Posts
I knew the odds were not in my favor that “Sucker Punch” would be what you’d call a “quality film.” However, I at least hoped for some marginal, bad action movie entertainment. No dice. Blogging about such a film using thoughtful analysis seems the equivalent of trying to analyze the finger painting a mentally challenged chimpanzee has done with its own feces. Therefore, instead of a critical discussion, I’ve decided to brainstorm ten ideas of how “Sucker Punch” might have been improved.
1. Instead of a tortured young woman, perhaps the character of Baby Doll is an actual baby doll, demonically come to life, or built by a mad scientist. But the mad scientist can no longer control her violent tendencies, so he must lock her away for everyone’s protection! Also, the character named Rocket should be a cyborg with rocket arms.
2. Cut the dream within a dream. There was only one filmed named “Inception,“ and you are not it, “Sucker Punch.” Baby Doll fantasizes about being trapped in a brothel, where to deal with being ogled by men, she fantasizes about fighting zombies. Dear Baby Doll: Are you really so messed up you require two dream worlds to cope with your traumatic experiences? Maybe you should try some more therapy and less attempts at vigilantism.
3. The characters in the fantasy sequences should actually have some relevance or parallel to the characters in the “real” mental institution story. For example, perhaps the dragon could have been personified by a fat, chain-smoking female guard, and the Nazi zombies could have been a troupe of rule obsessed Aryan orderlies. I mean, I love the random inclusion of dragons as much as the next nerd, but this is just sloppy storytelling.
4. Add more story and character development. It’s hard for audiences to be invested in the plight of generic female mental patients/prostitutes. Or another possibility is to have even less story and character development, and just make the film into a porno. You know, it’s practically halfway there on its own!
5. More John Hamm. He played two parts, that of a doctor giving a lobotomy and in the fantasy sequence, a mysterious rich guy in a white dinner jacket. Neither role gave him very much screen time. What a waste of Hamm!
6. More cheesy catch phrases. If you’re going to be a bad action film, at least embrace your crappiness with some memorable commentary. Such one liners might include “Lobotomize this!” or “Baby Doll wants to play!” Then cue cute blond girl punching a dude in the face. The possibilities are endless. The movie is called “Sucker Punch” for pete’s sake. There’s got to be a good pun in there somewhere.
7. Get a sense of humor. This sort of goes along with number six. This film was ripe with ridiculousness waiting to bubble through the melodramatic storylines. Point in case, Carla Gugino’s hilarious Russian accent as Dr. Vera Gorski. I’m fairly certain her character used to be eit her a communist spy or part of a family of traveling acrobats.
8. More crazy bitches being crazy bitches. The film takes place in a hospital for the criminally insane, so why the room full of mewling sad sacks? Where’s the sassy prison yard banter? Angelina Jolie had more spirit in “Girl, Interrupted,” and that was a drama, folks. All I’m asking is one chair thrown at somebody else’s head, maybe some creepy whittling while spouting gibberish death threats to a house plant. Now that’s crazy!
9. Less weasely villain. I have nothing to add on this point. This guy just looked like a creeper, and the fact that it took until the end of the film for somebody to stab him in the neck was really off-putting.
10. How about we just cut out the whole “real world” component and make this a story about five slutty friends who travel through time and space, fighting samurai, orcs, zombies, dragons, and robots. I’m sure there’s probably an anime already out there with this exact premise. Or twelve. Or twelve hundred.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
They Call It Movie Magic For A Reason
I am a lady of great class and sophistication, and since I don’t have to look at your face or hear your sarcastic laughter while I’m typing, I will continue to pretend that that’s true.
Still, even a gentile, high society female such as myself has her moments of juvenile idiocy, where I revert back to some sort of spastic child, full of big-eyed wonderment and excited arm-flailing. Such was the case last Monday when my former film school, LMU, screened the documentary, “Exporting Raymond,” written and directed by Phil Rosenthal, who stayed for a Q&A following the film. You may not have heard of this film yet, but I’m certain you’ve heard of Mr. Rosenthal’s wildly successful show, “Everybody Loves Raymond.”
I rarely get excited meeting actors or celebrities, or at least, I rarely get so excited I can’t keep it together enough to feign aloofness until they exit the room. Writers, however, are a different story. You see, writers possess an ability to create something out of nothing, sort of like wizards. And you know how I feel about wizards. Perchance this is why upon conclusion of the previously mentioned question and answer period, I felt obliged to approach Phil Rosenthal and tell him how hilariously magical and brilliant he was, though not in those specific words. Sarah Terry, another LMU alumni and close friend, reported that I “gushed like a giddy teen meeting Justin Bieber and remained in an utter daze of pure elation after he (Rosenthal) hugged her (me).”
But you don’t have to be a fan of “Everybody Loves Raymond,” to appreciate “Exporting Raymond.” At its heart, it’s a movie about the universality of humor, and the attempts of one hilarious gentleman to bridge cultural gaps through the media of comedy. The film starts with Rosenthal setting off to Russia, where he will help a team of filmmakers create a Russian version of his hit show. Along the way, Rosenthal learns the answers to such questions as, “What is K & R insurance?” and “Who is the Russian equivalent of Peter Boyle?” The answers are kidnapping and ransom, and a guy named Boris Klyuyev.
The language barrier is the least of Rosenthal’s obstacles in getting the Russian Raymond made, and at times it seems the only thing universal about the project is the frustration of show business. It all makes for a harrowing journey for Rosenthal but a rather entertaining one for audiences. Even if you know nothing about television production, who can’t relate to being placed in a foreign and possibly uncomfortable situation, where it feels like no matter what you say and how you say it, the message falls on deaf, Russian ears. Okay, maybe not the Russian part. Add onto that a cast of characters (a Russian fashionista costume designer, a mysterious bodyguard who collects seashells) that you couldn’t make up because your screenwriter’s workshop would say they’re too over the top and unbelievable, and you have yourself one rollicking documentary. I bet you thought you’d never see the words “rollicking” and “documentary” together in one sentence! Well, you’re wrong, thanks to the magic of Phil Rosenthal. I told you, writers are wizards.
And as if making CBS bath tubs full of money wasn’t enough to keep him busy (P.S. He’s also guest starring on an episode of 30 Rock in a couple weeks!) Phil Rosenthal also wrote a book back in 2006, titled “You’re Lucky You’re Funny.” Honestly, I wish I had read this book my first week in film school. In fact, I wish it had come along with my tuition. $60,000, good for one masters degree and one copy of Phil Rosenthal’s book. There are plenty of books out there on the subject of screenwriting, specifically on to improve your craft, properly structure a script or develop an idea. Few of them, however, say anything about what it’s like to struggle through horrid jobs before you finally break in, or what it’ll be like once you finally do. He discusses his inspiration for “Raymond,” how the project developed, from concept to finale. I love behind the scenes memoirs, but rarely do any manage to be so witty and informational, so inspiring and irreverent at the same time, as Rosenthal‘s does. This I tell you now, just as I spastically told it to the amiable Phil Rosenthal, who smiled politely through my barrage of fervent complimenting. Not only is he a ridiculously amusing fellow, but an incredibly nice person too.
Still, even a gentile, high society female such as myself has her moments of juvenile idiocy, where I revert back to some sort of spastic child, full of big-eyed wonderment and excited arm-flailing. Such was the case last Monday when my former film school, LMU, screened the documentary, “Exporting Raymond,” written and directed by Phil Rosenthal, who stayed for a Q&A following the film. You may not have heard of this film yet, but I’m certain you’ve heard of Mr. Rosenthal’s wildly successful show, “Everybody Loves Raymond.”
I rarely get excited meeting actors or celebrities, or at least, I rarely get so excited I can’t keep it together enough to feign aloofness until they exit the room. Writers, however, are a different story. You see, writers possess an ability to create something out of nothing, sort of like wizards. And you know how I feel about wizards. Perchance this is why upon conclusion of the previously mentioned question and answer period, I felt obliged to approach Phil Rosenthal and tell him how hilariously magical and brilliant he was, though not in those specific words. Sarah Terry, another LMU alumni and close friend, reported that I “gushed like a giddy teen meeting Justin Bieber and remained in an utter daze of pure elation after he (Rosenthal) hugged her (me).”
But you don’t have to be a fan of “Everybody Loves Raymond,” to appreciate “Exporting Raymond.” At its heart, it’s a movie about the universality of humor, and the attempts of one hilarious gentleman to bridge cultural gaps through the media of comedy. The film starts with Rosenthal setting off to Russia, where he will help a team of filmmakers create a Russian version of his hit show. Along the way, Rosenthal learns the answers to such questions as, “What is K & R insurance?” and “Who is the Russian equivalent of Peter Boyle?” The answers are kidnapping and ransom, and a guy named Boris Klyuyev.
The language barrier is the least of Rosenthal’s obstacles in getting the Russian Raymond made, and at times it seems the only thing universal about the project is the frustration of show business. It all makes for a harrowing journey for Rosenthal but a rather entertaining one for audiences. Even if you know nothing about television production, who can’t relate to being placed in a foreign and possibly uncomfortable situation, where it feels like no matter what you say and how you say it, the message falls on deaf, Russian ears. Okay, maybe not the Russian part. Add onto that a cast of characters (a Russian fashionista costume designer, a mysterious bodyguard who collects seashells) that you couldn’t make up because your screenwriter’s workshop would say they’re too over the top and unbelievable, and you have yourself one rollicking documentary. I bet you thought you’d never see the words “rollicking” and “documentary” together in one sentence! Well, you’re wrong, thanks to the magic of Phil Rosenthal. I told you, writers are wizards.
And as if making CBS bath tubs full of money wasn’t enough to keep him busy (P.S. He’s also guest starring on an episode of 30 Rock in a couple weeks!) Phil Rosenthal also wrote a book back in 2006, titled “You’re Lucky You’re Funny.” Honestly, I wish I had read this book my first week in film school. In fact, I wish it had come along with my tuition. $60,000, good for one masters degree and one copy of Phil Rosenthal’s book. There are plenty of books out there on the subject of screenwriting, specifically on to improve your craft, properly structure a script or develop an idea. Few of them, however, say anything about what it’s like to struggle through horrid jobs before you finally break in, or what it’ll be like once you finally do. He discusses his inspiration for “Raymond,” how the project developed, from concept to finale. I love behind the scenes memoirs, but rarely do any manage to be so witty and informational, so inspiring and irreverent at the same time, as Rosenthal‘s does. This I tell you now, just as I spastically told it to the amiable Phil Rosenthal, who smiled politely through my barrage of fervent complimenting. Not only is he a ridiculously amusing fellow, but an incredibly nice person too.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
The Sassy Dwarf is the Selling Point
What is this “Game of Thrones,” you’ve been hearing about, sweet nerds? Well, you probably already know, so this post is for those of you so-called “popular” people out there who are wealthy enough to afford premium channels on HBO.
The short answer is that it’s nerd cocaine. To elaborate, “A Game of Thrones,” is a new fantasy series airing on HBO on April 17th and is based on the novel of the same name, written by George R. R. Martin. Apparently if you want to get anywhere in the fantasy literature world, you have to include at least two initials in your name, preferably R’s. Think about it.
This series was first brought to my attention by a former coworker, a beefy Russian chap named Eugene who worked with me at the bookstore. I always liked Eugene for several reasons. For one thing, he told me inappropriate jokes whenever customers made me want to walk in front of a trolley. Also, I knew if ever I was to be sucked into a magical portal to the medieval age, and needed to establish some sort of traveling fellowship, not only would Eugene have the strength to heft a war hammer, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be bogged down by any misgivings as to using said weapon to crack a man’s skull open. Plus he had really good taste in books.
There was a story Eugene often told to customers whenever he’d recommend them “A Game of Thrones.” Apparently, the TV industry had been trying to lure George R. R. Martin into giving up his book rights for years, ever since the first novel got acclaim back when it was published in 1996. No dice, Martin would say. You’ll never do it right, Martin lamented. And then a little thing called Rome happened. Not the empire, the HBO show starring Kevin McKidd and Ray Stevenson, who by the way, I once met as an intern and had to pretend I didn’t know for fear of geeking out like a school girl. I handed him a water bottle and he said, “Cheers!”
Back to Rome. It only lasted two seasons because they basically had to build a mini version of the city. It was huge and expensive, but it looked amazing, and people really responded to it. Martin also responded to it. The next time a fan asked him, would you ever allow “A Game of Thrones” to be adapted, he said something like “Only if it was made by the people who made Rome.” HBO called Martin the next day. Or so the legend goes…
If you’ve ever been inside a bookstore, you know there’s a whole fantasy section, and you can imagine the repetitive drivel that coagulates there. I think anyone who loves the subject matter has at one time or another held delusions of contributing their own vision to the steaming pile. I know I have! The obvious question is, what makes George R. R. Martin’s books better than the rest?
Well, for starters, he’s not afraid to murder main characters in horrible yet interesting ways. Also, his characters are not whiny. Or at least most of them aren’t. There was one princess I would have liked to see decapitated and covered in tar (which does happen to someone) but for the most part, the characters were incredibly likable and, shall we say, not clones of Aragorn son of Arathorn. Plus there’s a sassy dwarf, who in the HBO series will be appropriately played by Peter Dinklage. Who doesn’t love a sassy dwarf? It has all the rest of the stuff nerds usually require too, i.e. mysterious, wild people beyond a giant ice wall in the north, a girl who may or may not possess magical dragon powers, and enough kings and lords stabbing each other in the eye to satiate the most unquenchable nerd lust.
So there’s the long answer.
The short answer is that it’s nerd cocaine. To elaborate, “A Game of Thrones,” is a new fantasy series airing on HBO on April 17th and is based on the novel of the same name, written by George R. R. Martin. Apparently if you want to get anywhere in the fantasy literature world, you have to include at least two initials in your name, preferably R’s. Think about it.
This series was first brought to my attention by a former coworker, a beefy Russian chap named Eugene who worked with me at the bookstore. I always liked Eugene for several reasons. For one thing, he told me inappropriate jokes whenever customers made me want to walk in front of a trolley. Also, I knew if ever I was to be sucked into a magical portal to the medieval age, and needed to establish some sort of traveling fellowship, not only would Eugene have the strength to heft a war hammer, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t be bogged down by any misgivings as to using said weapon to crack a man’s skull open. Plus he had really good taste in books.
There was a story Eugene often told to customers whenever he’d recommend them “A Game of Thrones.” Apparently, the TV industry had been trying to lure George R. R. Martin into giving up his book rights for years, ever since the first novel got acclaim back when it was published in 1996. No dice, Martin would say. You’ll never do it right, Martin lamented. And then a little thing called Rome happened. Not the empire, the HBO show starring Kevin McKidd and Ray Stevenson, who by the way, I once met as an intern and had to pretend I didn’t know for fear of geeking out like a school girl. I handed him a water bottle and he said, “Cheers!”
Back to Rome. It only lasted two seasons because they basically had to build a mini version of the city. It was huge and expensive, but it looked amazing, and people really responded to it. Martin also responded to it. The next time a fan asked him, would you ever allow “A Game of Thrones” to be adapted, he said something like “Only if it was made by the people who made Rome.” HBO called Martin the next day. Or so the legend goes…
If you’ve ever been inside a bookstore, you know there’s a whole fantasy section, and you can imagine the repetitive drivel that coagulates there. I think anyone who loves the subject matter has at one time or another held delusions of contributing their own vision to the steaming pile. I know I have! The obvious question is, what makes George R. R. Martin’s books better than the rest?
Well, for starters, he’s not afraid to murder main characters in horrible yet interesting ways. Also, his characters are not whiny. Or at least most of them aren’t. There was one princess I would have liked to see decapitated and covered in tar (which does happen to someone) but for the most part, the characters were incredibly likable and, shall we say, not clones of Aragorn son of Arathorn. Plus there’s a sassy dwarf, who in the HBO series will be appropriately played by Peter Dinklage. Who doesn’t love a sassy dwarf? It has all the rest of the stuff nerds usually require too, i.e. mysterious, wild people beyond a giant ice wall in the north, a girl who may or may not possess magical dragon powers, and enough kings and lords stabbing each other in the eye to satiate the most unquenchable nerd lust.
So there’s the long answer.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
I Love You Mom and Dad, But...
I love “The X-Files.” If there were conventions for “The X-Files,” I would go, and probably find my husband there. Or maybe I could just find a way to marry the show itself. A guy in Japan married his avatar, so why not? The show lasted from 1993 to 2002, which for me was ages 10 to 19. Explains a lot, doesn’t it?
Thanks to the Ghost of Television Past, or as you know him, Netflix, I’ve rewatched some of my favorite episodes in the last couple months. Never would I have imagined the effect this would have on me. Along with the stories, each episode brought back memories of my own past. It was a little like post trauamtic stress syndrome, only without the horrible war flashbacks. So, instead of treating my roommate to a lecture on “The History of Steinho” every time I put the show on, I’ll torture you, my precious blogflowers, with five of my favorite episodes, personal life memories included.
1.) Jose Chung’s “From Outer Space.” April 2006
A science fiction writer interviews Mulder and Scully for his new novel about their latest case. The case in question involves teenagers abducted by government officials dressed like aliens, who in turn are abducted by real aliens.. My friends Sarah and Joey and I loved this episode so much, we recorded it onto a VHS tape, and then transcribed it into script format. You see, the plan was for us to act it out and film it. I think for a time we coerced my father into participating, until he realized it wasn’t a school project and just something us weird kids were doing for fun. I remember we talked Sarah’s older sister into acting out a few scenes before she had to leave for a date. I can almost picture her, standing in their driveway, dressed to go out and holding a giant plastic pink elephant over her head, pretending to be the alien Lord Kimbo. What a good sport!
2. Quagmire May 1996
Mulder and Scully investigate a Nessie-like sea beast. Numerous limbs and torsos are eaten, along with Scully’s dog Queequeg. First off, I am obsessed with Nessie, as witnessed by my loyal roommate who did not murder me from shame when I screamed for Nessie on the banks of Loch Ness. At the moment of Quagmire’s airing, I was thirteen years old. My mom was on a business trip to Hawaii. Not to be all childhood trauma on you, but up until high school, I really did not talk to my father, other than to get help with school projects (see previous episode). I dreaded my Mom leaving. Who would feed me? Who would tell me when to wake up in the morning? Who would I cry on if I had another puberty-enduced panic attack??? But by Friday night when “The X-Files” aired, I realized my fears were unjustified. I didn’t need my Mom to protect me anymore, and my father was far better at cooking than I could have imagined. Everything was going to be okay.
3. Bad Blood February 1998
Mulder and Scully each tell their side of what happened after Mulder accidentally stabs a seemingly innocent man with a wooden stake. Also featuring Luke Wilson as a buck-toothed Texas sheriff and the chubby red-headed kid from “The Sandlot” as an OCD vampire. I think the best part of this episode was how the agents describe each other in their own version of the story. Scully sees Mulder as a hyperactive spazz, while he sees her as a bitchy know-it-all. Yet, having watched the show for seasons, you know of course the two of them belong together. It was around this time that I was starting to realize that “The X-Files” had ruined me from ever having a normal romantic relationship, and not just because Fox Mulder was a dreamboat. Scully and Mulder were too busy fighting swamp monsters and circus freaks to care about sappy crap like romance. “The X-Files” showed me I did not want a husband. I wanted a Mulder.
4. Hungry Novemeber 1999
A young man working in a burger joint deals with self-esteem issues, not to mention his unhealthy addiction to eating brains. At this point, I was starting to realize that I would probably not get to lose my virginity to David Duchovny. After all, by the time I was legal, he’d be forty years old, and that was just gross. Fortunately, for me there was Chad E. Donella, the lead character of that week’s episode. In typical teen girl fashion, I went from not knowing who he was to writing love songs to him in a matter of days. This episode also happened to be pretty hilarious as well. There were several lines that my sister and I continued to quote to each other long after the fact. One of them was when a therapist refers to Peter Jennings as the most handsome man in the world. Because mocking the appearance of respected newscasters is always comedy gold.
The Truth - Series Finale - May 2002
Mulder defends himself for all the decisions he’d made in the pursuit of truth. While the episode itself was like a cliff notes of the entire show’s run, for those fans who had seen it through, it was a nice resolution. I can’t remember watching “The X-Files” very frequently in it’s last two seasons. This was partially due to going to college and suddenly having a social life. The real reason was because David Duchovny wasn’t on the show anymore, but I read he was coming back for the finale. Unfortunately, my college boyfriend called me about fifteen minutes into the episode. I spent the next thirty minutes fighting with him about why I was choosing to watch a stupid TV show over talking to him. A few years later, I finally watched the episode in it’s entirety. It was after I’d moved to LA, and somehow this was fitting. My favorite show, ushering me into my new life.
I could try to deny it, but the truth is, “The X-Files” became more than just a show to me. Mulder and Scully were incredible characters and after the show ended, I still wanted to spend time with them. I’d like to pretend that Scully is my aunt, and I can go and visit her and her life partner Mulder in their weird woodland cottage. They take me to haunted houses and on monster quests. Sometimes I almost die but mostly I just have a good time. Then one day, they will sit me down and say, “Amanda. We’re not really your aunt and uncle. We’re your parents.”
Like I said. I love “The X-Files.”
Thanks to the Ghost of Television Past, or as you know him, Netflix, I’ve rewatched some of my favorite episodes in the last couple months. Never would I have imagined the effect this would have on me. Along with the stories, each episode brought back memories of my own past. It was a little like post trauamtic stress syndrome, only without the horrible war flashbacks. So, instead of treating my roommate to a lecture on “The History of Steinho” every time I put the show on, I’ll torture you, my precious blogflowers, with five of my favorite episodes, personal life memories included.
1.) Jose Chung’s “From Outer Space.” April 2006
A science fiction writer interviews Mulder and Scully for his new novel about their latest case. The case in question involves teenagers abducted by government officials dressed like aliens, who in turn are abducted by real aliens.. My friends Sarah and Joey and I loved this episode so much, we recorded it onto a VHS tape, and then transcribed it into script format. You see, the plan was for us to act it out and film it. I think for a time we coerced my father into participating, until he realized it wasn’t a school project and just something us weird kids were doing for fun. I remember we talked Sarah’s older sister into acting out a few scenes before she had to leave for a date. I can almost picture her, standing in their driveway, dressed to go out and holding a giant plastic pink elephant over her head, pretending to be the alien Lord Kimbo. What a good sport!
2. Quagmire May 1996
Mulder and Scully investigate a Nessie-like sea beast. Numerous limbs and torsos are eaten, along with Scully’s dog Queequeg. First off, I am obsessed with Nessie, as witnessed by my loyal roommate who did not murder me from shame when I screamed for Nessie on the banks of Loch Ness. At the moment of Quagmire’s airing, I was thirteen years old. My mom was on a business trip to Hawaii. Not to be all childhood trauma on you, but up until high school, I really did not talk to my father, other than to get help with school projects (see previous episode). I dreaded my Mom leaving. Who would feed me? Who would tell me when to wake up in the morning? Who would I cry on if I had another puberty-enduced panic attack??? But by Friday night when “The X-Files” aired, I realized my fears were unjustified. I didn’t need my Mom to protect me anymore, and my father was far better at cooking than I could have imagined. Everything was going to be okay.
3. Bad Blood February 1998
Mulder and Scully each tell their side of what happened after Mulder accidentally stabs a seemingly innocent man with a wooden stake. Also featuring Luke Wilson as a buck-toothed Texas sheriff and the chubby red-headed kid from “The Sandlot” as an OCD vampire. I think the best part of this episode was how the agents describe each other in their own version of the story. Scully sees Mulder as a hyperactive spazz, while he sees her as a bitchy know-it-all. Yet, having watched the show for seasons, you know of course the two of them belong together. It was around this time that I was starting to realize that “The X-Files” had ruined me from ever having a normal romantic relationship, and not just because Fox Mulder was a dreamboat. Scully and Mulder were too busy fighting swamp monsters and circus freaks to care about sappy crap like romance. “The X-Files” showed me I did not want a husband. I wanted a Mulder.
4. Hungry Novemeber 1999
A young man working in a burger joint deals with self-esteem issues, not to mention his unhealthy addiction to eating brains. At this point, I was starting to realize that I would probably not get to lose my virginity to David Duchovny. After all, by the time I was legal, he’d be forty years old, and that was just gross. Fortunately, for me there was Chad E. Donella, the lead character of that week’s episode. In typical teen girl fashion, I went from not knowing who he was to writing love songs to him in a matter of days. This episode also happened to be pretty hilarious as well. There were several lines that my sister and I continued to quote to each other long after the fact. One of them was when a therapist refers to Peter Jennings as the most handsome man in the world. Because mocking the appearance of respected newscasters is always comedy gold.
The Truth - Series Finale - May 2002
Mulder defends himself for all the decisions he’d made in the pursuit of truth. While the episode itself was like a cliff notes of the entire show’s run, for those fans who had seen it through, it was a nice resolution. I can’t remember watching “The X-Files” very frequently in it’s last two seasons. This was partially due to going to college and suddenly having a social life. The real reason was because David Duchovny wasn’t on the show anymore, but I read he was coming back for the finale. Unfortunately, my college boyfriend called me about fifteen minutes into the episode. I spent the next thirty minutes fighting with him about why I was choosing to watch a stupid TV show over talking to him. A few years later, I finally watched the episode in it’s entirety. It was after I’d moved to LA, and somehow this was fitting. My favorite show, ushering me into my new life.
I could try to deny it, but the truth is, “The X-Files” became more than just a show to me. Mulder and Scully were incredible characters and after the show ended, I still wanted to spend time with them. I’d like to pretend that Scully is my aunt, and I can go and visit her and her life partner Mulder in their weird woodland cottage. They take me to haunted houses and on monster quests. Sometimes I almost die but mostly I just have a good time. Then one day, they will sit me down and say, “Amanda. We’re not really your aunt and uncle. We’re your parents.”
Like I said. I love “The X-Files.”
Monday, February 21, 2011
Jurassic Park Might Have Ended A Lot Differently
Last Saturday night, I hung out with two wonderful friends of mine. They have a seven week old daughter, which makes them real people, unlike me, who dresses up stuffed animals and lets them sit at the dinner table when my roommate isn‘t home. It was a delightful weekend. I held the baby, we watched the old version of “Fright Night,” then after a lovely homemade dinner, contemplated exactly how the gruesome 1980s prosthetic vampire makeup from the movie would scar their little girl for life. I know it scarred me!
Post dinner, I had a nerd attack. Going through my friend’s comic collection, I discovered “Runaways,” a Marvel comic series created by Brian K. Vaughan and Adrian Alphona. Being the gracious host, my friend lent me the comic and I drove back to West Hollywood fully intending to be a productive human being for the next several hours after arriving home.
Wrong, Steinho! Wrong! It was the equivalent of a fat lady taking out an entire chocolate cake after licking a bite of frosting off her finger. I read all 18 volumes of it between about 8:30pm and midnight. I couldn’t stop. Not since I finally kicked my World of Warcraft habit back in 2008 have I been so drunk on nerdly delight.
This is a little how my experience reading “Runaways” started. Fifteen pages in, you find out that something is up with the parents of six regular teenagers. Gee Mom and Dad, why are you all gathering around a table in a secret library wearing cool costumes? I think, “Because they’re super heroes, right? Awesome! I wish my parents were super heroes! Yay comics!” Five pages later, the kids watch their parents murder a teen prostitute in human sacrifice. I think, “Human sacrifice? Teen prostitutes? Even better!” Oddly enough, the kids in the comic turn on their parents pretty quickly after this, vowing not to stop until they’ve brought about their wicked group’s downfall. No waiting around to see if it was all just a misunderstanding for these boys and girls! Maybe the writers were banking on the thought that deep down all teenagers already think their parents are evil, and wish they’d turn out to be diabolical magicians so their feelings would be justified.
“Runaways” is the type of story I love, where the focus is on a group of characters, all with a very distinct personality and ability. I think it’s a throwback to my days of D&D. There’s just some satisfaction knowing that you’ve got the whole set … strong dude, wizard, rogue, technomancer from the future, hot elf chick and so forth. In “Runaways” it’s a little more like, nerdy leader, goth wizard girl, hot hippie alien, jock with robot hands, super strong mutant kid, and sarcastic geek with psychically linked velociraptor. What a team!
My favorite was the dinosaur girl, Gertrude. Her parents are inter-dimensional time travelers, which explains how they got the dinosaur to give to her in the first place. There simply aren’t enough stories about evil time travelers. I think what I liked most about the idea of having a dinosaur for a weapon is that you can just hang out, tell your raptor to fetch/kill whoever you want, and then watch the magic happen. But that’s not all. Gertrude names her dinosaur Old Lace, after deciding that her code name will be Arsenic. Get it? Arsenic and Old Lace? No? Did your high school not have a theatre department?
Okay, so maybe not everyone is a theatre geek as well as a fantasy nerd. BUT for anyone who’s ever wished to be a superhero, or who just wished a dinosaur would eat their father, “Runaways” is sure to satisfy. And unlike chocolate cake, it will not give you diabetes.
Post dinner, I had a nerd attack. Going through my friend’s comic collection, I discovered “Runaways,” a Marvel comic series created by Brian K. Vaughan and Adrian Alphona. Being the gracious host, my friend lent me the comic and I drove back to West Hollywood fully intending to be a productive human being for the next several hours after arriving home.
Wrong, Steinho! Wrong! It was the equivalent of a fat lady taking out an entire chocolate cake after licking a bite of frosting off her finger. I read all 18 volumes of it between about 8:30pm and midnight. I couldn’t stop. Not since I finally kicked my World of Warcraft habit back in 2008 have I been so drunk on nerdly delight.
This is a little how my experience reading “Runaways” started. Fifteen pages in, you find out that something is up with the parents of six regular teenagers. Gee Mom and Dad, why are you all gathering around a table in a secret library wearing cool costumes? I think, “Because they’re super heroes, right? Awesome! I wish my parents were super heroes! Yay comics!” Five pages later, the kids watch their parents murder a teen prostitute in human sacrifice. I think, “Human sacrifice? Teen prostitutes? Even better!” Oddly enough, the kids in the comic turn on their parents pretty quickly after this, vowing not to stop until they’ve brought about their wicked group’s downfall. No waiting around to see if it was all just a misunderstanding for these boys and girls! Maybe the writers were banking on the thought that deep down all teenagers already think their parents are evil, and wish they’d turn out to be diabolical magicians so their feelings would be justified.
“Runaways” is the type of story I love, where the focus is on a group of characters, all with a very distinct personality and ability. I think it’s a throwback to my days of D&D. There’s just some satisfaction knowing that you’ve got the whole set … strong dude, wizard, rogue, technomancer from the future, hot elf chick and so forth. In “Runaways” it’s a little more like, nerdy leader, goth wizard girl, hot hippie alien, jock with robot hands, super strong mutant kid, and sarcastic geek with psychically linked velociraptor. What a team!
My favorite was the dinosaur girl, Gertrude. Her parents are inter-dimensional time travelers, which explains how they got the dinosaur to give to her in the first place. There simply aren’t enough stories about evil time travelers. I think what I liked most about the idea of having a dinosaur for a weapon is that you can just hang out, tell your raptor to fetch/kill whoever you want, and then watch the magic happen. But that’s not all. Gertrude names her dinosaur Old Lace, after deciding that her code name will be Arsenic. Get it? Arsenic and Old Lace? No? Did your high school not have a theatre department?
Okay, so maybe not everyone is a theatre geek as well as a fantasy nerd. BUT for anyone who’s ever wished to be a superhero, or who just wished a dinosaur would eat their father, “Runaways” is sure to satisfy. And unlike chocolate cake, it will not give you diabetes.
Monday, February 14, 2011
You Can Never Go Home Again... Because Your Home is Full of Crime
It may be hard for some of you to believe, but I was not always the media mogul I am today. No, no. Years ago, back before I lived in this undersea mansion off the coast of Malibu, California, I was just an awkward, anorexic-looking teenager who thought not owning a pair of jeans or tennis shoes somehow made me better than the common folk. What sort of upstanding citizen wears denim trousers anyhow? What, are we all a bunch of farmers and lumberjacks?
It’s been almost ten years since I graduated high school, which means its also been almost ten years since I last lived in a charming little city called Flint, Michigan. See, being from Flint allows me the privilege of talking crap about it. If you are not from Flint, however, and you choose to state your opinion on what it’s really like to grow up there, I would advise you to purchase some sort of face protecting shield, as my shoe will likely be flying across the room in your face’s direction at any moment.
Up and coming author Connor Coyne has lived in Flint, Michigan. He is also my friend. These are two very good reasons for me not to throw a shoe at his face. Connor has written a novel, set in Flint, and entitled “Hungry Rats.” It’s about a teenage girl named Meredith, trying to find a shred of sanity in some of the most difficult living situations. Also there is a serial killer called the Rat Man, named so for the dead rats he leaves around his victims bodies. Gross? Yes. Intriguing? Definitely. If you’d like to hear a pretentious sounding review I wrote for Hungry Rats, look it up on amazon.com. Feel free to also buy Connor’s book while you’re there. No pressure or anything, but he does have an adorable child and it’s not like we’re wizards who can just rob banks using our mind powers.
Connor’s book was so interesting to read, not only because he whipped up such a darn fine story, but also because it felt like going home in a way. A dilapidated, grimy, crime-filled home.
This is usually the part of the conversation where I turn to someone and say, “Seriously though. Flint’s not that bad. There are so many things that could be worse about Flint. Like a typhus outbreak or a zombie apocalypse. Same as any big city, really.”
Now, I was never a bad kid. I didn’t have the proper wardrobe for it. So while the other more popular teens were out snorting cocaine or having under-aged sexual relations, I was hanging out with Connor at Atlas Coney Island, drinking coffee. Back then, before my liver and kidneys had to be replaced with robots, I drank my coffee black and by the gallon. Connor and I would also go for walks. Sometimes it would literally be in the middle of the night, when our friends were partying it up. We’d just walk and talk about our writing, about muppets, about any random thing. It was nice to have a friend whose thoughts were as scattered and imaginative as mine were. In the middle of reading “Hungry Rats,” the main character goes for such a midnight walk. My first instinct was to think, “Oh, God! She’s gonna get murdered! What is she, crazy?” And then I’d remember. Oops!
Most of the time, the memories I have of growing up in Flint are not the rosiest in hue. Ironic as this may be, it took my friend’s novel about serial killers in my hometown to remind me of the good times. I felt superior every time I recognized a street or building, and as you know, superior is my favorite thing to feel. Mostly, I guess I’m just proud of my friend, both for his accomplishment and for including Flint into something really positive and amazing. See? Good things can come out of Flint! It’s not that bad. Really.
So shut your flipping pie hole.
It’s been almost ten years since I graduated high school, which means its also been almost ten years since I last lived in a charming little city called Flint, Michigan. See, being from Flint allows me the privilege of talking crap about it. If you are not from Flint, however, and you choose to state your opinion on what it’s really like to grow up there, I would advise you to purchase some sort of face protecting shield, as my shoe will likely be flying across the room in your face’s direction at any moment.
Up and coming author Connor Coyne has lived in Flint, Michigan. He is also my friend. These are two very good reasons for me not to throw a shoe at his face. Connor has written a novel, set in Flint, and entitled “Hungry Rats.” It’s about a teenage girl named Meredith, trying to find a shred of sanity in some of the most difficult living situations. Also there is a serial killer called the Rat Man, named so for the dead rats he leaves around his victims bodies. Gross? Yes. Intriguing? Definitely. If you’d like to hear a pretentious sounding review I wrote for Hungry Rats, look it up on amazon.com. Feel free to also buy Connor’s book while you’re there. No pressure or anything, but he does have an adorable child and it’s not like we’re wizards who can just rob banks using our mind powers.
Connor’s book was so interesting to read, not only because he whipped up such a darn fine story, but also because it felt like going home in a way. A dilapidated, grimy, crime-filled home.
This is usually the part of the conversation where I turn to someone and say, “Seriously though. Flint’s not that bad. There are so many things that could be worse about Flint. Like a typhus outbreak or a zombie apocalypse. Same as any big city, really.”
Now, I was never a bad kid. I didn’t have the proper wardrobe for it. So while the other more popular teens were out snorting cocaine or having under-aged sexual relations, I was hanging out with Connor at Atlas Coney Island, drinking coffee. Back then, before my liver and kidneys had to be replaced with robots, I drank my coffee black and by the gallon. Connor and I would also go for walks. Sometimes it would literally be in the middle of the night, when our friends were partying it up. We’d just walk and talk about our writing, about muppets, about any random thing. It was nice to have a friend whose thoughts were as scattered and imaginative as mine were. In the middle of reading “Hungry Rats,” the main character goes for such a midnight walk. My first instinct was to think, “Oh, God! She’s gonna get murdered! What is she, crazy?” And then I’d remember. Oops!
Most of the time, the memories I have of growing up in Flint are not the rosiest in hue. Ironic as this may be, it took my friend’s novel about serial killers in my hometown to remind me of the good times. I felt superior every time I recognized a street or building, and as you know, superior is my favorite thing to feel. Mostly, I guess I’m just proud of my friend, both for his accomplishment and for including Flint into something really positive and amazing. See? Good things can come out of Flint! It’s not that bad. Really.
So shut your flipping pie hole.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Bring Me Wil Wheaton!
Wil Wheaton, if you’re out there, and if you ever perchance google yourself and find this blog, just know, that to me, you are perfect, and I will love you forever. More even, than I love Elijah Wood, and let me tell you, that is a lot of love, because he played Frodo Baggins.
If you don’t know who Wil Wheaton is, I’m ashamed of you. Not only did Wil Wheaton star in my favorite movie ever, “Stand By Me,” based off of the novella “The Body,“ which was written by my favorite author, Stephen King, BUT, he also was in a little television series in the late 1980s - early 1990s called “Star Trek: The Next Generation.” He played Wesley Crusher, a child genius and was the love of my eight-year old life. Well, he was co-love of my life along with Neil Patrick Harris in the role of another child genius, on the show “Doogie Howser, MD.” Oh, how our childhood dreams get shattered.
But back to Wil Wheaton.
What’s Wil Wheaton doing these days? Making hysterical guest appearances on “The Big Bang Theory,“ that’s what. His first cameo revolved around one of the lead characters seeking revenge on Wheaton after failing to show up to a Star Trek convention.
But that’s not all he’s been doing. Wil Wheaton writes books now. Several actually. I only recently discovered this after stumbling upon his blog. You heard me right, Deafy McDeafpants! Wil Wheaton has a blog, just like me! Only his has way more people reading it. The blog is hilarious, and I highly encourage you to check it out at http://wilwheaton.typepad.com. When I was a tween, like every other tween girl I knew, I had pictures of all the five million actors I was in love with on my bedroom walls. Wil Wheaton was one of them. Too often though, I’d pick up some magazine like GQ or Vanity Fair or even Entertainment Weekly, not realizing that just because these magazines had my current soul mate on the cover did not mean they were appropriate reading material for a twelve-year-old girl. I remember having my bubble burst upon reading an article on John Cusack, and he said something slutty to contradict his ‘nice guy’ image. I was horrified. How dare you be a real human male with non-romantically comedic sexual urges, John Cusack?! How dare you?!
Then I grew up, and realized that most actors are probably jerks anyway, because who else would choose a career where they get to have people stare at and worship them every second of the day?
But not Wil Wheaton. He is a hero that all geeks should praise and strive to emulate. Not only does he have a super hot wife, but he’s also an exceptionally clever and witty writer, in addition to being a talented actor. Seriously, have you seen “Stand By Me?” That movie defined my youth. My childhood best friend Sarah and I used to act out the scenes where Wil and River Phoenix each break down crying on each other, lamenting how messed up their young lives are. I remember sitting on a bench at summer camp, and suddenly bursting out in a tearful rendition of Wil Wheaton’s monologue where he admits his father wishes he’d died instead of his brother Denny (also played by John Cusack. See how this came full circle?) I’m sure we freaked out more than a few of our fellow campers. It was fantastic. And so is Wil Wheaton.
Let it be known, Wil Wheaton is officially added to the list of “Dudes I really want to meet before I die.” I’ve been reading his blog pretty consistently now, and this past Sunday I started reading one of his books, “Just a Geek.“ It’s a memoir about his struggles to find a career and support his family after quitting “Star Trek.” He has another collection of essays called “Dancing Barefoot,” and I hear he’s begun to dabble in fiction as well. Unfortunately, it seems right now that most of his work is only available in ebook form, and you all know how much I shake my fist at technology. Maybe for Wil Wheaton, I’ll make an exception.
If you don’t know who Wil Wheaton is, I’m ashamed of you. Not only did Wil Wheaton star in my favorite movie ever, “Stand By Me,” based off of the novella “The Body,“ which was written by my favorite author, Stephen King, BUT, he also was in a little television series in the late 1980s - early 1990s called “Star Trek: The Next Generation.” He played Wesley Crusher, a child genius and was the love of my eight-year old life. Well, he was co-love of my life along with Neil Patrick Harris in the role of another child genius, on the show “Doogie Howser, MD.” Oh, how our childhood dreams get shattered.
But back to Wil Wheaton.
What’s Wil Wheaton doing these days? Making hysterical guest appearances on “The Big Bang Theory,“ that’s what. His first cameo revolved around one of the lead characters seeking revenge on Wheaton after failing to show up to a Star Trek convention.
But that’s not all he’s been doing. Wil Wheaton writes books now. Several actually. I only recently discovered this after stumbling upon his blog. You heard me right, Deafy McDeafpants! Wil Wheaton has a blog, just like me! Only his has way more people reading it. The blog is hilarious, and I highly encourage you to check it out at http://wilwheaton.typepad.com. When I was a tween, like every other tween girl I knew, I had pictures of all the five million actors I was in love with on my bedroom walls. Wil Wheaton was one of them. Too often though, I’d pick up some magazine like GQ or Vanity Fair or even Entertainment Weekly, not realizing that just because these magazines had my current soul mate on the cover did not mean they were appropriate reading material for a twelve-year-old girl. I remember having my bubble burst upon reading an article on John Cusack, and he said something slutty to contradict his ‘nice guy’ image. I was horrified. How dare you be a real human male with non-romantically comedic sexual urges, John Cusack?! How dare you?!
Then I grew up, and realized that most actors are probably jerks anyway, because who else would choose a career where they get to have people stare at and worship them every second of the day?
But not Wil Wheaton. He is a hero that all geeks should praise and strive to emulate. Not only does he have a super hot wife, but he’s also an exceptionally clever and witty writer, in addition to being a talented actor. Seriously, have you seen “Stand By Me?” That movie defined my youth. My childhood best friend Sarah and I used to act out the scenes where Wil and River Phoenix each break down crying on each other, lamenting how messed up their young lives are. I remember sitting on a bench at summer camp, and suddenly bursting out in a tearful rendition of Wil Wheaton’s monologue where he admits his father wishes he’d died instead of his brother Denny (also played by John Cusack. See how this came full circle?) I’m sure we freaked out more than a few of our fellow campers. It was fantastic. And so is Wil Wheaton.
Let it be known, Wil Wheaton is officially added to the list of “Dudes I really want to meet before I die.” I’ve been reading his blog pretty consistently now, and this past Sunday I started reading one of his books, “Just a Geek.“ It’s a memoir about his struggles to find a career and support his family after quitting “Star Trek.” He has another collection of essays called “Dancing Barefoot,” and I hear he’s begun to dabble in fiction as well. Unfortunately, it seems right now that most of his work is only available in ebook form, and you all know how much I shake my fist at technology. Maybe for Wil Wheaton, I’ll make an exception.
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