Happy birthday!

This is Leen.

Today is her birthday.

Leen is great.

Happy birthday Leen.

To celebrate this auspicious occasion, I bought her, among other things, a slanket and a 12-can carton of Cherry Coke.

Given the cold weather, I expect a weekend of hibernation, with brief excursions into the real world fuelled by corn syrup.

Two and a half Men

And now, an honest plea:
Can someone please explain the appeal of this television program?

See that picture over there? That's the DVD cover for Season Four. Four!

Quick recap:

Firefly: Almost a season.

Twin Peaks: Two seasons.

Arrested Development: Three seasons.

Sarah Connor Chronicles (haven't seen it, but I've heard it's good, and that wound is fresh): Two seasons.

The story of my life, tentatively title "Through Scratched Lenses; The Greatest Story Ever Told": Never even picked up!

Now, this show does not screen here. I have seen it while visiting faraway lands. Due to this minuscule level of experience I may be judging the program's level of quality somewhat harshly. But you know what? Life is unfair. See above.

Now, my first problem with this show is the kid. For a start, I've barely seen him on screen, even though he's on all the promos. Also, look at that guy. That little dude is rich as hell now. He know you know, and that's why he's got that look on his face.

My real problem is thus: This is the most repetitive television I've ever seen. The handful of episodes I've seen make me feel like I've been stuck in front of it forever. The plot of each show is thus:

1] Charlie Sheen has intercourse with woman;

2] His downtrodden, effeminate brother reacts with condemnation, exasperation and envy;

3] Hilarity ensues! Maybe this swingin', heartless lifestyle ain't all it's cracked up to be!

4] The child exists, apparently, and;

5] Reset in preparation for subsequent episodes.

The only mutable element of this program is the outfit worn by the woman of the week. This just seems like the skeeviest thing in the whole world.

Now, is this show not a sign of impending destruction? Is its continued journey down the television highway, flanked as it is by the smouldering wreckage of programs approaching art, not a concern on the level of firstborn removal?

I understand that a churning, half-committed audience numbering in its millions must attract the almighty dollar, but when I'm in any town other than here, this show seems to screen every night, sometimes multiple times!

It burns!

Despite my despair, which spirals down into an inky blackness, I am willing to admit my relative lack of reference. If I have misjudged this show, do please enlighten me.

Of course, we all know that the show would be infinitely improved by the replacement of that kid with this man:

Previously on LOST

From June 1, I will be rewatching LOST's first five seasons as part of Docarzt and friends' reWatching LOST

You should too.

There's a schedule up that will have me watching about four episodes a week. If I can stick to it I'll finish up right before the debut of the sixth and final season.

The added benefit will be discussing the episodes each week with the greater fan community with the benefit of our current hindsight.

This is going to be awesome.

Photo taken from Docarzt for 'spreading the word' purposes.

Transforminators are stealing your sand.

The following video is hilarious, and far greater than the sum of its real world parts.

All who disagree are mistaken.

My fruit basket is mouldy

LOST consistently finds itself as the most pirated show on the internet.

Are we, the international audience, surprised? We shouldn't be.

Now, LOST is the kind of show I must see on time. As dependant as it is on a drip-feed on information and cliffhanger reveals, watching it a day late means you kind of have to switch off the internet. And I can't do that. I would miss things.

But the lesson is broader. If you define good TV as TV that inspires a loyal audience, than LOST is good TV. People want to watch it. Rather than railing against piracy, would it not be better to harness the power of this demand? American television networks are inching forward with Hulu and the like, but the international audience is often ignored.

It falls to Australian broadcasters to rectify the situation. If they are going to put all their eggs in the 'buy stuff from America basket', then they need to deliver the basket on time.

I've asked it many times, but if I can be watching an episode of LOST 20 minutes after it screens in the US, then why can't television stations get it at the same time?

Photograph provided by Earl - What I Saw 2.0

Changes afoot

As you are no doubt aware, things look a little different around here today.

Leen has leveraged her substantial brain power and technical wizardry to make the blog look awesome. I'm a big fan.
I will now spend a day staring at everything and tinkering around the edges.
Remember that day where the blog changed shape four times in an hour and then returned to its previous appearance? Where, if you held your modem up to your ear, you could hear me gently weeping? Today is not like that day.

So what do you think of the new digs?

You've Got the Touch

Behold! The greatest song in the universe!



Behold! The worst thing that has ever happened!



Stan Bush's The Touch holds a special place in my heart, owing to it taking pride of place on the soundtrack to the 80s' animated Transformers film. As a young child I would listen to it repeatedly while screaming "take that Decepticreeps!" I continue this practice today.

This new version, apparently created by Bush without solicitation, is much like the new Transformers movie itself - quality parts reassembled in a way that is somehow less.

The Fear

For your consideration, Lily Allen's "The Fear":




A catchy, harmless little pop ditty for sure. It sticks in my head due to the lyrics below:

"And i’ll take my clothes off and it will be shameless
Cuz everyone knows that’s how you get famous
I’ll look at the sun and I’ll look in the mirror
I’m on the right track yeah I’m on to a winner"

The song, about the search for celebrity no matter how trashy, includes that great little line about The Sun and The Mirror. As well as their obvious meanings, Leen pointed out to me later that both are UK tabloids.

I love that little turn of phrase, that double meaning where a lyric of seemingly general imagery transitions into something of greater relevance.

Did I fall asleep?

Dollhouse has been renewed, so everyone who said that me saying I liked a show meant it would be automatically be cancelled can suck it. Even me. Especially me.

Seriously, the only downside to this is the threatened hobbling of my 'TV networks=devils' argument. That's one of my favourite complaints!

The upside?

With abysmal ratings, Dollhouse is a potential example of a shift in thinking, where executives consider a television program beyond the initial screening. That's a good thing.

A few years ago, Dollhouse never could've been renewed. But in this case, Fox has apparently looked past the 'no-one is watching as it screens just because we made sure it was shown at a time when no-one would watch as it screens' conundrum.

Now, if said executives could use the time they once spent cancelling things to go back an build a time machine and renew Firefly, all would be well.

Microsoft

I have been trying to avoid writing about Microsoft here on the blog, as it is doomed from the start to become an awful, venom-fuelled rant.

The Red Ring of Death immortalised in pumpkin! Well, for a few weeks anyway. Photo by Penner42

I exist within an Apple household. As such, Microsoft and I only brush up against one another through the Xbox 360 that squats beneath my television. The console in question was given to me by a friend (thanks AC!), which has further worked to discourage me from airing complaints. After all, what right do I have to complain about something that came free of charge? In such circumstances, am I not obliged to be content with whatever comes my way? I did not pay, after all.

Of course, the issues conspire to prevent me from investing any further money into the console, which seemingly tackles the issue from a lesser front, so I feel justified.

After gaining ownership of the console I indulged in a rampant orgy of gaming, catching up on the legion of titles I had missed since the console's release. This culminated in Leen and I purchasing Rock Band and Guitar Hero, which Voltroned together into a fun-producing juggernaut from which there was no escape. This is where my issues with the console began.

See, a majority of my friends are Xbox players. It's their console of choice and they spend many hours gathering in Xbox Live facilitated cyberspace to shoot each other.

Sadly, their allegiance to the Microsoft flag has rewarded them with crashes and the dreaded Red Ring of Death on numerous occasions. The conclusion? Xboxes are fragile things.

With Rock Band such a treasured pastime of mine, one which required a substantial investment into plastic instruments, I dread the possibility that the X-Box may die.

This is especially pronounced given its second-hand, no-proof-of-purchase nature.

This has led to the X-Box becoming a dedicated Fake Band Station - a role it performs admirably.

So sadly, the Xbox's biggest problem is the spectre of things that may never come to pass, an enemy as ethereal as it is unsolvable.

Another bone of contention is Leen and my involvement with X-Box Live.

Our house is blanketed in wireless broadband, and the Xbox's lack of inbuilt wifi is a big problem, requiring an ethernet cable be snaked across the floor should an online experience be desired.

I resisted Xbox Live mainly because you have to pay for the service. It is, by all accounts, well worth the money, but alas it is money I do not have.

Despite all this, we signed up for X-Box Live for one month so that we could download some songs for Rock Band.

Issues at hand:

* This took about two hours, as we needed to update every software cranny and answer every question there is.

* As we used Leen's credit card and her profile on the system, my profile did not share access to X-Box Live. This meant I could not play online with my friends, and that Microsoft expected us to pay twice for a service that could only ever be used by one person at a time. The alternative - me playing under Leen's profile, flies in the face of the desire to establish one's online identity, and is stupid.

* We later discovered that Microsoft had quietly started billing us every month without telling.

* We discovered cancelling an ongoing subscription you did not request is the only Live service that cannot be undertaken over the internet, and of course not through the console itself.

* Calling to cancel, Leen was asked a bazilion questions, including the oft-repeated 'may I ask why you're cancelling?' and 'can you give this to someone else?'

So, in summary:

The Xbox has a great catalogue of games and can be a lot of fun. It is technologically adept and features an excellent online service.

Sadly, I am scared to turn the thing on and if it broke the customer service would melt my soul.

Dollhouse Season 1

Dollhouse was an enjoyable, benign little thing for much of its first season, but the final run of episodes made me want to see it return.

Image by catclawtub. Get it? It's a dollhouse.

I gave my first impressions of Dollhouse after I watched the first four episodes, So I won't rehash the concept or my Whedon frenzy.

My thoughts remained much the same throughout the season - good, not great.
But the final two episodes really came together and saw the creators get a solid handle on the concept. It's a shame it took them so long, as even now the show is dangling somewhere between 'maybe returning' and 'definitely cancelled'.

There seems to be a pattern with Whedon's shows post-Buffy. They're announced and his fanbase gets excited. Immediately there are rumblings of executive meddling and always the idea pops up that the network desires a more episodic, self-contained experience. The show starts and is alright until the episodic nature dissolves and an overarching story emerges - then things get great. Why the same song and dance all the time?
Dollhouse proves this again. The Dollhouse concept is awash with grey. There aren't any obvious heroes or villains. It's complex. Too complex for self-contained episodes, but ideal for an ongoing serial. The early episodes failed to engage me as there was no-one to root for. The main characters were literally nobodies, so why care? This show needed room to breath and explore the concept, to clue us in that all this shadiness was the point.

The final two episodes, however, rediscover the story that launched the whole thing - rogue operative Alpha. In the process the ideas of the show (is there any cause for voluntary slavery? Will technology wipe us away?) are clearly enunciated for the first time and the cast is rejigged into a wholly more interesting configuration.

In the final episode there's a fight which neatly sums up this point. An FBI agent has worked all year to save an operative from her slavery within the Dollhouse. The Dollhouse's head of security was once her minder and seeks only to keep her safe. When they face off for possession of the girl, you're struck with the oddity of not knowing quite who to root for.

Sadly, the excellent acting on show in the final two episodes by Alpha demonstrate pretty clearly that the concept has been let down by acting in the past. It doesn't bother me terribly, but it shows in hindsight that part of the difficulty in accepting that these people can become anyone stemmed from their inability to convey such a thing.

The final episodes make good use of the Dollhouse concept beyond programmable people on a 42 minute mission, and I am now interested to see the show go from here.

In all, this first season - perhaps due to its short nature - feels like a long pilot. At the end, I feel as if it's really ready to start.
Here's hoping it gets the chance (he types, hoping cancellation won't be announced before he pushes the 'publish button).

Important things afoot

In about two hours I'll be sitting down to watch the LOST finale with some fellow slack-jawed addicts.

I will spare you the only things I could've coherently written today - the word LOST over and over again.

Excited!

Standing on the shoulders of giants

Australia is a nation that loves sport.

It runs through our veins. Seeing our favourite footy team snatch victory with a last minute mark conjures up emotions that are deeply entwined with our sense of country - our sense of self.

Seeing a man reach to the heavens and pluck a ball from the sky, driving it home to goal and being carried on the shoulders of his mates! Huzzah!

Seeing a battler come through!

Seeing mateship thrive under the pressures of competition!

Witnessing.......




Look, I'm obviously being facetious. I hold no interest in sport and disdain for the aura of borderline-criminal recklessness it projects into our culture.
A man's ability to handle a ball should not impact on his ability to withstand rape charges.
I do not hold to the idea that sportsmen must be role models, mainly because they are often proven incapable.
I do not believe that a punch delivered on a field should be adjudicated by a special judiciary system.
I do not think that any and all behaviour can be explained away by boyish exuberance, as seems to be the case.

Anyway, this opinion of mine - long held by me and long a source of frustration for those around me - has been kindled by the following:

The Code of Silence

This piece by the excellent Four Corners details attempts by the Rugby League to address the poor attitudes of its players when it comes to the opposite sex.
A 'rugby personality' was recently linked to an awful incident of group sex. In a startling case of missing the point, he man apologised on the TV show he hosts - to his family, for the anguish the allegations had caused.
Good Lord.
This culture of ours? In which exists a pocket where men are not expected to grow up, treat people equally, and have a massive, corporate machine working to protect their behaviour? It is flawed.

Read this as well:
New research says footballers are often seedier than criminals
Depressing.

Come blow your horn...

My anticipation for the two-hour-long LOST season finale - dropping this week - is getting intense.

I am going in fresh this year. I've stayed away from spoilers [temptation ... rising] and have little clue as to what is going to happen.
To help soothe the pain, here's a video, spoiler-free, of Michael Emerson demonstrating why Benjamin Linus is such a great character.

And another thing ...

"You're so hot, I have entirely forgotten how boring everything else is." Photograph by Kekoah.

I don't know why, but I'm obsessed by Twilight.

My review of the film generated some cool commentary, which serves to further my fascination.

Firstly, from Jay via the comments here:

'My take on it is: it's a girl film. written and directed by females with a female demographic in mind. That's why I totally love it, and it works for my (decidedly female) brain :D. I mean, HE SPARKLES!!!!!!! that's totally what I look for in a guy! I can see why your boy(brain)s aren't into it though.'

See, I think this is at the heart of why I can't let this go. Edward is an amazing character because he has the greatest superpower ever:

He is so dreamy that he can make any film that surrounds him seem amazing, even if it really, really isn't.

It's the only explanation I can think of. Robbed of the ability to be attracted to Edward, I miss out on at least 75 per cent of the Twilight experience.

And secondly from a friend of mine via Facebook:

'I told (my daughter) you said Twilight was boring. She said you say that because you're old or at least middle age. You wouldn't have the passion like other fans, especially if you haven't read the book. So there! (She) says she thinks the film was only made for the fans of the book. Do you think that would be on the dime?'

She's got a damn good point, as I grow older and more miserable every day.

Evidence: Should a film adapted from a book be considered successful if the audience must read the book to enjoy it? Would that not imply that it is pointless?

Oh well, I suppose it's just not my thing. Good thing the internet facilitates my whining regardless.

Something we've all dwelled on.

I hope Geoff Klock is comfortable with me swiping this video from him, because I've totally done it already.

I have stolen it for a good reason though - the belief that everyone should see it, as it speaks a great truth.

Comedians of Comedy: Live at the Troubadour	September 29 1a/12c
Patton Oswalt - Star Wars
comedycentral.com
Joke of the Day Stand-Up Comedy Free Online Games

What could it be?

I'm thinking of a current, wide-reaching situation. It:

A] Is mainly the fault of our planet's wealthiest people and/or nations.
B] Will cause the biggest problems for our planet's poorest people and/or nations.
C] Is endlessly shuffled away by apathetic Governments.

What could it be?

If you answered:


A] The Global Financial Crisis
B] Climate Change
C] Damn Near Anything Else


Than you were right!

Twilight: A Review

Twilight commits the worst sin a film - especially a blockbuster summer movie - can commit: it is boring.

I found the awesome photo above, courtesy of Ateo Fiel. through a Flickr search for 'toothless'. Seewhadahdidthar?

The Plot [Spoilers]: Twilight follows Bella, a typically sullen teenage girl who moves to a small town. At her new school she encounters Edward, a dark, brooding chap who hangs out exclusively with his dark and broody family. He initially seems to despise her but soon they get to know each other and it turns out he's a vampire and they fall in love. Later on a bad vampire decides to kill her so Edward saves her and they go to the prom.

Full Disclosure: I am not in the target demographic for this film, which seems purposefully built to enslave teenage girls. I rented it for two reasons: it is a pop culture juggernaut and I like to be aware of that kind of stuff, and; I was vaguely aware through conversations with other people that it might be so terrible that it would be amazing, fuelling humour and mirth for decades to come.

Review: It's necessary for Twilight to take place in a grey world. Everything is overcast and grey. Sadly, this extends beyond the setting and seeps into the story.

There is a scene mid-film where Edward and his family of vampires play baseball. They're excited because a thunderstorm has arrived and that's the only time they can play. this is because, as super strong vampires, they hit the ball with such force that it sounds like thunder. The scene sticks in my find because it is the only lightweight scene in the film. Characters have fun and there's a humour there that is severely lacking elsewhere. It's a cheesy application of vampire abilities to be sure, but it's a welcome change. Sadly, the film is super impressed with this 'hitting a baseball loudly' thing. Here's how it goes:

Edward: 'We can only play during a thunder storm.'
Vampire #1: 'Bella, we're playing baseball because we need the thunder!'
Vampire #2: Hits ball and it sounds like thunder.
Bella: 'Wow! Now I know why you need the thunder!'
It's painful over-exposition, and it is repeated.

Outside of that brief scene, Twilight just isn't any fun. It's overwrought and angst-ridden for no good reason. Everything is so important and everything is so hard.
Bella seems to drift disinterested through proceedings showing sparse emotion, even as the boy she likes near-vomits upon meeting her, then loves her, then admits he's a vampire. It makes a flash of hysterics at the end of the film creepy. When all is said, she comes off as self-centred. she wants to be with Edward and wants to be a vampire and if she doesn't get it she gets mad.

Edward is convinced he is the most terribly dark anti-hero in the worst position with the worst pain ever, and he wants you to know it.
Twilight is adapted from a novel and is apparently quite faithful, which is a shame, as otherwise inconsistencies could be chalked up to translation error.
See, we're supposed to see Edward as this dangerous uber-monster, but this only works by borrowing from the audience's pre-existing understanding of the vampire myth. But the author has changed so much of this myth that we are forced to assume that nothing counts any more. Twilight wants it both ways and that's cheating.
for example, the vampires in Twilight do not burst into flames in sunlight, and can walk around on overcast days. Moreso, when in direct sunlight, their skin sparkles like diamonds.
Yep.
Sparkles like diamonds.
Now, the 'vampire as seducer' is a well-worn story, and the shiny skin thing is explained as such by Edward:
Edward: 'Look at me in the sunlight! Behold my paiiiiin!"
Bella: 'that's beautiful.'
Edward: 'No! I'm a monster! A mooooonster!"
My problem is thus: Traditional vampires' inability to walk in sunlight is an integral part of their myth, reinforcing them as a symbol of darkness both literally and as metaphorical evil. It works.
If vampires are not weakened by the sun, but instead sparkle as a way to be super-attractive to their prey, then why do they avoid the sunlight? Sure, Edward and his family avoid it as a way of pretending to be human, but what about the others? If sunlight enhances their power over their prey, then why not use it? How did their culture evolve to abhor sunlight with this ability?

The vampire myth is similarly wasted towards the film's climax, when Bella is summoned to a mirror-lined dance studio by the vampire hunting her. As a vamp fan I immediately think it's a smart plan - vampires cast no reflection, and thus hold an advantage in a room full of mirrors. But no, they arrive and he casts a reflection. Never mentioned. When he and Edward fight they smash through the wooden floor, spraying the room with foot-long splinters of sharpened wood. These ... I suppose you could call them stakes, are similarly unmentioned.

With the vampire myth so destroyed, Edward's complaints seem hollow. Sure, he has to stop himself from drinking people, but he seemingly has done for ages, and within his family it would be awful of him to do such a thing. The family is presented in such a wholesome fashion that it's clear that murder would be about as acceptable for Edward as it would be for me.

But wait! It is hard on poor Edward, because Bella smells so good he can't help but want to eat her immediately, it's love at first sight. What is special about her is never explained, save for Edward saying "you're like my personal brand of heroin". It's his worst line, but it's not the only clunker.

I think that's the central problem in Twilight - Bella is loved by everyone all the time for no real reason. She's not all that likeable, but:

* Everyone at her school immediately likes her;
* Edward is immediately in love with her and she's the greatest thing he's ever smelled ever;
* Edward's family, despite faint complaints that humans are forbidden and the obvious fact that they've never hung out with humans before, immediately accept her into their family, even as her presence threatens to see them all killed;
* The super evil vampire, who is the best hunter ever, instantly decides she's the best prey ever for what essentially amounts to her being awesome;
* The Native American guy clearly loves her too, even though they barely speak.
* She gets asked to prom twice.

So you have a girl who everybody loves all the time, nabbing the boy who is super hot, dark and dangerously attractive but not dangerous in any way and is totally nice to your dad.

One of two things were happening when the author wrote the book Twilight:

A] She cynically assembled pieces with the maximum ability to enthrall a female, teenage audience,
B] She made the main character herself, and we are privy to the weakest and creepiest fantasy ever.

At the end of the film, the super evil vampire who is the best hunter ever is held firmly by the wrist and appears to give up while his head is ripped off and he is set on fire.

I was right there with him.

Dream

I awoke with a start last week to a half-remembered dream.
More accurately, I vividly remembered one specific section of what seemed to be a longer dream.

What I recall felt very much like the final scene of a film. I'm wearing a crumpled but well-tailored suit that tells a story of suave sophistication giving way to increasing panic.
I'm sitting in an airport looking panicked and breathing heavily. I know - in that way in which dream logic just stitches events together - that I've escaped by the skin of my teeth from some kind of heist. I know I have failed to return with whatever it is I was sent to collect.
Suddenly a group of people burst in through the door and large men in suits like mine but crisp sit down around me. A woman - who may not look like the woman in charge of Dollhouse but emits that vibe of cold control - stands before us. She is my boss.
She expresses disappointment and demands I hold out my finger. She breaks it, violently, and bone spears out through the skin. the blood is very red against the neutral airport colour scheme and the black suits. I scream and it echoes back against me a few times.
Suddenly, the woman is caring and calm. She takes out a bandage and wraps it around my finger, tying it off gently.
"Thanks," I say quietly.
I think to myself that the bandage is cold and wet and that that is strange.
The woman leans in, her mouth close to my ear.
"You'll be fine, but you won't be going anywhere for a while," she whispers.
I'm confused, but she stands up and strides away. Everything descends into cheesy, glossy slow-motion as she twirls back around to deliver the film's necessary, final one-liner.
"Keep your distance boys. I've just given him swine flu."
She walks out and the camera recedes as if tied to her back. I see me sitting there exhausted as the colour drains from the faces around me.
I understand in that dream way that I will develop symptoms and be quarantined, and identified for my crimes before my release.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine. A Review.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine is a simplistic, disappointing film. The few bright spots serve mainly to heighten the overall sense of disappointment.

The above photograph, depicting claws more realistically the film discussed below, provided by Joits.

The plot [spoilers abound]:
Hugh Jackman plays James, a sweet young thing who accidentally stabs his father to death at a young age in Victorian England with frail bones protruding from the back of his hands. James and his brother Victor run away to fight in every war ever before they are drafted into a black ops team run by the American Government. They are drafted as both men are mutants, with vastly accelerated healing and retarded ageing. James retains his extrusions - three bone claws that emerge from the back of each hand, while Victor has fangs and his fingernails extend to wicked points.
Once their secret mutant team becomes icky and heartless, James leaves. He becomes a lumberjack with a girlfriend and at some point changes his name to Logan. Logan's old boss comes to see him and then Victor comes and kills his girlfriend so Logan fights Victor and loses and then goes to his old boss who gives him a nigh-invulnerable skeleton and he sets of off to find Victor and take revenge. That is probably the first half of the film.

Verdict:
The first problem with Wolverine is evident from the above synopsis. It is entirely plot-driven and the plot makes no sense. Buried in here somewhere is a great road movie or an excellent revenge flick. But events just pile up and up with no point. An ensemble of characters is created but are given no time to breathe, ultimately serving no greater purpose than to rob Wolverine of the time necessary to achieve anything.
Hugh Jackman's performance is very good for the most part, and you can tell this is comfortable territory for him having played the character three times already. The only flaw is that he's in the middle of such a poor film. His howls of pain would work if they were earned by the story and less melodramatically shot.
Of the four people I saw this with, two of us liked it despite flaws and two hated it despite a few good scenes. I fell into the later camp.
The first scene, with a prepubescent Wolverine, is the worst thing I've seen on screen for a long time, and had me actually laughing out loud. But the second scene, a montage of Logan and Victor fighting through various wars, was the best the movie ever got.

As an origin story this lacks. The information provided in X-Men 2 is sufficient in retrospect. While things happen in this film, none of it defines the character. Wolverine is no different in act 3 than in act 1, and the removal of his memories is arbitrary and nonsensical.
Much is made of Wolverine's need to overcome his animalistic nature, but this is never earned. Killing his father as a child is presented in such a way as to be a tragic accident rather than a slide into bloodlust, and we are seemingly shown him fighting every war ever, but he is never shown as particularly vicious.
I hate to compare this to the comics, as I never want to be that guy, but it occurred to me afterwards that any good feelings I had about this movie were assumptions arising from print.
This depiction of events feels very small and unimportant. Wolverine gets an adamantium skeleton and is largely unchanged. Everyone who he touches is murdered before we feel their influence. There are no defining moments here, with everything adding up to some nonthreatening old fool's hatred for mutants. It makes Logan rather uninteresting, and that's a shame, because he's really awesome.
There was always something mythical to Wolverine in the comics, a sense that he was the product of something horrible, dark and important. Not here. Shit happens.
The supporting cast is good. The guy playing Sabretooth does a great job and he and Jackman sell the brotherly relationship at the film's core despite it being paper-thin.
Deadpool is great at the beginning of the film. Charlie from Lost was cool. Gambit was visually interesting. But none of them were around for more than ten minutes, so what the hell was the point?
Like the rest of the film, there really was none.

When this film was first announced as PG-13, I lost much of my interest. With the X-Men trilogy done, I felt like the only further exploration of the character could be found in something MA+ or higher. After all, the character is built to kill, and is all about fighting against a dark past. This is not that film, and it never could've been. Wolverine is only allowed to stab people that heal instantly - or helicopters. It matters. It's a part of the character. You could've gotten around visceral depictions of violence, but the film doesn't want to. The whole production feels like Jackman was working his ass off and no-one else gave a toss. the effects are often terrible and the script is terrible and the cinemtography is bad and cliched.
X-Men Origins: Wolverine is a film that feels like someone was deliberately trying to remove all depth. They succeeded.

I do not have the swine flu ...

... although I do contain bacon.

I herein apologise for my absence, which went on much longer than anticipated.
I will resume regular posting on Monday with my thoughts on the new Wolverine film.

To ease the pain of our time apart, here's a brief recap of what I have been up to:

* Playing a stupid amount of Street Fighter IV. Seriously, way to much.

* Lamenting the end of my holiday.

* Watching Wolverine at 10.30pm after three hours of Dungeons and Dragons, thereby proving that the only person geekier than me is a version of myself who has come back from the future to warn me about missing an imminent sale of Heroclix figures.

* I have been trying to build up the intestinal fortitude to watch the films Twilight and Australia. I am reasonably certain I will hate them both, but I feel like they're such large parts of the current pop culture landscape that I should give it a try.

* I read all of 100 Bullets. That shit is great.

* Continuing to watch LOST. To those of you who have complained of my Twitters feed devolving into me just saying "LOST" over and over again, fear not! There are now only two episodes to go this season. After that, my Twitter feed will fall silent as the empty whiskey bottle slips from my fingers as they slacken with unconsciousness.