Thursday, August 16, 2007

Stardust

Went to see Stardust last night with my BigStupidHero. I don't have time for my usual page long wandering and ranting so I'll make a few quick observations...

First and foremost: Go See this Movie! Seriously. This is one of those few in a lifetime just plain old GOOD movies. Don't pussy around and miss seeing it in the theaters.

Second and secondmost: I cringed at the "Princess Bride" comparisons I have heard bandied about the last few weeks. Princess Bride is my favorite movie of all time and I did not want to set my hopes that high and then resent a perfectly good movie for failing to meet my ridiculously high benchmark. I beat my inner child into submission and went to see Stardust with that wonderful ability of mine to completely wipe my mind blank on demand. At the end of the movie I was left sitting in the dark and quiet when suddenly in the back corner of my mind my twelve year old self cried out; "It was! It was! I told you it could happen!" For the first time in years I didn't reprimand her out loud for her impertinence.

Third and thirdmost: There are parts that are different. It has been nigh on a decade or more since I read the book. I intentionally did NOT reread it before seeing the movie. Again I was protecting myself against disappointment. I know there were things, they are nudging me from my peripheral consciousness. This has only served to make me want to reread the book. I do NOT think the book will make me love the movie less or visa versa. There are things that must be done to make things fit in a reasonable movie time limit. I think this should be held out as a beautiful example of doing so without losing the "good bits."

Fourth and fourthmost: My BigStupidHero stated drolly as the credits rolled; "I believe that Ricky Gervais could take a shit on the floor and I would find it the funniest damn thing I'd ever seen." I can go on a page long explanation of why Gervais amazes me, but I will not. I will simply say that there was not a throw away part in this movie. Every piddly ass character given screen time was wonderful. Gervais stole his scenes effortlessly even sharing it with a personal favorite of mine: Robert DeNiro. And let me say this... I worried when DeNiro strode through his first scene. I thought "what the hell is he doing? it seems so over the top, so unnatural, so overacted! why?! shit, don't let DeNiro ruin this for me. please ye gods not DeNiro, I LIKE him!" I should never have doubted him. I beg forgiveness. He stole my heart yet again, this time all the sweeter for the doubting. Even the goat made me smile... until he... well that was just... I'm still not sure what I think about that.

Lastly and hindmost: This movie restored my faith in movies. What George Lucas strangled slowly and painful to death, Stardust breathed the breath of life into. (Lord of the Rings doesn't count as restoring my faith in movies as I was still in the anger stage of grief and could not bring myself to love again...yet.)

I end my review with one word and if that one word does not sway you then you are a vapid heartless cold cruel horrible person with no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

UNICORN!

Monday, August 6, 2007

Where's my angry elephant when I need it!?

Edit:
I have decided that I need to include a mood indicator on my posts kinda as a warning system of some sort...
The forecast for this post is: Overcast early on with a 90% chance of nihilism and scattered rage storms by late afternoon.

I hate working in a public building with a public bench directly outside my very old and very uninsulated window. In this old building the windows are anything but sound proof and if you happen to sit outside my window and speak in anything other than a conspiratorial whisper I can and will hear abso-fucking-lutely everything you say. And being the horribly judgemental hateful person I am I will most likely repeat it verbatim to anyone who might remotely find it interesting, pathetic, funny, or instructive. I found the conversation of a thirty-something mother who sat on my bench this afternoon to be ALL those things and more, so I thought I would post it in it's entirety. The following occurred precisely as I've recorded for your reading pleasure (the bits in quotation marks are spoken into a cell phone):



No.
Sit here.
No.
You will sit here and you will stay here.
No.
One way or another you will learn to sit here and you will learn to obey.
Stop.
No.
Sit.
Stop.
Stop.

"No.
I have to stay here because they won’t behave."

Sit.

"What?
What?
Well, alright."

You will learn to listen
You will learn to behave
One way or another you will learn
The hard way or the nice way
Are you guys gonna sit down and behave?
No?
Sit down.

"He doesn’t want to sit.
He won’t sit on the bench like he’s supposed to.
He just wants to kick things."

You will sit.
Why are your shoes off?

"He will learn to behave."

You’ll be sorry.
Sit.
Sit.
Be quiet.
Stop it.

"Oh my god, these kids."

Stop it now.
Now.
Quit.

"*muttering *… you would of thought.
Uh-oh."

Stop.
You’re a naughty boy.

"I don’t know."

Say please.
No.
Alright babies, be good!

"I can't go back in, they won't behave."

No.
You can't you back in.
Only good kids get to go in there.
They don't want you.
You have to sit.
Sit.
No.
No.
Behave.
Sit.
Be quiet.

"I have to go.
They won't behave."

Stop it.
Stop it.
There’s no reason to cry.
Aw fudge! (That's right folks, she won't curse in front of the little bundles of joy God blessed her with. Probably because it would be unChristian to do so. Just a guess on the motive there, but I'd be willing to lay down money on it.)
You listen!
Stop.
Sit.
Sit.
No.
No.
Be quiet.
Stop it.
Get to the car.



That's it. That's the conversation this wonderfully charming person carried on with, and about, her babies. I did not leave anything out, except for the bit that was muttered, and that certainly wasn't uplifting and caring sounding by the tone. Speaking of tone, almost all of this was delivered at conversational volume in an almost monotone, as though she had said this a kajillion times. The two children, one boy and one girl both under the age of 3-4 years old, took turns crying, quietly and persistently, throughout this 15 minute ordeal. When I stepped outside an hour later to leave work I spotted something sitting on the bench under my window. A solitary cheap white plastic cigarette lighter. I feel sorry for the woman, and even sorrier for the kids. Yet, wait, ...no. No I don't. Fuck 'em. I chose not to have children and will die a lonely old witch, so I say "That's what you get for fucking without thinking!" Sure the miserable little tykes will end up paying for their parents horrible judgement, but really don't we all... So yeah, fuck 'em. I hate people and the people who turn them turn into the people I hate.