tinkering and tweaking, tireless and terrible
spark sizzle and searing saps
clause cruelly crafted and created
a krampus killing machine!
Bonus Feature:
Friday, December 24, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Three Nights of Christmas: Santa Unbound: Part One
santa sadly saw scenes so sinfully savage
he knew nary a no-good so nefariously nonmoral
crying, kris kringle carefully called,
"krampus that cur! santa hunts for you!"
Bonus Features:
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Rule 32: [Frozen Cookie Dough]
It's the holidays, and for me this usually means eating a grotesque amount of sweets. This holiday is no different and as such I have been consuming all sugars and high fructoses that have had the unlucky pleasure of getting in my way. Last week I had the fortune of purchasing an extra box of fundraiser frozen cookie dough from my young cousins. For me, frozen cookie dough is already perfect. It is so perfect I can say here that when I purchase said frozen delights, I never once bake them into their desired cookie form.
And why would I? Frozen cookie dough is already 100% awesome in its natural form. Not only does it taste pretty much like a softer, more frozen cookie; but in the case of store bought frozen cookie dough it comes packaged in convenient, easy-to-snack pieces! So in the span of four days I ate an entire 40 pack of frozen cookie dough.
Needless to say it was delicious, most likely bad for me in more ways than I can imagine, and totally worth my adoration. So here's to you Frozen Cookie Dough, my love -- a love that will span a lifetime or until I come down with a vicious case of diabetes.
And why would I? Frozen cookie dough is already 100% awesome in its natural form. Not only does it taste pretty much like a softer, more frozen cookie; but in the case of store bought frozen cookie dough it comes packaged in convenient, easy-to-snack pieces! So in the span of four days I ate an entire 40 pack of frozen cookie dough.
Needless to say it was delicious, most likely bad for me in more ways than I can imagine, and totally worth my adoration. So here's to you Frozen Cookie Dough, my love -- a love that will span a lifetime or until I come down with a vicious case of diabetes.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The Unforeseen Fallibility of Adulthood.
When we are young we look up to the adults around us with a subconscious certainty that they perceive the world in a way that is inherently clearer than our own. Perhaps, we may have pondered, they are privy to some revelation about the way of things that children are not yet aware. Obviously I can only speak for myself, but I imagine many of us grow up with the expectation of discovering a moment of clarity and understanding of all the lingering questions we've accrued as we aged. Of course this one crystallizing moment rarely appears. The reality of the situation is that we reach a predetermined point in our lives and the title of "adult" is in some cases thrust upon us, leaving us no wiser and no more aware of the complexities of living than we were before. If being an adult subverts our lifelong expectations, how then do we define "adulthood" not just for ourselves but as a substantial and integral part of our lives?
It stands to reason that because the aforementioned expectations of becoming an "adult" can obviously vary from individual to individual, that the notion of being adult would manifest differently for everyone. The real question becomes what it is that we inevitably define as the aspects of ourselves that allow us to identify as "grown up"? One can imagine many things that would fit this purview, from the completion of our organizational education to the birth of our first child -- the list is vast but perhaps categorically symmetrical to the taking on of greater responsibility in the structure of civilization. Does this answer the question then? Are we adults in as much of the amount of responsibility we find ourselves tasked? Perhaps partially. While this fulfills to a degree the functional aspect of adulthood; the "omnipotent" nature we perceived as children needs to be reconciled to reality. It's fair to assume that aging and, congruently, being an adult bring with them the facets of greater knowledge in a general sense. Therefore perhaps it is proper to define "adulthood" as the sum total of our lifetime of experiences; be they emotional, practical or otherwise.
Using our 'experiences' to measure the proximity to being grown up is inherently a tricky proposition. Experience is, both transcendentally and practically, by nature a largely subjective thing. The weight, meaning, and amount of any given experience(s) will vary wildly depending on the individual and their unique perceptions. It follows then that adulthood itself is equally as nebulous in terms of explanation. Legally, of course, being an adult is a simple matter of time and/or age, but as a state of being is it not much more intangible? This entire writing thus far has gone to great lengths to elucidate the delusive nature of adulthood, so how then do we ever know that we are indeed adults?
To me the answer is choice. Adulthood is a title we either consciously assign to ourselves, or on some level we resign ourselves to being -- sometimes without even realizing we have. If indeed adulthood is a resultant of a choice, then by nature it is distinctly unlike being a child or adolescent. As children, we are thus by virtue of the fact we are physically small; incapable of taking care of ourselves; dependent. These are predominantly irreversible truths. As adolescents we are defined by our transient states. We are no longer children, yet we have not yet made the choice to be whatever comes next. Being an adult is the perpetual 'whatever comes next' -- a state so personally illusory that it proves hard to define. We are adults for the majority of our lives and yet we are as such for no other reason than we are not immediately anything else. This is precisely the cause of the wealth of misperceptions about adulthood when we are young: a fundamental lack of understanding as to the very nature of what it means to consider oneself "adult". Adulthood then is a personal representation for every individual the understanding and acceptance of their own metaphysical 'experiences' and the resulting choice to accept that evaluation as emblematic of one's entire self.
Being an adult is something that ends up being wholly unlike anything we ever expected growing up. Far from being a state in which we have discovered all the answers to life, it is more a sense of facing the world in acknowledgement of everything we've done before. Many struggle with the idea that they may be adults, and it is perfectly understandable to do so. Choosing to be an adult is not only an intense assessment of self, but the final affirmation of living in answer to oneself exclusively -- a realization that is in no small part daunting and enormous.
It stands to reason that because the aforementioned expectations of becoming an "adult" can obviously vary from individual to individual, that the notion of being adult would manifest differently for everyone. The real question becomes what it is that we inevitably define as the aspects of ourselves that allow us to identify as "grown up"? One can imagine many things that would fit this purview, from the completion of our organizational education to the birth of our first child -- the list is vast but perhaps categorically symmetrical to the taking on of greater responsibility in the structure of civilization. Does this answer the question then? Are we adults in as much of the amount of responsibility we find ourselves tasked? Perhaps partially. While this fulfills to a degree the functional aspect of adulthood; the "omnipotent" nature we perceived as children needs to be reconciled to reality. It's fair to assume that aging and, congruently, being an adult bring with them the facets of greater knowledge in a general sense. Therefore perhaps it is proper to define "adulthood" as the sum total of our lifetime of experiences; be they emotional, practical or otherwise.
Using our 'experiences' to measure the proximity to being grown up is inherently a tricky proposition. Experience is, both transcendentally and practically, by nature a largely subjective thing. The weight, meaning, and amount of any given experience(s) will vary wildly depending on the individual and their unique perceptions. It follows then that adulthood itself is equally as nebulous in terms of explanation. Legally, of course, being an adult is a simple matter of time and/or age, but as a state of being is it not much more intangible? This entire writing thus far has gone to great lengths to elucidate the delusive nature of adulthood, so how then do we ever know that we are indeed adults?
To me the answer is choice. Adulthood is a title we either consciously assign to ourselves, or on some level we resign ourselves to being -- sometimes without even realizing we have. If indeed adulthood is a resultant of a choice, then by nature it is distinctly unlike being a child or adolescent. As children, we are thus by virtue of the fact we are physically small; incapable of taking care of ourselves; dependent. These are predominantly irreversible truths. As adolescents we are defined by our transient states. We are no longer children, yet we have not yet made the choice to be whatever comes next. Being an adult is the perpetual 'whatever comes next' -- a state so personally illusory that it proves hard to define. We are adults for the majority of our lives and yet we are as such for no other reason than we are not immediately anything else. This is precisely the cause of the wealth of misperceptions about adulthood when we are young: a fundamental lack of understanding as to the very nature of what it means to consider oneself "adult". Adulthood then is a personal representation for every individual the understanding and acceptance of their own metaphysical 'experiences' and the resulting choice to accept that evaluation as emblematic of one's entire self.
Being an adult is something that ends up being wholly unlike anything we ever expected growing up. Far from being a state in which we have discovered all the answers to life, it is more a sense of facing the world in acknowledgement of everything we've done before. Many struggle with the idea that they may be adults, and it is perfectly understandable to do so. Choosing to be an adult is not only an intense assessment of self, but the final affirmation of living in answer to oneself exclusively -- a realization that is in no small part daunting and enormous.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Rule 32: [Hardee's Breakfast]
Oh man oh man. For those not in the know, the de facto Hardee's Breakfast consists of an order of hash rounds and the heavenly, magical, and amazing Cinnamon m' Raisin Biscuit. The last time I had the joy of partaking in this holy ritual, it was on my way to Ohio in 2008. The hash rounds are pretty self explanatory. Little, round bite-sized morsels of potato-y goodness that were they not capable of choking you would best be inhaled. The main event, as I like to think of it, is of course the Cinnamon n' Raisin Biscuit -- a warm, flaky biscuit layered with cinnamon and the occasional raisin-y treasure topped off with a heaping dose of gooey frosting. So perfect is the Hardee's Breakfast that when I die, I fully expect that upon reaching Heaven this will be the first meal waiting for me.
Perhaps it would be sensible to elaborate where this unhealthy love of this most worthy of breakfasts stems from. Firstly, from the time I was six years old and in school, a Hardee's existed not two blocks from my childhood schoolyard. Those of you who know me well know that I have a knack for never being on time.... ever. This is the root of that quirk. No matter how late we were running, it was mandatory that I ingest a Hardee's Breakfast before trudging into boring, old school. This is how my mornings began for years and years until, from what I can tell, the Hardee's franchise collapsed on itself. That childhood Hardee's is now a Taco Bell, but the ghosts of my breakfast delight linger on. The final factor in my love of this treat is in the fact that I am rarely awake early enough coupled with the fact I eat breakfast maybe twice a year. Today when consuming my delicious breakfast from what I consider for all intents and purposes the LAST Hardee's in Wisconsin, I was a six year old boy again running late for school and finding it hard to see past the frosted biscuit in my hand. Awesome.
Perhaps it would be sensible to elaborate where this unhealthy love of this most worthy of breakfasts stems from. Firstly, from the time I was six years old and in school, a Hardee's existed not two blocks from my childhood schoolyard. Those of you who know me well know that I have a knack for never being on time.... ever. This is the root of that quirk. No matter how late we were running, it was mandatory that I ingest a Hardee's Breakfast before trudging into boring, old school. This is how my mornings began for years and years until, from what I can tell, the Hardee's franchise collapsed on itself. That childhood Hardee's is now a Taco Bell, but the ghosts of my breakfast delight linger on. The final factor in my love of this treat is in the fact that I am rarely awake early enough coupled with the fact I eat breakfast maybe twice a year. Today when consuming my delicious breakfast from what I consider for all intents and purposes the LAST Hardee's in Wisconsin, I was a six year old boy again running late for school and finding it hard to see past the frosted biscuit in my hand. Awesome.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
My Thanksgiving Adventure.
Hello friends and various assorted readers! I realize that this comes almost two days too late, but it is customary (in my head) to wish everyone who has the fortune to read these words a very enjoyable and thankful Thanksgiving each year.
Thusly, Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I hope that your day of feasting was full of joy and thanks and thoughts of those you care about. I thought of you, my blog reading public, on Thanksgiving and lamented not being able to write down at the time how especially grateful I am that you all read my words.
That being said; it occurred to me that perhaps you would like to know exactly how my holiday transpired. Following is an accurate and precise recounting of my Thanksgiving Day 2010.
**Please be advised that the contents that follow are of a shocking and not at all made-up nature. The feats contained inside are true and the hero (me) is as fantastic as portrayed. Without further adieu: Danny's Thanksgiving Adventure - 2010**
Thusly, Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I hope that your day of feasting was full of joy and thanks and thoughts of those you care about. I thought of you, my blog reading public, on Thanksgiving and lamented not being able to write down at the time how especially grateful I am that you all read my words.
That being said; it occurred to me that perhaps you would like to know exactly how my holiday transpired. Following is an accurate and precise recounting of my Thanksgiving Day 2010.
**Please be advised that the contents that follow are of a shocking and not at all made-up nature. The feats contained inside are true and the hero (me) is as fantastic as portrayed. Without further adieu: Danny's Thanksgiving Adventure - 2010**
Monday, November 15, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
That Great Darkness.
The dictionary defines the word 'darkness' as the "absence or deficiency of light". A cursory glance out one's window these days will confirm this as an apt definition. It is that time of year again in which the days grow noticeably shorter and even though we set our collective clocks back and gain one precious hour, we lose one to black skies. What is it about the darkness that so affects our mood? Why is it that the absence of light does so much to mute our inward joy? One answer may be found in perception. Under adequate lighting, people can take in the world in full and undisclosed detail for as far as one's eyes can see, there is no visual mystery. On some level, perhaps light takes away our subconscious fear of the unknown because in the light there is no hiding. As sensual beings, humans are most at ease when their senses are working to their fullest. In the dark, our eyes can be deceived or eluded and we have to mentally fill in the blanks of that which we cannot perceive.
Darkness represents the hole in our perceptions. Philosophically, darkness can also be the holes in our being -- the parts of us we do not know; our fear of that which we cannot know; the inability to face the world outside of our own mental one. Darkness, such as it can be externally perceived, forces one to slowly close both the inward and outward boundaries of awareness more tightly around oneself. Essentially, in the dark we can only see that which is relatively more immediately close to us and therefore the lengths to which we infer our surroundings increases causing us to become steadily more introspective. As social creatures, humans yearn to reach out and be connected to the world around them. If indeed being in darkness causes some to become more contained to their own mind, then it would follow that one would also experience emotional resonance as well. While this emotional response could obviously vary, it would be logical to assume that the feeling of being restrained from the rest of the world would result in a negative way.
The Fall season brings many things with it. Here in Wisconsin, it brings the winter cold. Cold in and of itself could be distilled much the same as darkness into the correlation of human need to be warm and the warmth of being loved or accepted. I'll skip over that dissection in favor of staying on topic, suffice it to say some climates make the great darkness of Fall potentially harder to bear. I truly do believe that the Fall and Winter seasons do cause many to struggle with increasingly difficult moods and feelings. Perhaps this is why the powers-that-be grouped so many holidays in such a close proximity on our calendar. The more reminders we have of what makes life joyous, the less inclined we are to turn in on ourselves. It's been said in fiction for centuries that one of the single most powerful strengths and weaknesses of the human condition is hope. It is hope that drives us to persevere. It is hope that makes us strive for a better tomorrow. It is the more positive and inspiring aspects of hope that I want to emphasize here as it is this exact sentiment that makes the darkness bearable. It is the ability to reach out to others even when you feel alone that illuminates the darkness in ourselves.
We are capable of enduring darkness in the hopes that the light will ultimately prevail, and if you look at it that way darkness is just another moment of your life.
Darkness represents the hole in our perceptions. Philosophically, darkness can also be the holes in our being -- the parts of us we do not know; our fear of that which we cannot know; the inability to face the world outside of our own mental one. Darkness, such as it can be externally perceived, forces one to slowly close both the inward and outward boundaries of awareness more tightly around oneself. Essentially, in the dark we can only see that which is relatively more immediately close to us and therefore the lengths to which we infer our surroundings increases causing us to become steadily more introspective. As social creatures, humans yearn to reach out and be connected to the world around them. If indeed being in darkness causes some to become more contained to their own mind, then it would follow that one would also experience emotional resonance as well. While this emotional response could obviously vary, it would be logical to assume that the feeling of being restrained from the rest of the world would result in a negative way.
The Fall season brings many things with it. Here in Wisconsin, it brings the winter cold. Cold in and of itself could be distilled much the same as darkness into the correlation of human need to be warm and the warmth of being loved or accepted. I'll skip over that dissection in favor of staying on topic, suffice it to say some climates make the great darkness of Fall potentially harder to bear. I truly do believe that the Fall and Winter seasons do cause many to struggle with increasingly difficult moods and feelings. Perhaps this is why the powers-that-be grouped so many holidays in such a close proximity on our calendar. The more reminders we have of what makes life joyous, the less inclined we are to turn in on ourselves. It's been said in fiction for centuries that one of the single most powerful strengths and weaknesses of the human condition is hope. It is hope that drives us to persevere. It is hope that makes us strive for a better tomorrow. It is the more positive and inspiring aspects of hope that I want to emphasize here as it is this exact sentiment that makes the darkness bearable. It is the ability to reach out to others even when you feel alone that illuminates the darkness in ourselves.
We are capable of enduring darkness in the hopes that the light will ultimately prevail, and if you look at it that way darkness is just another moment of your life.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Happy Halloween! Two Thousand and Ten.
The Inhuman Race.
Starring: Undead Diver, a Zombie, King Mummy, Frankenstein Gonzalez, Gentleman Skeleton, and Count Vampire.
a dannyscerpella production. 2010.
Starring: Undead Diver, a Zombie, King Mummy, Frankenstein Gonzalez, Gentleman Skeleton, and Count Vampire.
a dannyscerpella production. 2010.
Click the picture above for the FULL version. Happy Halloween, everyone!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
French Entitlement.
DISCLAIMER: It's not very much like me, but today I need to write about my thoughts on a political matter. Over the last few weeks, it's been harder and harder for me to ignore the state of France and the various riots and protests that have spiraled out of the country due to the proposed pension reform. To be up front, the whole issue absolutely baffles me. In order to establish where it is in my understanding I am coming from, I will briefly lay out the facts as I know them.
The cause of all the unrest lies in a change to the social pension program entitled to all French citizens. Specifically, the French people are most disturbed by a change in minimum retirement age from 60 to 62. This would also affect the mandatory retirement age from 65 to 67. It is worth noting also that according to a law passed in 2008, French people are allowed to work until age 70 but only if they want to do so. The French people are upset mainly because they feel that the new reform unfairly penalizes the poor or lower-class workers. Students have also voiced concern over a more competitive job market as a result of older workers holding onto jobs for longer amounts of time. In response, workers from both the public and private sectors are on strike. This includes workers in transportation, education, justice, hospitals, media and banking. French students, much to my chagrin, are also a large part of continuing strikes and protests.
So far, protesters have managed to do some considerable damage essentially slowing France to a crawl in the face of ongoing Senate deliberations on the issue. From CNN.com:
The cause of all the unrest lies in a change to the social pension program entitled to all French citizens. Specifically, the French people are most disturbed by a change in minimum retirement age from 60 to 62. This would also affect the mandatory retirement age from 65 to 67. It is worth noting also that according to a law passed in 2008, French people are allowed to work until age 70 but only if they want to do so. The French people are upset mainly because they feel that the new reform unfairly penalizes the poor or lower-class workers. Students have also voiced concern over a more competitive job market as a result of older workers holding onto jobs for longer amounts of time. In response, workers from both the public and private sectors are on strike. This includes workers in transportation, education, justice, hospitals, media and banking. French students, much to my chagrin, are also a large part of continuing strikes and protests.
So far, protesters have managed to do some considerable damage essentially slowing France to a crawl in the face of ongoing Senate deliberations on the issue. From CNN.com:
Blockades of refineries and fuel depots have led to fuel shortages. There was no fuel left in more than a quarter of petrol pumps on Thursday, according to Agence-France Presse. This has crippled transportation and affected schools. Activists blocked access to Marseille airport for several hours before being cleared by police on Thursday. Unions are stepping up the pressure on a continuation of refinery strikes, go-slows on motorways and work stoppages at regional airports.
French President Nicolas Sarkozy claims that the measures are needed to combat rising life expectancies which increase the burden put on the pension system. He also claims that the reforms will allow France to better handle growing fiscal deficit. The French Government reports that the reforms will save 19 billion euros ($23.3 billion) by 2018.
Those are the facts as I understand them. Having considered all of this, I believe my main problem is the overwhelming sense of entitlement that permeates every report coming out of the French people. It would be one thing if the pension reforms sought in some fundamental way to change the way in which the system works. As far as I can tell, it seems that the French government is making a necessary change in order to ensure the continued workability of the system. Sarkozy himself recently said that his actions are not an effort to wreck the systems, but to prevent it from bankrupting itself in the coming years. Adding to this, the social security budget has continued to push further and further into the red year after year and a solution would have been inevitably essential. I feel like even the most ardent detractors of the pension reform would agree that something would need to be done about buffering the ability of the pension to continue aiding the people. To be fair, French labor union leaders backed by the opposition Socialist Party feel that an increase to the capital gains tax would be a more efficient solution. I'm hard pressed to see this as a stable fix though as it seems that taking more money from workers who work less and less in fewer and fewer jobs only slows the malfunction. Honestly I would almost suggest implementing both ideas as a means to solving the problem, but I imagine the uproar would be deafening. That very same uproar is the most infuriating part of the entire situation for me as I don't understand how a people who are basically getting a handout can demand that the provider of said handout acquiesce to their whim.
I already mentioned that the reforms seem to be intended as a way to buoy the system and keep it healthy, but let's consider for a moment the French world AFTER these reforms take effect in 2018 (you know, seven years from now). To start, even with a minimum retirement age of 62, France would still have a much lower age than most of its European neighbors. Listed below are the average retirement ages of most of Europe:
UK : 63
Sweden : 63
Spain : 61
Italy : 60
Germany : 60
Netherland : 58
Belgium : 57
France checks in at age 59. This is a higher number than both the Netherlands and Belgium. I find it interesting though that only 15% of French people between the ages of 60 and 65 are still working. This is the lowest percentage in all of Europe. So basically, even though they may work a little longer on average than two other countries, the French are more consistently done at that age.
The most damning point is that this relatively small two years allow the French to continue taking part of completely government provided cradle-to-grave healthcare as well as vacation guarantees, working hours and public schools that are the envy of many other countries. It seems to me like the French people want all of the benefits of a free system without wanting to think or participate in any of the work necessary to maintain it.
I have two final problems with the protesters of this reform. The first is that in their attempts to demonstrate the injustices they feel victims of, they have crippled many other French citizens who may or may not be involved. Businesses are closed, people cannot get gas, and roads are blocked basically stopping the flow of life in large portions of the country. To make matters worse the vocal opponents of this policy amount at the most liberal estimates to roughly 3.5 million people (as reported by national unions). While not an inconsiderable amount, this only accounts for 1/30th the population of the country. If you take the police estimates (1.1 million), it's only a 60th. The second problem I have is that the majority of protest pictures I have seen showcase students. Not just any students, but remarkably young students. In many cases these very same students are the ones pictured around and in the middle of the greatest outbreaks of violence. In Lyon and Nanterre, there are young demonstrators who have vandalized stores, overturned cars and clashed with riot police. I have to think that the only reason the younger demographic is even involved in such protests is to cause an uproar and engage in the zeitgeist of the political climate with or without adequate knowledge of the issues.
As Americans, I feel as though we enjoy a multitude of privileges and freedoms that many of us take for granted, but I still feel as though the pure childishness of the French people in the face of these reforms has been embarrassing. To me, it honestly sounds like a loud, nation-wide temper tantrum and I applaud the government for doing its best to ignore it all and attempt to proceed with the democratic process. Analysts predict a break in the fervor soon anyways as France is due in ten days for mandatory vacations. Nothing like mandated off-time to soothe one's soreness over being asked to work a little harder for said off-time.
I'm gonna end this with an admission that my global political awareness is not robust or greatly well-informed. I've done my best to discern the facts as clearly as possible, but I will admit to my own potential misunderstanding. This won't likely become a common topic here on this blog, but I just got a little fatigued by the newest French silliness. Here's a quote from Nicolas Sarkozy that I feel echoes many of my sentiments on the topic of this protest:
"We can't be the only country in the world where, when there's a reform, a minority wants to block everyone else. That's not possible. That's not democracy."
The Well-Informed Faces of the French "Revolution"... Sigh.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
At the Rock Show.
The loud beginnings to an increasingly blurry Saturday night.
Blur.
Beat.
Captive Audience.
Silhouettes.Saturday, October 2, 2010
Review: The Social Network
For me, The Social Network has been a pretty hard sell. Like pretty much everyone on the planet, I use Facebook but I just did not see the point of a film documenting its inception. It was very surprising then that David Fincher's newest film may possibly end up being one of the better movies I have seen in a handful of months.
The Social Network focuses primarily on Facebook founder Mark Zuckerburg whom we join as he is dumped by his girlfriend and, in a drunken haze, at once belittles her in blog form and creates a proto-social network; Facemash. The uber-shallow website explodes overnight succeeding in crashing the Harvard campus Internet servers making Mark an overnight pseudo-celebrity. Enter twin, all-American rowing champions with an idea and Zuckerburg's own deep seeded need to show up his ex and it's only a matter of time before Facebook exists. Luckily for audience members, director Fincher chooses wisely to focus more on the characters involved in this story in relation to the earth shaking events unfolding around their invention than on the eponymous social network itself. Mark Zuckerburg (played by Jesse Eisenberg) is painted here as an easily distracted genius prone to inadvertently being a gigantic jerk. I also couldn't shake the feeling that through either scripting or performance by Eisenberg, Mark comes off as almost autistic in his inability to interact or understand other human beings. Besides Zuckerburg, the film is most concerned with best friend Eduardo Saverin and consummate weasel and Napster creator Sean Parker. The film was smart enough to develop these characters to the point that once the events of the movie begin happening, the audience is fully invested in their reactions. Particularly in the friendship between Mark and Eduardo, the slow-burn approach to character building crescendos in a moment of real emotional pathos that leaves the viewer wishing things could be different somehow.
The Social Network is a good movie both story-wise and visually. The cinematography at work here at once evokes the somber tones of Fight Club and occasionally the daring camera angles and effects most commonly associated with fancy cologne ads. It's different and notable which, depending on your preference, makes it stand out in a film world where many outings end up playing it safe visually. In the end, it's not the biggest success in The Social Network's list of accomplishments, but in my mind it was noteworthy. The soundtrack and scoring by Nine Inch Nails' Trent Reznor also earns a nod for being subdued when needed and not seeped in melodrama when impactful (save for one scene in which melodrama was perfectly suitable if not needed).
I found myself thinking about a few things during this movie and I feel they are worth mentioning. Seeing the machinations involved in creating something as massive and pervasive as Facebook is in our world today did wonders to make me feel, for lack of a better simile, like a cow to be herded. Here are a group of young minds with an idea that they know is so potent and powerful that people will instinctively flock to it were they only to see it. I think that as individuals we value the knowledge that our decisions are our own and that we are unique enough to be unlike everyone around us. What The Social Network makes abundantly clear to me in the real world is that humans are much more instinctively group-minded in the face of a powerful idea than anyone is likely to want to admit openly. Speaking from experience, Facebook was such an intoxicating idea that I remember waiting impatiently for my own allowance to join. From the early exclusivity of needing a college email address to the ability to have a peek into your friends' lives at any time of the day; it's actually a little frightening to think that this very same reaction was shared by millions across the globe. If nothing else, it's enough to make one feel small -- like a grain of sand in an endless desert to be counted by minds far greater than your own.
While watching The Social Network I found myself continually amused by the enormity of the idea. Of course, the story and characters are all worth the time and present a gripping narrative throughout; but it's the idea of an idea being a force of nature which drives the central plot of this film. An idea can change the world, as corny as that sounds, and woe to the people who conceive of it. This is The Social Network's chief message as well as its crowning achievement.
The Social Network focuses primarily on Facebook founder Mark Zuckerburg whom we join as he is dumped by his girlfriend and, in a drunken haze, at once belittles her in blog form and creates a proto-social network; Facemash. The uber-shallow website explodes overnight succeeding in crashing the Harvard campus Internet servers making Mark an overnight pseudo-celebrity. Enter twin, all-American rowing champions with an idea and Zuckerburg's own deep seeded need to show up his ex and it's only a matter of time before Facebook exists. Luckily for audience members, director Fincher chooses wisely to focus more on the characters involved in this story in relation to the earth shaking events unfolding around their invention than on the eponymous social network itself. Mark Zuckerburg (played by Jesse Eisenberg) is painted here as an easily distracted genius prone to inadvertently being a gigantic jerk. I also couldn't shake the feeling that through either scripting or performance by Eisenberg, Mark comes off as almost autistic in his inability to interact or understand other human beings. Besides Zuckerburg, the film is most concerned with best friend Eduardo Saverin and consummate weasel and Napster creator Sean Parker. The film was smart enough to develop these characters to the point that once the events of the movie begin happening, the audience is fully invested in their reactions. Particularly in the friendship between Mark and Eduardo, the slow-burn approach to character building crescendos in a moment of real emotional pathos that leaves the viewer wishing things could be different somehow.
The Social Network is a good movie both story-wise and visually. The cinematography at work here at once evokes the somber tones of Fight Club and occasionally the daring camera angles and effects most commonly associated with fancy cologne ads. It's different and notable which, depending on your preference, makes it stand out in a film world where many outings end up playing it safe visually. In the end, it's not the biggest success in The Social Network's list of accomplishments, but in my mind it was noteworthy. The soundtrack and scoring by Nine Inch Nails' Trent Reznor also earns a nod for being subdued when needed and not seeped in melodrama when impactful (save for one scene in which melodrama was perfectly suitable if not needed).
I found myself thinking about a few things during this movie and I feel they are worth mentioning. Seeing the machinations involved in creating something as massive and pervasive as Facebook is in our world today did wonders to make me feel, for lack of a better simile, like a cow to be herded. Here are a group of young minds with an idea that they know is so potent and powerful that people will instinctively flock to it were they only to see it. I think that as individuals we value the knowledge that our decisions are our own and that we are unique enough to be unlike everyone around us. What The Social Network makes abundantly clear to me in the real world is that humans are much more instinctively group-minded in the face of a powerful idea than anyone is likely to want to admit openly. Speaking from experience, Facebook was such an intoxicating idea that I remember waiting impatiently for my own allowance to join. From the early exclusivity of needing a college email address to the ability to have a peek into your friends' lives at any time of the day; it's actually a little frightening to think that this very same reaction was shared by millions across the globe. If nothing else, it's enough to make one feel small -- like a grain of sand in an endless desert to be counted by minds far greater than your own.
While watching The Social Network I found myself continually amused by the enormity of the idea. Of course, the story and characters are all worth the time and present a gripping narrative throughout; but it's the idea of an idea being a force of nature which drives the central plot of this film. An idea can change the world, as corny as that sounds, and woe to the people who conceive of it. This is The Social Network's chief message as well as its crowning achievement.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Review: Castle: A Deadly Affair
First thing's first: Castle is already in Season 3?! Holy wow. I've been watching this show since it started and it does not feel like two season have passed. Still, time flies when you're having fun and it would be hard to say Castle isn't a lot of fun.
I'll admit that when I first started tuning into Castle it was chiefly to check out Nathan Fillion's newest attempt at a TV series. It never sat quite right with me what happened to Firefly; Fillion's sci-fi western show imagined by Joss Whedon. Castle of course wasn't his first try at a new TV series, but FOX's Drive looked bad right out of the gate. Castle coasted on the affable charm of it's lead actor for a little while after it debuted, but the great boon for the show came as the secondary characters slowly became more and more realized. Every successful show sinks or swims on the talent of the ensemble cast. If a show weighs everything on one element, the show never really achieves any traction.
So season 3 debuted on Monday night, and I completely missed it. As luck would have it, the trusty DVR picked it up and in a lazy haze I stumbled across it tonight. The show opens with a fantastic flash forward. This is secretly one of my favorite plot devices of all time, so when Rick Castle comes face to face with Kate Beckett and they angrily draw guns on each other...? Pure elation. From here it's a wonderful display of a TV show hitting it's stride. Sure, all the classic elements of a Castle episode are present and accounted for, but they're working in a way that doesn't feel tired. There are the misdirects, the witty banter between the detectives, the serious moments, the whiteboard with all the pictures. It's all been done before and even though it's a little played, the characters and their interplay have become substantial enough that the core mystery of each episode is no longer as crucial to making a good episode.
There's not much else to say about this premiere other than it's well worth your time. In the downtime between seasons a few things have become clear. The writers have given more prominent and strong characterizations to Ryan and Esposito. The jokes and delivery thereof have become much more amusing. Somehow Stana Katic got more attractive -- which, on that point, huge props to the wardrobe department for dressing her in more appealing attire. I think we all get the fact she's a tough, no-nonsense bruiser who doesn't have time for fashion over function, but it seemed to me that this season she was much more pleasing to my eyes. Nathan Fillion continues to turn in a wonderful performance that is at once baffoonery, charm, and stark seriousness in measured and appropriate doses. Lastly, the chemistry between Castle and Beckett is still as palpable as ever. Even though it is slightly frustrating the levels with which the writers are flaunting it, it is still cute enough that I don't mind that there hasn't been a clear resolution as of yet. That being said and referring back to my 'hanging the show on one element' comment: Castle would do well not to drag the will-they-won't-they thing out any more than is necessary (even though it's more of a 'when-will-they' at this point). I myself draw blanks when I think what would happen were they to resolve this soon, but I know it would have to be better than two more seasons of it.
Either way, it's great to have new shows back on TV. Speaking of which, Glee returned and it seems that it may be hitting a good stride between melodramatic and hilarious. Also, is it just me or is Sue Sylvester ten times funnier this season. Overall it seems to be a much better written season so far. I also checked out How I Met Your Mother. It was more of the same, but it worked pretty well. Let's see if they can take any steps forward in the narrative this season.
I'll admit that when I first started tuning into Castle it was chiefly to check out Nathan Fillion's newest attempt at a TV series. It never sat quite right with me what happened to Firefly; Fillion's sci-fi western show imagined by Joss Whedon. Castle of course wasn't his first try at a new TV series, but FOX's Drive looked bad right out of the gate. Castle coasted on the affable charm of it's lead actor for a little while after it debuted, but the great boon for the show came as the secondary characters slowly became more and more realized. Every successful show sinks or swims on the talent of the ensemble cast. If a show weighs everything on one element, the show never really achieves any traction.
So season 3 debuted on Monday night, and I completely missed it. As luck would have it, the trusty DVR picked it up and in a lazy haze I stumbled across it tonight. The show opens with a fantastic flash forward. This is secretly one of my favorite plot devices of all time, so when Rick Castle comes face to face with Kate Beckett and they angrily draw guns on each other...? Pure elation. From here it's a wonderful display of a TV show hitting it's stride. Sure, all the classic elements of a Castle episode are present and accounted for, but they're working in a way that doesn't feel tired. There are the misdirects, the witty banter between the detectives, the serious moments, the whiteboard with all the pictures. It's all been done before and even though it's a little played, the characters and their interplay have become substantial enough that the core mystery of each episode is no longer as crucial to making a good episode.
There's not much else to say about this premiere other than it's well worth your time. In the downtime between seasons a few things have become clear. The writers have given more prominent and strong characterizations to Ryan and Esposito. The jokes and delivery thereof have become much more amusing. Somehow Stana Katic got more attractive -- which, on that point, huge props to the wardrobe department for dressing her in more appealing attire. I think we all get the fact she's a tough, no-nonsense bruiser who doesn't have time for fashion over function, but it seemed to me that this season she was much more pleasing to my eyes. Nathan Fillion continues to turn in a wonderful performance that is at once baffoonery, charm, and stark seriousness in measured and appropriate doses. Lastly, the chemistry between Castle and Beckett is still as palpable as ever. Even though it is slightly frustrating the levels with which the writers are flaunting it, it is still cute enough that I don't mind that there hasn't been a clear resolution as of yet. That being said and referring back to my 'hanging the show on one element' comment: Castle would do well not to drag the will-they-won't-they thing out any more than is necessary (even though it's more of a 'when-will-they' at this point). I myself draw blanks when I think what would happen were they to resolve this soon, but I know it would have to be better than two more seasons of it.
Either way, it's great to have new shows back on TV. Speaking of which, Glee returned and it seems that it may be hitting a good stride between melodramatic and hilarious. Also, is it just me or is Sue Sylvester ten times funnier this season. Overall it seems to be a much better written season so far. I also checked out How I Met Your Mother. It was more of the same, but it worked pretty well. Let's see if they can take any steps forward in the narrative this season.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Books to Read at the End of Your Rope.
The following books are real. You can buy them from Amazon.com. I'm including links to the pages for purchase (click the title of each book). In some cases some of these books are funny, but the customer reviews are what make me really laugh. Without further adieu...
Do-It-Yourself Coffins: For Pets and People
There are almost no words to properly discuss this madness. I guess from one point of view, why not build your own coffin? On the other, if you're this jazzed to build your own death-box you may have some serious issues beyond if you prefer oak to pine wood.
Awesome Customer Review:
Anybody Can Be Cool -- But Awesome Takes Practice
Finally, a manual for all of us who have been on that social fringe for years and years! If you've been struggling to break into the upper crust of society but just couldn't muster the appropriate levels of awesome; this is the book for you. Finally!
Awesome Customer Review:
Fancy Coffins to Make Yourself
No question Dale Power would follow up his monumental Do-It-Yourself Coffins with the fantastic Fancy Coffins to Make Yourself. Apparently if you died and didn't like your plain-Jane regular coffin, now's your chance to try again and upgrade... to a FANCY coffin! Why not, right?
Awesome Customer Review
Knitting with Dog Hair: Better A Sweater From A Dog You Know and Love Than A Sheep You'll Never Meet
This is the book for the person who's given up on everything else. Sure, it's a crafty exercise but I think that once you start fleecing your dog and wearing shirts made from his coat you've jumped the sanity shark well and good.
Awesome Customer Review
Ok, so that's my gift to you, dear readers. I feel stupider and I hope you do too. Below I am embedding a clip from Late Night with Jimmy Fallon that inspired my weird journey into the Amazon book section. It's a funny segment. I suggest you watch.
Do-It-Yourself Coffins: For Pets and People
There are almost no words to properly discuss this madness. I guess from one point of view, why not build your own coffin? On the other, if you're this jazzed to build your own death-box you may have some serious issues beyond if you prefer oak to pine wood.
Awesome Customer Review:
I have built one of the coffins following the directions in the book. Some measurements are missing, and some are not correct. This cost me in materials and time. Beware!~ Eric Garwood, future and prospective corpse.
Anybody Can Be Cool -- But Awesome Takes Practice
Finally, a manual for all of us who have been on that social fringe for years and years! If you've been struggling to break into the upper crust of society but just couldn't muster the appropriate levels of awesome; this is the book for you. Finally!
Awesome Customer Review:
For years I knew I was cool, but suspected that I could be potentially awesome. Then a friend told me about this book and needless to say it's a page turner. Through these pages I learned how to harness my cool and turn it into actual awesomeness. I'm proud to say that today I am awesome. Not only that, but I've also retained my cool. Definately recommend this book to anyone looking to raise their awesomeness to new heights of radness.~ R. Martindale, success story.
Fancy Coffins to Make Yourself
No question Dale Power would follow up his monumental Do-It-Yourself Coffins with the fantastic Fancy Coffins to Make Yourself. Apparently if you died and didn't like your plain-Jane regular coffin, now's your chance to try again and upgrade... to a FANCY coffin! Why not, right?
Awesome Customer Review
This book should be entitled, "Build a coffin at Summer Camp". The quality of the coffin depicted in the illustrations would lead me to believe that the author is not a woodworker and that he is not qualified to write on the subject. The workmanship depicted looks as though a group of school kids put it together. There is nothing in this book that a little imagination and general woodworking knowledge couldn't improve on.~ A Customer, too ashamed to admit he bought this book.
Knitting with Dog Hair: Better A Sweater From A Dog You Know and Love Than A Sheep You'll Never Meet
This is the book for the person who's given up on everything else. Sure, it's a crafty exercise but I think that once you start fleecing your dog and wearing shirts made from his coat you've jumped the sanity shark well and good.
Awesome Customer Review
I felt bad at first shaving my dog completely bald, but after I got the sweater made using this book, he now looks stylish in his own fur!~ Tracy, has completely perverted nature.
Ok, so that's my gift to you, dear readers. I feel stupider and I hope you do too. Below I am embedding a clip from Late Night with Jimmy Fallon that inspired my weird journey into the Amazon book section. It's a funny segment. I suggest you watch.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Review: The Expendables
The Expendables is a movie out of time. By all rights, everything about it belongs in a movie released sometime around the late eighties or early nineties. Alas, though, here it is in 2010 in all of it's action movie glory. Of course, the benefit of being released this year and in this time period is that the gore levels can be rendered with that much more shocking viscerality (if that's even a word). I think that it's always a good sign when the first few minutes of a film include something either getting shot in half or brutally maimed (see Ninja Assassin for a similar effect).
Watching The Expendables is a lot like getting beat up, I imagine. Things happen so quick you never get to process them, the reasons for everything happening are not entirely clear, your memory of events is blurry afterward, and you end up feeling a lot less masculine when it's all over. The pace of the film is unceasingly set to 'wait? what?' and only manages to slow itself down when it feels obliged to add pathos to our lumbering, cool-talking, fist-bumping protagonists. Speaking of protagonists, did director Sylvester Stallone think he'd being doing us all a favor by subtly jamming the camera approximately four inches from each actor's face during dialogue scenes? If you've ever wondered just how acquainted you could get with Mickey Rourke's punched-out facade or Stallone's wax-dummy skin, The Expendables will surely answer this for you.
The plot is the kind of larger-than-life, questionable odds affair you'd expect from this type of action movie. Somehow five guys with necks wider than their heads are expected to overthrow not just a small dictatorship, but the entire army that defends said dictatorship. I'd be the first to forgive a throwaway excuse to unleash almost two hours of bloodshed, but The Expendables wants to give everything a reason or meaning outside of 'good guys kill bad guys because they're bad'. The ultimate decision to go overthrow this imaginary country is made after an existential soliloquy delivered with surprisingly effective aplomb by Mickey Rourke's character, Tool -- the tough guy with a conscious and a heart. Additionally, the film attempts to flesh out Jason Statham's Lee Christmas for reasons unknown in the framework of a sensitive guy who's had his heart broken. Thankfully, this somewhat superfluous side-plot is completely and utterly saved by the presence of one Charisma Carpenter. Long absent from anything semi-relevant in TV or film, it's comforting to know she can still rock the screen simply by being on it. I suppose the words she speaks are good too. While the chemistry between Statham and Charisma (because I like to pretend I'm on a first-name basis with her) is passable, it's a shame that the romance between Stallone and Statham is hundreds of times more palpable. This is first and foremost a story about bros high-fiving and axe-kicking heads loose from necks together.
The action is great and entertaining and requires no thought process passed marveling at the way a guy's head realistically explodes and how cool it is to watch a guy kill ten people with throwing knives. You may also wonder how old Stallone is (hint: 64!!) and how his hips don't break instantly at the thought of such intense skirmishes. Headaches may ensue thanks to cinematography that sometimes frames action too closely and relies too much on a shaky camera to evoke chaos. All in all though, The Expendables does not disappoint when it comes time to start shooting bullets.
In the end, The Expendables doesn't really live up to it's namesake. In all the chaos unfolding on screen, the main characters never take even one noticeable injury making them anything but expendable. Have you seen Rambo? It's basically Stallone running through the jungle killing everything and being unstoppable. Ok, now divide that one character into five and throw them into a war with an entire army. That's essentially all you need to know about The Expendables. Nameless people die; quips are quipped; seemingly dead leads inexplicably show up in the final scene alive and laughing; and at the end of the day after hundreds have been mercilessly murdered, the most important thing is paying off a joke about how quickly two men can kill.
Watching The Expendables is a lot like getting beat up, I imagine. Things happen so quick you never get to process them, the reasons for everything happening are not entirely clear, your memory of events is blurry afterward, and you end up feeling a lot less masculine when it's all over. The pace of the film is unceasingly set to 'wait? what?' and only manages to slow itself down when it feels obliged to add pathos to our lumbering, cool-talking, fist-bumping protagonists. Speaking of protagonists, did director Sylvester Stallone think he'd being doing us all a favor by subtly jamming the camera approximately four inches from each actor's face during dialogue scenes? If you've ever wondered just how acquainted you could get with Mickey Rourke's punched-out facade or Stallone's wax-dummy skin, The Expendables will surely answer this for you.
The plot is the kind of larger-than-life, questionable odds affair you'd expect from this type of action movie. Somehow five guys with necks wider than their heads are expected to overthrow not just a small dictatorship, but the entire army that defends said dictatorship. I'd be the first to forgive a throwaway excuse to unleash almost two hours of bloodshed, but The Expendables wants to give everything a reason or meaning outside of 'good guys kill bad guys because they're bad'. The ultimate decision to go overthrow this imaginary country is made after an existential soliloquy delivered with surprisingly effective aplomb by Mickey Rourke's character, Tool -- the tough guy with a conscious and a heart. Additionally, the film attempts to flesh out Jason Statham's Lee Christmas for reasons unknown in the framework of a sensitive guy who's had his heart broken. Thankfully, this somewhat superfluous side-plot is completely and utterly saved by the presence of one Charisma Carpenter. Long absent from anything semi-relevant in TV or film, it's comforting to know she can still rock the screen simply by being on it. I suppose the words she speaks are good too. While the chemistry between Statham and Charisma (because I like to pretend I'm on a first-name basis with her) is passable, it's a shame that the romance between Stallone and Statham is hundreds of times more palpable. This is first and foremost a story about bros high-fiving and axe-kicking heads loose from necks together.
The action is great and entertaining and requires no thought process passed marveling at the way a guy's head realistically explodes and how cool it is to watch a guy kill ten people with throwing knives. You may also wonder how old Stallone is (hint: 64!!) and how his hips don't break instantly at the thought of such intense skirmishes. Headaches may ensue thanks to cinematography that sometimes frames action too closely and relies too much on a shaky camera to evoke chaos. All in all though, The Expendables does not disappoint when it comes time to start shooting bullets.
In the end, The Expendables doesn't really live up to it's namesake. In all the chaos unfolding on screen, the main characters never take even one noticeable injury making them anything but expendable. Have you seen Rambo? It's basically Stallone running through the jungle killing everything and being unstoppable. Ok, now divide that one character into five and throw them into a war with an entire army. That's essentially all you need to know about The Expendables. Nameless people die; quips are quipped; seemingly dead leads inexplicably show up in the final scene alive and laughing; and at the end of the day after hundreds have been mercilessly murdered, the most important thing is paying off a joke about how quickly two men can kill.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Boston and the Wisconsin State Fair.
Here are some pictures from my trip to Boston and from Wisconsin's best summertime event; the State Fair.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Review: Scott Pilgrim - Volumes 1 - 6
Scott Pilgrim is pretty much everywhere right now with the release of the Michael Cera, Edgar Wright film of the same name. A few simple clicks and you can find a handful of helpful reviews to find out if this film is for you. This is part of the reason I don't review every film I see anymore -- it turns me into one voice in a crowd of screaming people. In the case of Scott Pilgrim, though, I feel it merits a few words. In this review I will focus solely on the graphic novel series from which the story sprung for the major motion picture.
To be clear, I read through the first five parts of the Scott Pilgrim franchise months and months ago and just finished the last volume about a month ago. Because of this, I'm going to give general impressions of the series instead of specific reviews of each volume. If anything, volume six will get the most coverage because it's the most fresh in my mind, but also because it's my favorite and the most important to the series.
Though this part may be a little redundant, Scott Pilgrim is about a young, 23 year old whom we join towards the end of his grieving period after getting his heart broken by a mysterious and giant-looming ex girlfriend. In his early twenty-ish haze of confusion and misdirection, Scott is futilely dating a 17 year old high school student in an attempt to feel some dose of comfort even though he is really only finding convenience. It is clear from the first chapter of book one that Scott is not an entirely likable character. He's a bit dumb, he's completely manic often going though the gamut of emotions on one page, he only remembers things in a self-centered manner, and it's hard to believe he cares about anyone but himself. Eventually Scott meets the literal girl of his dreams in Ramona Flowers and through a very extreme set of consequences is forced to take a look at his life and get it together.
Scott Pilgrim is a bit of a cypher of the newly twenty year old generation. He's essentially a mess of conflicting emotions, impulsive gestures, and reactions that very much align with many a person his age. It's this fact that I imagine will decide if people will be able to stomach the insanity contained within the thousand pages of adventures Scott stumbles through. I suppose I should append that note to include the art on display, especially early in the series. A weird mix of quasi-manga, pseudo new-age scrawl the art of Scott Pilgrim volumes 1 - 4 has a learning curve. Either way, the book succeeds or fails in the mind of the reader in the character of Scott Pilgrim. Personally, I found the character extremely relatable for a number of reasons. Many of Scott's attitudes and more importantly problems are nigh-identical to my own. I also find it very easy to associate with a character so steeped in geek culture while at the same time struggling with the perils of having to grow up not as a possibility, but a necessity.
It is a safe assertion to make that Scott Pilgrim is largely an allegorical work. Scott is forced to fight in hand-to-hand brawls Ramona's seven evil ex-boyfriends, but it is safe to assume that the fighting is an allegory for coping, for getting over oneself, and for the rigors of falling in love. The movie trailer famously quips that "everyone has baggage", it's just that Ramona's is a much larger and blunt representation of such a concept. Each fight with each successive ex boyfriend fits another snapshot in the ongoing relationship with Scott and Ramona. Matthew Patel, the first of the challengers, is fairly easily dispatched in a show of what I think is perhaps indicative of the early moments of a relationship -- which is to say pretty easily gotten over, but not without its lasting and perhaps reverberating effects. By the time Scott fights Todd Ingram, he's not only dealing with the past of his current girlfriend but he's also having to confront the proverbial mountain that is his most recent ex. It's kung-fu coming of age storytelling that under any other approach may feel well-worn, but because Scott Pilgrim laces itself heavily with flash and fanservice it finds new life and meaning; assuming the method of delivery is agreeable to the reader.
The most important aspect of the ongoing series of Scott Pilgrim books is that characters grow as the story continues. Along the way, creator Bryan Lee O'Malley is able to throw curve balls and realistic turns into his story that make it that much easier to associate with the plight of the bombastic characters. This is a prime advantage that the books have over the movie, perhaps understandably so. In the fourth book, Scott finally starts to feel he's getting his life together. He gets a job, faces some personal demons that are obstacles in his path to happiness with Ramona, and he finally gains courage enough to commit to her in a meaningful way. Still things are not as rosey as they seem, as omens of cracks in the relationship are all over from a Dark Scott to a shadowy figure enslaving Ramona in her subconscious and an increasingly bored and distracted demeanor.
In what I believe to be one of the most important moments in the entire series, Book Five showcases everything Scott has done falling apart around him. All of the good things and progress he felt he made end up meaning almost nothing, and everything from friends to job to Ramona end up (in some cases literally) fading away. To be clear, I don't think this is a brilliant turn because I find it enjoyable. I like it only because it's very akin to real life in that sometimes just when you think you're hitting your stride, one very important thing can snap and all the things you've believed you were accomplishing were merely a front for real change. It's powerful, Empire Strikes Back kind of stuff.
Book Six is aptly titled Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour. This title works for a number of reasons. The first and most obvious for me was the new and improved art. O'Malley hired on two art assistants for this volume, and I imagine it was this extra room to breathe that allowed him to really knock this book out of the park on a visual level. Everything has a solid, locked-in appearance. As opposed to the early volumes in which characters were only rough approximations of themselves from page to page, the sixth book explodes with cartoony imagery and amazingly detailed art. This is also the Finest Hour because the story pays off in a big way in almost every facet. We join Scott after a year of trying and failing to get over Ramona. He's essentially retreated into his own apartment and locked himself from the world. In his grief he makes some rash decisions about what he thinks will best get him over Ramona, and they are each as awkward and uncomfortable as they are in real life.
Eventually after a retreat and a meeting with an old friend, Scott is able to confront his 'dark side' and embrace it -- an action that not only helps him reconcile with himself, but also with everything he has been childishly running away from for five books. The events of the finale are not overwhelmingly important. The important parts revolve around Scott finally growing up and facing down the things he casually ignored. When he finally confronts Gideon Graves, Ramona's own large-looming ex, it's not for her but for Scott himself in a show of getting over his hang-ups. It feels almost like the completion of a cycle for the character. Scott grieves, Scott finds love, Scott loses love thanks to his own selfishness, Scott stumbles and falls, and finally Scott confronts the catalyst for his growth -- both Gideon (the representation of all Scott's insecurities) and Ramona. It's big, it's ridiculous, but it works.
If I had one gripe with the conclusion to this giant story, it would actually be the simplicity of the ending. While in fiction I do believe that it is best to give the audience an ending they can walk away happy with, I find that in reality sometimes the results of Book Six are impossible. I admit that while the reconciliation presented here is quite convenient, it is not without its own admitted uncertainty and hopefulness. If anything it's that feeling that even though it's nicely tied up, it may not work that saves the ending from losing me. At heart, I'm an optimist and I like to believe life can pay off in such a way.
In the end, Scott Pilgrim is all about growing up and getting over yourself; something with which I am intimately acquainted. It's presented in a hyper-active way that is very much indicative of the problems that prevent many twenty-somethings from growing up, but I think that is almost poetic considering the message of the story. Bryan Lee O'Malley's story speaks to the adolescent in all of us that's struggling to cope with the ever increasing enormity of adult life and adult relationships. I can't speak to that enormity through the eyes of someone aged past this point, but I can imagine there is something inherent in the story that we all acknowledge.
To be clear, I read through the first five parts of the Scott Pilgrim franchise months and months ago and just finished the last volume about a month ago. Because of this, I'm going to give general impressions of the series instead of specific reviews of each volume. If anything, volume six will get the most coverage because it's the most fresh in my mind, but also because it's my favorite and the most important to the series.
Though this part may be a little redundant, Scott Pilgrim is about a young, 23 year old whom we join towards the end of his grieving period after getting his heart broken by a mysterious and giant-looming ex girlfriend. In his early twenty-ish haze of confusion and misdirection, Scott is futilely dating a 17 year old high school student in an attempt to feel some dose of comfort even though he is really only finding convenience. It is clear from the first chapter of book one that Scott is not an entirely likable character. He's a bit dumb, he's completely manic often going though the gamut of emotions on one page, he only remembers things in a self-centered manner, and it's hard to believe he cares about anyone but himself. Eventually Scott meets the literal girl of his dreams in Ramona Flowers and through a very extreme set of consequences is forced to take a look at his life and get it together.Scott Pilgrim is a bit of a cypher of the newly twenty year old generation. He's essentially a mess of conflicting emotions, impulsive gestures, and reactions that very much align with many a person his age. It's this fact that I imagine will decide if people will be able to stomach the insanity contained within the thousand pages of adventures Scott stumbles through. I suppose I should append that note to include the art on display, especially early in the series. A weird mix of quasi-manga, pseudo new-age scrawl the art of Scott Pilgrim volumes 1 - 4 has a learning curve. Either way, the book succeeds or fails in the mind of the reader in the character of Scott Pilgrim. Personally, I found the character extremely relatable for a number of reasons. Many of Scott's attitudes and more importantly problems are nigh-identical to my own. I also find it very easy to associate with a character so steeped in geek culture while at the same time struggling with the perils of having to grow up not as a possibility, but a necessity.
It is a safe assertion to make that Scott Pilgrim is largely an allegorical work. Scott is forced to fight in hand-to-hand brawls Ramona's seven evil ex-boyfriends, but it is safe to assume that the fighting is an allegory for coping, for getting over oneself, and for the rigors of falling in love. The movie trailer famously quips that "everyone has baggage", it's just that Ramona's is a much larger and blunt representation of such a concept. Each fight with each successive ex boyfriend fits another snapshot in the ongoing relationship with Scott and Ramona. Matthew Patel, the first of the challengers, is fairly easily dispatched in a show of what I think is perhaps indicative of the early moments of a relationship -- which is to say pretty easily gotten over, but not without its lasting and perhaps reverberating effects. By the time Scott fights Todd Ingram, he's not only dealing with the past of his current girlfriend but he's also having to confront the proverbial mountain that is his most recent ex. It's kung-fu coming of age storytelling that under any other approach may feel well-worn, but because Scott Pilgrim laces itself heavily with flash and fanservice it finds new life and meaning; assuming the method of delivery is agreeable to the reader.
The most important aspect of the ongoing series of Scott Pilgrim books is that characters grow as the story continues. Along the way, creator Bryan Lee O'Malley is able to throw curve balls and realistic turns into his story that make it that much easier to associate with the plight of the bombastic characters. This is a prime advantage that the books have over the movie, perhaps understandably so. In the fourth book, Scott finally starts to feel he's getting his life together. He gets a job, faces some personal demons that are obstacles in his path to happiness with Ramona, and he finally gains courage enough to commit to her in a meaningful way. Still things are not as rosey as they seem, as omens of cracks in the relationship are all over from a Dark Scott to a shadowy figure enslaving Ramona in her subconscious and an increasingly bored and distracted demeanor.
In what I believe to be one of the most important moments in the entire series, Book Five showcases everything Scott has done falling apart around him. All of the good things and progress he felt he made end up meaning almost nothing, and everything from friends to job to Ramona end up (in some cases literally) fading away. To be clear, I don't think this is a brilliant turn because I find it enjoyable. I like it only because it's very akin to real life in that sometimes just when you think you're hitting your stride, one very important thing can snap and all the things you've believed you were accomplishing were merely a front for real change. It's powerful, Empire Strikes Back kind of stuff.
Book Six is aptly titled Scott Pilgrim's Finest Hour. This title works for a number of reasons. The first and most obvious for me was the new and improved art. O'Malley hired on two art assistants for this volume, and I imagine it was this extra room to breathe that allowed him to really knock this book out of the park on a visual level. Everything has a solid, locked-in appearance. As opposed to the early volumes in which characters were only rough approximations of themselves from page to page, the sixth book explodes with cartoony imagery and amazingly detailed art. This is also the Finest Hour because the story pays off in a big way in almost every facet. We join Scott after a year of trying and failing to get over Ramona. He's essentially retreated into his own apartment and locked himself from the world. In his grief he makes some rash decisions about what he thinks will best get him over Ramona, and they are each as awkward and uncomfortable as they are in real life.
Eventually after a retreat and a meeting with an old friend, Scott is able to confront his 'dark side' and embrace it -- an action that not only helps him reconcile with himself, but also with everything he has been childishly running away from for five books. The events of the finale are not overwhelmingly important. The important parts revolve around Scott finally growing up and facing down the things he casually ignored. When he finally confronts Gideon Graves, Ramona's own large-looming ex, it's not for her but for Scott himself in a show of getting over his hang-ups. It feels almost like the completion of a cycle for the character. Scott grieves, Scott finds love, Scott loses love thanks to his own selfishness, Scott stumbles and falls, and finally Scott confronts the catalyst for his growth -- both Gideon (the representation of all Scott's insecurities) and Ramona. It's big, it's ridiculous, but it works.If I had one gripe with the conclusion to this giant story, it would actually be the simplicity of the ending. While in fiction I do believe that it is best to give the audience an ending they can walk away happy with, I find that in reality sometimes the results of Book Six are impossible. I admit that while the reconciliation presented here is quite convenient, it is not without its own admitted uncertainty and hopefulness. If anything it's that feeling that even though it's nicely tied up, it may not work that saves the ending from losing me. At heart, I'm an optimist and I like to believe life can pay off in such a way.
In the end, Scott Pilgrim is all about growing up and getting over yourself; something with which I am intimately acquainted. It's presented in a hyper-active way that is very much indicative of the problems that prevent many twenty-somethings from growing up, but I think that is almost poetic considering the message of the story. Bryan Lee O'Malley's story speaks to the adolescent in all of us that's struggling to cope with the ever increasing enormity of adult life and adult relationships. I can't speak to that enormity through the eyes of someone aged past this point, but I can imagine there is something inherent in the story that we all acknowledge.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Time Turned Fragile (Unfinished)
"There come stretches of life when otherwise substantial amounts of time by any discerning account pass by imperceptibly fast as relative to our own experience. Essentially, if you are not stopping to smell the proverbial flowers time has a habit of accelerating around you without your notice. Lately, I have found myself victim to this occurrence more often than I'd like, but enough to pique my curiosities about the subject. Firstly, time as I see it is the unceasing and inevitable passage of events in a linear, forward-moving sequence that defines the progression of life. I think it's important to make note of the fact that time without a focal point does not exist; that is to say that without the events in which between we call 'time' there would be nothing. As far as I've been concerned in my thinking, without beings capable of defining these events in accordance with their existence the concept of time is kind of unnecessary. Time is important to all of us because we don't have an unlimited supply of it, and thusly we define the progression of our life cycles by moments and how we've utilized the 'time' we've experienced in between.
The most damning trick of time is that very often we will be unaware of it until we stop to reflect on the events that have already occurred. In my own experience, sometimes the urge to live in the moment robs you of the perspective to appreciate moments passed the fleeting present; the 'here and now'. Perception is the key to the way we deal with time as humans. We are at once both aware of the inertial movement of time, while at the same instant we are able to affect our own awareness and appreciation for it through the lengths in which we perceive it."
I wrote this on November 10, 2009 as I was pondering the enormity of time and how quickly it passes. I've always found it fascinating when one can recall an event in time only to realize that though it seems to have happened only a short while ago, the truth is that a considerable time period has elapsed. The mere fact that I wrote this nine months ago is boggling enough in and of itself.
I guess I wanted to release this article in an unfinished state. I have a number of unfinished pieces sitting on my computer, and while I may never post some, I felt the core of my argument was pretty solid in what I had already written considering time. Time is something someone like me in my early twenties has tons of, and yet it never feels like there is enough.
The most damning thing about time can be summed up by this quote from an unknown source:
“Time is the cruelest teacher; first she gives the test, then teaches the lesson.”
Time is something we can never cheat. We can never outrun it or produce more of it. We can regret how we spent it, but we cannot undo that which is done. All we can do is try with our very souls to do with our time all that we can so that in a moment of reckoning far in our futures we will not have the misfortune of looking back in frustration, but in a triumph of the purest human experience.
If time makes fools of us all, then perhaps we should endeavor all of us to be foolish on our own terms when that moment comes.
The most damning trick of time is that very often we will be unaware of it until we stop to reflect on the events that have already occurred. In my own experience, sometimes the urge to live in the moment robs you of the perspective to appreciate moments passed the fleeting present; the 'here and now'. Perception is the key to the way we deal with time as humans. We are at once both aware of the inertial movement of time, while at the same instant we are able to affect our own awareness and appreciation for it through the lengths in which we perceive it."
I wrote this on November 10, 2009 as I was pondering the enormity of time and how quickly it passes. I've always found it fascinating when one can recall an event in time only to realize that though it seems to have happened only a short while ago, the truth is that a considerable time period has elapsed. The mere fact that I wrote this nine months ago is boggling enough in and of itself.
I guess I wanted to release this article in an unfinished state. I have a number of unfinished pieces sitting on my computer, and while I may never post some, I felt the core of my argument was pretty solid in what I had already written considering time. Time is something someone like me in my early twenties has tons of, and yet it never feels like there is enough.
The most damning thing about time can be summed up by this quote from an unknown source:
“Time is the cruelest teacher; first she gives the test, then teaches the lesson.”
Time is something we can never cheat. We can never outrun it or produce more of it. We can regret how we spent it, but we cannot undo that which is done. All we can do is try with our very souls to do with our time all that we can so that in a moment of reckoning far in our futures we will not have the misfortune of looking back in frustration, but in a triumph of the purest human experience.
If time makes fools of us all, then perhaps we should endeavor all of us to be foolish on our own terms when that moment comes.
Rule 32: [The Strawberry-Banana Smoothie]
This is the beginning of a brand new series I am starting. The title of this article, Rule 32, is a kind of in-joke for those in the know. The phrase 'enjoy the little things' has been around for a long time. Naming my article Enjoying the Little Things might have worked, but calling it Rule 32 is much more clever. For those of you still not in the loop, Rule 32 hails from the movie Zombieland in which the main character survives the zombie apocalypse by strictly following a list of rules. He adopts Rule 32 after finding the silver lining in a terrible situation thanks to his psychotic comrade Tallahassee (played to Natural Born Killers perfection by Woody Harrelson). Thusly, I have named this new feature Rule 32.
The point of these writings is to capture little moments in my own life which I think merit special recollection.
Milwaukee was boiling north of 94 degrees yesterday and when you live in a 200 year old house as I do, air conditioning is not a foregone conclusion. Needless to say, it was a day of doing nothing in the attempt to maintain a body temperature that didn't feel a lot like my internal organs were liquefying. Eventually it dawned on me that not only can I drive, but local fast food establishments serve ice cold treats for convenient prices everyday. It wasn't long before I found myself at McDonald's purchasing a Strawberry-Banana Smoothie. A smoothie in and of itself is not a life altering thing, but on a day where even being outside for five minutes leaves you gently coated in a thick layer of sweat, a smoothie can be the most beautiful thing in the world. It tasted better than it had any right, and that ten minutes while I consumed it served as an oasis in an otherwise intolerable day. These little moments can be the high point of a week if you let them, and for me it was just that.
So here's to the smoothies of the world and the salvation they offer on a day so hot and sunny you forget what it feels like to function normally.
The point of these writings is to capture little moments in my own life which I think merit special recollection.
Milwaukee was boiling north of 94 degrees yesterday and when you live in a 200 year old house as I do, air conditioning is not a foregone conclusion. Needless to say, it was a day of doing nothing in the attempt to maintain a body temperature that didn't feel a lot like my internal organs were liquefying. Eventually it dawned on me that not only can I drive, but local fast food establishments serve ice cold treats for convenient prices everyday. It wasn't long before I found myself at McDonald's purchasing a Strawberry-Banana Smoothie. A smoothie in and of itself is not a life altering thing, but on a day where even being outside for five minutes leaves you gently coated in a thick layer of sweat, a smoothie can be the most beautiful thing in the world. It tasted better than it had any right, and that ten minutes while I consumed it served as an oasis in an otherwise intolerable day. These little moments can be the high point of a week if you let them, and for me it was just that.
So here's to the smoothies of the world and the salvation they offer on a day so hot and sunny you forget what it feels like to function normally.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Sparks and Sounds.
Something about taking pictures of fireworks seems poetic -- capturing a moment that is only meant to last for the briefest of seconds. There's something beautiful about a summer night, a spectacular view, good company, and exploding lights in the sky over thousands of awe-struck spectators.
White Stars
The Summer View from My Roof
Summertime Watchers
Red Star
Northward Burn
Multi-Ball
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Growing Up Toy Story: A Review
Let's get some perspective here shall we? Toy Story came out in 1995. At the time I was only nine years old. From a young age I was bred to be a quite the fan of all things Disney. Toy Story was a brought to me by Disney. The film also happened to be about a young lad most likely not much younger than myself and his relationship with his collection of play things. The idea that toys have a life of their own wasn't a foreign one to me, even at age nine. My younger brother and I often fantasized about the lives our toys had when we were not present. And toys did we have. We were the kind of kids who amassed such a variety of toys that they filled to the brim a giant wooden toybox. We must also take into consideration that I may or may not be the most sentimental human being alive. So much is my nostalgia to even the most insignificant piece of memorabilia that the majority of my childhood toys still reside somewhere packed away among the boxes and boxes of junk my family has squirreled away over the years. I'm a sentimental packrat.
So what did this all mean to me upon seeing that first delightful film about toys and their lives? Not a thing. If I am honest with myself, I just loved the movie because it was great. There was adventure and a relatable through line. Indeed, Toy Story went on to be one of the most watched VHS tapes my brother and I owned. 'Most watched' isn't an exaggerated term here either. For weeks on end, it was our habit to watch the same movie EVERY night before we went to bed. For those of you who have known me a long time and know my tendency to be late to everything; this was one of the early reasons for my oversleeping. I had the Toy Story toys from Burger King, I had the store bought versions -- I even bought the special cloth version of Woody hoping he'd be something like his movie counterpart. It never was. We played the video game on Genesis to completion and we recreated scenes from the film as best we could using our heroic proxies. The sheer impact of Toy Story on my life is understated but concrete. From that day forth the company Pixar was forever synonymous with Toy Story.
Such was my loyalty to this monumental film that I have not to this day ever seen A Bug's Life. Hearing that the company that produced such a beloved film had betrayed my trust as well as that of Buzz and Woody, I subconsciously decided I would never partake in the blasphemy of it all. And then they won me back with Toy Story 2 in 1999. I was thirteen now and, like Andy, I was starting to outgrow the need to open the toybox or melt Green Army men behind the garage at our apartment complex. Still though, times would call and I'd find myself prone to childlike whimsy. Toy Story 2 was wonderful. It made me feel guilty all over again for the gradual unuse my toys started to see, and for a long while I was terrified that the plight of the toys in the movie echoed that of my own toys. Toy Story 2 was a natural thing in my life as by this time Toy Story had already become ingrained in my subconscious. Seeing it was about as common sense as breathing. The wonderful part about this sequel was that it ended on a note of finality. Woody and Buzz have come to terms with the fact that, indeed, one day Andy will outgrow his use for them as all boys do, but all along the way they will be there for him. It was touching and it was hopeful. I think that on some level I was unaware, this is the very reason I was finally able to accept Pixar's next film Monster's Inc.. The story of Woody, Buzz and the gang was over insofar as it could be, and I could move on. I'll admit I never saw Monster's Inc. or Finding Nemo in theaters as I was still mildly uninterested in any Pixar movie that wasn't a Toy Story film, but with time I have gone back and they are both wonderful favorites of mine.
And then, like Andy undoubtedly did, I grew up. Growing up is never something you do on purpose; especially if you're a boy. You wake up every day and one morning eleven years later you look back and all of those things that were so important to you have been replaced with new things. New interests and new entertainments. High school gave way to college. I got a job. My family moved. The toy box was stored away in a garage. I made friends. I learned to drive. I got in trouble. I made mistakes. I got a job. I moved away from home. I lost friends I wish I hadn't. I started paying bills. I took on responsibilities. And suddenly that little boy who I was sure I still was was gone. This realization gave way to the melancholy that a time in my life had come and gone without me even knowing, and it was time to move on to whatever was next. This last Friday I saw Toy Story 3.
Toy Story 3 finds Andy all grown up and headed for college. Woody, Buzz, and the remnants of a once glorious collection of toys sit solemnly day in and day out inside a toy chest. By all accounts they haven't been given a second glance in years. Confronted with the decision to either throw away his old toys or store them away in an attic, Andy chooses to take Woody along and store away Buzz and the rest. A mix-up causes the attic-bound toys to almost find themselves garbage-bound, when through a daring set of actions instead wind up being donated to a nearby daycare. The story is the least engrossing part of Toy Story 3. This is not to say that it lacks imagination or thrill. The sheer amount of creativity that Pixar puts into every tiny nuance of this film is mind boggling. The places and adventures the toys have in this film trump in scale and in spectacle almost everything the previous two films offered. The humor is strongly in tact throughout, and watching this movie feels just like going home. This is to say nothing in this movie feels like it's forcefully recreating the magic of the first films. Though every viewer will likely have an idea of where the chips will fall by film's end, the story is no less suspenseful or enjoyable for it.
Instead, the treasure of Toy Story 3 lies in its heart. While I know that any mildly well-adjusted child will enjoy the hijinks at play in this film, I can't help shaking the feeling that Toy Story 3 was made for boys like me. The boys who first took that adventure with Woody when they were nine and had become young men in the time since. Obviously, the experiences and growing up Andy has done are not detailed and I believe that's because all of us are Andy now. There is a very specific age group of my peers that grew up with these three movies, and this third in particular speaks to us as we look back on our long lost childhoods one last time. Toy Story 3 is a story about many things. It's a story about how important our childhood is to us. It's about growing up and what that means. It's about loyalty and how you treat those around you. It's about the crushing sadness of having to let go as well as the realization that it's okay to do so because those memories are never gone from us. Toy Story 3 tells the people like me in the audience that we haven't lost that little boy we were. It tells us that somewhere deep inside the experience of childhood guided us to where we are now, and that true friends never really leave us. Through the eyes of the toys we learn about what it means to be loyal and to never give up on those who are closest to us. We learn that friendship will get us through virtually anything, and we learn how to say goodbye.
Toy Story 3 is just a movie, but somehow to me it's meant so much more. The three Toy Story films stand as a mirror of my growing up. Toy Story 3 marks the end of my childhood in a way. It's an acknowledgment of my progress in life and a reminder of all of the new things I have ahead of me without ever compromising the importance of my past. It's hard to explain to some people what a movie like this is for me, and I imagine there is only a limited subset of people who will ever fully grasp this film in a manner similar to my own. I may not have realized it along the way, but the Toy Story franchise has taught me lessons all throughout my life. It was with a certain kind of joyful sadness that I found myself in the theater choked up to the point of tears during the final fifteen minutes of this film as I realized that Toy Story was teaching me my final lesson. I'm all grown up now and Buzz and Woody and all the rest don't mean to me what they once did, but they like the franchise itself will always be a part of me in a way. If this sounds like high praise for a movie; realize that it very much is the highest praise I can give. Toy Story 3 ended up besting even my loftiest expectations and because of that and the unique place it holds in my life it stands as not only the best Pixar film ever released, but one of the best films I have seen in a very long time. Bring a box of tissues, an attitude for a good laugh, and the little kid who's right where you left him... Toy Story 3 is worth every moment.
So what did this all mean to me upon seeing that first delightful film about toys and their lives? Not a thing. If I am honest with myself, I just loved the movie because it was great. There was adventure and a relatable through line. Indeed, Toy Story went on to be one of the most watched VHS tapes my brother and I owned. 'Most watched' isn't an exaggerated term here either. For weeks on end, it was our habit to watch the same movie EVERY night before we went to bed. For those of you who have known me a long time and know my tendency to be late to everything; this was one of the early reasons for my oversleeping. I had the Toy Story toys from Burger King, I had the store bought versions -- I even bought the special cloth version of Woody hoping he'd be something like his movie counterpart. It never was. We played the video game on Genesis to completion and we recreated scenes from the film as best we could using our heroic proxies. The sheer impact of Toy Story on my life is understated but concrete. From that day forth the company Pixar was forever synonymous with Toy Story.
Such was my loyalty to this monumental film that I have not to this day ever seen A Bug's Life. Hearing that the company that produced such a beloved film had betrayed my trust as well as that of Buzz and Woody, I subconsciously decided I would never partake in the blasphemy of it all. And then they won me back with Toy Story 2 in 1999. I was thirteen now and, like Andy, I was starting to outgrow the need to open the toybox or melt Green Army men behind the garage at our apartment complex. Still though, times would call and I'd find myself prone to childlike whimsy. Toy Story 2 was wonderful. It made me feel guilty all over again for the gradual unuse my toys started to see, and for a long while I was terrified that the plight of the toys in the movie echoed that of my own toys. Toy Story 2 was a natural thing in my life as by this time Toy Story had already become ingrained in my subconscious. Seeing it was about as common sense as breathing. The wonderful part about this sequel was that it ended on a note of finality. Woody and Buzz have come to terms with the fact that, indeed, one day Andy will outgrow his use for them as all boys do, but all along the way they will be there for him. It was touching and it was hopeful. I think that on some level I was unaware, this is the very reason I was finally able to accept Pixar's next film Monster's Inc.. The story of Woody, Buzz and the gang was over insofar as it could be, and I could move on. I'll admit I never saw Monster's Inc. or Finding Nemo in theaters as I was still mildly uninterested in any Pixar movie that wasn't a Toy Story film, but with time I have gone back and they are both wonderful favorites of mine.
And then, like Andy undoubtedly did, I grew up. Growing up is never something you do on purpose; especially if you're a boy. You wake up every day and one morning eleven years later you look back and all of those things that were so important to you have been replaced with new things. New interests and new entertainments. High school gave way to college. I got a job. My family moved. The toy box was stored away in a garage. I made friends. I learned to drive. I got in trouble. I made mistakes. I got a job. I moved away from home. I lost friends I wish I hadn't. I started paying bills. I took on responsibilities. And suddenly that little boy who I was sure I still was was gone. This realization gave way to the melancholy that a time in my life had come and gone without me even knowing, and it was time to move on to whatever was next. This last Friday I saw Toy Story 3.
Toy Story 3 finds Andy all grown up and headed for college. Woody, Buzz, and the remnants of a once glorious collection of toys sit solemnly day in and day out inside a toy chest. By all accounts they haven't been given a second glance in years. Confronted with the decision to either throw away his old toys or store them away in an attic, Andy chooses to take Woody along and store away Buzz and the rest. A mix-up causes the attic-bound toys to almost find themselves garbage-bound, when through a daring set of actions instead wind up being donated to a nearby daycare. The story is the least engrossing part of Toy Story 3. This is not to say that it lacks imagination or thrill. The sheer amount of creativity that Pixar puts into every tiny nuance of this film is mind boggling. The places and adventures the toys have in this film trump in scale and in spectacle almost everything the previous two films offered. The humor is strongly in tact throughout, and watching this movie feels just like going home. This is to say nothing in this movie feels like it's forcefully recreating the magic of the first films. Though every viewer will likely have an idea of where the chips will fall by film's end, the story is no less suspenseful or enjoyable for it.
Instead, the treasure of Toy Story 3 lies in its heart. While I know that any mildly well-adjusted child will enjoy the hijinks at play in this film, I can't help shaking the feeling that Toy Story 3 was made for boys like me. The boys who first took that adventure with Woody when they were nine and had become young men in the time since. Obviously, the experiences and growing up Andy has done are not detailed and I believe that's because all of us are Andy now. There is a very specific age group of my peers that grew up with these three movies, and this third in particular speaks to us as we look back on our long lost childhoods one last time. Toy Story 3 is a story about many things. It's a story about how important our childhood is to us. It's about growing up and what that means. It's about loyalty and how you treat those around you. It's about the crushing sadness of having to let go as well as the realization that it's okay to do so because those memories are never gone from us. Toy Story 3 tells the people like me in the audience that we haven't lost that little boy we were. It tells us that somewhere deep inside the experience of childhood guided us to where we are now, and that true friends never really leave us. Through the eyes of the toys we learn about what it means to be loyal and to never give up on those who are closest to us. We learn that friendship will get us through virtually anything, and we learn how to say goodbye.
Toy Story 3 is just a movie, but somehow to me it's meant so much more. The three Toy Story films stand as a mirror of my growing up. Toy Story 3 marks the end of my childhood in a way. It's an acknowledgment of my progress in life and a reminder of all of the new things I have ahead of me without ever compromising the importance of my past. It's hard to explain to some people what a movie like this is for me, and I imagine there is only a limited subset of people who will ever fully grasp this film in a manner similar to my own. I may not have realized it along the way, but the Toy Story franchise has taught me lessons all throughout my life. It was with a certain kind of joyful sadness that I found myself in the theater choked up to the point of tears during the final fifteen minutes of this film as I realized that Toy Story was teaching me my final lesson. I'm all grown up now and Buzz and Woody and all the rest don't mean to me what they once did, but they like the franchise itself will always be a part of me in a way. If this sounds like high praise for a movie; realize that it very much is the highest praise I can give. Toy Story 3 ended up besting even my loftiest expectations and because of that and the unique place it holds in my life it stands as not only the best Pixar film ever released, but one of the best films I have seen in a very long time. Bring a box of tissues, an attitude for a good laugh, and the little kid who's right where you left him... Toy Story 3 is worth every moment.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Fiction is Better than Truth.
The view from the roof of my apartment will be the thing I miss the most about living here. Let it never be said that Milwaukee is not a beautiful city when it wants to be one.
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