Movie Reviews V

Up In the Air (2009)
A professional downsizer (George Clooney), flies all over the country to fire people whose managers/bosses don’t have the banungas to do it themselves. When a young employee wielding new technology threatens his beloved lifestyle, he takes her on a firing spree to show her what it means to crush people. Along the way, his fear of commitment/settling down starts to waver after he meets a likeminded female road warrior (air warrior?) and…I won’t spoil it. I really liked this one. For me, it was somewhere between Lost in Translation and a traditional beginning-middle-end romantic comedy-ish movie. It has a similar sort of ambiguous feeling as Lost in Translation, but I think it’s a bit more mainstream in how it presents that ambiguity.


It’s Complicated (2009)
A divorced mother of three grown children (Meryl Streep) finds herself in a tricky situation – she’s exploring the possibility of a relationship with the pleasant and interesting architect in charge of her home remodeling (Steve Martin), but she’s also having an affair with her remarried ex-husband (Alec Baldwin). I wasn’t sure how I would feel about this one – more specifically I was concerned about whether or not I would connect to the material, seeing as I’m closer to the experiences of the secondary characters (the children) than to the main characters (the parents). I was pleasantly surprised to find myself interested in and intrigued by the main characters’ actions and motivations. I think the movie strikes a delicate balance between conveying the complicated (and not necessarily complicated in a funny way) emotions of the characters and keeping the overall feeling light and comedic. Also, Alec Baldwin makes me uncomfortable. Perhaps because I associate him with roles like what he plays in this movie – charming in a sort of slimy/sleazy way that makes me immediately wary and/or makes me check my purse for my pepper spray.


Invictus (2009)
The story of Nelson Mandela’s attempt to begin racial and cultural healing in South Africa by encouraging nationwide support of the country’s rugby team, which was heavily associated with apartheid. Nelson Mandela is played by Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon plays François Pienaar, captain of the rugby team. The overarching feeling is that of a typical feel-good sports movie, but the backdrop of seemingly irreparable tension and cultural division in South Africa in the early 1990s lends quite a bit of weight to the story, enough to take it beyond the sappy, cheesy, underdog-fighting-for-a-chance territory. My sister enjoyed the movie but thought that certain aspects, particularly the ending sequences, were a little too heavy in implying that a few rugby games solved all the country’s problems. I didn’t necessarily get that impression, but I could see how she came away with that opinion. I personally took it as more of a suggestion that uniting over a common interest, in this case a sports team, was the first step and the first indication that it might actually be possible to bridge the gap.


Julie and Julia (2009)
Julie and Julia is based on the true stories of Julie and Julia (imagine that). The former is a modern young woman (played by Amy Adams and set in 2002), struggling through career confusion and those moments in life where you start to feel like everyone but you has figured out the answers and has it together and you’re just drifting along trying to keep on top of buying wedding gifts, housewarming gifts, baby shower gifts, you’re-so-much-more-successful-than-I-am-so-here’s-a-gift gifts and you don’t have a 5-month plan, let alone a 5-year plan and…what? I’m not personalizing… Anyway, Julie’s hit a rough patch in life and turns to one of her comforting hobbies to help her through the tough times – cooking. She grabs her copy of Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking and sets out to cook at least one recipe each day for one year, all the while blogging about her experience. Interspersed with Julie’s story is the story of the master herself, Julia Child (Meryl Streep). Set mostly in Paris in 1949, we see how Julia came to become the culinary giant that she was. I think by now you should know how I feel about Meryl Streep. She doesn’t disappoint as Julia, but that doesn’t mean I loved the movie. I actually liked it a lot, until about the last 10 minutes. At which point I was a little disappointed. I can’t blame the writers for sticking to what really happened, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

The Soundtrack to My Life

Do you ever wish you had a soundtrack to accompany you through life?

I know many people wish they had a song that would play whenever they enter a room (I think I actually belong to the facebook group of that name). I have it on good authority that my song would be either "Eye of the Tiger" (but everyone chooses that one), "Lowrider" (a longtime personal favorite), or "Flight of the Bumblebee" (no comment).

But what about an extended soundtrack to your life?

The other day I went shopping with a friend and couldn’t help but notice that everywhere we went I kept hearing songs I love. It was like I finally had my own soundtrack. And it. Was. Glorious.

My soundtrack (the ones I remember at least) started at the mall and then continued at California Pizza Kitchen (it's only four songs but I still think it's impressive that I heard them all within a 3-ish hour time frame):

Depeche Mode “Just Can’t Get Enough”
New Order “Bizarre Love Triangle” side note: I am not ashamed to admit that I own the extended dance mix version of this song, and I definitely do some extended dancing whenever it’s on in my car. Just ask Angela.
Tears for Fears “Break It Down Again”
Peter Gabriel “Sledgehammer"

Yes, my life soundtrack would be predominantly new wave and 80s synthpop. Don't act like you're surprised.

Did You Have a Merry Christmas? Well? Did Ya, Punk?

My holiday break had a Clint Eastwood theme. I didn’t plan for it to be that way, that’s just how it turned out. I watched Million Dollar Baby, Gran Torino, Dirty Harry, Unforgiven, In the Line of Fire, and Invictus.

It worked out well, because I’m taking a class about westerns this semester. Even though only one of those movies is a western, the inherent Clint Eastwood badassery in the others still helped to stoke my previously non-existent interest in westerns.

Other movies that I remember seeing over break (with my ratings out of 5 because I know that your hopes and dreams are hinging on what I think of specific movies):

Julie and Julia (2.5/5)
Up In the Air (4/5)
It’s Complicated (3.5/5)
Man on Wire (4/5)
Ordinary People [new favorite] (5/5)
Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian [new worst. movie. ever.] (1/5, and that's being generous because I like Ben Stiller and Hank Azaria)

I also saw about 30% of Bladerunner. During the other 70% I was in a stupor. You know the one, the barely-coherent-after-spending-all-night-vomiting stupor. I’d like to revisit the movie on a non-stupor day.

What I saw of Bladerunner: 3.5/5
Vomit-induced stupor: -873/5


What else is going on…well, it’s been raining here. A lot. And I’m starting to believe that I’m responsible for the weather. Two days after I landed back east, we got 20” of snow. It proceeded to be ridiculously cold (for me at least) while I was home. Even my dad, whose favorite comment is that a cold winter day in Maryland is like a pleasant spring day in Minnesota, thought it was cold. When I left the east coast, the temperature went up about 20 degrees. I got to L.A. just in time for some of the worst weather SoCal has had in years (decades? hard to tell what’s exaggeration around here when it comes to rain).

My Californian roommates are not familiar with rain terminology. But then again, why should they be? One of my roommates came in today and I asked if it was raining. She said that it wasn’t “raining raining” but it was…*insert that look people get when looking for the right word.* She struggled in vain to describe the water falling from the sky. I asked: is it misting? Drizzling? Sprinkling? Spritzing? Spitting? She could only respond by making a noise demonstrating the rhythm of the rain on her car. Based on that, I think it was sprinkling.

On a completely unrelated note: seeing as I’m sort of [<--understatement] in love with Conan O’Brien, let it be known that I am heartbroken over the recent late-night nonsense. That is all.

Do You Ever Wonder...

...what name Europeans would have given the indigenous peoples of the North American continent if Christopher Columbus had not incorrectly deduced that he had landed in India?

I do.

1 Day. 15 People. 25 Pounds of Turkey.

Of obvious note: I changed the layout a bit. I needed to search for a specific label just now but couldn’t because I never bothered to add my labels list to the page. When I went to do that, the template I was using only allowed me to add the list to the right side of the page. I am unnaturally (and possibly even disturbingly) particular about what side things go on. OCD? Probably. Psychotic? Maybe. Easier to find labels now? Definitely.

Moving on.

I just realized that I completely and totally failed to do any sort of Thanksgiving update. Hell, I failed to even mention Thanksgiving more than once (label searching!).

I made decent progress on my research paper today, so I suppose I have a few moments to give an update about my Thanksgiving week, which featured 3 visitors, frozen yogurt, and a 25 lb. turkey. Plus a bunch of other stuff, obviously.

Two of my sisters flew in the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I immediately took them to be baptized into the world of In-N-Out Burger, which is conveniently located between the airport and my apartment. First stop after that was Venice Beach. We saw more old men in Speedos than I have ever seen before. We walked around for a little bit, then decided that a grocery store run would be a good idea. Stocked up on beer, chocolate, and guacamole (family essentials), we were ready for a movie night with a few of my friends. I suggested (/insisted) that we watch When Harry Met Sally. Never a bad choice.

I had class on Monday and Tuesday, so my sisters were on their own. As luck would have it, one of my younger sister’s friends from back home was also in L.A. visiting someone. The friend’s someone had to work all day Monday and Tuesday, so the friend was available to show my sisters around Hollywood. My older sister’s friend also flew in on Monday night to spend a few days with us.

Tuesday night, I drove up to the hotel right after class. I found my sisters+friend boozin’ it up in the lounge. Well, one sister was boozin’ it up, the others were watching her booze it up.

Wednesday we drove up to Burbank to take a tour of NBC Studios. Interesting tour…mostly centered around Days of Our Lives…but I did get to see Nancy O’Dell’s parking space. And the parking space where Jay Leno used to park his car. Which is really not that exciting. From there, we made a beeline for Santa Monica. By “made a beeline,” I mean that we sat in traffic for about an hour. I would never let my sisters miss out on that little piece of L.A. living.

We finally made it to Santa Monica, tired and starving. We immediately found somewhere to eat on the 3rd Street Promenade, at which point I thought it would be a good idea to eat a whole individual (8 slices) barbeque chicken pizza by myself. Best idea I’ve ever had. Seriously.

As we walked down to the water, I realized that we were there at prime sunset time. It was gorgeous. I couldn’t have picked a better view for out-of-towners to see!





We took a little jaunt down the pier before heading back up to the Promenade for frozen yogurt. They have this frozen yogurt place out here called Pinkberry, and apparently I just missed the initial craze by a few months or so. I’ve had more than one person describe the growth of the chain by telling me the expansion (in SoCal at least) was similar to that of Starbucks. Yikes…that’s a lot of frozen yogurt. Basically, you choose your yogurt flavor (original, coconut, pomegranate, or passionfruit) then you pick your choice of unlimited toppings, among them a million chopped fresh fruits, different kinds of chocolate, nuts, granola, mochi, and if I remember correctly, Fruity Pebbles and Cinnamon Toast Crunch (pardon me, “cinnamon squares”). I had an original with raspberries, mango, pomegranate seeds, and mochi. I’m not usually a big frozen yogurt eater, but it was quite amazing.

And then it was Thursday…

Since many of the first-year students in my program weren’t going home for break, we decided to have a big potluck dinner. We were anticipating somewhere between 15 and 20 people, so the guy who volunteered to do the turkey got a 25 lb. bird. I got up on Thursday morning and did some documentation of the events – the turkey cooking, the boys in the host apartment doing last minute cleaning, etc. I drove up to the hotel, retrieved my sisters+friend, and came back to do my part – green bean casserole. The friend had to fly out that afternoon, so when I got home from taking her to the airport, we were mostly ready to get started with dinner! We had all the classics – turkey (duh), stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, potatoes au gratin, green bean casserole, baked mac’n’cheese, corn pudding, and cranberry sauce. The Chinese guy made something called double eggs, which was like a little casserole made with chicken eggs and duck eggs, and it was really good! It was his first American Thanksgiving, so it was fun to see him experiencing all the food. Add in the many bottles (and boxes) of wine, and of course pumpkin, pecan, and apple pies for dessert, and it was a great meal.

Oooh Shiny!!!

Something is bugging me.

Let me start by saying that I am not an über-feminist. I don't rant endlessly about inequality, I don't try to convince people that 'women' should be spelled 'womyn', I'm not offended by the genre designation "chick flicks," and I wear a bra on a regular basis.

But do I think that women have achieved equality? No, not yet. There are probably many factors that could be used to measure equality, but let’s not kid ourselves – money matters. Say what you will about women attaining positions of power equal to or even greater than men across the country – the fact is that we still don’t make as much money (somewhere around 79% of what men make, last I checked). Women put in the same amount of work (probably even more work in some situations) but receive smaller paychecks. That’s not equality.

That being said, I am not the type to cry foul at every little thing that could possibly be construed as sexism. I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt in those situations – if women are treated equally, that means more than just an equal paycheck. It means equal pressure to succeed and equal criticism if we screw up. I’m not going to whine and cry about unfair treatment and inequality, I’m going to work my ass off and give you no choice but to acknowledge my equality.

When I was growing up, I was never told that I couldn’t do something because I’m a girl. I was never told that life might be harder for me because I’m a girl. I don’t know what my parents thought about my earliest career aspirations, but I don’t remember them ever laughing or saying it wouldn’t happen when I told them I wanted to be the first woman to play Major League Baseball.

When I was in the fourth grade, I played basketball with a group of boys every day at recess. One day, they decided that they didn’t want a girl to play with them anymore. My friend and I went to the teacher with this outrageous development and our teacher ended up moderating a big debate in class. I don’t remember exactly what the boys’ arguments were. My argument was simple and I didn't hesitate to tell everyone what the problem was - they didn't want me to play because I was better than them.

When I was in middle school, my church youth group went on an annual retreat with youth groups from across the state. Some of us spent every last second of every single free-time period on the basketball court. For three straight years, when we lined up to choose teams for the first game, I was the only girl who wanted to play. And I was picked last every year. In that first game, they never even bothered to guard me for a while. I was usually wide open and calling for the ball, but I never got a pass for the first few plays. Finally, someone would pass me the ball and I would knock down a jumper and get patronizing high fives and “nice shot” calls from my teammates. It’d be a while before I got the ball back but when I did, maybe I’d make a lay-up on the fast-break, cross someone over, make a nice backdoor pass. The passes came more often, the high fives weren’t patronizing anymore, and by the end of the weekend the only people picked ahead of me were the tall kids (rare commodities at that age, can’t argue with that decision).

I was never mad about being picked last at those games. In fact, I liked it. Maybe I even loved it. I loved it that they didn’t guard me – I felt like I was teaching them an important lesson about underestimating people. Also it was fun to hear the other team yelling at each other about who was supposed to be guarding me. It’s a feeling I came to really love – the feeling of hearing the opposing team’s frustrated coach shouting “who’s guarding number 10?!” Nothing like it.

What’s that? You want to know what I was talking about several shamelessly immodest paragraphs back when I said that something was bugging me ?

What I’m trying to say is, I don’t think women are equal yet, but we’re making strides. I’m also trying to say that I don’t typically call things out as sexist or unfair to women. What does catch my attention and bug the crap out of me though, is when women are portrayed as being weak, especially in ridiculous situations.

In a nutshell – jewelry commercials. Yes, women like jewelry. We get it. But I really hope that it’s more than just me who’s slightly offended by the insinuation that a shiny piece of silver will turn any woman into a useless puddle of goo and/or a sex slave. There’s one commercial out right now that irks me a little, and another that makes me want to rip out my ovaries in an act of pure shame.

The first commercial is a man and a woman ice-skating. The man is a horrible skater, falling all over the place and making a fool of himself while the woman glides around gracefully. He manages to pull himself up as she skates over to him and takes him by the arm to steady him. At that point, he pulls a little ring box out of his pocket and voilà, their roles are reversed and he has to steady her because she’s gone weak in the knees. How do we know she’s gone weak in the knees? Because the camera literally shows us her knees buckling. Not as bad as it could be, but not exactly furthering the gender.

The other commercial, the ovary-ripping-out blot upon my pride as a woman, is just downright ridiculous. A man and a woman stand at a large picture window as a storm rages outside. There's a big clap of thunder and the woman turns like a frightened chipmunk to be comforted and protected by the man, who holds her close and magically produces a necklace or a bracelet or something and then says something lame. Apparently…the woman is no longer afraid because the man has distracted her with something shiny? I’m hazy on the particulars because my mind always shuts off to protect my sanity from further offense right about the time that a grown woman is depicted as being afraid of thunder.

These are the types of things that bug me, the things that bring out that little bit of feminist in me. Maybe because I know that kids are watching this and its just perpetuating stereotypes. Think of the children! Oh won’t somebody think of the children?!

Movie Reviews IV

As is my grand tradition around this time of year, I'm doing anything and everything other than what I'm supposed to be doing. I filmed my final production project yesterday and everything went well as far as I can tell from the rough cut I put together today. As for my expanded narrative of my screenplay and my research paper...I'll get back to you. Now, on to reviews of the many movies I watched last week.

Talk to Her/Hable Con Ella (2002) (class assignment)
Two men hold vigil over the women they’re in love with, who are both in a coma. Marco watches over his girlfriend Lydia, a matador who was gored by a bull. Benigno works at the hospital facility and watches over Alicia, the woman he was in love with from afar but only actually met once. Marco and Benigno become good friends, but things take an interesting turn when Marco gets some bad news and Benigno gets himself into trouble. I liked this movie, it was interesting. It takes an interesting twist at the end…except I wouldn’t really call it a twist, because it’s much more gradual than that. Very much like life.

The Double Life of Veronique/La Double Vie de Vèronique (1991) (class assignment)
Two women are cosmically connected to each other, unbeknownst to them. When Weronika dies suddenly, Véronique begins experiencing strange feelings of loneliness. At least I think that’s what was going on. This one was ok. It felt somehow disjointed to me. Like the story points never really connected. I guess I just thought it was a really interesting concept, but it fell short of my expectations. I think my professor wanted me to watch it more for the camera work. There was one shot where my friend and I both started to comment on the nice camera angle, when the old man on screen suddenly and randomly flashed himself. Awesome. In addition to wanting us to see interesting camera work, we also think our professor just likes to think of us squirming while we watch these movies.

Downhill Racer (1969) (someone else's class assignment)
A cocky downhill skier (Robert Redford) with hopes of making the U.S. Olympic ski team spends four years trying to prove himself to his coach (Gene Hackman) and his teammates. Again, I think this one was assigned to my friend so he could see some different camera work. And I imagine this camera work was very new and interesting in 1969. The movie was ok, but to me it felt like it ends very abruptly. They set it up as following his professional skiing career and some aspects of his personal life, but they only really resolve the skiing storyline without any mention of the other plot lines. But Robert Redford’s pretty awesome.

A Christmas Carol (2009) (personal time)
I love Christmas. I love A Christmas Carol in almost all of its incarnations. And I love Jim Carrey. You do the math. There’s really not much more they can do with the story itself, so it would seem that Robert Zemeckis just made the decision to make the visuals amazing. Win. And I saw it in IMAX 3D, so the visual aspect really was amazing. Jim Carrey was great as Scrooge and as all three ghosts. They made him look different enough as the ghosts that, even though you knew it was Jim Carrey, it wasn’t distracting. I will admit that whipping through 3-dimensional Victorian London at high speeds made me a little motion sick at times, but that’s just the price we pay to be able to see 3D pimples on young Scrooge’s face. The other thing of note is that parts of the movie are actually a bit scary, in a ghosts-and-skeletons-jumping-out-at-you sort of way. Which was good, I think, because the story is actually a little frightening when you think about it. Get in the holiday spirit and go see it. Perhaps avoid 3D if you're prone to motion sickness.

Young Frankenstein (1974) (personal time)
If I had to pick a favorite movie, this would almost certainly be my pick. It was written by Gene Wilder and Mel Brooks…and I could end my review right there. But I won’t. Frederick Frankenstein (Gene Wilder), the grandson of the infamous Dr. Frankenstein, cannot deny his familial destiny to reanimate the dead. With the help of his trusty sidekick Igor (Marty Feldmen) and beautiful lab assistant Inga (Teri Garr), Frederick is able to bring a man back from the dead (Peter Boyle as The Monster). The Monster of course runs amok and hilarity of course ensues. Also featuring Madelaine Kahn, Cloris Leachman, Kenneth Mars, and a cameo by Gene Hackman. Also also featuring my undying love. Well, it doesn’t really feature that, it just gets that. From me. Forever.

The River Wild (1994) (personal time)
I think we’ve discussed this before, but just in case you forgot – I love Meryl Streep. Now that we’re all caught up, Meryl Streep plays Gail, mother of two and wife of workaholic Tom (David Strathairn). Gail’s an outdoorsy type from Montana who now lives in Boston with her bookish architect husband. Gail wants to take her son Roarke (the annoying kid from Jurassic Park) rafting in Montana and Tom reluctantly comes along. They meet up with some suspicious folks, namely Kevin Bacon and Michael C. Reilly. Things get rough, threats are made, hostages are taken, Meryl Streep waits for the exact right moment then kicks some serious ass, etc. etc. Overall, it’s a decent thriller. You know exactly what’s going to happen, but the gorgeous scenery and the unique action make it worth a watch if you’ve got a free afternoon.

You're All a Bunch of Pregnant Gerbils

Sorry for the lack of update-age.

The last few weeks have been crazy trying to get a jump-start on final projects while also planning our massive potluck Thanksgiving dinner. My sisters (2 out of 3 at least) and a friend are also in town for Thanksgiving/vacation, so things will be busy, but fun!

I watched a gazillion movies last week but haven't had time to write up the 7 reviews yet. Imagine that.

Until next time, here's something to tide you over:

I read an article that addressed the fact that American sitcoms have never done particularly well in England. The author commented that the combination of the "blatancy and breakneck speed" was too much for British viewers. He then quoted a British TV exec who stated that "Americans must have the attention span of a pregnant gerbil."

Oh, British people.

I Used To Be With It, But Then They Changed What "It" Was

Seeing as I don’t have classes on Wednesdays, I usually go to bed on Tuesday nights with the most sincere intentions of spending all of the next day at the library working on my research paper, my story for my final production project, my weekly screenwriting assignment, and/or my final screenwriting project.

So this past Wednesday I got up, enjoyed my coffee and breakfast, watched a little TV, and…went to the beach.

I know I briefly mentioned some time spent at Venice Beach back in October. To quote myself – Venice is an interesting place...we decided that it was sort of like being transported back in time. Remember those days of the hippie-revival in the early-mid 90s? Still going on in Venice, CA.

Honestly that’s really the best way to sum it up. Imagine the early 90s grunge/skater look, existing peacefully alongside the current punk/skater look (skinny jeans, chunky skater shoes, weird hair). So just put all those things together in your head – skateboarders weaving through crowds of people, school-age children with no parental supervision in sight, barefoot hippies, Muscle Beach, persistent musicians trying to sell you their hip-hop cds, and the smell of pot wafting on the breeze and voilà! Venice.

The image of Venice as a throwback to bygone years was only solidified when my friends and I heard a song blasting from a nearby store and found ourselves instinctively responding - “Heyyyy, must be the moneyyyy.” Oh, Nelly…it's 2009 and apparently we still want to ride wit you.

As we sat outside our favorite spot (the place with hand-dipped corndogs, obviously), there were several things going on.

I was stealing glances at the hippies who had set up camp at the nearby intersection of the boardwalk and a path to the beach. Among their signs: “will work for marijuana,” “help a punk buy drugs,” “anything helps - even just a smile, namaste,” and my personal favorite, taking a turn for the entrepreneurial, “kick me in the ass for $1.” Also, the lone female hippie was literally wearing a bandanna for a top.

The other group catching our attention was a band of young teenage skaters, probably 13-14 years old. They were laughing and talking loudly, trying like teenagers do to own their little bit of space in a place crowded with personalities. When this group left, they were replaced by a slightly younger group of tween-age skaters. Skinny jeans, v-neck shirts, lovingly tattered skate shoes, and hair hanging over their eyes (with the exception of one, who had a downright magnificent mane of beautiful curly hair). They were scarfing down slices of pizza in the way that only boys that age can.

My friends and I are all in the 24-27 age range and sitting near these kids made us realize something a little shocking. We have apparently reached the age where we feel strange around teenagers. We weren’t scared, we didn’t get up and sit somewhere else, we didn’t think they were going to cause trouble or anything silly like that. We were just very aware of their presence. I guess what struck us most was that, rather than feeling like we identified with them, we were wondering where their parents were.

I guess we're getting old.

Movie Reviews III + Bonus TV Reviews

I realized that I haven't done movie reviews in a while. I haven't been watching too many lately, so some of these are movies you've all probably seen already. Get over it.

As an added bonus, I'm including reviews (or rather overviews) of my three favorite new TV shows of the season.

Chinatown (1974) (class assignment)
Private detective Jake Gittes (Jack Nicholson) discovers a potentially large-scale scandal during his investigation of the murder of a prominent member of the L.A. Water and Power Department. He of course gets involved with the widow and then has to add saving her life to his already difficult task of solving the murder. Also, he has to deal with Roman Polanski calling him kitty cat. And almost slicing his nose off. That’s a bad day. I’m not really into noir, whether traditional or neo-. I’m not sure why exactly, something to do with the pace I think, but who knows. I’m generally ok with slower-moving dramas, but noir just doesn’t do it for me. I recognize the general overall quality of the film though.

Nights of Cabiria (1957) (class assignment)
Cabiria is an Italian prostitute who is trying to come to terms with her life and profession, albeit without actually revealing or addressing her fragile inner feelings. When she finally starts to let her guard down, it looks like she might finally have the chance to overcome her demons and have a better life. It’s kinda like the original Pretty Woman. Only not. I really liked this movie. Cabiria is a very complex and, despite her profession, very relatable character. This was my first Federico Fellini film and I enjoyed it.

Jaws (1975) (personal time)
A giant shark terrorizes a small New England town during the busy summer season. A drunken boat captain (wouldn’t be New England without ‘em)(Robert Shaw), a persistent marine biologist (Richard Dreyfuss), and the reluctant sheriff (Roy Scheider) set out to catch the pest and run into a few problems that always seem to interrupt their male bonding. Man-eating sharks have no respect. This is just a plain old great movie. I’ve never really liked horror movies that much because they always feel hokey and forced. Jaws is a great example of how to create real suspense and real terror. This movie can make an entire audience sit on the edge of their seats by…panning across people having fun swimming in the ocean. I’ve seen the movie before, but when I watched it the other day I still tensed up at the beach/ocean scenes.

Jurassic Park (1993) (personal time)
Santa Claus…I mean Richard Attenborough…plays God and all hell breaks loose. Dinosaurs + people + Jeff Goldblum = bad news. We were talking about Jurassic Park in class last week and the professor brought it to our attention that, even though everyone knows the movie is about dinosaurs, they don’t actually show a live dinosaur until over a half and hour into the film. But you still watch it. Excellent build up. Also, excellent raptor-on-British-guy action. And lastly, several gratuitous shots of Jeff Goldblum’s chest shining brilliantly beneath his unbuttoned shirt. Great movie.


My three favorite new TV shows:

Glee (Fox)
I’m not usually into musicals, but I really like this show. Perhaps its because they generally keep the random outbursts of singing in typically non-singing-related locations to a minimum. The show is about a high school glee club, obviously the dredges of the high school social hierarchy, trying to get their act together and win the regional competition. It’s fun and it feels different than most of the other stuff on the tube. There are of course several subplots, about 50% of which revolve around pregnancy at the moment. Good show. Even if you don’t like musicals, I’d say give it a shot.

Modern Family (ABC)
I love this show. I did from the first episode. It’s not really groundbreaking or overwhelmingly original, but that doesn’t mean it’s not good. Or funny. Hilariously funny. If you’re not aware, it’s about three families – the father (Ed O’Neill) (yes, Al Bundy) and his much younger Columbian wife and her 10 year old son; the daughter (Julie Bowen), her husband, and their three children; and the gay son and his boyfriend, who have just adopted a baby from Vietnam. Best line so far: “Excuse me…Meryl Streep could play Batman and be the right choice. She’s perfection. Whether she’s divorcing Kramer, whether she’s wearing Prada, don’t even get me started on Sophie’s Choice…”

Community (NBC)
Another great show with a big cast, although I think they’re still working out the kinks of using a big cast to its full advantage. Things seem to be falling into place though and the last few episodes have been hilarious. The show is set at a community college and revolves around the diverse members of a Spanish study group (although they very rarely study Spanish). Please imagine: Chevy Chase in a Beastmaster costume huddled inside a fort built out of chairs during a bad trip. Awesome. Another highlight for me was an exchange between Troy, a young black student who was a big football star in high school but lost his chance at a scholarship after a kegstand-related injury, and Jeff, a disbarred lawyer who has returned to community college in hopes of someday returning to his former glory. Witness the rapid-fire convo as Jeff tries to convince Troy to join the community college football team:

Jeff: I’m saying you’re a football player. It’s in your blood.
Troy: That’s racist.
Jeff: Your soul?
Troy: That’s racist.
Jeff: Your eyes?
Troy: That’s gay.
Jeff: That’s homophobic.
Troy: That’s black.
Jeff: That’s racist.
Troy: Damn.

Good Morning, Quint. We're Gonna Need a Bigger Boat.

My family was never a “good morning” sort of family. Growing up, I was arguably the only morning person of the five children. The other four were typically somewhere just barely past the line between sleepwalking and being awake. I wasn’t exactly chipper at 5:45 a.m., but I was usually slightly more coherent. But no matter what state of mind we were in, I don’t ever remember saying good morning to my siblings, unless it was in a sarcastic sort of way, i.e. when a sibling has woken up cranky and it’s your duty to subject them to a ridiculously perky “good morning, sunshine!!”

I never liked being rushed in the morning before school, so I would usually get up with enough time to shower, get dressed, and have a cup of coffee and breakfast while reading the comics. Since I was up earlier, my dad was usually still home by the time I sat down to eat. I don’t think we ever said “good morning” to each other. It wasn’t rude, neither was ignoring the other, I think it was more just an unspoken acknowledgment that it would be ridiculous to speak at that ungodly hour of day, as well as something else…which brings me to my point.

I don’t understand why some people feel the need to say “good morning” to everyone they live with every single morning. At several points in my life now I’ve been in situations where I have a roommate who feels the need to say “good morning” every morning. And for some reason, it really really bugs me.

Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe it’s not the “good morning” itself but the person saying it. When you’re visiting with someone and you wake up and go into the kitchen for breakfast and your host says “good morning,” that’s different. That I can deal with. When you go into work and people say “good morning,” that’s also acceptable. And I’ve never minded if my mom says “good morning” to me every day, but then again, she is my mother.

But in other situations, it gets to a point where it just feels entirely forced. There’s this feeling that they’re only saying “good morning” because they think that’s what they’re supposed to do when they see someone in the morning.

I still get up relatively early on a daily basis. I usually sit on the couch and work on my class readings while everything is still quiet. Every morning, my roommate wakes up around 9:30 or 10, shuffles through the living room on the way to the kitchen, and says “good morning.” And it drives me crazy. Not only do we live in the same apartment, we share a room. Our beds are five feet away from each other. We know when the other is awake. We don't need to call attention to it.

But still, she feels the need to constantly acknowledge that we’re either both in the apartment or that one of us is leaving the apartment. She goes to the gym most mornings. She says “good morning,” she eats, she says “see ya,” and she goes to the gym. She gets back after about an hour and says “hey.” Every. Day. Just because we’re in the same room doesn’t mean we have to say something to each other. The other day, she came and went about four times in as many hours, and she said "hi" to me every time she came back into the apartment.

I tolerate this on most days. But today…today… the mixing of pet peeves.

I don't like when people talk to me while I'm watching TV or a movie. My sisters and mother can attest to this.

We were talking about the movie Jaws in class last night and, having not seen it in a while, I really wanted to watch it after our discussion. I don’t own it, nor do I currently have the money to buy it. So imagine my joy upon seeing that it was on TV at 9:30 this morning.

Do you know why people watch Jaws? They watch it for the suspense. They watch it for those two notes of music that will make anyone tense up. They watch it to see Sheriff Brody react to that first up-close look at the shark – the expression on his face, his slow backtrack into the cabin, cigarette dangling loosely from his mouth. THEY WATCH IT TO HEAR BRODY TELL QUINT “WE’RE GONNA NEED A BIGGER BOAT.”

Did I get to hear that this morning? No. No, I did not. If I hadn't seen the movie before, I wouldn't know that they were going to need a bigger boat. Do you know why I wouldn't know? Because someone walked in from the gym, saw me sitting in the exact same position she left me in, and felt the need to say hi to me, barely an hour after saying “good morning” and “see ya.”

As a comparison, my other roommate woke up not long after the first came back from the gym. The "good morning" conversation between roommate two and I:

R2: Jaws?
Me: Yep.


Maybe I just don't like the forced pleasantries because I feel like I have to respond, when really I just want to read/type/watch TV. I don't need someone to know what I'm doing all the time, and I certainly don't need to know what the people I live with are doing at every moment of the day.

Maybe...I'm a jerk.

I Hope It's Not Amoria Phlebitis...

Who's up for a little cram session? I'll go first. What was the name of the Pilgrims' boat?
The Spirit of St. Louis.
And where'd they land?
Sunny Acapulco.
And why'd they leave England?
Giant rats.

In case you hadn't noticed, I'm feeling a little like Bart Simpson in "Bart Gets an F," but without the whole blizzard thing. Although, that did actually happen to me once. Seriously.

In this instance, the blizzard is the flu. Not for me, for my professor.

It's been a rough week, mostly due to my being sucked into a creative black hole. Motivation out, sloth in. And this state of laziness could not have come at a worse time. I have four written projects (including a midterm essay worth 30% of my final grade) and a production proposal due this week.

The midterm essay is giving me the most trouble. I've always had trouble writing about abstract concepts, mostly because I always feel like I'm writing in circles without actually making any actual arguments. I have written lengthy(ish) research papers about the theory of evolution, the historiography of the American west (with the help of a blizzard - I said I was serious, didn't I?), the role of the Chesapeake Bay in the War of 1812, and the historical accuracy of The Grapes of Wrath. But double-spaced two-page essay assignments about our weekly Aesthetics readings had me about to pull my hair out and torch the textbooks.

I've made decent progress on the midterm essay though. My intro still needs work and I need to actually, you know, finish it, but I'm definitely making progress. My plan was get up today and finish my assignment for today's class, then work on the midterm (due Thursday) after class tonight. I planned to finish it up tomorrow (my off day), and take Thursday morning/early afternoon to proof and make last minute changes.

But today, a small miracle. My class this afternoon was canceled since the professor has the flu. Not only was class canceled, but the professor said that he will "totally understand" if missing a class throws us off and we have to push back our assignment due dates. Methinks he'll wish he didn't say that... So I now have all afternoon to work on and (hopefully) finish my midterm.

Here's hoping I don't end up knowing how George Washington felt when he surrendered Fort Necessity to the French in 1754. Boy would my face be red! (He wasn't always so on-the-ball with the military stuff, you know. And the French have always been frustrating. But I shan't get into that now. Someday, though. Someday. Just you wait...)

An Earthquake Would Be Horrifying for a Prairie Dog

It seems that yesterday was the general test day for college/university text alert systems. Seeing as I never bothered to unsubscribe from the SU alerts, I got something along these lines yesterday morning:

“This is a test of the SU text alert system”

Then, not long after that, I received my test text alert from the grad school. It had a slightly different tone:

“Test only. An 8.3 earthquake struck the LA area. Drop, cover, and hold on. Hold 60 seconds then move. Test only.”

Because I know the first thing I’m going to do if an 8.3 earthquake strikes the LA area is to check my text messages.

But I understand what they were trying to do – yesterday, somewhere in the vicinity of 6.9 million people participated in The Great California ShakeOut, a statewide earthquake drill aimed at teaching people about earthquake preparation and proper reaction. I didn’t participate, but I did poke around their website enough to discover that everything I thought you were supposed to do if an earthquake strikes is wrong. Good to know.

Apparently the whole doorframe theory is based on an old picture taken after an earthquake many years ago – the house was destroyed and all that was left standing was a lone doorframe. Older architecture may have been different, but modern architecture does not guarantee that doorframes will be the strongest points in a house.

Today, the earthquake response of choice is to “drop, cover, and hold on.” Get under a sturdy table, desk, etc. (preferably away from exterior walls, bookshelves, and anything else that could fall on you), cover your head and neck, and hang on for dear life.

I wonder if it’s been proven that people in high-stress situations are better able to remember what to do if the proper safety procedure has been formatted as rhythmic three-part instructions? It certainly makes sense. I would advise that you don’t get “drop, cover, and hold” mixed up with “stop, drop, and roll.” That could be bad.

On to non-earthquake-related stories. I have some great news! I received a package in the mail yesterday with a wonderful surprise. Thanks to Mimi, I am now the proud adoptive parent of a prairie dog at the Maryland Zoo! She sent a picture of the actual prairie dog, as well as a representative to keep me company on the other side of the country. His name is José and I love him.

Rain, Sizzler, Sex Shops, Butter, etc.

An amazing thing happened yesterday and today. Water started falling from the sky. The locals are astounded and generally confused.

It's nice to have a little rain. Yesterday it was on-and-off, today it's been raining pretty steadily all morning. I say that I like it right now, but let's wait and see what I think once I get my lazy ass up and leave the apartment. I'm glad I brought my umbrella, which will now have been rained on in Maryland, London, and Los Angeles. What a little traveler.

In unrelated news, who knew that Sizzler's still existed? The only reason I know is because there's one right next to the sex shop I went to last week.

We had to do a project for our production class that involved making a 2 minute film about an embarrassing moment. It had to be a moment we had actually experienced. We had to share these moments with the class, then spend weeks coming up with ways to make them more embarrassing, or "up the stakes." In my case, the stakes were greatly upped by the addition of furry handcuffs. And where else are you going to find furry (animal print, no less) handcuffs, but at a sex shop by a Sizzler? Nowhere I tell you.

In other news, Butter Watch 2009 has ended. I had intended to see just how long that stick of opened butter would sit on the counter and just when it was beginning to look like it might be there forever, a situation arose in which I genuinely feared for my health. I had to end the insanity.

The suspected butter-leaver-outer told me that she was planning to make cookies. I was excited at first, but I quickly became anxious at the thought of eating cookies made with butter that had been sitting out for close to two weeks. I asked if it was her opened stick of butter on the counter. Oh...did I leave that out? Oh my gosh. Yes, it's been there for almost two weeks now. It sucks that you can't just leave butter out here. ...Do you normally leave butter out where you're from? Well you know, like in a butter dish. Oh. Well those generally have lids. Yeah...I guess that's different. And we have flies. So maybe don't use that butter.

Butter Watch 2009

Still there.

Somebody Slap Me.

WARNING: RANTING AHEAD

Why did I ever think that one university would be any less chaotic and disorganized than the last? Somebody slap me.

I needed a form signed so I could film a project on campus. Filming on campus is supposedly easier, because you don’t need to get a permit from the city/county. I needed signatures from the following on-campus people: head of production, public safety, facilities, student housing, and events management. I got the head of production’s signature. I went to public safety, which was somewhat on the way to student housing. Public safety said “we can’t sign this until facilities does, and they probably won’t sign it until student housing signs it.” I appreciated this helpful information. Saved me a pointless trip to facilities.

I went to student housing. “When would you like to set up your appointment?” I don’t need an appointment, I just need this form signed. “We don’t do same-day signing or appointments. You have to schedule a next-day appointment to get it signed.” No one told me that. Or maybe I was sleeping at that exact moment in each of the three separate filming procedure presentations we sat through. That must be it. So I went back to the production office and said, I’m not sure if you all are aware, but student housing is telling people we can’t get same-day signatures for on-campus filming requests. “Yeah, you have to make a appointment ahead of time.” Oh, you’re aware of this? “Oh yeah, the student housing guy is a little crazy. They’ll never sign it same-day.” Oh. I thought since no one told us that maybe you all didn’t know. “No, they’ve been like that for a while. They’ll never sign same day.” Thanks…I think.

So tomorrow, I will go to lower campus to get the student housing signature at 1:15. I will then trudge to upper campus to get facilities to sign. I will hop over to public safety to get that signature. Then I will haul myself back down to lower campus to get a signature and try to weasel my way into the mandatory meeting with events management so I can film on Friday. Then I will go to class to give a presentation on this week’s readings.

On Friday and/or Saturday, I will probably lose my mind.

You see, our production professor told us in class last week that we weren’t ready to film and we should spend an extra week in pre-production. Which we did. Rough cuts of our films are due this Tuesday. There are 12 of us in the program. All 12 of us have to film and edit this weekend, and we all have to be in/helping with each other’s projects. Our final cuts are due the week after this Tuesday. Then we have exactly one week before the rough cut of project 2 is due, and it hasn’t even been assigned yet. And it’s worth 20% of our grade.

Somebody slap me.

My Knowledge Will Bite Your Face Off.

This weekend felt unusually long, which was nice after a week that felt unusually torturous. Without going into too much detail, I will just say that one of our classes is causing a good bit of frustration and misery for all of us. But we will survive. We must survive. End of semester course evaluations will free our souls. Vengeance will be ours.

Since we don't have Friday classes, our weekend begins on Thursday night when our class is over at 7. A group of us made a beeline for the liquor store and went home to drown our sorrows and spend some quality time with our friend television (teacher! mother! secret lover...)

We watched the second episode of FlashFoward, which unfortunately didn't really hold our interest like the first episode did. I know what you're thinking - how many tv shows can keep the attention of a room full of drunk grad students? But you're forgetting - we're television-obsessed drunk grad students.

Then some folks watched The Office, which I don't watch. I know. Just don't even say it, because I know.

Then...the best new show of the fall...Community. Please see the title of the post, spoken by a Spanish professor to his class. Great show. You should all watch it.

At some point during one of the shows, my roommate, the only non-film/television student in the room, asked what everyone thought about the Roman Polanski situation. She immediately regretted that decision. As soon as the words came out of her mouth, everyone started talking at once and a boisterous conversation lasted for the entire commercial break. Then we all stopped talking abruptly because the show was back on. That's how we roll.

Speaking of Roman Polanski, we all gathered again on Friday night to watch Chinatown for a class assignment. Interesting movie. I'll probably give my review of it in a future post. My pre-Chinatown time was spent at the library and at In-N-Out, where I investigated the strawberry milkshake (delicious) and acquired an official paper In-N-Out hat.

Saturday, I ventured to Venice with three friends. Venice is an interesting place...we decided that it was sort of like being transported back in time. Remember those days of the hippie-revival in the early-mid 90s? Still going on in Venice, CA. I found it really strange because the whole place seemed sort of frenzied and crazy, but very relaxed at the same time. Very intriguing. The beach was really nice though and the place definitely makes for some top-notch people watching. I also got a downright fantastic corndog. That's a good day in my book.

Today I did mostly nothing. Worked on some assignments, did some reading...speaking of which, I've actually done all the reading for my classes every week so far. Not skimming - reading. All of it. And taking notes. Before the day of class. It's like some sort of alternate universe.

It's getting cooler outside lately. I don't think it got much above 65 today and the 10-day says it's not going to get much above 70 for a while. Tomorrow night they're calling for a near-record low of *gasp* 54 degrees.

In other random news, Mr. California has been sighted several more times. I last saw him in the library. He walked in, disappeared somewhere, then walked out with several girls. His powers are growing.

I'd Sell My Soul for a Doughnut...

In my search for a graduate school, I looked at many factors. Among other things, I considered the program focus, size, and duration, the faculty-student ratio, the availability of on-campus graduate housing, and the location of the school in regards to necessary resources (grocery stores, job and internship opportunities, etc.).

It has come to my attention that I neglected to consider one factor. In my current situation, I am lacking in one extremely important and necessary resource. And I’m truly ashamed of myself for letting this slip past my radar.

I had heard rumors, but I didn’t think they would be true (there’s no way they could be true...). But it has been confirmed.

There are no Dunkin’ Donuts’ in Los Angeles. I can’t even positively 100% confirm that there are currently any stores in the entire state of California. D’oh!

I feel lost and unsure. I don't know what's going to happen. I'm scared. And a little hungry.

Musings on Cleanliness

As my younger sister has so wisely observed, many people become more aware of their messiness when living with others (who are not related to them). This is obviously a generalization, but it definitely has merit. When you live with other people, you are more likely to notice how your particular messiness affects these other people (assuming that you generally have a clue about what’s going on around you. Which I have realized is apparently a pretty big assumption to make). For example: I am much more aware of how often and how long I leave my dishes in the sink (we don’t have a dishwasher) when I’m living with people who aren’t in my family (don’t ask why I’m ok with it with my family. I don’t know why).

I am by no means a neat-freak, and I will be the first to admit it. In the realm of mess, I inhabit the arena of clutter.

Visual Evidence

Exhibit A: my old office




Exhibit B: my current desk and surrounding area




I collect clutter quite easily. My desk has looked like that since about 5 days after I moved into my apartment. My school supplies – notebooks, stuff for production class, etc. – are sitting on the floor and have been since the first week of classes. Sitting right in front of my computer are my beloved-but-broken giant white sunglasses that I just can’t bring myself to throw out. You get the idea.

I sometimes wish I was an organized person, but I’m just not and probably never will be. I actually prefer a slightly cluttered work area to a completely organized area – when everything is organized and perfect all the time, it makes me nervous to move anything or put anything on the desk, for fear of messing up the organization. And then it sucks when I do eventually mess up the organization. So I just keep it cluttered and avoid that problem.

I don’t usually mind other people’s tendency to clutter either. I don’t mind cereal boxes out on the counter or the baking sheet left on top of the stove or a certain amount of dishes stacked in the sink. I don’t care if you leave your school books on the coffee table or your laptop charger in the outlet in the living room.

That all being said, there are certain forms of messiness where even I draw a line. Primarily – food. An actual statement spoken by me to one of my roommates a few weeks ago: “Do you know who left a half-eaten roll sitting on a magazine on the coffee table?” (that roll sat there for two days). Right now, I could easily replace the second half of that sentence with “…half of an opened stick of butter on the counter?” or “…a single rotting banana on the counter?”

I am probably borderline paranoid about food in some ways. I don’t like putting my food directly on countertops unless I known the countertop is clean. I don’t even like putting my utensils directly on the counter unless I know it’s clean. I always seal my food properly before putting it in the refrigerator and if there’s any question in my mind about whether or not food has gone bad, I throw it out. I honestly can’t even wrap my mind around the idea that someone would leave half of an opened stick of butter (sitting on the wrapper, at least) sitting on the counter for several days. This is the second time I’ve seen that, by the way.

Movie Reviews II

More movie reviews, including a bonus, extra-special, slightly-drunken review. (Please note that I was not drunk at 10:24 am when I posted this, just typed it up on a Friday night and posted it the morning after. I sensed you were judging me).


Stranger Than Fiction (2005): Let me get this out of the way - I. Love. This. Movie. I love everything about this movie. The writing, the story, the cinematography, the cast...love it all. Will Ferrell plays Harold, a dull IRS agent who can suddenly and inexplicably hear his life being narrated by an omniscient voice. There's the love interest (Maggie Gyllenhaal) - a feisty baker Harold is auditing, the literary expert (Dustin Hoffman) who's trying to help Harold figure out what type of story he's in and who the narrator is, and the narrator (Emma Thompson) who is actually an author writing a book about Harold (who she thinks is only a character). Do yourself a favor - forget what you thought about Will Ferrell before and watch this movie.

Punch-Drunk Love (2002): A downtrodden small business owner with seven nosy and belittling sisters and no social life has to deal with an escalating credit card scheme all while trying to start a relationship with the woman of his dreams. This was a strange movie. That's really all I can think to say. The plot is simple (and strange), but looking back it's also fairly solid. Like Will Ferrell in Stranger Than Fiction, Adam Sandler gives a surprising performance. Very understated and nuanced, especially coming from a man previously seen yelling about SnackPacks and beating up Bob Barker. If you typically like quirkier movies, you'll probably like this one. Otherwise, rent Spanglish for a more mainstream but still great performance from Sandler.

Sophie's Choice (1982): Let me get another thing out of the way - I want to be Meryl Streep when I grow up. And I think you do too. Set in 1947, Meryl Streep plays Sophie, a Holocaust survivor now living in Brooklyn with Nathan, an eccentric biologist (Kevin Kline) who had nursed her back to good health when she first arrived in America. Peter MacNicol plays Stingo, a young Southern man who moves to Brooklyn to be a writer. The three become best friends but as Nathan's behavior becomes more erratic, Stingo becomes curious about Sophie's life and what brought her to Brooklyn. She reveals her experiences during the Holocaust, including the heart-wrenching choice she was forced to make when taken to Auschwitz. Great performances from all three main characters and a supremely depressing story. You have to really invest yourself in the story - the choice is not revealed until the end, at which point you begin to understand Sophie's previous behavior. If you haven't connected to the movie prior to the final scenes, it probably won't resonate too much. It's long and it's slow at points, but overall it's a good movie.

Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)(slightly-drunken review): You know the story...steal from the rich to give to the poor while wearing tights and waving swords around yada yada yada. The main problem with this movie is that Kevin Costner does not at any point in time attempt to play baseball. If he had just taken a swing at a ball at some point in time or at least given a speech about baseball, it might have been a better movie. The acting is almost universally bad, and from actors who are normally pretty good (really, Morgan Freeman?) which leads me to believe that the script is probably the root of the problem. The script and a distinct lack of baseball are the roots of the problem. The only redeeming element for me was Alan Rickman, who seemed to realize that the script was shit and decided to just make the best of it and have some fun with the part. By the way, I changed the words of the Bryan Adams song to "everything I do...I do it for Rickman..." It's better that way. Trust me.