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.

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:

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.

Packrat Syndrome

I was at a store the other day with my mom, and we were buying things. As you do. Along the way I idly began to catalogue the sheer volume of all of the things on the endless shelves and their myriad uses. I find it staggering to think that within the hundreds of various products to be found in any given mass retail store, there are millions of people who will find use of them. I guess it's all about minutia. Next time you're in a tall building or have a really good view, take a look at the nearest street or freeway. Hundreds of thousands of cars crawl like ants endlessly into the horizon. Now visualize that each car holds at least one human being and that the car they are driving is likely only one of hundreds of possessions that person is likely to have. Now multiply that generous "hundreds" of possessions by the number of cars you can see at any given moment. My point is that humanity seems completely tied to the things that we own. We surround ourselves with things and items and trinkets. The question of course is necessity. How much do we really need and why do we really need it?

Obviously many of the things we own come from a place of satisfying a basic need. Our homes, our means of conveyance, our food and the various storage thereof, and our clothing all stem from a reasonably justifiable life requirement. Another category of things that we collect revolve around our entertainment. While we find ways to keep ourselves busy in life, obviously much joy is derived from the things we undertake in our "free time". TV's, sports equipment, cameras, video games, books, papers, pencils, and various other and infinite items of amusement fill our lives from every angle. Lastly, we collect items as a means of memory or remembrance. This a much more broad subset that encompasses aspects of all of the categories of possession, and it is likely the aspect that causes the most problems. Pictures of family and friends, mementos of dear or lost acquaintances, heirlooms, and items attached to specific and resonant moments in our lives could all feasibly fall under the purview of acceptable collection. Even though at the most basic and essential level these items don't serve to prolong or support your living from day to day, we allow these items on a primal level as proof of our existence. No, items collected due to memory are most problematic when tied together with a sense of identity that is directly proportional to our happiness.

Refer to the aforementioned 'entertainment' possessions. Indeed while many of the forms of amusement we dabble are in essence useless in a Darwinian sense, human kind has arguably always shown a need for some kind of activity to balance idle moments. The question becomes what actions are taken when such items outlive their usefulness? For many, things are stored away and slowly fade from our consciousness over time. In some cases these items lose none of their use and upon some random thought-string we are able to recall it and put it back into use in the ebb and flow of our lives. In many more cases than some would like to admit, though, the items we store away tend to pile up and entrench us in our places both physically and figuratively. I call this the Packrat Syndrome, and it has both positive and negative effects on everyone.

As I stated earlier, it all comes down to necessity. In a purely black and white, cut and dry view of the world the only items we would own and keep are the ones that would suite us in the pursuit of living. I suppose this would come down to clothes to protect against the elements, a steady source of food, and some kind of shelter in which to seek rest or retreat. Some of these could be disputed themselves upon further scrutiny. Thus it would seem that 'necessity' is a subjective term. While some would consider dozens upon dozens of old shoeboxes filled with decades old photos stacked in an attic somewhere 'necessary' to happiness, there are just as many who may find this limiting. One of the most common trends that come with the passing of time is our joint accumulation of possession. As we age we collect and inherit and create more and more things by which we identify ourselves to the point that as we age it becomes harder and harder to simply move one's life without great effort. And here is the great debate of necessity. To some, filling one's life with things represents a natural settling down; perhaps even a planting of personal roots of which all things moving forward in life blossom. To others, accumulation is only a limiter to the things we can freely do in our lives.

The lease on my apartment is going to be up in about three months' time. I'm having a considerably hard time deciding whether to renew the lease and stay longer, or pack everything up and move home for a while. As I had these thoughts, I took stock of my living space and all the things I had accumulated over the previous year. Even though I am only one person living alone in a relatively small space, the sheer amount of 'things' I've stashed and piled is kind of impressive. Every drawer has something in it, every closet or nook or cranny... I think the oddest moment of clarity was looking over my bookshelf. I do not read an excessive amount, but I have read a good deal of different books. As I skimmed the myriad titles and genres, I could not help but ask myself what the chances were I would ever reasonably read some of the books I saw again. If I were being honest with myself, some books just as well never may be opened again outside of passing fancy. It is here that I experienced the problematic sense memory identifying attached to many people and many possessions. Regardless of their use, these were my books that I liked enough to read. Some of them were gifts. Some of them were really, really cool at the time. It wasn't long before I knew I couldn't easily part with any of them. The books had become tied to my sense of self. They defined me.

And so it is with people the world over. A long while back I had a friend who spoke to me about having to pair down their life and thusly their possessions in order to allow for ease of movement from place to place. At the time I remember thinking about all the things I called my own and what I would take with me and what I could part with if the opportunity ever arose. It's not an easy task slimming down your precious possessions to the things that really matter, and those things that do last really begin to matter in a huge way. I guess the truth is that we are the things we surround ourselves with and, like it or not, we identify ourselves by them. In the end it all comes down to necessity: the things we can't do without that define us outside of our own internal sense of self. There's a part of me that wishes I was more libertarian on the issue, but I think we all need something outside of ourselves to remind us of who we are. An objective identifier against a vast ocean of subjective definitions though not at all less personal. Life is an amazing journey of things and the things and people we surround ourselves with. Deciding what we can and cannot live without is just one facet of that fantastic voyage, and one that we all should take account.

Why Joining A Gym Will Make Me Fat

It's a semi-little known secret that once upon a time not so many years ago I weighed just slightly over 200 pounds. At a height of five foot nine inches tall, this weight would fall under an 'obese' rating on most BMI (Body Mass Index) scales. I should disclaim that this weight was the absolute highest weight I ever weighed myself at, and it is very likely that it was not an entirely accurate measurement. Ideally, I imagine that my actual weight was somewhere in the realm of 210 to 215 pounds. Obviously this is nothing to scoff at, but I am attempting to acknowledge the discrepancy. Of course, this is not the reason that I'm writing today. The truth of the matter is that over the course of about a year and a half I was able to lose roughly eighty pounds, lowering my weight to a range of anywhere from 135 to 145 pounds. This range continues to be my average currently, and the maintenance thereof a conscious effort in my day-to-day routine.

For the first time in almost five years I find that delicate struggle to maintain a healthy weight and healthy practices in jeopardy and tonight while I mercilessly packed away sugary snack after sugary snack, I deduced precisely the culprit -- joining a gym. Let it be clear that for the better part of four years, exercise has been a key facet of my lifestyle. Whenever possible, I have made an effort to run at least two miles a day. Additionally, I throw in a moderate number of push-ups and sit-ups whenever and wherever possible. The important thing to note in this is that while running is important to keeping my weight low, diet and portion sizes have been tantamount not only to the initial loss of weight but the sustained maintenance over time. The reason portion size and the particulars of my diet are so essential lies within the admission that while I now have what many would consider a slender build, at heart food is an overriding passion. Whereas a normal human being will eat that which they find tasty and subsequently stop when they feel full, I find myself eating for the pleasure derived from the flavors and diversity available at any given time. In simpler terms; I'm a fat kid at heart.

As many former "fat kids" can attest, the paranoia that one day they could return to their robust glory is almost enough to stem all the bad habits and tendencies towards excess they may otherwise indulge. I would happily count myself among this demographic, and while I will not claim that my life is any happier than it was when I was overweight, I will admit a powerful urge to not revert to such a state. This past January, I took it upon myself to enroll at the local YMCA in an attempt to continue running and exercising regularly in the usually dormant winter months. Having never been a proper member of a legitimate fitness center since my newfound embracing of a healthier lifestyle, I assumed that having easy access to a fitness establishment would push my exercise routine to untold heights. The truth, as it were, is a much more complicated affair.

I refer now back to the idea that one of the motivating factors in remaining in shape after years of being otherwise is a fear of going back. Regularly going to a gym is a unique experience. The rush and satisfaction of pushing your body's limits and getting stronger and more fit is second to almost none in the list of life's personal accomplishments. The more time and effort put into a gym, though, the more you begin to feel impervious. Thus was the case as far as I am concerned. As the first months of increased physical exercise came to a close, a new feeling of security washed over me. I must be clear that 'security' as I use it here is not meant in a safe and comforting manner equal to the security felt surrounded by loved ones. Instead, this 'security' was one in which the idea that I could ever return to being out of shape seemed an impossibility to me. Truthfully, with the amount of exercise I do on a normal trip to the gym the idea is almost justified. Almost any amount of regular food intake should plausibly be burned away under the rigors of a strenuous workout. The problem of course is twofold. Firstly, it would be unwise to assume that a moderate amount of exercise is excuse enough to stop avoiding sugary snacks or foods containing loads of empty calories that the body cannot properly utilize. Secondly, it would seem I had forgotten the fact that without the focus of concern of the things I ate, I subconcsiously began eating whatever I felt like. Essentially, the gym became my excuse to eat whatever, whenever I wanted.

And so I find myself at a crossroads. I am nowhere near what any rational mind would consider "out of shape", yet I have a weary mind towards the prospect I'm slowly losing the temperance with myself necessary to keep my less desirable habits in check. I do acknowledge the fact that since joining the gym my own fitness level has steadily risen, but it is at the cost of judicious eating habits. And so I find myself wondering if there are others out there with the same predicament. Every day I see people at the gym who are slightly on the heavier side, who seem to push themselves even harder than I do and yet week after week I observe no differences in them. Of course, this is complete conjecture on my part and for all I know the differences are vast yet imperceptible to me due to frequent exposure. Regardless, for the first time in four years I find myself asking if heightened physical activity is the best course of action. Is it possible that memberships to fitness establishments in general carry an air of freedom to ignore otherwise unhealthy habits? Does the knowledge that one belongs to an overwhelmingly identifiable bastion of health cast a blind gaze towards the fact all other outlets of one's life are the opposite? I am personally puzzled by the thought and while I do not yet have the answer, I hope that somehow the mere fact I can rationalize the thought is a sign that I am that much closer to an answer.

Consider for a moment instances in your own life in which you purposefully do something that should represent something overwhelmingly positive in order to justify a much more damaging and negative behavior? Personally I think it's a sign of the human condition and our ability to sabotage ourselves without even knowing it. It goes a long way towards informing personal insight, regardless of how it manifests in your life.

28 x 28: February Twenty-Five

Review: Shutter Island

Shutter Island is a movie that, for the most part, will likely subvert expectations. Thanks in large part to tonally misleading trailers, the preconceived notions about the film undoubtedly lead to confusion. Shutter Island is the story of Agent Teddy Daniels and his partner Chuck Aule as they take on a case concerning a patient who has gone missing on a maximum security penitentiary for the criminally insane. Apparently, the woman in question vanished from her highly guarded cell leaving not even a trace of the particulars of her escape. Soon, Teddy finds himself losing his own grip on sanity as the island slowly begins to peal away and a saturating air of paranoia settles upon everything.

From the trailers, one would be inclined to think that Shutter Island is somewhere in the horror/suspense category of film. The truth of the matter is that the film is more an exploration of the human psyche under insurmountable stresses and how one reacts in such situations. Right from the opening scenes, it is clear that all is not as it seems and the proceedings lend themselves to this theory very well. Obviously there is a greater underlying mystery at play here, and the biggest grievance I have heard spoken about this particular film is that it is too easy to figure it out early in the proceedings. I believe that director Martin Scorsese never intends for the truth of things to obfuscated, and in fact discovering the cards being dealt only adds to the cinematic effect he is aiming to achieve. The real focus of this film is not the inevitable twist ending as it is in many other films of this nature. Instead, the film is better viewed from a more personal angle. Without saying too much more, the movie is easier to appreciate as a window into perceptions and realities when the mind is introduced to severe stresses.

From a filmmaking point of view, this is clearly not Scorsese's most masterful work, but to think that it was intended to be would be wrong. On a purely technical angle, Shutter Island is a sharp film. From set design to cinematography, the film oozes the proper trappings for the overall tone of the film. Things are chaotic and claustrophobic, shaky and dark when they are needed to be. It would seem that instead of reaching for thrilling cinematic heights, Shutter Island is content to be an adventurous experiment in interesting story-telling. The performances of the actors in this film are all fairly solid. Clearly though this is a one man show. Leonardo DiCaprio is almost the sole focus of the entire film and the director wisely chooses to never take the camera of his main character. DiCaprio's Boston accented character is getting a little old by this point, but that is due more to overexposure in many recent films than any mistake on the actor's part. By telling the story from a very close and personal examination of one man though, the overall plot of the film is only enhanced in ways that won't fully make sense until the movie is over.

In the end, Shutter Island is a decent film. Many film goers, myself included, may have to take a moment to readjust their expectations early into the movie, but this can be chalked up to ineffective trailers. Shutter Island is a story distinctly about the human mind versus the human mind. It asks the questions of what precisely constitutes absolute reality, and who can you trust when you feel like you can't trust yourself? If you're worried about a strong horror element or moments of extreme suspense, Shutter Island will ease those fears. Instead, the movie is content to toil in the fog of mistrust and deceptions. This is a film good for superb aesthetic immersion as well as a decently entertaining plotline that may be more cerebral than audiences were lead to believe.

28 x 28: February Nineteen

"They weren't pictures of people. They were pictures of the way I felt." -- Ted Croner

Sometimes life throws such oddly resonant and serendipitous moments at you that you don't even see them coming. Tonight I had the pleasure of attending the Milwaukee Art Museum's Street Seen exhibit. This was a special event with (loud) music, drinks, food, and various other activities throughout the art museum. It's a regular event called MAM: After Dark. To say the least, it was a fairly schizophrenic affair filled with tons of people and not a particularly clear notion on what it was one should be doing. From an interesting if not bizarre interpretive dance group to craft tables with no discernible purpose, one wouldn't be blamed for finding it hard to find the tone of the night. The sheer amount of people present in a relatively small space and the fact that we arrived slightly later to the venue than normal only exacerbated the calamity. Of course, if one were to just relax and take a step back, it's quite easy to see that the most logical thing to do in an art museum is view art. This was my first visit to the Milwaukee Art Museum, so I was not entirely sure what to expect in terms of what I would see. Part of me has always assumed that art museums are just places where oddities and simplistic renderings get passed off for a lot more than they actually happen to be. I tried my best to keep this notion in check as we decided to see the centerpiece attraction for tonight's event: Street Seen.

Street Seen is a collection of photographs from six different photographers showcasing various pieces demonstrating city life and culture during the years following the Second World War. Photography is one of those art forms that I find it hard to denote any one photograph as art. By dint of what it is, I feel like the classification of such work falls squarely into a subjective category. Regardless, I viewed the exhibit with as open a mind as I am able, and I must say I was quite taken aback. While every four or five pictures simply seemed to me to be pleasant accidents touted as much more, there were some every now and then that struck me as simply amazing. I suppose I should clarify that 'pleasant accident' can both be a good thing and a bad thing. Photography is capturing a moment the way you're seeing or experiencing it, and because moments are fleeting most of the best pictures that will ever be captured will be accidental. The very same photos I was so astonished by were most likely also completely random; a cosmic conflux of elements all coming together at once with a lucky human being aware enough to snap a shutter at the right moment. Happy enough to be wrong about the content of an art museum (for the most part), I plodded along silently critiquing or envying each photo until I came upon the works of one Ted Croner.

The photographs of Ted Croner and the accompanying information about the photographer gripped me in a way I had not expected -- which is to say this is the resonance and serendipity I was speaking about at the beginning of this writing. Ted Croner, upon returning from the War, dedicated himself to being a photographer and took up shop in the heart of the country; New York City. Enrolled at a famous photography institute of the time (a name which escapes me at the moment), it wasn't until one night when Croner borrowed a specific camera (twin reflex, I think) and set out to take a few shots at a diner that he discovered his photographic 'voice'. Upon this discovery Croner commented that he wasn't just capturing people doing things, he was capturing how he felt. I've quoted the exact line at the top of this posting, but those of you who have read this blog for some amount of time may remember that my own view of the world and taking pictures of it is something freakishly similar to Ted Croner. It wasn't until I further discovered that the photographer also relished the post production aspects of his craft that I was very nearly floored. Apparently Croner was a huge fan of experimental manipulation techniques during the development of his work. Altering shadow darkness, exposing negatives longer, double printing negative on the same sheet -- Ted Croner was essentially doing exactly what I was DECADES before I ever thought of the idea. Needless to say, his photographs were the absolute highlight of the entire night for me. Here was a person who not only lived in an era that I personally find exponentially more visually entertaining, but he was much more skillfully and confidently capturing images that I so far only dream to aspire to.

I suppose the point of all of this rambling on and on about finding a kindred spirit in a medium I am growing progressively more fond of is that sometimes it's nice to know that something you believe in is not only shared, but respected. In one fell swoop, the photographs of Ted Croner at once stoked an inspirational fire that has not been so driven in quite a while and also bolstered my personal confidence in my approach to the art form. Life can be a surprising journey from time to time, and it's little moments like the one tonight that can draw the focus on something much bigger you were never aware of. It's hard to accurately describe the kind of feeling such a moment creates, but it's one worth writing about and it's one that I would encourage everyone to go out and find.

Also, I have to again apologize for yesterday's entry. Yikes. Nine more days!

28 x 28: February Eight

YMCA Sociology

About half a month ago, I finally cracked and signed up for my local YMCA. The nice thing about the Y I've chosen to go to is that it's not only located very close to my apartment downtown, but it's attached to my place of work. This means that either after work and before class, or after class late at night I can easily get in a quick workout. Since I've more or less been going every day for the last two and a half weeks, I let my mind muse a little while I was running tonight.

In today's world, it's hard not to be a little cynical. It would be false to think that many of the interactions we have with people both stranger and familiar are not motivated by self-gain. How often do you find yourself walking down the street these days and exchanging friendly greetings with passers-by? Granted, that kind of behavior in today's society is just as likely to get you branded a lonely, desperate lunatic as it is a kindly citizen of the world. Still, the point stands. The world for better or worse in most cursory encounters is a tad on the guarded side, if not sometimes hostile. With that in mind, I was a little stunned to observe that in a gym setting most people are far more inclined to be cordial if not downright nice. People hold doors, respectfully yield machines, make an effort to help others out, and sometimes even start up a casual conversation. It's an odd thing, to a certain degree, and I imagine it has a lot to do with the idea of a gym in the first place. A gym finds a large group of strangers all gathered in one building under a common purpose; doing silly things to get or stay in shape. The fact that everyone is united under a common ideal is the easy part. A singular purpose can be one of the most unifying forces in human society. The real lynch pin of the oddity though can be found in the second action: doing silly things.

Now, I am not at all trying to posit that working out to stay in shape is a bad or even weird thing. Instead, in the most basic sense of it, the actions involved in exercising are downright strange when you take a step back. Running in circles for miles? Lifting heavy metal objects over your head over and over? Riding a stationary bike for hours at a time? Watching yourself stretch in a variety of poses in front of a wall-sized mirror? All of these things are fairly common, but if you were to take away all sense of leisure in an average human life these things would be absurd. In the Darwinian sense, exercise is hard to classify. On the one hand, exercise enables you to be a more fit and therefore more desirable candidate for natural selection. On the other, running around in a loop for three miles serves absolutely no purpose in furthering the survival of your day or the propagating of your life. It is because society as a whole has evolved to a point where the option to exercise has become a commodity as opposed to a necessity that something like a gym even exists. This is where the argument comes back around. Essentially, in this day and age, going to the gym is a choice. No one's forcing you to go and do 20 crunches, just like no one is forcing you to eat 4000 calories of delicious candy a day.

The concept of choice is crucial in my understanding of the unity that happens in a gym. Everyone there has chosen to come and do the silly things needed to exercise otherwise neglected aspects of the body. Now, because these acts require an individual to not only do said silly action, but forces them to be vulnerable in doing so to a wide selection of people that really causes the togetherness. No one likes to feel singled out for being different. As stressed and important as it is to embrace your own individuality, on a fundamental level humans strive to be uniform. This fear of being mocked further drives what would otherwise be disparate groups of people into a necessary homogeneous unification. And so we have people who would otherwise pass just as soon as look at you suddenly holding doors for you, or asking you how a machine works. Just like that the group has a reason to be civilized to one another again.

On top of everything else, going to the gym breeds a certain kind of communal desire. Working out at a gym, particularly running on a track for a few miles, can be one of the most isolating things a person can do. Such exercise depends almost entirely on the personal drive of the individual. This is also most likely what makes it so hard for so many when it comes to getting some exercise. At the end of the day, the only person you have to deal with is yourself. So as is natural in almost all human experience, we reach out for that connection with others. Our desire to no longer be isolated causes us to actively include others in ways that would not happen under different stimuli. Running with a partner, having someone spot you while you lift, even silently competing with another gym patron to push your own limits are all tantamount to a deeper and baser human instinct to group.

In the end, the gym is a very interesting societal happening to observe. On the surface it may seem like common sense to be civil to a fellow human being, but in a heightened and logically unusual situation such as this the subtleties are so much more profound. The gym is kind of like the new age version of nomads migrating for a lifestyle or hunters working as a group. It all starts with a choice and is shaped by things so intrinsic to being alive as a human being that were we to not stop and ponder, we would likely miss entirely.

Review: Avatar

Avatar is the new kid on the block. That movie you've all heard about that's supposed to change the way we watch movies, revolutionize cinema, and make you forfeit your religion and worship heathen computer generated gods of film. If you're anything like me, you really want to dislike this movie. The trailers aren't all that impressive, the CG doesn't look that groundbreaking on TV, and for some of you I'd gather that it looks like Dances with Wolves in space. On all three of those points, you'd be absolutely correct and if I were not to preface this review with the fact that I shared these sentiments as I walked into the film I would be committing a great omission. Instead, I believe it is important to acknowledge the decks stacked against Avatar by a large percent of its potential audience because when I state the fact that it almost effortlessly crushes all of these preconceived notions, I want you to realize the gravity of what I am trying to say.

Let's take a moment here to emphasize the absolute NECESSITY of seeing this movie in 3D. Don't be a fool and scoff at the extra three to four dollars you're paying to walk into the theater and put on the silly glasses. I actually hate to admit it, but this movie does things visually that will change your perception of what it is to 'experience' a movie -- and YES, I am perfectly aware of how pretentious that sounds. That's the thing I discovered early in Avatar and it will be a running theme of my review: for all the grand statements of revolutionizing movies and changing your perception of 3D and how horribly stock it all sounds; it's all shockingly and begrudgingly true. Visually at least. Critically this film had already gained some impressive inertia early on, and having read a lot of it I cynically assumed that it was reviewers being reviewers. Of specific note, a particular review boldly told me that there are moments in Avatar that will, regardless of the story, have you shaking your head in amazement at what you're seeing on the screen. This particular point stuck in my head as the movie progressed and even with that in mind there were moments my jaw almost dropped and I had to marvel at the scope that this movie was operating. Assuming you're not extremely jaded, this movie will grip you visually at some point or another. For me, it was early in the film during a nighttime run through the jungles of Pandora which at night apparently becomes lit by phosphorescent plant life and micro organisms. It's during these scenes that you suddenly feel uniquely drawn right into the scene in a way that feels ten times more immersive than any film I can think of in the last half decade. The film continues to impress as the movie bit by bit reveals more and more of the gorgeously lush and magnificent world that the filmmakers have crafted. Like I said before, I actually very much dislike to admit it, but this movie will knock you on your ass a few times.

All of this would be completely distracting if you could not get behind the main characters -- an entirely CG albeit motion captured race of nine foot tall blue aliens called the Na'vi. As a benchmark, I've considered Gollum from the Lord of the Rings trilogy to be the most fully realized computer generated character of all time. Thinking back, I believe his effectiveness relied heavily not only on the skill of the technology, but the degree to which the filmmakers made him feel like he was in the world interacting with other characters and objects. To say the Na'vi have moments in which I had to stop and wonder if there wasn't at least some practical element to their portrayal is the highest praise I can think of. They feel tactile and weighty; their eyes don't seem 'dead' as with most of the Robert Zemeckis mo-capped films recently; and most importantly you start to believe this could be a real race on this planet. The amount of emotion displayed on their faces and the reality of their movements do wonders to immerse you as opposed to pulling you out of the experience (there's that word again).

You may notice at this point that I haven't really mentioned the plot of Avatar, but that's not to say it isn't worth mentioning. In the most sobering terms, the plot of this film is probably it's weakest link but it simultaneously demonstrates director James Cameron's greater strengths. The story itself is one that is pretty standard and it's been told many times over. Any reasonably astute viewer will be able to predict the film from the first moment to the last in the first half an hour, but the thing about good science fiction is taking something conventional and familiar and making it new again. Personally I took the fact that Cameron was able to take a plot I knew before the Na'vi had been properly established and make me genuinely invest and care in its proceedings was one of the more astonishing things happening in an otherwise astonishing film. It's been suggested elsewhere that the plot was knowingly simple in order to fully exploit not only the revolutionary setting constructed around it, but the various emotions intended to be evoked. I have to agree with this idea as its not so much about what is happening on screen, but the sum of everything together. Cameron seemingly takes something that in the hands of pretty much any other director would fall to pieces and mediocrity and handles it with such a degree of mastery and craft that you never stop to break it all down.

Of the few negative things I can assign to Avatar, many of them are minor enough to not detract from the overall experience. Firstly, a small deal of the suspense usually generated from such a huge movie is removed because of the decidedly generic plotline. Some would say Cameron overcame the same hurdle to a degree with his last movie, Titanic. Everyone knows at the end the ship is going to sink and a lot of people are going to die, but it's the 'how' of it all that Cameron proves to be in the most control and this carries over to Avatar as well. The second negative here is that if you're really scrutinizing there are moments when humans are interacting with Pandora at large and the Na'vi in particular where you definitely get the feeling that you're looking at CG elements mixed with green screened humans. It's easy to ignore, yet it's still a problem. Lastly, Avatar suffers from being a bit too heavy handed in it's allegorical elements at times and for those of you like me, this will be a bit tasking from time to time. The Na'vi in particular and their struggle to fight off more powerful usurpers heralds a bit too strongly to Native American archetypes, and obviously the idea of lesser equipped natives overcoming great militaries is as common as Return of the Jedi. The environmental allusions as well add to the moments that it feels like Avatar is trying to force-feed half heartedly veiled messages to you and it grates after a fashion.

All of these things aside, Avatar can be marked largely as a success. While watching the movie and silently reviewing it in my head as I watched (a funny habit I've developed since writing this blog), the word 'spectacle' continued to pop into my head. The movie is so epic in scale and scope that you feel dwarfed by the whole thing. The technology, in 3D of course, is enough to change the way you define the word 'epic' in correlation to movie going experiences and the story is primal enough that it speaks to parts of all of us regardless of how many times we've heard the tale. If you're on the fence about venturing out to give Avatar a try, I would wholeheartedly encourage you to make that venture because even if you go in with a jaded mindset chances are good you will walk out surprised in at least one way. Will this be the next cultural phenomenon some of the ads make it sound like? No, I don't think so. Is Avatar something special? I would like to think it is and worth seeing now so you can remember what it was like when 'epic' took on a new meaning.

Review: Paris, J'etaime... Oh, and You Too New York

I've been neglecting discussing media here lately, but that is not to say I haven't been seeing a lot of it. Unfortunately, when you wait so long to discuss something, the topics really stack up. Therefore, I will review two movies here and endeavor to cover the rest in a future post.

I heard about New York, I Love You about a month ago through the vast Internet and I was immediately intrigued. The premise behind this film is that it is actually a series of short, yet in some way interconnected, vignettes that in some way deal with love. Each short is directed by another person as well as stars some relatively big name in the world of acting. Obviously the bigger connective tissue here is that each story takes place within the backdrop of New York City. The stories in New York, I Love You range from intimate conversations between two people to slightly dream-like sequences that cover a more ambiguous aspect of love. A good portion of these stories are comical or have unexpected twists. I imagine this is a byproduct of two things. The first of which is that love and the pursuit of love are often laced with comedy, embarrassment, or misunderstanding. The second reason for their inclusion probably owes to the format of a short story. Under these confines, a director would be implored to do something to engage the viewer in a short time and leave a lasting impression.

New York, I Love You has more or less solid performances from the entire cast which ranges anywhere from Hayden Christiansen and Rachel Bilson to Shia Lebouf, Anton Yelchin, Bradley Cooper, Orlando Bloom, Christina Ricci, Ethan Hawke, Blake Lively and, my personal favorite, Natalie Portman. This list barely scratches the surface of talent in this movie, so if you're a fan of even one of these actors you will find some performance to like in this film. The main strength of each performance largely lies in the fact that they play it straight. No one's attempting to do any acting acrobatics here (with maybe the exception of Shia Lebouf), and it gives the film a very genuine feel that makes each tale that much more engaging. It also helps that none of the stories involved in this project drag or bore. Each one is distinct and different enough that you won't find yourself anxious for the next segment to begin.

The movie only benefits from being filmed intimately in New York City. Many of the scenes and venues are places that are often glossed over in classical portrayals of the Big Apple, and it makes everything seem that much more special. While the previous statement holds true, I also feel like to some extent the movie could have been filmed in any city and been the same. Perhaps the point is that these stories don't try and blatantly showcase NYC, but as a backdrop a more rich tapestry to paint against cannot be found. If I had one complaint about the film, and this complaint only becomes visible when juxtaposed with it's predecessor Paris, J'etaime (which I'm about to review!); it would have to be the fact that each vignette for the most part focuses on romantic love between two people. There are a handful of films attempting to stretch themselves into more introspective territory, but on the whole New York, I Love You is a movie about falling in love or being in love. Besides that minor gripe, the film ends with a story about an elderly couple that, unless you're emotionally dead inside, will tug at a heart string or two and reminds us that love is difficult, it's hard, it's funny, and it's enduring. I think that's a good message to leave an audience.

Paris, J'etaime is a movie I've been dancing around seeing for about eight months now. Torn between the impulse to see it because it sounded interesting and a general lack of want to go and seek the movie out, having seen New York, I Love You essentially cemented my resolve to see the original.

Right from the start, it's clear that Paris, J'etaime contains directors and short stories that are much more willing to traverse the subtle and sometimes bizarre in an attempt to examine love. Without spoiling any of the stories, I was most taken aback by a story about a martial artist beautician, a story about a vampire and its lovesick victim, and a story about the ghost of Orson Welles. Unlike its sequel, this film also has more stories dealing with love of other kinds. Off the top of my head I can cite the story of a grieving mother who is having trouble accepting the loss of her son and has a very surreal dream featuring Willem Defoe as a cowboy. The wonderful thing about Paris, J'etaime is that all of these high concepts pay off beautifully and never feel silly or forced. Each increasingly bizarre scenario only lends itself to a greater metaphor about love. Of course, there are an ample amount of straightforward short stories that entertain and surprise in more direct ways.

While this film also has a number of famous actors including Elijah Wood, Steve Buscemi, and Natalie Portman (again) I feel that Paris, J'etaime contains a much more recognizable list of directors behind the cameras. This fact perhaps explains the more lofty heights that some of the stories contained reach. This film also showcases its titular city in a much more connected way. Each venue chosen for each film feels like it supplements the story being told, as opposed to being a simple backdrop. If there is one complaint about his film, it would arise from the same juxtaposition with its sequel. While New York, I Love You from time to time either swaps scenes or characters between vignettes lending to a more connected and somehow meaningful throughline, Paris, J'etaime only decides to tie all its stories together in the last two minutes of the film. While the effect here is similar, somehow by subtly implying the connections the sequel leaves the viewer with a greater satisfaction at the deft weaving together of otherwise disparate plotlines. While New York, I Love You reminds us that love can be many things from confusing to hilarious, Paris, J'etaime demonstrates that love has no bounds and that its scope is endless in the span of a human lifetime. This sentiment alone is worth the price of admission.

Review: The Hurt Locker

The Hurt Locker is the newest in what I consider the new generation of war movies. The trend of the last fifteen years has been to focus on World War II era drama films while largely ignoring the Korean or Vietnam Wars. Perhaps embracing one of the most hot-button issues in today's world, there has been a recent emergence of media dealing with the contemporary war in Iraq as well as Operation: Desert Storm. I imagine the latter has also seen a popularity boost because some creative minds may find it easier to comment on a situation that has already concluded than one that is not only ongoing, but also very sensitive in our culture. The Hurt Locker continues the trend of both Sam Mendes' Jarhead and HBO's adaptation of Generation Kill in what I like to refer to as the 'desert war film'. Unlike the more or less historical depictions of soldiers fighting in the Second World War, modern war movies are more inclined to get inside the heads of the soldiers fighting. This is an interesting and unique take, but all the more understandable given the fact that the veterans of these battles are in ready and abundant supply. Films about modern war run the tenuous line of being analytical and being preachy. Either way it's a unique time to not only be making these kinds of films, but to also be watching them.

The basic premise of The Hurt Locker is the examination of an elite bomb diffusal squad stationed in Iraq circa 2004. The opening scene of the film takes strides to establish just how paranoid and volatile this warzone was five years ago where bombs are planted in the middle of busy roads hidden under trash, and it seems like any Iraqi bystander could be a threat. The scene puts the viewer in the headspace it needs to be for the rest of the film; one which anything can happen at a moment's notice and death may only be one mistake or moment away. To a large degree this tone helps establish the mind set one has to be in just to be present in that kind of warzone, let alone to be the person who diffuses explosives at point blank range. We are introduced to the centerpiece of the movie, Staff Sergeant William James (Jeremy Renner), fairly early in the film, and how he interacts with his squad mates JT Sanborn (Anthony Mackie) and Owen Eldridge (Brian Geraghty) is the core of the film. Each soldier embodies a different archetype: James is the devil-may-care type who seems unaffected by his dangerous work, Sanborn is the straight laced, no-nonsense man of duty, and Eldridge is the somewhat naive, good-hearted yet frayed soldier in need of guidance. While this may seem fairly common in terms of characterization, the way in which these men interact throughout the course of the film not only informs the audience of their psyches, but each other's as well.

Right away, it's clear this movie is fairly somber in mood. There are no overly happy moments where our characters are carefree and overtly cheery, but the movie does well to avoid wallowing in melodrama. Instead the movie seems to provide an honest portrayal of what life in an increasingly hostile environment would be, and probably is, like. Moreso than any movie of its kind in recent memory, The Hurt Locker effortlessly puts the viewer in the mindset of it's characters. I found myself dwelling on the stakes of their plight as well as the kind of thoughts you have to have and suppress to prevent total panic more than once throughout the movie's slightly overlong two hours. As the movie progresses, we also see how Sergeant James deals with the same thoughts. Beginning as essentially a man who does not seem to care what happens to him as long as he's safe and does his job, actor Renner is able to portray a man helplessly attracted to the thrill of living in that moment between life and death. More than once we see how the pressure catches up to him and he is believably overcome with the extremity of the situations he finds himself in, only to bottle it up and return to duty seemingly unaffected. It's effective characterization for one can not help but wonder what effort of will or conscience it takes to see the things some of these soldiers see and walk away unshaken.

In the end the movie wraps up and we are treated briefly to James back home in the USA. Perhaps the most damningly effective and informative part of the movie, we see how he copes with the mundane facets of everyday life that are so far away from the explosions, gunshots, and death of Iraq. We also see how the adrenaline high of being a bomb technician has taken any of the color out of his day to day life. The viewer also finds themself wondering whether it really is the rush of the job or instead the horrors he's witnessed that have left him so singular in his interest. At the end of the movie it's hard to peg this film as any one thing. On a level it is a look into the minds of the men and women who find themselves in a constant flux of moments between life and death. On another it's about the way war or even living surrounded by constant death can numb a person emotionally and mentally. This movie succeeds on both of those fronts to be sure and the best thing to be said about it is that it makes one think. In a cinema climate where producing the most shocking visuals can sometimes be paramount to actually saying something with the art, The Hurt Locker presents its subject matter in an inobtrusive way that leaves the analyzation almost exclusively to the audience.


As an aside, I have to say that the above poster does not evoke an iota of the tone of the movie it represents. In fact, I would almost say this poster is the farthest thing from an accurate representation of the film, opting more for an edgy, almost action oriented take on what is more or less a character study. Hmph.

Review: Funny People

Sometimes it's hard to remember that while Judd Apatow and the gang of actors he's come to be associated with have had a tremendous film presence in recent years, this is only the director's third time behind the wheel. Even with that knowledge, Funny People feels right at home inside this relatively new genre that essentially spawned from Apatow's earlier films. This is a double edged point for the movie. On one hand, the audience knows what to expect and the cast is primarily well known. On the other, the audience knows what to expect. A number of films starring these same actors have been released in the last few years. From the top of my head I can think of Superbad, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, I Love You, Man, Zack and Miri Make a Porno, Pineapple Express, 40 Year Old Virgin, and Knocked Up. I imagine I even missed a few there, but essentially these films have the same faces showing up and plots that, while different, share a vast amount in common. In each of the above films we expect a very lude, envelope pushing first act that isn't afraid to "go there", and a second act which almost always has a heartwarming message about either love or friendship. It's a fairly worn genre that has been upgraded to the kind of unabashedly real, no-compromise formula we see today. And it works. It speaks to the youth generation of the day, but the problem is that it's becoming worn once again. This is the chief problem I placed in front of Judd Apatow walking into Funny People, and while I wasn't blown away afterwards, this film definitely surprised me in a lot of ways.

The first place to begin in a movie from this group is obviously the cast. Dually lead by both Adam Sandler and Seth Rogen, both actors are well-known so that the impetus to entertain and hopefully bring something new falls on them. Sandler turns in a pretty convincing performance here in what essentially amounts to a dramatized version of his own life. The usually zany, but oddly emotionally detached actor is able to channel a very introspective performance for this film. I found that it's almost as if in having to get in touch with earlier aspects of his life and career, Sandler was forced to not only come to terms with but also repurpose parts of himself that seemingly fell away over the years. It all adds up to a very self referential turn for the well known actor, and stands as one of his more heartfelt performances in years. I still don't find him particularly funny, but the way Sandler addresses it is more tribute than pastiche. It comes from a genuine place and that resonates regardless. Seth Rogen is pretty huge these days, and the number of movies he's appeared in over the last two years is staggering. Fortunately for him, it seems he has the talent to back up his exposure. With a distinct look and one of the most unique laughs in cinema, one would think that it would be tough to distinguish the actor from any of his characters. Here Rogen plays against type (which is to say carefree, upbeat, stoner with a heart of gold) and manages to convince the audience that he is Ira -- a self conscious, insecure, and emotionally in-touch individual. It's not played for laughs either. Like the rest of the movie, you cheer for Ira as he slowly gains confidence in both life and career. Most importantly, it feels like a real progression. I'd be lying if I said that the scenes with Seth Rogen in them were more interesting to me than the ones with just Adam Sandler.

The rest of the cast does a serviceable job. Jonah Hill is the slightly manic, fast talking guy we've seen before. Leslie Mann does a good job of playing a woman torn in half by the turmoil happening all around her life, and you vicariously feel her dilemma. Jason Schwartzman jumps between being hilarious and over-the-top. One moment he's pitch perfect as just exaggerated enough to be real, and the next he pushes it slightly too far into the realm of outrageousness. Eric Bana does a great job as the overly butch, Australian husband to Mann, and it seems his comedic background serves him well. He knows he must essentially be the antagonistic jerk, but he plays some hammier elements of the character up just right to garner laughs. Most importantly he is able to earn a sliver of sympathy which is invaluable in the final act of the film. The movie is also chock full of various celebrity cameos, the least successful of which goes to Eminem who does a fair job of realistically delivering his lines, but when tasked with being funny falls a little flat.

Funny People is basically two movies in one. While I have heard the argument that the movie's heart succeeds best in the first half in which Adam Sandler's character believes he is terminally ill; I find it hard to agree. Without the second act which focuses primarily on Sandler's George Simmons attempting to get back the girl of his dreams, the movie runs the risk of swimming in all too familiar waters. Too many movies have dealt with dying, learning to accept it (or not), and the arc of that journey. It would be impossible and unwise of this movie to walk the same road. Instead, Funny People chooses to use the less travelled road of showing what happens when you stand on the brink and get a second chance. Though not altogether a new concept, it allows the film to do a lot more than it would have otherwise. Once these elements are established, it's easy to field where the movie is headed.

More than once during the film I worried that we were going to get another mushy, gooey Apatow ending serviced by convenient plot devices and copious amounts of emotion. It's on this point that the movie surprised me most, bucking a number of trends I fully expected it to embrace. First, even after having a life altering experience, George Simmons is not definitively the hero of the story. Things happen that cause the audience to really wonder if the right thing is happening, which in turn causes one to think deeper about the circumstances of the unfolding story. Second, unlike the previous two Apatow films, everything does not necessarily end up ideally for the protagonists. For once it feels like a bow hasn't been tied around everything and it leaves the viewer the opportunity to decipher for themselves one or two elements of the story. This is certainly a rare and unexpected treat in a movie from this group.

Lastly I will call into question the comedic element and thusly the titular 'Funny' in Funny People. This film falls more into a dramatic category than a comedy line of thinking, but never misses the opportunity to invoke a laugh. For this reason, I cannot recall during this film a time I may have laughed as hard or genuinely as I may have viewing previous efforts from this director, but I also cannot remember feeling there was any value to the film after the credits rolled. In the end, Funny People is an average movie to me. It doesn't astound or revolutionize, but it does just enough to distinguish itself from its peers in my mind that I feel it's worthy of being called the most thematically successful Judd Apatow movie, if not the funniest. See this movie if you want an amusing diversion which possesses the requisite heartwarming elements, but can handle not being spoon fed the most meaningful messages of the story.

Science/Biology: Color Illusions

Stare at the black dot in the following picture for 30 seconds without moving your eyes, at which point the frame will automatically switch to a black and white version of the same picture... or is it?



Here's one more to try out:



Ok, so why are we seeing a color version of a black and white picture? It's pretty cool and you'll notice that it changes back to black and white as soon as you move your eyes from one spot. The trick is pretty interesting. Have you ever looked up at the sun for a little while and when you look away and blink you see what is called an afterimage? Of course. Well, unlike the sun (or the camera flash or the lightbulb... whichever) the 'afterimage' is black or essentially the opposite of the color you were staring at. The same premise is at work here. Colors have the same reaction, though we aren't as aware of it normally as we are here in these illusions.

The initial state of each of the above illusions is in fact a negative image (that is color-reversed) of the full color picture. After that image is metaphorically burned into our minds, the picture switches to the black and white version of the same picture, sans color. At the same time, our brains are still displaying the 'after image' of the original negative image. Now, like the sun or the flash bulb, our minds display the reverse of what it saw; the reverse or correct colors. So now when we are seeing a full color picture, we are actually seeing a combination of two different images. The effect wears off as soon as we move our eyes and unalign the two images.

Our eyes are more sensitive to detail in black and white images. We are much more likely to pick up these details thanks to the stark contrast between white and black. With colors, specifically the after image of the negative image, the detail is not as precise. Therefore, the detail from the black and white image is overlayed with the color information from the afterimage and our brains think they are seeing a color image!

These illusions were apparently first discovered and compiled by one John Sadowski, so credit here is being given where it is due.

Here's a much more interesting one that includes more colors than just sand and sky: Click!