from the ground and send it soaring through a 3rd story window? Little glimpses of a powerful, dark Spidey.
LIKED: Saturday Night Fever. I loved the dance sequence and the jazz club sequence. They were cheesy. They were lame. They were glorious. Because Peter Parker is lame. He is cheesy. Jazzed up on black, alien crack, Peter struts down the street and, for once, gets an approving stare from a female. This leads him to pick up a sharp suit and start disco dancing in the street, by this time oblivious to the fact that everyone thinks he's a dick. This captured something great - no matter what happens, Peter will never be cool. He's a dork. All the Travolta-riffing in the world won't help that. Awesome sequence.
DISLIKED: This again? It would be cool if Spiderman could get through a movie with his mask on his face and intact. I realise that its harder to connect with an actor if you can't see his face, and that Toby's paycheck warrants face time, but it's starting to become almost parody. Having his mask taken off I can take, but the constant ripping off is getting old. Its been done every time, and its starting to stretch even my credibility that his identity is not publicly known. Why stand 15 metres from a parade in your honor without your mask on?
LIKED: Topher Grace and Venom. I really like the take on Venom. I'm sure many will feel slighted that much of his comic persona was stripped. He didn't refer to himself as "we" for example. No slathering tongue. No chameleon powers. But given the nature of the symbiote as displayed I thought it was great. With the possible exception of Bruce Campbell, Topher Grace was the best part of this movie. He did a fantastic job with the character and I liked that, once he was Venom, he was still the same evil smart-ass that he'd always been, just with Spidey's powers over the top. I think its possible to bring Venom back and I hope they do, if only to see more of Topher's performance. There is much to explore with the character beyond what we've seen, and I think another Venom heavy movie would work without overexposing the character a-la the comic world. Exploring the duality of his mind, his being 'evil Spiderman', his invisibility to Spider-sense and be-anyone ability could be great fun. Please no Carnage.
DISLIKED: No spider-sense. I wouldn't have noticed this if it wasn't for Venom - who's comic book version is famously invisible to Spidey's danger sense. I did miss it though. Some of the coolest scenes from the previous two centered on this; the school fight with Flash, the car coming through the window. Its a unique ability and I would've like to see it represented. Harry picking Peter up off his bike and other such moments could've still worked with spider-sense.
LIKED: Bruce Campbell. 'Nuff said. Cameo done right. Sorry Stan Lee.
DISLIKED: Lack of focus. The big thing people said both before and after this movie was that the inclusion of so many villains would leave it unfocused and rushed. Sadly this did prove to be the case somewhat but I don't think the number of villains was the cause. Rather, focus was paid to the wrong areas. There was a lot of time spent on Peter and Mary-Jane when the point had already been made. Same with Harry. This left important moments - Harry's realisation of Pete's goodness, Venom's 'birth' - to rely on quick deux ex butlers to get by.Here's how I - obviously a scriptwriting visionary - would've handled the storyline without missing anything: Spidey is popular. Peter wants to marry MJ, gets ring. Sandman escapes from prison and gains powers. Harry attacks Peter and is knocked out. Meteor falls. Spidey fights Sandman and is soundly defeated. Symbiote finds Spidey and bonds. Spidey powerful. smashing criminals while Peter flirting with Gwen and treating MJ badly. Humiliates Brock. Harry gets out of hospital, falsely reconciles with Peter and moves in on MJ. Peter faces Sandman and defeats him with unnecessary violence. MJ's 'I'm leaving you'. Peter confronts Harry, hard truths exchanged, Harry disfigured. Peter removes symbiote, it bonds with Brock. Brock blackmails Sandman to help him. Peter fights both villains with help of 11th hour appearance by Harry in a Han Solo, need not be explained manner. Sandman leaves, repentant. Eddie separated from Symbiote, which is seemingly killed. Harry dies. Pete and MJ reconcile.Sure, there's a lot going on there, but it could have been covered easily in the time alloted without the fluff.
LIKED: The comic-book feel. Midnight atomic sand-tests and unexplained meteors may strike a bum note with some movie-goers, but it had me reminiscing about the comics of my youth.
DISLIKED: My main problem with this film, but really the whole trilogy, is Spiderman's personal involvement with almost everything he faces.Raimi's injection of humanity into his supervillains has worked wonders in most cases. In the first film it was great to see the interplay between Spidey, the Goblin, Peter and Norman.
Three films in, however, and I can't help but feel that this all just makes Peter seem less heroic. Allow me to explain.The Green Goblin was a huge part of the Spidey mythos because he was so personal to Peter. He knew his real identity, his son was his best friend and that Goblin legacy impacted on all facets of Peter's life for generations (of Osborns). This was powerful because it stood in stark contrast to the other villains in Peter's life.In the movies each climax involves the capture of Mary-Jane. Peter's primary motivation is to save her. Each major villain he is confronting has captured his girlfriend. In three this is heightened by one random disaster, an out-of-control crane, directly threatening Gwen Stacey, his second love interest.It feels like Spiderman is only getting involved when is private life is threatened, where I think it would seem more heroic if he was stopping these villains because, well, it's the right thing to do.In the final fight of three, Spidey had enough reason to fight without MJ's involvement. A guy using his own powers for evil? A desperate man he has overly victimised driven to the edge? Imagine the same scenario but with three taxis full of random people strung up. Same emotional punch, no retreading.
So there were are. If anything proves that I've been thinking a lot about this film, its a 2,000 word ramble. Appearances to the contrary - its easier for me to write out the negatives - I did really enjoy the film. It's got a lot of flaws, but it was damn entertaining.
See, whenever I sit down to think about the film, there's 12-year-old Steffie Jnr sitting in my head telling me that its awesome - the Spidey spectacle I would've killed to see at that age. But that kid is always competing for attention with another voice - my own personal black goop of realism yelling "we didn't think it worked as a film".
Walking out of the theatre at 2.30am on a Thursday morning surrounded by fellow nerds, I was wide awake. I loved the movie, and couldn't understand why everyone around me had greeted the credits with a resounding 'meh'. But as the days have worn on that black goop has roped its was up the arm of my sleeping inner child and dulled my appreciation.
The thing that finally told me I wasn't as impressed as I wanted to be was this - I didn't want to write a review. I'm the kind of bespeckled nerd who gets extremely passionate about comic books. My other great passion is talking loudly. Marry the two and I love to ramble endlessly, be it out loud or digitally, about things like Spiderman 3. But I can't form a cohesive review as I'm very much in two minds about the movie. When I'm awake I'm telling people how fun it was to watch, how cool it was to see Spidey in motion and action. When I'm asleep the black goop takes me on a tour of poor composition and lost focus.
With years of comic book reading behind me - especially Spiderman comics - I've digested more than enough story. I'm in the theatre to get what I can't from comics - to see Spidey in action and motion. When I say that a two hour movie of Spidey just swinging through the city stopping petty crimes would be met with my unabashed praise, you may understand why I can enjoy Spidey 3 where others have not.
I've retroactively read almost every appearance of Venom. I've seen the character go from alien cool to a diluted, overexposed anti-hero mess that is used as an example of '90s comics gone wrong. I've seen Peter Parker struggle with his inner darkness in the face of alien symbiotes, dead girlfriends, clones, shot aunts, dead-by-his-inactive-hand uncles and more sci-fi mashups than you can shake a webshooter at. I've seen Sandman grow from a one-note thug into a merc-for-hire into a hero and back again. With that in mind, I think I'll ultimately remember Spiderman 3 as a movie I enjoyed. It is deeply flawed, but it was fun. 12-year-old Stefan is ringing that church bell for all he's worth.
In lieu of a cohesive critique, I'm just going to list some things I liked or didn't like about the movie.
LIKED: Sandman. Effects-wise he was awesome. His rebirth spectacular when he first formed and touching when he reached for a symbol of his daughter. My inner geek loved his straight-from-the-comic appearance. Enjoyed the take on the character as a desperate man making bad choices.
DISLIKED: Sandman's inclusion in Uncle Ben's death. This felt unneccesary, and kind of makes the Peter Parker of Spiderman 1 an unnecessary murderer. I think Peter and our sympathy for the character would have been sufficient without it.
LIKED: Spidey in action. Enjoyed the three-dimensional, never-hit-the-ground nature of the fights. Effects looked great to my admittedly damaged eyes. Spiderman's unique abilities were showcased well.
DISLIKED: Spidey in action? While we saw Peter being affected by the black costume, we didn't see a lot of that from Spiderman. I missed seeing Spiderman swinging around the city doing miscellaneous good. I thought the opening fight with Harry could've had a cool reveal where Peter is smashed into a building and emerges in costume as a nice way to announce the character.The one fight where Spidey is in the black costume, fighting Sandman after learning of their personal connection, seemed designed to show us that Spidey was aggressive and powerful. That didn't really come across. His enhanced abilities didn't play much of a part and his rage could easily have come from what he had just learned. Nerd Tangent: Here's a five-minute scene that I think could've helped the movie's message: Woman is getting mugged at gunpoint. Spidey is swinging around. In a black blur he swings down, kicks the mugger in the chest and then carries on. The mugger is brutally sent flying half a block away and Spidey doesn't miss a beat. Doesn't stop to see if she's ok, no longer seeks praise. Certainly doesn't check to see if mugger is still alive. A montage of this a la Spidey 1 would've been great. Bloodied muggers caught in black webs. A Bugle headline showing that crime is down because criminals are shit scared. Show that this dark method is effective to make the issue complex. How about a car chase that's stopped by Spidey landing in front of the car and using its momentum to twist it from the ground and send it soaring through a 3rd story window? Little glimpses of a powerful, dark Spidey.
LIKED: Saturday Night Fever. I loved the dance sequence and the jazz club sequence. They were cheesy. They were lame. They were glorious. Because Peter Parker is lame. He is cheesy. Jazzed up on black, alien crack, Peter struts down the street and, for once, gets an approving stare from a female. This leads him to pick up a sharp suit and start disco dancing in the street, by this time oblivious to the fact that everyone thinks he's a dick. This captured something great - no matter what happens, Peter will never be cool. He's a dork. All the Travolta-riffing in the world won't help that. Awesome sequence.
DISLIKED: This again? It would be cool if Spiderman could get through a movie with his mask on his face and intact. I realise that its harder to connect with an actor if you can't see his face, and that Toby's paycheck warrants face time, but it's starting to become almost parody. Having his mask taken off I can take, but the constant ripping off is getting old. Its been done every time, and its starting to stretch even my credibility that his identity is not publicly known. Why stand 15 metres from a parade in your honor without your mask on?
LIKED: Topher Grace and Venom. I really like the take on Venom. I'm sure many will feel slighted that much of his comic persona was stripped. He didn't refer to himself as "we" for example. No slathering tongue. No chameleon powers. But given the nature of the symbiote as displayed I thought it was great. With the possible exception of Bruce Campbell, Topher Grace was the best part of this movie. He did a fantastic job with the character and I liked that, once he was Venom, he was still the same evil smart-ass that he'd always been, just with Spidey's powers over the top. I think its possible to bring Venom back and I hope they do, if only to see more of Topher's performance. There is much to explore with the character beyond what we've seen, and I think another Venom heavy movie would work without overexposing the character a-la the comic world. Exploring the duality of his mind, his being 'evil Spiderman', his invisibility to Spider-sense and be-anyone ability could be great fun. Please no Carnage.
DISLIKED: No spider-sense. I wouldn't have noticed this if it wasn't for Venom - who's comic book version is famously invisible to Spidey's danger sense. I did miss it though. Some of the coolest scenes from the previous two centered on this; the school fight with Flash, the car coming through the window. Its a unique ability and I would've like to see it represented. Harry picking Peter up off his bike and other such moments could've still worked with spider-sense.
LIKED: Bruce Campbell. 'Nuff said. Cameo done right. Sorry Stan Lee.
DISLIKED: Lack of focus. The big thing people said both before and after this movie was that the inclusion of so many villains would leave it unfocused and rushed. Sadly this did prove to be the case somewhat but I don't think the number of villains was the cause. Rather, focus was paid to the wrong areas. There was a lot of time spent on Peter and Mary-Jane when the point had already been made. Same with Harry. This left important moments - Harry's realisation of Pete's goodness, Venom's 'birth' - to rely on quick deux ex butlers to get by.Here's how I - obviously a scriptwriting visionary - would've handled the storyline without missing anything: Spidey is popular. Peter wants to marry MJ, gets ring. Sandman escapes from prison and gains powers. Harry attacks Peter and is knocked out. Meteor falls. Spidey fights Sandman and is soundly defeated. Symbiote finds Spidey and bonds. Spidey powerful. smashing criminals while Peter flirting with Gwen and treating MJ badly. Humiliates Brock. Harry gets out of hospital, falsely reconciles with Peter and moves in on MJ. Peter faces Sandman and defeats him with unnecessary violence. MJ's 'I'm leaving you'. Peter confronts Harry, hard truths exchanged, Harry disfigured. Peter removes symbiote, it bonds with Brock. Brock blackmails Sandman to help him. Peter fights both villains with help of 11th hour appearance by Harry in a Han Solo, need not be explained manner. Sandman leaves, repentant. Eddie separated from Symbiote, which is seemingly killed. Harry dies. Pete and MJ reconcile.Sure, there's a lot going on there, but it could have been covered easily in the time alloted without the fluff.
LIKED: The comic-book feel. Midnight atomic sand-tests and unexplained meteors may strike a bum note with some movie-goers, but it had me reminiscing about the comics of my youth.
DISLIKED: My main problem with this film, but really the whole trilogy, is Spiderman's personal involvement with almost everything he faces.Raimi's injection of humanity into his supervillains has worked wonders in most cases. In the first film it was great to see the interplay between Spidey, the Goblin, Peter and Norman.
Three films in, however, and I can't help but feel that this all just makes Peter seem less heroic. Allow me to explain.The Green Goblin was a huge part of the Spidey mythos because he was so personal to Peter. He knew his real identity, his son was his best friend and that Goblin legacy impacted on all facets of Peter's life for generations (of Osborns). This was powerful because it stood in stark contrast to the other villains in Peter's life.In the movies each climax involves the capture of Mary-Jane. Peter's primary motivation is to save her. Each major villain he is confronting has captured his girlfriend. In three this is heightened by one random disaster, an out-of-control crane, directly threatening Gwen Stacey, his second love interest.It feels like Spiderman is only getting involved when is private life is threatened, where I think it would seem more heroic if he was stopping these villains because, well, it's the right thing to do.In the final fight of three, Spidey had enough reason to fight without MJ's involvement. A guy using his own powers for evil? A desperate man he has overly victimised driven to the edge? Imagine the same scenario but with three taxis full of random people strung up. Same emotional punch, no retreading.
So there were are. If anything proves that I've been thinking a lot about this film, its a 2,000 word ramble. Appearances to the contrary - its easier for me to write out the negatives - I did really enjoy the film. It's got a lot of flaws, but it was damn entertaining.
Story time: Bad service
Ok, allow me to, for want of a better word, rant.
See? I'm "down" with the fly "netspeak".
So my story begins with my X-Box; sure it's an ugly black brick with vomit green highlights, but it allows me to play video games, so all is forgiven.
Unfortunately, the bastard won't open. This is a problem. But do not despair! Problems can be solved! Money can be exchanged for goods and services! This includes the repair of ugly bricks!
Right?
So I lug the X-Monstrosity down to one of the city's respected retailers and ask him: "Can you please find out why this X-Box doesn't work?" (I'm paraphrasing here; I omitted the phrase 'pile of crap' for a start).
The next day, the man in the store becomes my favorite man, as he tells me it will cost $160 to repair - although a fair amount off money, much less than anticipated - and that when I acquired said money, he could order the necessary parts and have the work completed within two days!
Behold!
So, between three and five days pass, and I returned! "I'm cashed up! All systems go! Order away!" I said. (This is, unfortunately, a direct quote) His response? A lukewarm "ok" and "it'll take about a week". So, as my dreams of immediate B-button mashing evaporated faster than so many 1s and 0s, I beat a hasty retreat. I wanted to debate the situation, but I worried I may try to assault the man with a large metal glove.
Alas!
And so, a further three to five days pass, and I return to the store. The man, no longer my favorite person, but still beating out Hitler rather handily, greeted me with a rather heartwarming smile! Joy! Surely his happiness would signal impending good news!
Alas!
He laughed like a well-constructed flan and thanked me for coming down; my visit reminded him to order the needed parts, a task he had completely forgotten!
Excelsior!
I was, of course, overjoyed to be able to provide him with such a service. It was at about this stage that I began to consider this man as Slightly Less Than My Least Favorite Person. In the process of talking to the man through quickly eroding teeth, I gleaned that he had completely forgotten my original request: To fix my X-Box! On my initial visit, we had decided that, rather than replace one circuit board in the DVD assembly, we should go batshit crazy and, for an extra $20, replace the whole thing! Somehow, he was now under the impression that the entire project was to replace the laser! Would this help the X-Box open and close I enquired, and he started at me as if I had scrawled "stare at me from under an impressive combover" under my nose!
He had also taken to saying the word "about" before all information. What had once been $160 was now About $160, a week now About a week.
I fled the scene.
I began to suspect that this man, while a dab hand with a soldering iron, was not someone I would ever be chatting to after this episode, and I would more than likely find myself one day avoiding him in a small supermarket. And so the next day, yesterday, I returned, hoping madly against hope that either my X-Box was fixed or that the shop's proprietor had been stricken by a cold sore.
ALAS!
Neither pipe dream was delivered, and all attempts to glean information about the situation were greeted with yet more gregarious laughter and the repetitious phrases "nope", "no news" and "jeez, you're keen". And so, I have resolved to return tomorrow, and every day until the job is complete, for fear of another disastrous bout of forgetfulness.
I feel this will either quicken the process, or find me waking up post-bender in a pool of blood and circuit boards.
Now get off my lawn you rascals before I call the cops.
See? I'm "down" with the fly "netspeak".
So my story begins with my X-Box; sure it's an ugly black brick with vomit green highlights, but it allows me to play video games, so all is forgiven.
Unfortunately, the bastard won't open. This is a problem. But do not despair! Problems can be solved! Money can be exchanged for goods and services! This includes the repair of ugly bricks!
Right?
So I lug the X-Monstrosity down to one of the city's respected retailers and ask him: "Can you please find out why this X-Box doesn't work?" (I'm paraphrasing here; I omitted the phrase 'pile of crap' for a start).
The next day, the man in the store becomes my favorite man, as he tells me it will cost $160 to repair - although a fair amount off money, much less than anticipated - and that when I acquired said money, he could order the necessary parts and have the work completed within two days!
Behold!
So, between three and five days pass, and I returned! "I'm cashed up! All systems go! Order away!" I said. (This is, unfortunately, a direct quote) His response? A lukewarm "ok" and "it'll take about a week". So, as my dreams of immediate B-button mashing evaporated faster than so many 1s and 0s, I beat a hasty retreat. I wanted to debate the situation, but I worried I may try to assault the man with a large metal glove.
Alas!
And so, a further three to five days pass, and I return to the store. The man, no longer my favorite person, but still beating out Hitler rather handily, greeted me with a rather heartwarming smile! Joy! Surely his happiness would signal impending good news!
Alas!
He laughed like a well-constructed flan and thanked me for coming down; my visit reminded him to order the needed parts, a task he had completely forgotten!
Excelsior!
I was, of course, overjoyed to be able to provide him with such a service. It was at about this stage that I began to consider this man as Slightly Less Than My Least Favorite Person. In the process of talking to the man through quickly eroding teeth, I gleaned that he had completely forgotten my original request: To fix my X-Box! On my initial visit, we had decided that, rather than replace one circuit board in the DVD assembly, we should go batshit crazy and, for an extra $20, replace the whole thing! Somehow, he was now under the impression that the entire project was to replace the laser! Would this help the X-Box open and close I enquired, and he started at me as if I had scrawled "stare at me from under an impressive combover" under my nose!
He had also taken to saying the word "about" before all information. What had once been $160 was now About $160, a week now About a week.
I fled the scene.
I began to suspect that this man, while a dab hand with a soldering iron, was not someone I would ever be chatting to after this episode, and I would more than likely find myself one day avoiding him in a small supermarket. And so the next day, yesterday, I returned, hoping madly against hope that either my X-Box was fixed or that the shop's proprietor had been stricken by a cold sore.
ALAS!
Neither pipe dream was delivered, and all attempts to glean information about the situation were greeted with yet more gregarious laughter and the repetitious phrases "nope", "no news" and "jeez, you're keen". And so, I have resolved to return tomorrow, and every day until the job is complete, for fear of another disastrous bout of forgetfulness.
I feel this will either quicken the process, or find me waking up post-bender in a pool of blood and circuit boards.
Now get off my lawn you rascals before I call the cops.
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: A Review
I found this, the penultimate book in the Potter saga, to be much more enjoyable than the previous Order of the Phoenix, which was about 100 pages longer and should have been 200 pages shorter.
It is one of those inevitable installments in any ongoing story wherein all of the previous mysteries are revealed and the stage is set for the next, final book. Because of this, the book will no doubt be a big hit with confessed Potter fans, but will leave others a bit cold, although we're probably past any sort of jumping on point by now anyway.The by-product of this is that Half-Blood Prince (HBP) is less of a self-contained story than the previous books, and is more concerned with the broader saga.
Case in point, the Half-Blood Prince of the title. Although the character's identity is eventually revealed, and sans-alias plays an important role, the actual identity mystery isn't all that important. This is in contrast to previous books, where the title was indicative of the main storyline.Indeed, many of the mysteries are set up early and dangled until the closing chapters, rarely being touched on throughout. The true intentions of Malfoy and Snape, Dumbeldore's mysterious injury and the aforementioned prince are good examples.
The above is my only criticism - high praise indeed considering it didn't effect my enjoyment in the slightest.
In fact, drawing out the mysteries in such a way made for a satisfying climax, and I was unable to stop turning pages once the pieces started falling into place. As has been demonstrated in previous installments, Rowling is always able to wrap these mysteries up in a convincing way - although the fact she created the universe's rules undoubtedly helps - and more impressively, tie almost everything together to relate to the primary story. Throwaway facts from previous books invariably return as important pieces in the puzzle.
So, if the mysteries are quickly established yet dangled, what fills the 600-odd pages? I am glad to say it is not the repetitive teenage melodrama from the last volume. There are still signs that the characters are growing up - with the expected hormones along for the ride - but it reads a lot smoother this time around.
In fact, the space in-between mysteries is where this book really shines, establishing the state of play since Voldemort's return and giving readers some much-appreciated insight into his origins. By the end of the book, readers have greater understanding than ever before of Voldemort's origins and motivations, his link to Harry and the source of his abilities.
Unlike other books in the saga, it lays a lot of the groundwork for the next, final installment, indicating that it will be more of a sequel to this book, rather than just another year at Hogwarts. The thing I enjoyed most of all were the numerous "eureka" moments scattered throughout - those moments where a long-contemplated mystery is finally unveiled, in the process demonstrating that Ms Rowling did in fact have everything mapped out from the start. Very satisfying.
As far as supporting characters go, Dumbledore is excellent - making a welcome return to Harry's confidences following a notable absence in the last book, and Hagrid is always a welcome addition.Of course, a hero is only as good as his villain, and Voldemort is again excellent. It is a credit to the character that even though he is only seen through flashback and memory, he still manages to impregnate the entire book - his mere existence shaping the entire world.He is the best kind of villain - an intelligent string-puller who is seemingly omnipotent and nigh invincible, everywhere and nowhere all at once. An army of Death Eaters are present to take care of that other cornerstone of true villainy - violence.
The Harry Potter novels have grown increasingly darker and more adult as the series has progressed, and HBP is no exception. In this vein, the last thing I must mention is the ending.As gruesome a scene has never been seen in a Potter book, and Rowling again demonstrates her ability to tug at the emotions of readers. The characters are left in a very dark place indeed - joined no doubt by many a reader. What makes the scene so bleak is, apart from the events themselves, that unlike previous books, HBP doesn't close with the year's troubles conquered, the problems wrapped up. The Harry Potter story has moved further in scope, the plight is now too big to be a one book affair.
Now the long wait begins for the conclusion, and fans will no doubt be on the edge of their seats because this time, the stage has been set. I found this book excellent, as I'm sure will those who have likewise been drawn into Rowling's story. And let's face it, there are one or two of those.
It is one of those inevitable installments in any ongoing story wherein all of the previous mysteries are revealed and the stage is set for the next, final book. Because of this, the book will no doubt be a big hit with confessed Potter fans, but will leave others a bit cold, although we're probably past any sort of jumping on point by now anyway.The by-product of this is that Half-Blood Prince (HBP) is less of a self-contained story than the previous books, and is more concerned with the broader saga.
Case in point, the Half-Blood Prince of the title. Although the character's identity is eventually revealed, and sans-alias plays an important role, the actual identity mystery isn't all that important. This is in contrast to previous books, where the title was indicative of the main storyline.Indeed, many of the mysteries are set up early and dangled until the closing chapters, rarely being touched on throughout. The true intentions of Malfoy and Snape, Dumbeldore's mysterious injury and the aforementioned prince are good examples.
The above is my only criticism - high praise indeed considering it didn't effect my enjoyment in the slightest.
In fact, drawing out the mysteries in such a way made for a satisfying climax, and I was unable to stop turning pages once the pieces started falling into place. As has been demonstrated in previous installments, Rowling is always able to wrap these mysteries up in a convincing way - although the fact she created the universe's rules undoubtedly helps - and more impressively, tie almost everything together to relate to the primary story. Throwaway facts from previous books invariably return as important pieces in the puzzle.
So, if the mysteries are quickly established yet dangled, what fills the 600-odd pages? I am glad to say it is not the repetitive teenage melodrama from the last volume. There are still signs that the characters are growing up - with the expected hormones along for the ride - but it reads a lot smoother this time around.
In fact, the space in-between mysteries is where this book really shines, establishing the state of play since Voldemort's return and giving readers some much-appreciated insight into his origins. By the end of the book, readers have greater understanding than ever before of Voldemort's origins and motivations, his link to Harry and the source of his abilities.
Unlike other books in the saga, it lays a lot of the groundwork for the next, final installment, indicating that it will be more of a sequel to this book, rather than just another year at Hogwarts. The thing I enjoyed most of all were the numerous "eureka" moments scattered throughout - those moments where a long-contemplated mystery is finally unveiled, in the process demonstrating that Ms Rowling did in fact have everything mapped out from the start. Very satisfying.
As far as supporting characters go, Dumbledore is excellent - making a welcome return to Harry's confidences following a notable absence in the last book, and Hagrid is always a welcome addition.Of course, a hero is only as good as his villain, and Voldemort is again excellent. It is a credit to the character that even though he is only seen through flashback and memory, he still manages to impregnate the entire book - his mere existence shaping the entire world.He is the best kind of villain - an intelligent string-puller who is seemingly omnipotent and nigh invincible, everywhere and nowhere all at once. An army of Death Eaters are present to take care of that other cornerstone of true villainy - violence.
The Harry Potter novels have grown increasingly darker and more adult as the series has progressed, and HBP is no exception. In this vein, the last thing I must mention is the ending.As gruesome a scene has never been seen in a Potter book, and Rowling again demonstrates her ability to tug at the emotions of readers. The characters are left in a very dark place indeed - joined no doubt by many a reader. What makes the scene so bleak is, apart from the events themselves, that unlike previous books, HBP doesn't close with the year's troubles conquered, the problems wrapped up. The Harry Potter story has moved further in scope, the plight is now too big to be a one book affair.
Now the long wait begins for the conclusion, and fans will no doubt be on the edge of their seats because this time, the stage has been set. I found this book excellent, as I'm sure will those who have likewise been drawn into Rowling's story. And let's face it, there are one or two of those.
Story time: Some things stick
Sometimes, the smallest things can have a huge impact on your life. Some things stay with you forever.
As an example, two innocent conversations I had as a child continue to shape my toilet habits up until this day.
Innocent toilet conversation #1
When I was quite young, my brother and I stayed with a family friend for a few days. I don't really know why, but I seem to remember it being the first time I'd ever been out of my house for any length of time.My main problem was, at that time in my life, the idea of going "number two" at another person's house filled me with unassailable dread.But I was prepared! I had rejected food in the lead up to my stay, and continued to eat like a sparrow or supermodel for the duration, all in the interest of keeping my buttocks clenched for two days.But my host would have none of that. I have no idea how the topic came up - and am rather worried about how it could have - but I clearly remember her worried cry of "if you hold it in you'll get sores on your bottom!"From that moment on, I would rush off to do the business at the drop of a hat. Unfortunately, I retained my fear of out-of-house use of the outhouse. The result? A lot of sprints home. So many days of school were wasted as I contemplated the formation of sores, which in my mind could grow to the size of small planets.
Innocent toilet conversation #2
My primary school music teacher was, frankly, insane.
In Broken Hill you tend to be a bit behind the curve when it comes to cinema - movies are screened months after they are shown in metropolitan areas.I once arrived in music class to find the teacher, freshly returned from a trip to Adelaide, ready to make a speech."When I was away I went and saw Jurassic Park," she said. Keep in mind that at the time every child in the school had spent months awaiting this movie. Dinosaurs? Awesome."At one point a little boy climbs a fence and gets electrocuted, but I want you to know that he's alright in the end."She told us this, she said, so that we wouldn't be too scared. A sea of young faces stared blankly as they realised this insane woman - who incidently never ever let me play the drum - had ruined what appeared to be a critical point in the movie.On a separate occasion, one of the students asked if they could go to the toilet."Yes! Of course! Go right now," she exclaimed - hence the exclamation points.She went on to explain to the class that if you didn't urinate right away your bladder would fill and explode, causing toxic waste to flood throughout your bloodstream and kill you. She did not specify a timeframe.This affected me deeply."Can I please go to the toilet?" I would ask teachers. If they said no I would enter a deep depression, fully convinced that I had been callously handed a death sentence.
Sidebar: Years later, a friend and I got into a debate with our Year 12 English teacher over whether sentences that ended in exclamation points indicated that the reader should shout. Although she made a compelling argument as to why this wasn't always necessary, we continued to shout throughout the class's read-through of the Color Purple. This exercise took months, mainly because the loud voices lead to constant interruptions by passing teachers who wanted to make sure everything was alright.
Strangely enough, the huge number of formulae I committed to memory in both mathematics and physics class have all slipped away into the mists of time. Play me a song I last heard in Year 9, however, and I'll sing you the chorus.
Some things stick. Some don't.
As an example, two innocent conversations I had as a child continue to shape my toilet habits up until this day.
Innocent toilet conversation #1
When I was quite young, my brother and I stayed with a family friend for a few days. I don't really know why, but I seem to remember it being the first time I'd ever been out of my house for any length of time.My main problem was, at that time in my life, the idea of going "number two" at another person's house filled me with unassailable dread.But I was prepared! I had rejected food in the lead up to my stay, and continued to eat like a sparrow or supermodel for the duration, all in the interest of keeping my buttocks clenched for two days.But my host would have none of that. I have no idea how the topic came up - and am rather worried about how it could have - but I clearly remember her worried cry of "if you hold it in you'll get sores on your bottom!"From that moment on, I would rush off to do the business at the drop of a hat. Unfortunately, I retained my fear of out-of-house use of the outhouse. The result? A lot of sprints home. So many days of school were wasted as I contemplated the formation of sores, which in my mind could grow to the size of small planets.
Innocent toilet conversation #2
My primary school music teacher was, frankly, insane.
In Broken Hill you tend to be a bit behind the curve when it comes to cinema - movies are screened months after they are shown in metropolitan areas.I once arrived in music class to find the teacher, freshly returned from a trip to Adelaide, ready to make a speech."When I was away I went and saw Jurassic Park," she said. Keep in mind that at the time every child in the school had spent months awaiting this movie. Dinosaurs? Awesome."At one point a little boy climbs a fence and gets electrocuted, but I want you to know that he's alright in the end."She told us this, she said, so that we wouldn't be too scared. A sea of young faces stared blankly as they realised this insane woman - who incidently never ever let me play the drum - had ruined what appeared to be a critical point in the movie.On a separate occasion, one of the students asked if they could go to the toilet."Yes! Of course! Go right now," she exclaimed - hence the exclamation points.She went on to explain to the class that if you didn't urinate right away your bladder would fill and explode, causing toxic waste to flood throughout your bloodstream and kill you. She did not specify a timeframe.This affected me deeply."Can I please go to the toilet?" I would ask teachers. If they said no I would enter a deep depression, fully convinced that I had been callously handed a death sentence.
Sidebar: Years later, a friend and I got into a debate with our Year 12 English teacher over whether sentences that ended in exclamation points indicated that the reader should shout. Although she made a compelling argument as to why this wasn't always necessary, we continued to shout throughout the class's read-through of the Color Purple. This exercise took months, mainly because the loud voices lead to constant interruptions by passing teachers who wanted to make sure everything was alright.
Strangely enough, the huge number of formulae I committed to memory in both mathematics and physics class have all slipped away into the mists of time. Play me a song I last heard in Year 9, however, and I'll sing you the chorus.
Some things stick. Some don't.
X-Men 3: The Last Stand. A Review
Shiny. This was the biggest, funnest movie I've seen in a long time. The action and set pieces were amazing. The effects were impressive, albeit with a few missteps.This was also the first movie in the franchise that made me believe in a world full of mutants. Beast's role in government, the long lines of mutants and protesters and Magneto's army all showed that these people were a full-blown part of society instead of a student body holed out up in Westchester.
Despite my glee as I sat in the cinema, it only took me a few minutes after the credits rolled to realise that under the shiny surface, this movie is as empty as Charlie's wheelchair.
Now, if you're the sort of fanboy who can't stand it when a movie diverges from its source material - wait for DVD. Strangely, that didn't really bother me. I don't have a problem seeing these characters stand alone. Frankly, the prospect of a new X-Men movie spinning wildly away from the comic timeline has me pumped.
What did bother me though is that the movie messed up the characterisation as established in the last two films. Xavier's 'I don't have to explain myself ... especially to you' line completely missed the mark. The comics have dealt with the Prof's dark side, but the movies have kept him too clean for that line to work.And Magneto's 'What have I done?' towards the end, complete with 'I'm human now' hair, just seemed too pathetic for the Master of Magnetism, even in the face of his ultimate defeat. Throwing away Mystique went the other way. Despite his villain status, Erik's always had an air of honor about him.
Despite the obvious killing spree, Wolverine has lost his teeth. Even though Movie Wolverine has more of the 'kind hearted uncle' about him than the comic version, this film veered too far. Inspirational speeches about togetherness don't sit with him at all.
Storm was surprisingly bearable.
The concept of a mutant cure is an interesting one that opens up a lot of great storytelling possibilities. I would have liked to have seen much more about mutants and humans struggling with the ethics of it all. Unfortunately the humans turn it into a weapon almost instantly and become mustache-twirling villains. They might as well just scream 'The mutants are right!'.
When you're making a comic movie, you can pretty much change anything as long as you keep the spirit of the work intact. For example, no-one cares that Mary-Jane came before Gwen Stacey, because Peter Parker was spot on. I think that, in general, the spirit was fine in this one. It's just the plot and dialogue that let it down.
Despite what I said earlier, it is a shame that we'll never be able to see movies based on some great X-Men stories. There were a lot of great storylines that were cannabalised to make one great scene in this one. Days of Future Past could've been a whole film. Sentinels should be a whole film, but'll feel a little hollow when we've already seen 'em.Most of all; The Phoenix saga. Was cool in the movie, but it's a shame to see an epic tale of love and sacrifice reduced to a zombie bitch rampage.
To reiterate, I enjoyed the film, and I'll be watching it again. I won't be thinking a lot, but it's an enjoyable ride. B-
Some random thoughts:
1. Some great uses of powers, which is what I'm always looking for: Colossus sharing his powers with Rogue; Iceman's 'true form' at last; flying flaming car grenades!; Storm's whirlwind punch; the Kitty/Juggernaut chase; Fastball special; Madrox.
2. Beast in full flight was a sight to behold. Great casting as well.
3. Wolverine killed a LOT of people. Sweet.
4. This movie rivals Narnia for highest Body Count Without a Drop of Blood Spilled.
5. Calisto has super speed?
6. I liked that this movie effectively featured a new X-team. A revolving roster could be cool in the future.
7. I'm the Juggernaut bitch! Good lord.
8. If you aren't aware of the comics, wouldn't you asking yourself this question: Why would a destructive, alternate personality call itself 'The Phoenix'? They stripped out the rebirth theme, so what the hell? She doesn't usually have a codename at all!
9. Jeez, sucks to be Scott. Not only does he die off-screen, no-one even pays attention till the end. In the meantime, Xavier dies onscreen, gets tears AND a funeral! Poor four-eyed bastard.
10. Mutant cure made from mutant. It's like 10,000 spoons.
11. I don't really understand why the X-Men decide to take such extreme action. The cure's voluntary. Only villains are being shot with it. I agree this is abhorrent, and they should work to get rid of the cure altogether, but isn't stripping out a dude's powers better than stabbing them repeatedly with big claws?
12. 'that's why the pawns go first'. Too evil.
13. Magneto pays out Wolverine for 'never learning' at the end. At that point, Wolvie's killed like 100 people while Magneto just hung around.
14. Whatever effect they used to de-age Charles and Erik was sweet.
Wow. I talk a lot. And I'm a nerd.
Despite my glee as I sat in the cinema, it only took me a few minutes after the credits rolled to realise that under the shiny surface, this movie is as empty as Charlie's wheelchair.
Now, if you're the sort of fanboy who can't stand it when a movie diverges from its source material - wait for DVD. Strangely, that didn't really bother me. I don't have a problem seeing these characters stand alone. Frankly, the prospect of a new X-Men movie spinning wildly away from the comic timeline has me pumped.
What did bother me though is that the movie messed up the characterisation as established in the last two films. Xavier's 'I don't have to explain myself ... especially to you' line completely missed the mark. The comics have dealt with the Prof's dark side, but the movies have kept him too clean for that line to work.And Magneto's 'What have I done?' towards the end, complete with 'I'm human now' hair, just seemed too pathetic for the Master of Magnetism, even in the face of his ultimate defeat. Throwing away Mystique went the other way. Despite his villain status, Erik's always had an air of honor about him.
Despite the obvious killing spree, Wolverine has lost his teeth. Even though Movie Wolverine has more of the 'kind hearted uncle' about him than the comic version, this film veered too far. Inspirational speeches about togetherness don't sit with him at all.
Storm was surprisingly bearable.
The concept of a mutant cure is an interesting one that opens up a lot of great storytelling possibilities. I would have liked to have seen much more about mutants and humans struggling with the ethics of it all. Unfortunately the humans turn it into a weapon almost instantly and become mustache-twirling villains. They might as well just scream 'The mutants are right!'.
When you're making a comic movie, you can pretty much change anything as long as you keep the spirit of the work intact. For example, no-one cares that Mary-Jane came before Gwen Stacey, because Peter Parker was spot on. I think that, in general, the spirit was fine in this one. It's just the plot and dialogue that let it down.
Despite what I said earlier, it is a shame that we'll never be able to see movies based on some great X-Men stories. There were a lot of great storylines that were cannabalised to make one great scene in this one. Days of Future Past could've been a whole film. Sentinels should be a whole film, but'll feel a little hollow when we've already seen 'em.Most of all; The Phoenix saga. Was cool in the movie, but it's a shame to see an epic tale of love and sacrifice reduced to a zombie bitch rampage.
To reiterate, I enjoyed the film, and I'll be watching it again. I won't be thinking a lot, but it's an enjoyable ride. B-
Some random thoughts:
1. Some great uses of powers, which is what I'm always looking for: Colossus sharing his powers with Rogue; Iceman's 'true form' at last; flying flaming car grenades!; Storm's whirlwind punch; the Kitty/Juggernaut chase; Fastball special; Madrox.
2. Beast in full flight was a sight to behold. Great casting as well.
3. Wolverine killed a LOT of people. Sweet.
4. This movie rivals Narnia for highest Body Count Without a Drop of Blood Spilled.
5. Calisto has super speed?
6. I liked that this movie effectively featured a new X-team. A revolving roster could be cool in the future.
7. I'm the Juggernaut bitch! Good lord.
8. If you aren't aware of the comics, wouldn't you asking yourself this question: Why would a destructive, alternate personality call itself 'The Phoenix'? They stripped out the rebirth theme, so what the hell? She doesn't usually have a codename at all!
9. Jeez, sucks to be Scott. Not only does he die off-screen, no-one even pays attention till the end. In the meantime, Xavier dies onscreen, gets tears AND a funeral! Poor four-eyed bastard.
10. Mutant cure made from mutant. It's like 10,000 spoons.
11. I don't really understand why the X-Men decide to take such extreme action. The cure's voluntary. Only villains are being shot with it. I agree this is abhorrent, and they should work to get rid of the cure altogether, but isn't stripping out a dude's powers better than stabbing them repeatedly with big claws?
12. 'that's why the pawns go first'. Too evil.
13. Magneto pays out Wolverine for 'never learning' at the end. At that point, Wolvie's killed like 100 people while Magneto just hung around.
14. Whatever effect they used to de-age Charles and Erik was sweet.
Wow. I talk a lot. And I'm a nerd.
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