Over the past several years, I've had some recurring dreams that place me back in high school. In the typical one, I'm naked or otherwise in some state of undress. But in a deviation from what tv has told me is the standard, no one ever notices. And my quest is always to find clothes before everyone realizes that I'm without them. The dream ends, of course, after my nonstop failure to get this done.
The next frequent one features me getting the news that I won't graduate because I've failed to complete required coursework. I usually wake up and flutter around in a panic until I remember that I've actually got a university degree.
A couple nights ago, I had a school-related dream that I haven't had since I was an active student. In this one, my classmates and I have all come out of a math exam. Everyone is fretting, and everyone wants to know what answers I came up with for various questions. Joke's on them, though, because I totally guessed at all the answers. I don't know any theories or formulas and I'm pretty sure all my answers are wrong. Still, everyone looks to me like I'm the authority.
So, it seems that in the estimation of my subconscious, I have gone from being a failure to merely being a fraud. That's something, I guess!
Saturday
Monday
A story for Halloween.
A few weeks or so ago, as I am often to be found doing, I was reading an article in the New York Times Magazine. This particular article was about Damien Echols, one of the men known as the West Memphis Three, subject of the documentaries titled Paradise Lost, and erstwhile denizen of Arkansas's Death Row.
A bit of background, if you need it. Back in 1993, three 8 year-old boys were found horribly murdered in West Memphis, Arkansas. Three teenage boys were accused, tried, and convicted of the killings. Unfortunately, there was approximately zero to negative evidence that they actually did it. Instead of, say, evidence tying them to the crime, the prosecution relied on the following rubric: they wore black clothes, had long hair, and listened to music like Metallica. Therefore, they worshipped Satan. Therefore, they killed the children as part of a Satan-worshipping cult ritual.
This August, the State of Arkansas arranged a plea deal and the three men were set free after 18 years in prison.
Reading the article took me back to when I had first seen the documentary and it made a big impact on me. I am, or was, the same age as the boys who were murdered, but when I watched the film I was closer in age to its teenage subjects. It's a story I've kept up on over the years, though I hadn't thought about it in some time when I heard about the Three's release. With the increase in news stories, it's to be expected, I guess, that I've spent some time thinking about it now.
What I wasn't prepared for was the shock of realization and revelation that came to me about that period of time. You guys, do you remember back in the 80s and 90s when everybody was obsessed with devil worshipping? Do you remember that shit? I had kind of forgotten. But there was this case. There was the McMartin preschool case. I'm pretty sure at some point my sister insisted I watch Oprah have a very special episode talking about Satanism. I remember when my cousin was taking classes for her confirmation, and the priests told her class that the woods of South Jersey were crawling with crazy devil worshippers ready and waiting to snatch us up. She came home from one late-night meeting crying. Nevermind that among her friends were the very black-clad weirdos the clergy were probably envisioning.
At the time, I don't think I knew that there was anything wrong with this. When you're a kid, these things are always real. We rented way too many scary movies. I remember creeping down my staircase at night thinking, "It's not real. It's not real." about some malevolent force or another. I was convinced that some presence lived in my closet. When I saw this documentary, I had the definite sense that these kids were innocent. They were weird. I was weird. It was all a misunderstanding. But it never occurred to me that the premise of their prosecution, ritual Satanic murder, was unsound. They may not have done it, but such things were done. Everybody knew it was real.
Looking back at it now, I am horrified to the point of laughter. I can't believe that we all lived in a world where the mere suggestion was not the most batshit thing you'd ever heard. Not a child's world where this stuff was real anyway, but the actual adult world in which people believed this with a straight face.
I'm not sure when things changed. By the time I was in high school, the kids in black trench coats were suspected of plotting school shootings, not devil worship. I read that it might have to do with the religious right turning their attention on The Gays who, of course, aren't out to kill your children, just corrupt them and warp their minds. We are still lamenting society's turpitude, with reality tv and what have you, it's just that these now these degradations are characterized as the innate failings of individuals rather than the influence of external evil spirits.
I guess if you look at it solely in this context, that's almost progress.
A bit of background, if you need it. Back in 1993, three 8 year-old boys were found horribly murdered in West Memphis, Arkansas. Three teenage boys were accused, tried, and convicted of the killings. Unfortunately, there was approximately zero to negative evidence that they actually did it. Instead of, say, evidence tying them to the crime, the prosecution relied on the following rubric: they wore black clothes, had long hair, and listened to music like Metallica. Therefore, they worshipped Satan. Therefore, they killed the children as part of a Satan-worshipping cult ritual.
This August, the State of Arkansas arranged a plea deal and the three men were set free after 18 years in prison.
Reading the article took me back to when I had first seen the documentary and it made a big impact on me. I am, or was, the same age as the boys who were murdered, but when I watched the film I was closer in age to its teenage subjects. It's a story I've kept up on over the years, though I hadn't thought about it in some time when I heard about the Three's release. With the increase in news stories, it's to be expected, I guess, that I've spent some time thinking about it now.
What I wasn't prepared for was the shock of realization and revelation that came to me about that period of time. You guys, do you remember back in the 80s and 90s when everybody was obsessed with devil worshipping? Do you remember that shit? I had kind of forgotten. But there was this case. There was the McMartin preschool case. I'm pretty sure at some point my sister insisted I watch Oprah have a very special episode talking about Satanism. I remember when my cousin was taking classes for her confirmation, and the priests told her class that the woods of South Jersey were crawling with crazy devil worshippers ready and waiting to snatch us up. She came home from one late-night meeting crying. Nevermind that among her friends were the very black-clad weirdos the clergy were probably envisioning.
At the time, I don't think I knew that there was anything wrong with this. When you're a kid, these things are always real. We rented way too many scary movies. I remember creeping down my staircase at night thinking, "It's not real. It's not real." about some malevolent force or another. I was convinced that some presence lived in my closet. When I saw this documentary, I had the definite sense that these kids were innocent. They were weird. I was weird. It was all a misunderstanding. But it never occurred to me that the premise of their prosecution, ritual Satanic murder, was unsound. They may not have done it, but such things were done. Everybody knew it was real.
Looking back at it now, I am horrified to the point of laughter. I can't believe that we all lived in a world where the mere suggestion was not the most batshit thing you'd ever heard. Not a child's world where this stuff was real anyway, but the actual adult world in which people believed this with a straight face.
I'm not sure when things changed. By the time I was in high school, the kids in black trench coats were suspected of plotting school shootings, not devil worship. I read that it might have to do with the religious right turning their attention on The Gays who, of course, aren't out to kill your children, just corrupt them and warp their minds. We are still lamenting society's turpitude, with reality tv and what have you, it's just that these now these degradations are characterized as the innate failings of individuals rather than the influence of external evil spirits.
I guess if you look at it solely in this context, that's almost progress.
Thursday
Yes, there were pirouettes.
No, you won't be able to sing along.
Today I lived a dream that I had waited literally twenty years to see realized.
That's right, my friends: NEWSIES THE MUSICAL.
And, much like the ultimate outcome of the 1899 newsboys' strike, compromises were made, but it was ultimately a positively transformative experience.
Firstly, and most importantly, you will not be able to sing along. In my case, this may have been for the best. But in addition to adding several new numbers, the stage production changes a significant portion of the lyrics of the familiar tunes. "King Of New York" comes away with the least editing, so prep yourself for that. The dancing, though, was all in. It was like the most niche-market Cirque du Soleil you could imagine. The stage is its medium and it was glorious. The curtain call was more entertaining than perhaps half the shows I've ever seen. The set, comprised mainly of blocks of fire escapes, was a little Jailhouse Rock, but it made for an excellent platform for swinging and spinning.
There are also many changes to the storyline. Some of these worked for me, others didn't, but most just made me question. I feel like I need to sit for a while and suss out what the message of the show is, and how these choices serve (or don't serve) that message. Most reviews that you can already find of the show have made note that the story of the working class struggle against the wealthy elite is more resonant these days than it was in the early 90s. While that's certainly true, the story here is actually about the working class youth and their railing against the oppressive institutions of their elders. Considering that I attended a matinee performance, this was surprisingly well received by the audience. I have not yet reached a verdict.
Let me break down some of the other changes for you:
Omg, you guys. You remember Jack Kelly's love interest? She was a blonde girl, I think she was Davey's sister or something? Of course you don't. No one remembers her because she served absolutely no purpose. So they went and did the best thing I can think of: They made her Bryan Denton. It is by miles the best change in the production. (And, earning my love even further, she is still the king, not queen, of New York.) Unfortunately, the actress playing her is only half as delightful as she needs to be. But in more dynamic hands, this could be a role that little girls grow up longing to play, and her solo song is the only one of the additions that I fully enjoyed.
Crutchy's up ... nearly everyone else is down.
Without the megawatt star power of Max Casella, our main newsie becomes Crutchy. This makes a lot of sense, and it works for how they tell the story. Unfortunately, while the rest of the ensemble retains their quirky nicknames, they're even less discernible as individual characters than they were in the film. That's not Crutchy's fault; he's not getting more lines at the expense of anyone. But it seems like a waste of resources. I would have liked to see distinctive and memorable characters*. In addition to Crutchy, they also bulked up the role of Les, Davey's little brother. I liked that, too. He was entertaining. He added to things. Unfortunately, this left Davey himself off in a corner. Played very much as a Portrait of the Nebbish as a Young Man, he neither establishes a meaningful relationship with Jack nor does he stand on his own as a strike organizer. Around the beginning of the second half, I was trying to figure out, "Which one is that again?" before realizing it was Dave. Oy.
*Most especially for the love-of-my-young-life, Spot Conlon. Yes, Spot. He's a glorified extra. I should have asked Harvey Fierstein if he's familiar with the term "ensemble darkhorse." Oh hey, by the way, I totally met Harvey Fierstein. If he's reading this, I was the girl who shouted "Thank you, Mr. Fierstein!" as you were bookin' it to the parking lot. It is so, so, so weird that you don't have a beard anymore, by the way.
Pulitzer's moustache was not long enough to twirl.
But damned if he didn't try. In my least favorite modification, Joseph Pulitzer was portrayed as the most villainous villain this side of Anastasia's Rasputin. Granted, almost anything is a step down from Robert Duvall, but it was sour to realize that he could have gotten away with his monopolistic schemes if it hadn't been for those meddling kids.
Let's talk about Jeremy Jordan.
Jeremy Jordan played Jack Kelly. In his bio, it reads: "Jeremy Jordan is fulfilling his lifelong (well, since he was 9) dream of playing the infamous Jack Kelly!" And you guys, the highest compliment I can pay his performance is that I believe it. He was amazing. Christian Bale can get in line. God, I hope he makes it.
As a final note, I'd just like to say that the Paper Mill Playhouse has some serious layout issues to which the wicked bruise above my right knee can attest. They did provide me with an iced pumpkin muffin, though, which was nearly worth the $5 I paid for it.
Ladies and (... just ladies, right?), Newsies! the Musical.
Wednesday
Just one more okay then I'll stop okay
To wit, here is how I would rank the books. And when I say "rank" in this instance, I'm not necessarily making a judgement on quality; this is based on the probability I will reread the book. NB I will reread all the books.
1. Order of the Phoenix
2. Prisoner of Azkaban
3. Deathly Hallows
4. Half-Blood Prince
5. Chamber of Secrets
6. Philosopher's Stone
7. Goblet of Fire
1. Order of the Phoenix
2. Prisoner of Azkaban
3. Deathly Hallows
4. Half-Blood Prince
5. Chamber of Secrets
6. Philosopher's Stone
7. Goblet of Fire
Monday
Ranked.
This post is still about Harry Potter.
Officially, then, this is how I would rank the Harry Potter films, top to bottom:
1. Prisoner of Azkaban
2. Order of the Phoenix
3. Deathly Hallows
4. Goblet of Fire
5. Philosopher's Stone
6. Chamber of Secrets
7. Half-Blood Prince
Discuss. But mostly corroborate my findings or gtfo. I kid. But really.
Officially, then, this is how I would rank the Harry Potter films, top to bottom:
1. Prisoner of Azkaban
2. Order of the Phoenix
3. Deathly Hallows
4. Goblet of Fire
5. Philosopher's Stone
6. Chamber of Secrets
7. Half-Blood Prince
Discuss. But mostly corroborate my findings or gtfo. I kid. But really.
Sunday
Addendum.
[Begin Spoiler for This post is still about Harry Potter. — Highlight to view]
I liked all the parts that everyone else liked. You know, Neville. McGonagall. The things.
The part that almost got me, though? Like, I mean, the part where a warm tear threatened to squeak from the far corner of my eye? Seeing the Cornish pixie and the Devil's Snare in the Room of Requirement. Aww. All this stuff.
Also, and I mentioned this before when the trailer came out, but I don't think it was in the proper venue. You know how in Goblet of Fire, there's the showdown in the graveyard, and priori incantatem, and the wands connect and all that? And remember how there's more unintentional comedy because Harry looks like he's struggling for control with all he's got and Voldemort -- though looking equally under strain -- is holding on to his wand with, like, two fingers? I have never been able to take that scene seriously.
But I have a strange retroactive affection for it now, because during the final showdown, Harry is holding strong with only one arm. And that is a stupendous, visceral image.
I thought other things, too, obviously, but what else am I really going to say?
[End Spoiler]
In other news, can we please start losing our shit about The Hobbit? I feel like I've been patient for a long time, but now I really must insist.
I liked all the parts that everyone else liked. You know, Neville. McGonagall. The things.
The part that almost got me, though? Like, I mean, the part where a warm tear threatened to squeak from the far corner of my eye? Seeing the Cornish pixie and the Devil's Snare in the Room of Requirement. Aww. All this stuff.
Also, and I mentioned this before when the trailer came out, but I don't think it was in the proper venue. You know how in Goblet of Fire, there's the showdown in the graveyard, and priori incantatem, and the wands connect and all that? And remember how there's more unintentional comedy because Harry looks like he's struggling for control with all he's got and Voldemort -- though looking equally under strain -- is holding on to his wand with, like, two fingers? I have never been able to take that scene seriously.
But I have a strange retroactive affection for it now, because during the final showdown, Harry is holding strong with only one arm. And that is a stupendous, visceral image.
I thought other things, too, obviously, but what else am I really going to say?
[End Spoiler]
In other news, can we please start losing our shit about The Hobbit? I feel like I've been patient for a long time, but now I really must insist.
Wednesday
Guess what this post is about.
I don't update my blog!? You don't update your blog.
[Begin Spoiler for What are these spoilers about? — Highlight to view]
It was okay.
That's such a let down! I really feel like I should have more to say, but the most pressing thing that I feel the need to utter about the final Harry Potter film is: "It was okay." Maybe I'm doing it wrong.
I saw it twice. Once in 3D because they really want you to see it in 3D. It was better the second time. I think that's because I knew what to expect. The first time around, I didn't (I mean, I did, obviously, but not how the path to get there would look) and sitting there wondering "what happens next?" was not a pleasant experience at all. It wasn't a thrilling, shovelling-popcorn-into-your-mouth kind of "what happens next?" it was a "well... this is awkward" sort of "what happens next?"
I'm blaming David Yates because I don't know whom else to blame. I mean, I think there's some debate to be had in here about the limits of verisimilitude as it relates to creating art, but I'm not jazzed enough to have that conversation.
I idly wonder if, maybe in ten years or so, the series can be redone. Not reshot, you understand. Not recast. Remastered, maybe. Alt takes. Different editing. Digitally making young Lily's eyes not brown. You know.
My God, you guys. Can you believe that shit with Lily's eye color? The unintentional humor quotient was so high. I'm not exactly sure what color Geraldine Somerville's eyes are, because she's always in sepia memory foam, but you can at least tell that they are light-colored. Close enough. And if you recall that Albus was the only one of Harry's children to inherit Lily's eyes, it is really rather awesome when the epilogue scene rolls around and Daniel Radcliffe and his pretend son have the exact same color eyes. And, I mean, I don't want to even pretend to be one of those people to whom hair and eye desperately matter, but we had reached the actual, literal moment when "You have your mother's eyes" pays out, and BAM! brown-eyed baby Lily. If I may ... lol.
Speaking of which, I love the epilogue. Always have always will. Whatevs.
On the most positive end, every performance was flawless. Alan Rickman was for once not under-utilized, and you could practically hear him shout "Fucking finally" through his performance. This movie also renewed my desire to one day be bffs with Daniel Radcliffe. Is it weird to be proud of someone you've never met? Probably. I want to draw hearts around his face in the most non-romantic yet soul-mate-ish way possible. This adds to my conviction that there must have been a shinier diamond to be cut from this raw material.
I mean, ten goddamn years and all you see is the back of Ron's head. I ask you.
[End Spoiler]
[Begin Spoiler for What are these spoilers about? — Highlight to view]
It was okay.
That's such a let down! I really feel like I should have more to say, but the most pressing thing that I feel the need to utter about the final Harry Potter film is: "It was okay." Maybe I'm doing it wrong.
I saw it twice. Once in 3D because they really want you to see it in 3D. It was better the second time. I think that's because I knew what to expect. The first time around, I didn't (I mean, I did, obviously, but not how the path to get there would look) and sitting there wondering "what happens next?" was not a pleasant experience at all. It wasn't a thrilling, shovelling-popcorn-into-your-mouth kind of "what happens next?" it was a "well... this is awkward" sort of "what happens next?"
I'm blaming David Yates because I don't know whom else to blame. I mean, I think there's some debate to be had in here about the limits of verisimilitude as it relates to creating art, but I'm not jazzed enough to have that conversation.
I idly wonder if, maybe in ten years or so, the series can be redone. Not reshot, you understand. Not recast. Remastered, maybe. Alt takes. Different editing. Digitally making young Lily's eyes not brown. You know.
My God, you guys. Can you believe that shit with Lily's eye color? The unintentional humor quotient was so high. I'm not exactly sure what color Geraldine Somerville's eyes are, because she's always in sepia memory foam, but you can at least tell that they are light-colored. Close enough. And if you recall that Albus was the only one of Harry's children to inherit Lily's eyes, it is really rather awesome when the epilogue scene rolls around and Daniel Radcliffe and his pretend son have the exact same color eyes. And, I mean, I don't want to even pretend to be one of those people to whom hair and eye desperately matter, but we had reached the actual, literal moment when "You have your mother's eyes" pays out, and BAM! brown-eyed baby Lily. If I may ... lol.
Speaking of which, I love the epilogue. Always have always will. Whatevs.
On the most positive end, every performance was flawless. Alan Rickman was for once not under-utilized, and you could practically hear him shout "Fucking finally" through his performance. This movie also renewed my desire to one day be bffs with Daniel Radcliffe. Is it weird to be proud of someone you've never met? Probably. I want to draw hearts around his face in the most non-romantic yet soul-mate-ish way possible. This adds to my conviction that there must have been a shinier diamond to be cut from this raw material.
I mean, ten goddamn years and all you see is the back of Ron's head. I ask you.
[End Spoiler]
Monday
Happy Birthday, babies!
Oh man, you remember when I had that one cat, and then a whole bunch of baby cats came out of that one cat? Somehow, inexplicably, that happened an entire year ago.
Aside from dates that I made up arbitrarily, I have never known a pet's birthday before, and hence have not been able to express my cat-lady craziness to the utmost extent that it needs must go. Although, confidentially, so far that has involved only giving them fish treats and some catnip. I didn't buy them hats or anything.
The ceiling in the basement partially collapsed, but that's only tangentially related.
HERE ARE SOME PICTURES OF MY NOW-ENORMOUS BABIES:
All shapes and sizes and colors!
Super Handsome!
Crafty!
As ever!
Color-coordinated!
Adorableness!
Thanks for all the babies, Penny!
And now, just for kicks, here's a picture of some turkeys walking down the street.
Aside from dates that I made up arbitrarily, I have never known a pet's birthday before, and hence have not been able to express my cat-lady craziness to the utmost extent that it needs must go. Although, confidentially, so far that has involved only giving them fish treats and some catnip. I didn't buy them hats or anything.
The ceiling in the basement partially collapsed, but that's only tangentially related.
HERE ARE SOME PICTURES OF MY NOW-ENORMOUS BABIES:
And now, just for kicks, here's a picture of some turkeys walking down the street.
Sunday
Wednesday
I was told this story is blog-worthy.
I have come to agree with that assessment.
The other night, I did my customary picking-up-of-Jillian. I will force her to love me. You'll see. She was surprisingly receptive to my advances, and didn't start squirming until I had been holding her for a minute or so.
I tried to readjust her, at which point she FLIPPED OUT. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" She became a flying puff ball of claws.
-- Two things. 1. When I said Jillian says "no" I meant that in the most literal sense. She literally says "no". Literally meaning "literally" and not "figuratively". 2. None of the kids have ever scratched anyone on purpose, and most accidental scratchings have been under control since they were maybe six-ish months. Jillian.
She flew and crashed into the bedroom and up into the ceiling cubby. (Fig. 1) This caused Penny to freak out and jump up there, too, growling and hissing. This caused Jack to be freak out, because he is always upset when Mommy gets upset. (BECAUSE HE IS PILOT.) I tried to comfort him, but he wouldn't even let me pet him. Sammie and Bowie had been napping peacefully on the bed, but they scrambled under it. Henry wasn't around when this happened, but he wandered in shortly after, seeing everyone freaked out and wondering what the yotz was going on.
Then, Jillian poked her head out of the cubby, and happily surveyed my now bleeding finger. She then hopped down and started batting a toy around while the other cats remained traumatized.
The cat used me to attention whore.
The other night, I did my customary picking-up-of-Jillian. I will force her to love me. You'll see. She was surprisingly receptive to my advances, and didn't start squirming until I had been holding her for a minute or so.
I tried to readjust her, at which point she FLIPPED OUT. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" She became a flying puff ball of claws.
-- Two things. 1. When I said Jillian says "no" I meant that in the most literal sense. She literally says "no". Literally meaning "literally" and not "figuratively". 2. None of the kids have ever scratched anyone on purpose, and most accidental scratchings have been under control since they were maybe six-ish months. Jillian.
She flew and crashed into the bedroom and up into the ceiling cubby. (Fig. 1) This caused Penny to freak out and jump up there, too, growling and hissing. This caused Jack to be freak out, because he is always upset when Mommy gets upset. (BECAUSE HE IS PILOT.) I tried to comfort him, but he wouldn't even let me pet him. Sammie and Bowie had been napping peacefully on the bed, but they scrambled under it. Henry wasn't around when this happened, but he wandered in shortly after, seeing everyone freaked out and wondering what the yotz was going on.
Then, Jillian poked her head out of the cubby, and happily surveyed my now bleeding finger. She then hopped down and started batting a toy around while the other cats remained traumatized.
The cat used me to attention whore.
Sunday
No one is D'Argo, thank goodness.
You guys, I just realized that instead of trying to explain the personalities of my cats, I could have just told you which Farscape character they are most like. This is alarmingly accurate!
I suppose I could do the same with other ensemble shows, but so far none have worked as well. Maybe Angel.
Sammie is Aeryn.
Bowie is Crichton.
Henry is Rygel.
Jillian is Chiana.
Jack is Pilot.
And Penny is Moya. Poor Penny.
Now which one do you want?
I suppose I could do the same with other ensemble shows, but so far none have worked as well. Maybe Angel.
Sammie is Aeryn.
Bowie is Crichton.
Henry is Rygel.
Jillian is Chiana.
Jack is Pilot.
And Penny is Moya. Poor Penny.
Now which one do you want?
Wowie, Harry Potter!
I liked the new Harry Potter movie, you guys.
[Begin Spoiler for The Deathly Hallows, .5 — Highlight to view]
I mean, don't get me wrong. I will nitpick the hell of out it. However, contingent upon the second half maintaining and hopefully surpassing the quality of the first half, this is the best Harry Potter movie. BETTER THAN AZKABAN, OKAY.
This is due, in enormously large part, to the pacing. In that there is some. I think what made HBP suck so much (ps you guys HBP sucked quite a lot) is that it had slow, plodding scenes connected by quick transitions. It was like: Scene.Scene.Scene.Scene.Scene. It doesn't matter how good the scenes were (some of them were okay), that's not a movie.
This is a movie. Just like a real movie! And not a visual SparkNotes. A couple bits were a little Yates-y (i.e. slow to the point of being uncomfortable), like Dumbledore's will unfolding or Xenophilius drawing the Deathly Hallows symbol or ... well, we'll get to the dance. But mostly that crap was kept to a minimum. Atmosphere was attained! Themes were developed! Emotions were evoked!
This is sounding like a lot of backhanded praise. Honestly, though, one of my major feelings is relief that this picture didn't suck when I could easily imagine the ways in which it would suck. So, there's that. On top of that relief, I enjoyed the movie quite a bit, but that was maybe a given. I mean, I don't know if you've noticed this about me, but I like Harry Potter.
Now, here's some shit: That dance was stupid, David Yates. I read a review already that said of it, "it's supposed to be tender and heartfelt but comes off awkward and forced in". Or, you know, sentiments to that effect. So true. And I was already annoyed by that point because of the following anecdote I'll relate.
On Thursday, a certain comm I'm in posted an early review that called HP "just like Twilight" because of the love triangle and whatall. Everyone laughed because clearly that writer is unfamiliar with either story. Then I went and I saw the movie, and it dawned on me, "Oh shit, that guy is kinda right. They're even in a tent!" In the book, it's clear (to the literate) that it's Ron and Hermione, and that Ron's romantic jealousy is a manifestation of the fact that he's insanely jealous of his best friend and maybe he should deal with those issues. Not because there could actually be something there. But in the movie ... are they trying to make me think there could be something there? It seems like they are. I mean, not that Harry has any romantic chemistry with Hermione, but he doesn't have any chemistry with Ginny, either, so what message am I getting?
Sidebar: I can't pretend anymore. I wanted to deny. Harry and Ginny have zero chemistry and it's horrible. And I sorta-ship it! And I adore Bonnie Wright. She's gorgeous and I want to smish her. And it's not her fault! She had beautiful depth of emotion when she turned her back to him. Anytime they're facing each other, though, it's like a kid playing with Barbies and making them kiss. I'm terrified for the finale, because how can I suspend my disbelief long enough to believe these people made three kids??
Harry doesn't say anything to Ron after the locket thing. Awkward city. That locket scene in general was just a mess. Anyway. It really does feel like they threw in a last minute love-triangle subplot. I blame Steve Kloves.
Disappointing: Xeno was a bit of a creepster. I didn't get the emotions out of that scene that I wanted. Ditto the Hermione torture. She was good for her part, but Ron needed to freak out more. And ... some other things I forget.
Neutral: I really wanted to see a snake rip out of a corpse, but at least they kept the blood on Hermione's hands. The animated part was okay.
On the plus side: The Snatchers were effectively creepy. The Ministry scenes were excellent. Helena Bonham Carter makes up for most things. Neville is in this movie for two seconds and those two seconds are bad-ass.
And ... I cried over Dobby. I don't even know how! I assure you I kept my heart as stony as possible. He's a CGI bat for goodness sake! But then he's going on about how happy he is to be with his friend Harry and ... oh fuck, there's a leak in my face.
And then ... we paused the DVD to hit the lavs and get a snack. Seriously. The most evident problem with Deathly Hallows: Part 1 is that it's only half a movie. It is not the first half of a two-parter and it is not, as I have seen spouted in many places, a "setup" for Part 2. It's literally the first half of a movie. And sometime in July, we're going to hang up the phone, realize we left that movie on pause, and sit back down to it.
I HOPE IT'S AWESOME.
[End Spoiler]
[Begin Spoiler for The Deathly Hallows, .5 — Highlight to view]
I mean, don't get me wrong. I will nitpick the hell of out it. However, contingent upon the second half maintaining and hopefully surpassing the quality of the first half, this is the best Harry Potter movie. BETTER THAN AZKABAN, OKAY.
This is due, in enormously large part, to the pacing. In that there is some. I think what made HBP suck so much (ps you guys HBP sucked quite a lot) is that it had slow, plodding scenes connected by quick transitions. It was like: Scene.Scene.Scene.Scene.Scene. It doesn't matter how good the scenes were (some of them were okay), that's not a movie.
This is a movie. Just like a real movie! And not a visual SparkNotes. A couple bits were a little Yates-y (i.e. slow to the point of being uncomfortable), like Dumbledore's will unfolding or Xenophilius drawing the Deathly Hallows symbol or ... well, we'll get to the dance. But mostly that crap was kept to a minimum. Atmosphere was attained! Themes were developed! Emotions were evoked!
This is sounding like a lot of backhanded praise. Honestly, though, one of my major feelings is relief that this picture didn't suck when I could easily imagine the ways in which it would suck. So, there's that. On top of that relief, I enjoyed the movie quite a bit, but that was maybe a given. I mean, I don't know if you've noticed this about me, but I like Harry Potter.
Now, here's some shit: That dance was stupid, David Yates. I read a review already that said of it, "it's supposed to be tender and heartfelt but comes off awkward and forced in". Or, you know, sentiments to that effect. So true. And I was already annoyed by that point because of the following anecdote I'll relate.
On Thursday, a certain comm I'm in posted an early review that called HP "just like Twilight" because of the love triangle and whatall. Everyone laughed because clearly that writer is unfamiliar with either story. Then I went and I saw the movie, and it dawned on me, "Oh shit, that guy is kinda right. They're even in a tent!" In the book, it's clear (to the literate) that it's Ron and Hermione, and that Ron's romantic jealousy is a manifestation of the fact that he's insanely jealous of his best friend and maybe he should deal with those issues. Not because there could actually be something there. But in the movie ... are they trying to make me think there could be something there? It seems like they are. I mean, not that Harry has any romantic chemistry with Hermione, but he doesn't have any chemistry with Ginny, either, so what message am I getting?
Sidebar: I can't pretend anymore. I wanted to deny. Harry and Ginny have zero chemistry and it's horrible. And I sorta-ship it! And I adore Bonnie Wright. She's gorgeous and I want to smish her. And it's not her fault! She had beautiful depth of emotion when she turned her back to him. Anytime they're facing each other, though, it's like a kid playing with Barbies and making them kiss. I'm terrified for the finale, because how can I suspend my disbelief long enough to believe these people made three kids??
Harry doesn't say anything to Ron after the locket thing. Awkward city. That locket scene in general was just a mess. Anyway. It really does feel like they threw in a last minute love-triangle subplot. I blame Steve Kloves.
Disappointing: Xeno was a bit of a creepster. I didn't get the emotions out of that scene that I wanted. Ditto the Hermione torture. She was good for her part, but Ron needed to freak out more. And ... some other things I forget.
Neutral: I really wanted to see a snake rip out of a corpse, but at least they kept the blood on Hermione's hands. The animated part was okay.
On the plus side: The Snatchers were effectively creepy. The Ministry scenes were excellent. Helena Bonham Carter makes up for most things. Neville is in this movie for two seconds and those two seconds are bad-ass.
And ... I cried over Dobby. I don't even know how! I assure you I kept my heart as stony as possible. He's a CGI bat for goodness sake! But then he's going on about how happy he is to be with his friend Harry and ... oh fuck, there's a leak in my face.
And then ... we paused the DVD to hit the lavs and get a snack. Seriously. The most evident problem with Deathly Hallows: Part 1 is that it's only half a movie. It is not the first half of a two-parter and it is not, as I have seen spouted in many places, a "setup" for Part 2. It's literally the first half of a movie. And sometime in July, we're going to hang up the phone, realize we left that movie on pause, and sit back down to it.
I HOPE IT'S AWESOME.
[End Spoiler]
Monday
Great news!
The house opposite my house is for sale! YOU SHOULD MOVE IN THERE!
In fact, there are no fewer than five houses for sale within a walking block of my domicile. TRY NOT TO THINK ABOUT WHY THAT MIGHT BE! JUST MOVE IN!
You're welcome!
In fact, there are no fewer than five houses for sale within a walking block of my domicile. TRY NOT TO THINK ABOUT WHY THAT MIGHT BE! JUST MOVE IN!
You're welcome!
Sunday
Tuesday
Death is not an option?
I submit the following Radio Choices for your consideration. Assume that the other presets were playing commercials, because they were.
Station 1: "Tears In Heaven" - Eric Clapton
Station 2: "All My Love" - Led Zeppelin
And, go.
Station 1: "Tears In Heaven" - Eric Clapton
Station 2: "All My Love" - Led Zeppelin
And, go.
Monday
And Penny you know.
Millimeter by millimeter, we're getting there.
Penny loves her babies.
I mean. You know. Most of the time.
Saturday
Meet Bowie!
Bowie is the baby.
I don't play favorites, but I'm telling you upfront so there's no snags later: You can't have Bowie.
Bowie is physically incapable of doing anything that is not adorable. She stands against your legs, and then hugs them. She pets her brother. Pets him.
She is easy-going. Nay, she is unflappable. Once, I accidentally dropped a metal bowl in front of her, and she watched it bounce and clang and come to a halt, then beamed up at me. She's a follower. Whatever you want to do is okay by her!
She loves her brother Henry the most, because he is the funnest. She really really wants to play with the boys, but she is only a fourth of their collective size. Whenever everybody is running around crazy, she checks in with Mommy to make sure she's okay.
Bowie's favorite toy is ribbon. RIBBON.
Friday
Meet Samantha!
Samantha is number Four.
Sammi was the first baby to open her eyes. As she stared calmly at the rest, blindly squiggling around, she knew someone needed to be in charge of this crew, and it had to be her. That's why she looks so serious; she has a lot of responsibility.
She's not a baby. Never has been. She always eats when everyone else is finished, because she doesn't like eating with the babies. She doesn't like playing with them, either, most of the time. Unless it's to wrestle the boys. She's a tomboy like that.
She's also very girly. She does not like gross things. She will look at you pleadingly until you make the gross go away. Being praised makes her feel special. You never have to tell her something twice.
Half her face is 90% eyes.
Samantha's favorite toy is anything she can chew on.
Thursday
Meet Jillian!
Jillian is your quintessential middle child.
Jillian is not an ordinary cat, because Jillian can talk!! Unfortunately, she can only say one word, and that word is "no." Before we knew that the twins were a boy and a girl, the easiest way to tell them apart was to pick one of them up. If the kitten seemed relatively relaxed, it was Jack. If it started squealing "Nu! Nu!!! Nuuuuuu!!!" it was Jillian. Or as she was simply known then, "The Whiner."
We usually call her Pillian.
Jillian doesn't want you to touch her. We're not sure where things went wrong. It may have been that time when they were very little and she managed to crawl away from the heap, to a dusty corner where she cried for possibly up to an hour before I came and found her. Her mother, I should note, showed no indications of going to get her. 4 out of 5 is still a B, I guess.
There's one thing that Jillian loves more than anything, and that's Jack. It's a good thing that Jack likes her too, otherwise she would be his stalker. She's always trying to get him away from the other kittens to play with her alone. She hides and watches when he uses the litter. She has boundary issues.
When she's not busy being a total weirdo, she can be pretty adorable. She plays with her toys not by batting them, but by pushing them along the floor like a kid with a diecast car. Plus, she easily provides "Hey, there's two of them!" photo ops.
Jillian's favorite toys are the puffy balls.
Wednesday
Meet Henry!
Henry was born second.
This information is irrelevant, because Henry is first in life. And while I don't feel qualified to permanently settle the nature/nuture debate that has intrigued Man for generations, I will tell you this: Henry was born that way. You could tell the way he slap-fought his brother over milk before his eyes had even opened.
He also liked to push heads and hog water and generally commandeer every new experience. This did not make him popular. But then, Henry discovered that he was a Lion. And part of what lions do is protect everybody. That's why he's the first to investigate every scary noise and count heads afterward. Lions also don't cover their business. Someone will get that.
Henry is even bigger than his brother. He has huge paws and jackrabbit feet. He still looks unfinished, like the gangly and awkward teenage boy he is. He likes to chase Jack around so they can do Man Things together.
While this all keeps him very busy, he will always, always take time out for hugging and cuddling. There's nothing more important.
Henry's favorite toy is water.
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