tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52022452024-03-13T21:45:44.369-07:00hipspinsterwhatever.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger307125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-85778703631777259882018-11-26T17:01:00.000-08:002018-11-26T17:03:38.812-08:00Collector of IllusionsOnce again the news has me finding relevance in the Don Waller archive. This time it's the sad report of the <a href="https://variety.com/2018/film/news/ricky-jay-dead-dies-magician-boogie-nights-1203035879/" target="_blank">death of Ricky Jay</a>, famous sleight-of-hand artist, and one of Don's faves. He wrote the October 25, 2007, cover story for L.A. CityBeat about Jay and an exhibition of his collection of vintage performance broadsides at the Hammer Museum. Don put himself in the story more than he often did in features; all for the better, methinks.<br />
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Anyway, on with the show ...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Collector of
Illusions</span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Ricky Jay is a
master of cards and a historian of chicanery. His exhibition of ancient
‘broadsides’ is a window into the deceptions of another time </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">By
Don Waller</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Paul Cinquevalli was unquestionably the most
famous juggler of his day. And on the first Royal Command Variety Show in 1912,
he appeared before King George and Queen Mary on a bill with the most famous
vaudeville artists in the world.</i></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“This is an unusual broadside
because of the distinctive type being placed on the diagonal instead of a more
traditional format. It calls Paul Cinquevalli ‘The King of the Cannonball,’ and
he did a number of stunts in which he caught cannonballs with his neck and
balanced them in various poses.</span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But perhaps he was more famous still for
being called ‘The Human Billiard Table.’ In a tight-fitting costume, he had a
number of pockets placed in specific pouches and he was able to roll balls
across his neck and shoulders making them land in the pockets of his choice.</span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“He was so famous at this time that
it was said that his name and fame as a juggler is a household word throughout
the universe …</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Permitting himself a crooked smile, the
barrel-chested, bearded gentleman standing on my right snaps his cell phone
shut and, speaking in the same parched, professorial tone heard on the taped audio
tour, says, “That’s pretty cool. That wasn’t working when I was here before.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The two of us are standing in the
Hammer Museum in Westwood, looking at the initial trio of more than 100 items
that make up <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Extraordinary Exhibitions:
Broadsides from the Collection of Ricky Jay</i>, which runs through November
25.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Jarred from his momentary reverie,
the gentleman extends a friendly paw. “Hi, I’m Ricky Jay.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” I
respond with a reciprocal hand. “I know you don’t do a lot of interviews, so
thanks for taking the time to conduct a personal tour. It’s a great honor.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>His nose wrinkles slightly, eyes
narrowing. “Aw, c’mon, man. It’s just a gig.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No! Well, yeah … But it’s always
nice to combine business with pleasure.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Oh, well, I always try to do that
myself.” He brightens. “So where do you want to start?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"></span>How ’bout with some background? Born
in Brooklyn in 1948, Ricky Jay is one of the world’s foremost sleight-of-hand
artists, a child prodigy of sorts, who made his television debut at age five.
He came to prominence in the ’70s, when he almost single-handedly revived the
practice of card “scaling” (throwing ordinary playing cards at speeds of up to
90 mph over great distances – such as over the roof of Hollywood magicians’
club the Magic Castle, or repeatedly firing them into the rind of a watermelon from
20 paces), which is when I first encountered him, performing the latter routine
on some forgotten late-night talk show.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He divulged the “secret” methods
behind this and other stunts in a “how-to” manual, entitled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cards As Weapons</i>, first published by
Darien Books in 1977. Long out-of-print, the book continues to be in such
demand among aspiring prestidigitators that copies routinely sell on eBay for
upwards of $225, which begs the question, how does he feel about this
particular turn of events?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m asked to reprint it fairly
often, and I’ve turned it down.” Jay shrugs. “To me, it’s the work from another
period. It’s the first book I wrote. It’s literally 30 years ago. I’m pleased
that there’s so much interest in it. I’m actually going to see someone about it
next week.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Aside from his live performances –
notably the 1996 OBIE Award-winning one-man show, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ricky Jay & His 52 Assistants</i>, directed by his longtime friend
and collaborator David Mamet – Jay has been a prolific writer, including
defining the terms of the conjurer’s art for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Cambridge Guide to the American Theatre</i> and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Encyclopedia Britannica</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The Hammer show reflects three of
Jay’s more recent authorial efforts: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Learned
Pigs and Fireproof Women</i> (Villard Books, 1986), a compendium of eccentric
entertainers that stretches from stone eaters and armless dulcimer players to
sapient animal acts and master wind-breaker Le Pétomane; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jay’s Journal of Anomalies</i> (Farrar Strauss Giroux, 2001), a similar
collection of essays on equally bizarre acts that was first published in 16
volumes of a fine-press journal between 1994 and 2000; and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Extraordinary Exhibitions: The Wonderful Remains of an Enormous Head,
the Whimsiphusicon & Death to the Savage Unitarians </i>(Quantuck Lane
Press, 2005). The last of which was published in conjunction with the initial
exhibition of Jay’s broadsides at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts that same
year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I started gathering vintage
materials relating to not just magicians, but unusual entertainers of all
types, when I was touring around America and Europe more than 30 years ago,”
Jay explains. “Because when you’re on the road, working at night, there’s not a
lot to do during the day. So I spent my time going to bookstores, antiquarian
shops, printsellers, and libraries, researching these people and collecting
these artifacts.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">For several years, Jay served as
curator for the Mulholland Library of Conjuring and the Allied Arts, until the
owner’s reversal of business fortunes resulted in the library being sold at
auction for $2.2 million in 1990 to … David Copperfield, who deposited the contents
behind his collection of lingerie in a Las Vegas warehouse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Partially as a reaction to this loss
– and presumably to feed his own collector’s habit – Jay now devotes a fair
amount of his time to acting in, or serving as a technical consultant for, a
variety of films and TV shows: Mamet’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">House
of Games</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">State and Main</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Heist</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Things Change</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Homicide,</i>
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Spanish Prisoner</i>, Paul Thomas
Anderson’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Boogie Nights</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Magnolia,</i> Christopher Nolan’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Prestige</i>, the James Bond flick <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tomorrow Never Dies</i>, and the first
season of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Deadwood,</i> for openers. And
it’s these character roles that’ve made his rather saturnine visage most
recognizable to the general public.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Now, on with the show … </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“One
of the best things about doing a museum show such as this is that we’re able to
expand on the book itself,” says Jay. “For example, let’s go over to the
section on Mathew Buchinger. Here we have the broadside from 1726 that’s
reproduced in the book, which calls him ‘the greatest living German’ and in the
form of a poem details his act, which included magic, swordplay, doing trick
shots in bowling, playing several musical instruments, and calligraphy. All the
more remarkable when you consider, as you can see by the woodcut illustration,
that he was born without legs or hands and was only 29 inches tall.</span>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And here we have a pair of his
actual drawings. In the self-portrait on the right you’ll find seven psalms and
the Lord’s Prayer inscribed within the curls of his hair, but you need a
magnifying glass to read them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I’m a great admirer of ‘the Little
Man of Nuremburg,’” Jay continues. “I know from another illustration that I
have in my collection that he did the cups-and-balls routine. Now, when you do
that, you generally use one hand for misdirection and the other to move the
cups. But because Buchinger needed both of his appendages to move the cups, you
have to wonder how he did it. So I studied it for three or four months, and I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">think</i> I know. But we really can’t be
sure ’cause there’s no photographic evidence …”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Measuring 10x13 inches, the lavishly
illustrated <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Extraordinary Exhibitions</i>
book is devoted exclusively to broadsides printed between 1618 and 1898, which
were created to promote specific performances – as opposed to posters, which
touted the entertainers themselves – and were intended to be as disposable as
the punk-rock flyers or Thai take-out menus of today. But there’s nothing like
seeing the actual artifacts. Not just in terms of scale, but in the quality of
the printing and their various states of preservation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Plus, as Jay alluded earlier, the
Hammer exhibition spotlights literally twice as much material as the book,
adding everything from a children’s board game based upon a famous educated
horse, to magician Alex Herrmann’s personal stationery (complete with a logo
composed of cavorting red devils), to a doorway-sized lithograph heralding a
celebrated female ceiling-walker that sports colors so rich you could eat them
with a parfait spoon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s not just the art, it’s the
language,” Jay enthuses. “Because most of these broadsides are almost
exclusively text. I love the vocabulary they use. Like this warning not to
approach the elephant with ‘papers of consequence’ as he has been known to
destroy them. What are ‘papers of consequence’?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And the hyperbole,” Jay continues.
“As has been said, when it comes to show business publicity, there’s neither
virtue nor advantage to be gained from being truthful.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Here we have the name Miss Jenny
Lund – one of the most famous singers of her time – in huge type, but
underneath that in fine print we see ‘she will not appear but will be
represented by Miss Woolford.’” Jay smirks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And then there are all these
neologisms, such as ‘the Whimsiphusicon.’ What was that? Who knows? Probably
just something the performer made up to convince people they’d be seeing
something original.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I suppose one of the benefits of
being a professional versus an academic is that I’m more likely to be able to
decipher from these fanciful descriptions just what that trick is and how
original it was. Who stole and who didn’t and why they were able to get away
with it. Of course, the skill is the selling. Like how people are invited to
bring their own stones to the stone-eater. Not much different than me allowing
people to bring their own deck of cards to my shows.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">So, metaphorically speaking, what’s
more important in magic, the singer or the song?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s both,” Jay retorts.
“Absolutely. The material and the performance. I don’t think you get anybody
who’s great, who divorces one from the other.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">One
of Jay’s greatest strengths as an entertainer is how he brings the depth of his
historical knowledge to the stage. Witnessing his performance of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ricky Jay & His 52 Assistants</i> at the
Geffen Playhouse last winter, I had no idea that the patter he used during his
rendition of the classic four-aces trick – he did it as four queens – was
quoted verbatim from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Expert at the
Card Table</i>, written by a professional card cheat under the pseudonym S.W.
Erdnase in 1902 (and which has never gone out-of-print). To wit:</span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“Ladies and gentlemen, I shall endeavor to illustrate,
with the aid of this ordinary deck of cards, how futile are the efforts of
plebeians to break into that select circle of society known as the Beau-monde,
and especially how such entrée is prevented by the polite but frigid exclusiveness
of its gentler members …”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Now that I know this, I think it’s
even cooler that he did.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Along with all the magic and
mystery and the improbable entertainers, the Hammer exhibition showcases a
dazzling array of potential amusements under the rubrics of physical anomalies
(conjoined twins, for example), the animal kingdom (trained, caged or dead),
and museums and marvels (everything from a collection of criminals’ tools to
fine-clockwork automatons and chicken incubators).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">A careful examination of these
broadsides provides a wealth of sociological insights. Some things never
change: seats closer to the stage command higher prices (those who wish to “sit
in the belly of a whale where 24 musicians performed a concert” pay double),
many acts flaunt their aristocratic admirers, and many more offer private
performances for a negotiated fee.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Several of these entertainers
became so well-known that they could be used as reference points for
then-contemporary satire. A 1787 exhibition of “The Monstrous Craws” (three
individuals afflicted with large goiters) inspired a political cartoon by James
Gillray that depicts the trio as King George III, Queen Charlotte, and the
Prince of Wales, filling their enlarged throats with the gold of the royal
treasury from a bowl marked “John Bull’s blood.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">These entertainments also were
fairly affordable. Many of the 18th-century broadsides include the price of
admission, often only one or two shillings. According to the contemporary
writings of Samuel Johnson, that same single shilling could be used to purchase
either a dinner of beefsteak, bread, and beer (plus tip) or a pound of soap. In
1760, a journeyman tailor would’ve earned two shillings, two pence per day and
two shillings would’ve been the weekly rent for a furnished room.</span><br />
</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"></span> Considering the Hammer exhibition contains broadsides from
such far-flung locations as Persia (now Iran) and Mexico City, it speaks
volumes as to humans’ infinite capacity for wonder – and our desire to be
deceived.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Seeing how such deception lies at
the very heart of magic – and Jay’s personal interests extend into such related
areas as confidence games, frauds, swindles, and all manner of cheating
associated with games of chance – it’s worth noting that seven examples from
his voluminous collection of vintage dice are on permanent display at the
Museum of Jurassic Technology in Culver City.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">On the audiotape that accompanies
this exhibit, Jay explains that dice, which have their origins in animal bones,
began to be manufactured from cellulose nitrate (the first commercially
successful synthetic plastic) in the late 1800s. While the substance remains
stable for decades, it will suddenly and dramatically begin to decompose, as
evidenced by the dice on display here and – thanks to Rosamond Purcell’s
sumptuous color photographs – in Jay’s book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dice:
Deception, Fate & Rotten Luck </i>(Norton, 2003).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps far more noteworthy – especially for
those who don’t mind an occasional wager – is that for all Ricky Jay’s
formidable talents, he refuses to indulge in gambling.</span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent2">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“A lot of people assume that if you’re talented at
sleight-of-hand, you’d be a good gambler or a good cheat,” Jay explains. “And
that’s certainly not necessarily the case.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">‘Cause you might end up like Fast
Eddie Felson (Paul Newman’s character) in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Hustler</i>?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Jay laughs dryly. “That is the best
movie. I just love that. But the skill of playing well and the skill of
hustling are very, very different. I am really intrigued by methods used to
cheat. On <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ricky Jay Plays Poker</i>, I
demonstrate various methods of cheating at poker.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">This combination CD/DVD package,
issued by Octone/Legacy just last year, features 30 poker-related songs – all
selections from Jay’s collection – from artists that span the sonic spectrum:
Broadway, blues, country, jazz, soul, and techno.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">He also wrote the liner notes and
provided the accompanying 68-page booklet’s eye-popping artwork, such as the
trio of images depicting groups of Chinese, then African-Americans, then dogs
passing cards under the table to confederates with their feet (or paws). The
custom deck of playing cards included shows a top-hatted Ricky Jay sitting at a
tableful of swells, duplicating this feat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyTextIndent2">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The 30-minute DVD showcases some of Jay’s most
devilish handiwork – including how to cheat an honest man – as well as his
genuine love of chicanery. It’s not enough to be able to deal yourself a
winning hand; you have to convince the other player(s) there’s almost no chance
of losing, too. And the sequence on proposition betting, involving an egg,
three cards, a rubber band, and a beer glass, is simply eye-popping, even in
slow-motion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The promotional video for Bob
Dylan’s 2001 <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Love And Theft</i> album,
with Jay playin’ the rockin’ role of a crooked card dealer, rounds out the
package.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In keeping with his cryptic nature
– Jay never entirely explains how any of his tricks, or those of any other
performer, are done – when asked if he’s currently carrying a deck of cards, he
replies, “There’s a chance.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">As for future plans, he mentions
“doing some research on knife throwing,” and acting in a pair of forthcoming
films (David Mamet’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Redbelt</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Great Buck Howard</i> with John
Malkovich and Tom Hanks). In fact, he’s got to get to a post-production meeting
now. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>OK, so what’s his favorite
magicians’ joke?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I must say nobody’s ever asked me
that before. And I don’t … I don’t really have an answer. It’s weird. I can’t …
off the top of my head, think of one. I’m just glad you didn’t ask me, ‘Can you
make my wife disappear?’”</span></div>
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</style>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-37097905736545480092018-06-06T18:58:00.001-07:002018-06-06T18:58:57.071-07:00Zoot Suit<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5etKTj9dloQ/WxiJKFJNpfI/AAAAAAAACQc/v7fM_TVFPcgoqNUcc81ZiG3RlKsDbFkOQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-06-06%2Bat%2B6.23.19%2BPM.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5etKTj9dloQ/WxiJKFJNpfI/AAAAAAAACQc/v7fM_TVFPcgoqNUcc81ZiG3RlKsDbFkOQCK4BGAYYCw/s320/Screen%2BShot%2B2018-06-06%2Bat%2B6.23.19%2BPM.png" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
The local news outlets have lately been recalling the Zoot Suit Riots of the early 1940s. This reminded me that my late, great beloved Don Waller wrote a fine piece about that for England-based music mag Mojo in 2003. It is newsier than many of his features but still has his signature flair, especially in the opening bit, but even in such matter-of-fact observations as:<br />
<br />
<i>When First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt’s weekly syndicated column of June 16 saw the roots of the riots in racism rather than suits, an LA Times editorial accused her of having Communist leanings. </i><br />
<br />
Quelle surprise.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I made jpegs of the story from the magazine pages; click on them to blow up for better reading.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zlWJjP-BSis/WxiO-QRPtII/AAAAAAAACQk/q7RG2yXA2nsMzutBC22mxZXEryEJfoh8gCLcBGAs/s1600/MOJO-ZootSuitPg1-Sept2003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1174" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zlWJjP-BSis/WxiO-QRPtII/AAAAAAAACQk/q7RG2yXA2nsMzutBC22mxZXEryEJfoh8gCLcBGAs/s320/MOJO-ZootSuitPg1-Sept2003.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ktsbutg68Pw/WxiO-bBrzNI/AAAAAAAACQo/HWfi0VrIWZ4tzvWeU6Sk-fCynhSAYc6sgCLcBGAs/s1600/MOJO-ZootSuitPg2-Sept2003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1174" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ktsbutg68Pw/WxiO-bBrzNI/AAAAAAAACQo/HWfi0VrIWZ4tzvWeU6Sk-fCynhSAYc6sgCLcBGAs/s320/MOJO-ZootSuitPg2-Sept2003.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mHQtRCKERs0/WxiO-vRsOqI/AAAAAAAACQs/6wwOBfJaQ8kVQXryegJ2wB2Yil5oboi1wCLcBGAs/s1600/MOJO-ZootSuitPg3-Sept2003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1174" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mHQtRCKERs0/WxiO-vRsOqI/AAAAAAAACQs/6wwOBfJaQ8kVQXryegJ2wB2Yil5oboi1wCLcBGAs/s320/MOJO-ZootSuitPg3-Sept2003.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XJ43n3ZvSEA/WxiO_KUylfI/AAAAAAAACQw/8czp9CLghbA0BuNgAC7KXcjpPBM_djEfwCLcBGAs/s1600/MOJO-ZootSuitPg4-Sept2003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1174" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XJ43n3ZvSEA/WxiO_KUylfI/AAAAAAAACQw/8czp9CLghbA0BuNgAC7KXcjpPBM_djEfwCLcBGAs/s320/MOJO-ZootSuitPg4-Sept2003.jpg" width="234" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-18802126867382228792018-04-10T20:14:00.000-07:002018-04-10T20:14:21.985-07:00Portobello Golden<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A7GviTLhREg/Ws10xolPwVI/AAAAAAAACO4/SHK-aCKl4EEO75HeotHa1kIA412DLFvXACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/BossMeBrighton2011.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A7GviTLhREg/Ws10xolPwVI/AAAAAAAACO4/SHK-aCKl4EEO75HeotHa1kIA412DLFvXACK4BGAYYCw/s320/BossMeBrighton2011.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I recently received the unhappy news that Boss Goodman has died. That's us above, on a sunny afternoon in Brighton, England, in 2011. Boss was a friend of <a href="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2013/08/dr-crow.html" target="_blank">Mick Farren</a>, and so he became a friend of mine. He was a legend in his own right. Among other things, he was the road manager for the Deviants and the Pink Fairies. He was a DJ and a booking manager at clubs such as Dingwalls. And many other things I don't know about, I'm sure. When I met him, in late September 2005, he was a chef at the Portobello Gold pub in the Notting Hill area of London. Back then, I took this snapshot (!) of him:</span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HI4K5Accq1I/Ws14GVl4trI/AAAAAAAACPE/2ZSONLovFTQa1Z3vowS8C2WLH1iog9RYgCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/Boss2005.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HI4K5Accq1I/Ws14GVl4trI/AAAAAAAACPE/2ZSONLovFTQa1Z3vowS8C2WLH1iog9RYgCK4BGAYYCw/s320/Boss2005.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My first-ever visit to London came at the end of a nearly two-week journey through Scotland -- my first overseas trip ever. The trip was amazing, but hectic, and I was worn out by the time I got to London. And then, to perfection, at the end of that very intense trek through a beautiful alien world was a surprising sense of home in a stranger. Boss could not have been a nicer person. We spent several hours together over the course of two days, and he was very kind and funny and generous, treating me like one of the family. I saw him again a couple other times over the years, and I am glad I did. But I wrote about our first meeting, at the Gold, in my blog from that 2005 trip. Here's an edited version of "All Roads Lead to Boss Goodman."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Boss Goodman suggested we meet at the Portobello Gold at 3. It was a short walk from the hotel, about 15 minutes, and, as it
was Saturday, the famed Portobello market was going off. A riot of
booths and wares for sale. Clothes, shoes, antiques, trendy stuff,
jewelry, handbags, tools, fixtures -- just <i>anything and everything</i>, as the song goes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I
found the pub and went inside under the tall blue sign with big gold
letters vertically spelling THE GOLD. Stood there blinking for a moment,
then walked around to the right side of the bar.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7798/162/1600/portobellobar.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7798/162/320/portobellobar.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I spotted him at the far end, and recognized him from the picture I'd seen. Not too tall, but a big guy with short salt and pepper hair and casual dress. I peered at him and approached, pointed at
him, and he at me. "Are you Boss?" I asked, although I knew. He was, of
course. On the counter next to him was a white plastic bag, like a
grocery bag, containing a bitchen pair of shoes he'd just bought in the
market, oxblood wingtips. totally cool.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So we chatted,
and he bought me a drink, John Powers neat. We talked about Mick, my
trip, his heart attack, the city, and getting some Indian food later on.
I then drank a shot of absinthe, and soon we went on up the Portobello
Road, eventually to his place to hang out some more. I was feeling
pretty good by that time. It wasn't hot out but not cold, a little
cloudy but pleasant. The market dazzled with its produce, leather goods,
tapestries. Souvenirs and faux-couture.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We caught a
cab to Boss's apartment, where I met his roommate. We smoked, listened to music, talked. I toured the little
garden his roommate planted behind the flat. So pretty and inventive, with every
niche and nook used wisely. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Presently we went off to the Indian restaurant. We
took the bus, which was not scary at all [note: back then I had an irrational fear of taking public transport in foreign nations] due to Boss's presence. We
were standing on the corner waiting for the bus, talking about whatever,
and I felt strangely happy to be there. I think Boss did too. It was
like we could be sudden friends due to our mutual friendship. It was
cool.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">At the restaurant, we ate and
drank soooo much. (Moan.) It was all so good. Just playing with the
papadams and sauces/condiments: a coconut/curry hash, the raita, mango
chutney, weirdly addicting pickled lime, and some chopped onions with
maybe mint? (Didn't have that one.) Boss was really into combining the
flavors -- mango w/lime, coconut w/raita and onion ... that was fun.
We had chicken tikka masala, chicken makti masala, lamb w/tomatoes and
peppers, motor panir, eggplant something, pulao rice, garlic naan ...
some kinda salad ... plus beer for them and wine for me. And Drambuie at
the end. 75 pounds for the whole feast ... crazy! Delicious.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Went
back to Boss's in a mini-cab and smoked some more. Hung out and got
tired. He called me my own cab, and I was back at Le Dump in no time
flat. A rather eventful and enjoyable first day in London, but I am sooo
tired (and not a little drunk). Which is probably why I feel too awake. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So RIP, Boss Goodman. I believe there is a memorial happening today in England somewhere. I wish I could be there to celebrate him. Instead, I'll raise a glass in his memory on this side of the world. </span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-39000403853512228912016-07-24T14:28:00.000-07:002016-07-24T14:28:14.026-07:00Bring the Noise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zn6-3dlQyqw/V5UblesA1tI/AAAAAAAAB8Q/_uFg5kN2wKYJnvT9p3Oz4YADeoIaZsECQCLcB/s1600/star%2Btrek%2Bbeyond%2Bwith%2Bsulu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zn6-3dlQyqw/V5UblesA1tI/AAAAAAAAB8Q/_uFg5kN2wKYJnvT9p3Oz4YADeoIaZsECQCLcB/s320/star%2Btrek%2Bbeyond%2Bwith%2Bsulu.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Last night I saw <i>Star Trek: Beyond</i> with my BFF, and it was exactly what I expected it to be: <i>The Fast and the Furious</i> in space! This is the third NuTrek flick, and I'm pretty sure we're never going to get one of these that is actually what <i>Star Trek</i> should be, but I'm OK with that. (Read: I've given up. Please pass the Kool-Aid.) This one's messages were the usual self-congratulatory tropes that now pass for deep insight (we're stronger together, peace is better than war, blah blah blah)—all delivered at 22 million miles per hour, as director Justin Lin slammed every kind of vehicle you can think of into high gear for pretty much the entire two hours. It also had a few touching moments that this lifelong Trekkie really appreciated. Plus the always awesome Idris Elba and a brief appearance by Shohreh Aghdashloo, who plays one of my fave characters on <a href="http://www.syfy.com/theexpanse" target="_blank"><i>The Expanse</i></a>. So, winning.<br />
<br />
That is to say: Even though it's really just a very expensive piece of fanfic, this is way more fun than the previous one.<br />
<br />
I made the mistake, however, of reading the <a href="http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/movies/la-et-mn-star-trek-beyond-roundtable-20160705-snap-story.html" target="_blank"><i>L.A. Times</i>'s roundtable interview</a> with Lin and (pictured above) co-stars Zoe Saldana (Uhura) and John Cho (Sulu). I say mistake because the interviewer said something so bloody stupid it made my blood boil. In this case, it was one of those moments in line with a general unfortunate tendency by writers of today to want to put down what came before in order to elevate what is now. To wit:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>For all of “Star Trek’s” groundbreaking inclusion in 1966, Uhura was kind of a switchboard operator. Sulu was kind of a driver. How have you guys worked since 2009 to make more space in the story for them, to give them more agency in the story?</b></blockquote>
<br />
OK, let's address the Sulu thing first. Yeah, he was the senior helmsman, so I guess one
could say he was the "driver." But he was also a command officer, third
in the chain on the starship <i>Enterprise</i>, aka the goddamn flagship of the United Federation of Planets! He was not a chauffeur FFS. And we got some pretty good glimpses at things he was interested in outside of his job, so he was hardly just the dude wearing the cap in the front seat. <br />
<br />
Now, Uhura. A...switchboard operator?????? What the actual fuck. Lt. Uhura of the 1960s was the chief communications officer of the aforementioned flagship. She also did science. And she took the helm and navigated when needed. So, really, Marc Bernardin? It's like you've never even actually watched TOS.<br />
<br />
Also, agency doesn't just mean giving underrepresented characters more time on screen. The quality of that time counts too. And the thing that is not addressed here is that 1960s Uhura had more agency as a character than her NuTrek counterpart. That is improving now that J.J. Abrams has moved on, but...where original Uhura was just another bridge officer expertly doing her job (which was all on its own a huge deal), in the first film of the reboot, we find Uhura in love with Spock (Zachary Quinto). Sure, she's also a kickass chick who's fluent in all three Klingon dialects, etc. etc., but—and this is not a reflection on Saldana, who I really like in the role—most of what we see her doing on screen is fawning over Spock and worrying about him and trying to make sure he's OK. Or yelling at him for being overprotective of her. No other main character has this sort of thing going on. Spock is into her, sure, but he doesn't reciprocate in kind because he's half-Vulcan and can't be expected to have things like emotions (although frankly new Spock is much more in touch with his human side than original Spock). Original Uhura never spent any time mooning over her loverman and his pain. (That was Nurse Chapel's job, hyuck.) That Abrams chose to saddle Uhura with this romantic b.s. was typical for his storytelling style but unfortunate for the character, to say the least. And yes, I'm still mad about it two movies later.<br />
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Anyway, under Lin, <i>Star Trek</i> feels more, uh, energized for sure. Lots of fun banter, many incredible explosions, a fair amount of oh-mah-gawd-<i>nooooo!</i> moments. Really liked Sofia Boutella as Scotty's new pal, Jaylah. It was bittersweet and at times painful to see the late Anton Yelchin's swan song as Chekov, though. It felt as though he, like Saldana, got more to do this time, too, and that left me feeling a bit more sad.<br />
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In conclusion, <i>Beyond</i> had a couple of little surprises but was mostly totally predictable, and yet that didn't stop it from being an exciting ride. I spent a fair amount of time laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of it all...but mostly laughing with it. So go—boldly.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-7323386179247390152013-08-02T18:17:00.000-07:002013-08-03T11:43:57.165-07:00Dr. Crow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pQenwY3msDI/UfwtKZVU-cI/AAAAAAAABT8/37jGvJuQzb0/s1600/me&micklaughingbetter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pQenwY3msDI/UfwtKZVU-cI/AAAAAAAABT8/37jGvJuQzb0/s320/me&micklaughingbetter.jpg" /></a></div>
My wonderful friend Mick Farren died on Saturday, July 27, on stage during a performance with the Deviants at London's Borderline club. (If you don't know who he is, read the obituaries in <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/01/arts/music/mick-farren-british-rock-n-roll-renaissance-man-dies-at-69.html"><i>The New York Times</i></a>, the U.K.'s <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/music/2013/jul/29/mick-farren"><i>Guardian</i></a>, or the <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/10216834/Mick-Farren.html"><i>Telegraph</i></a>. Or <a href="http://">Charles Shaar Murray's remembrance</a> in the <i>Guardian</i>. EDIT: Or <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/news/obituaries/mick-farren-musician-and-writer-who-played-a-leading-role-in-the-uks-counterculture-8737151.html">Chris Salewicz's excellent piece</a> in <i>The Independent</i>.) He was 69, just a little over a month shy of 70. I remember when he turned 60. (He was rather amazed that he'd made it that far ... .) I'm very sad, but glad he went out doing what he loved. I know he was thinking that there was still so much to do.<P>
I have been thinking about him so much and remembering so many moments from the 20 years we knew each other. (The above photo of us was taken in the Coronet Pub in Los Angeles by our colleague Steve Appleford, I don't remember the exact date.) Weird that I don't recall the first time we met, but I know it was around 1993, when Erik Himmelsbach hired Mick as a columnist at the late, lamented <i>Los Angeles Reader</i>. Yet so many other times are so fixed and clear in my mind.<P>
There is a lot to say, starting with the first thought I wrote down after I awoke with a horrible hangover acquired in the process of trying to forget he was gone, my head full of all these memories of our drunken misadventures and adventures (as well as less debauched moments): Which is that Mick encouraged me to embrace recklessness, and the sense of freedom that came from doing so. I mean, he didn't just do that for <i>me</i>; it was kind of a code of his. He helped me understand that the physical toll taken by excess is exacerbated by the moral strictures of society or the rules of one's particular upbringing, or both. And that rejecting, or actually maybe embracing and dismissing, the guilt was a key to moving past those roadblocks and seeing things more clearly.<P>
I questioned, always, long before I met him, and maybe that's what he liked about me. I don't know what he liked about me. He had a lot of fabulous friends who were amazing artists and musicians, famous icons and true individuals, great beauties and mesmerizing scoundrels, but he always seemed to have room in his world for more. Knowing Mick gave me insights and inspirations I otherwise wouldn't have had. Not to mention a great friend who could sense when I was feeling vulnerable and draw out my fears into the light, and who wasn't afraid to expose his own fears and foibles. He trusted me in a way that he trusted other, to me much closer friends of his, and that always amazed and delighted me.<P>
Because Mick Farren was my good good friend, but also he was a legend. That's so weird, even though I know it's so. He's Mick. He was Mick. He is Mick. He's one of the few people I knew (know? tense is hard right now) who was always exactly what he seemed to be, and he never let me down in any big way, although I recall some small disappointments over last-minute broken lunch or drinking engagements and other little things, the inevitable letdowns that happen in any friendship.<P>
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I had only a vague sense of who Mick was when Erik hired him. As a young person I never read the <i>NME</i> or heard the Deviants (cover of their 1967 debut album, <i>Ptooff!</i>, pictured above); a British music mag would've been hard to come by in Erie in the '70s, and anyway I was just a kid, hooked on <i>Star Trek</i> and Harlan Ellison and Tolkien and comic books, but isolated in a small town when there was no such thing as the Internet. In the early days of our acquaintance, I was a little bit unnerved by him. He would come into the <i>Reader</i> editorial office -- a long hallway with several different offices opening off it, plus a closet that David Ulin eventually used to store books, and of course the coveted roof-access door -- to visit with Erik, the ornaments on his leather jacket jingling faintly and his bootheels thudding on the industrial carpet as he ambled down the hall. From my office at the opposite end of that hall, I could hear the singsong cadences of his speech as he and Erik plotted and schemed.<P>
Eventually Mick would rumble back down the hall, and one day he walked into my tiny space, sat down in my guest chair, and said, "Hello," peering at me expectantly through a tangle of black curly bangs. I don't remember what we talked about, but I'm sure I was terrified to have been noticed. But soon it became a regular event, him stopping by to talk to me when he came into the <i>Reader</i>, and I looked forward to seeing him.<P>
In 1994, we co-wrote a <i>Reader</i> cover story about the <i>Star Trek</i> franchise, on the eve of the debut of <i>Star Trek: Voyager</i> on TV. I found an electronic copy of what is probably the final version of the text (before whatever edits/fixes were made on the boards ... haha, boards FFS!) in my computer files and read it the other day. To me it seemed like everything must have been his idea, except the feminist stuff, but when I read my own portion, written separately and then combined with his, I was surprised to see that we were pretty evenly matched in our contributions. At the time he said he'd never shared a byline with anyone, something that absurdly pleased me.<P>
I edited his columns and articles at the <i>Reader</i> and later at <i>L.A. CityBeat</i>, where Steve Appleford hired him to write a TV column and much else. Mick's writing could be infuriatingly sloppy but was easily cleaned up. He wasn't always easy to deal with; we argued and even fought, but that was the way of it for two people who were intensely passionate about the written word. I had a lot of strong ideas about the "right" way to be a journalist, and so did he, but they weren't always the same ideas haha. But he encouraged my writing and liked what I did. We talked and debated a lot. We would be on the phone for hours sometimes.<P>
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He could be a mess, probably due to the aforementioned embracing of excess, and there was a point where his personal life seemed to be perpetually in turmoil. Although it seemed like he was always working -- on a novel, on a nonfiction book, an article, a record, a poem, etc. -- he often expressed the fear that he would never work again. A common emotion felt by every writer once a deadline has been met, I think, but one he managed to deliver with a mixture of dramatic flourish and matter-of-fact resignation that sold it every time. Writing took a lot out of him, maybe because he did it so much and poured so much into it. I still can't believe how much he did.<P>
There was a stretch of time when it seemed as though he felt forgotten by his own past, as though he was living in exile in L.A., which I guess he kind of was. He worked as hard as he ever did, yet often felt ignored by history, despite the admiration of those immediately surrounding him. I do think the friends he had here made his life better, and I also think he had a lot of fun here and did great work here, but his life in L.A. was at times difficult and desperate. The suicide of his longtime love Susan literally haunted him for a time. And his never-great health inevitably deteriorated.<P>
Several years ago, conspiracies were concocted to get him to a doctor, and to encourage him to return to England permanently and not just talk about how he "should" go back and avail himself of the National Health. No one was more surprised than he was to learn that he wasn't terminal (which is not to say he was the picture of health, because he wasn't by a long shot), and pretty soon he was safely ensconsed in a Brighton flat with his well-traveled devil cat Finn, putting his band back together, getting tons of writing projects, and suddenly finding himself being treated like the cultural treasure he was. Although I missed him terribly, I was glad he went home and found happiness there.<P>
Mick was a part of so many different scenes at different points in time and in different places, while he also continued all the threads of his own work that stretched back to his earliest days in the '60s. He was always a hyphenate: writer-musician-poet-artist-activist. He was constant yet adaptable, penning vampire novels and teenage steampunk adventures, plunging into blogging, warning us that we were being watched as he watched the watchers with an unblinking, untrusting cool stare. Though new technology could befuddle him at first, he managed to not only figure out stuff like Blogger and Facebook but also to make it do his bidding.<P>
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Details blur like the tears in my eyes. We did a lot of drinking, and we watched a lot of TV, and we talked ourselves blue. We got so drunk, I don't know how we managed. We met young German tourists on the back patio at Boardner's. We flirted with the bartender at the Silver Spoon. We downed horrifying shots custom-made by Eric the back-street mixologist at the Kibitz Room. At the Cat and Fiddle one time, Mick stood on the edge of that sort of concrete trough of a driveway, swaying so badly that he nearly pitched head-first into it. I caught him by the back of his leather collar and somehow hauled him back upright. He pretended to be fine, like always.<P>
He gave me the best gifts: my cherished White Panther button, my beloved 12-inch Tenth Doctor doll, a plush Dalek blanket and a tiny plastic Cthulhu figure he presented to me when I visited him in Brighton two years ago. And books, so many books. Mostly his own, of course. We once attended a Satanic High Mass in Hollywood, which he wrote about for <i>CityBeat</i>, and came away mutually impressed by how the naked woman posed atop the altar could stay so still for so long.<P>
As has been noted by many, the man could barely breathe due to his chronic asthma and emphysema, yet he overcame that disability through sheer force of will and powered through performances (such as the above-pictured 2010 set performed at La Luz de Jesus with his longtime partner-in-crime Andy Colquhoun to celebrate the release of his book <i>Speed-Speed-Speedfreak: A Fast History of Amphetamine</i>). I witnessed that many times and never failed to be both terrified that he'd fall over and awed at his ability to stay upright and deliver.<P>
So I can't say it was a surprise when he finally <i>did</i> fall over, never to get up again -- but it was still a horrible shock to lose him. Since his death I've been helping to plan his L.A. wake, which is <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/214405138717146/?ref=23">tomorrow at the Cat and Fiddle</a>, and reading so many comments and tributes. I'm amazed by how much love he inspired and how many lives he touched deeply, although the life people remember fondly isn't necessarily the same for everyone. That's only to be expected, because he lived so long and so well and in so many moments with so many friends and admirers. The constants were his generosity, his need for attention, his desire to participate, his ability to cut through the bullshit and see what was really going on. And he wanted us to see it too, and we did. He was somehow very easy to love, and he made it easy for the people he loved to connect with each other. Being a friend of Mick Farren meant you were OK. And I'm so glad we were friends.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-90557795938419541392010-10-24T20:05:00.000-07:002010-10-24T22:41:11.860-07:00pretty in pink<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TMNAw6HXkyI/AAAAAAAABQc/rPaWj6I8NIs/s1600/sherlock_bbc.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TMNAw6HXkyI/AAAAAAAABQc/rPaWj6I8NIs/s320/sherlock_bbc.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531335976319161122" /></a><br /><br />"nothing happens to me."<br /><br />that's what army doctor john watson (martin freeman, the newly minted <A HREF="http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/oct/22/martin-freeman-hobbit-bilbo-baggins">bilbo baggins</A>) tells his therapist in episode 1 of the BBC miniseries <A HREF="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00t4pgh"><I>sherlock</I></A>, when she urges him to blog about his experiences as a way of working out the trauma of being in afghanistan. as this phrase is one of genre fiction's top 10 NEVER SAY THATs (along with "no one can stop me now" and "i think we're safe here"), it is absolutely no surprise that, a very short time later, watson comes face-to-face with his future partner in crime-fighting, sherlock holmes (the wonderfully named benedict cumberbatch).<br /><br />holmes asks for a cell phone, watson offers his, and -- just like that -- the good doctor is pulled into a world where so much happens to him, he can scarcely believe his own words when he later tells someone he only met holmes yesterday.<br /><br />wait a second, cell phone?! yep. steven moffat and mark gatiss's three-episode series, which debuted in july across the pond, is a thoroughly modern take on sir arthur conan doyle's vintage tales. it got picked up in the states by <A HREF="http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/masterpiece/sherlock/index.html"><I>masterpiece mystery!</I></A> and kicks off in southern california on PBS affiliates KOCE tonight at 9 and KCET thursday night at 9.<br /><br />moffat is the current <I>doctor who</I> showrunner, and gatiss has both written and appeared in episodes of that venerable british sci-fi program, so it's no surprise that the UK press beat the comparison to death this summer, and i shan't belabor the point. suffice to say that both shows feature a lot of running, and cumberbatch's singular "consulting detective" bears more than a passing manic resemblance to 11th doctor matt smith's singular time lord. and, as smith's doctor sparked a <A HREF="http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/tv_and_radio/article7078205.ece">renewed interest</A> in harris tweed jackets, so did cumberbatch's detective spark excitement over <A HREF="http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/fashion/news/sherlock-chic-fashion-its-elementary-thanks-to-bbc-2046500.html">sherlock's coat</A>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TMT0kWEiTHI/AAAAAAAABQs/yatE5hkQfss/s1600/sherlockcoat.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 138px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TMT0kWEiTHI/AAAAAAAABQs/yatE5hkQfss/s320/sherlockcoat.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531815147554884722" /></a><br /><br />as we know from <I>who</I> reviver russell t. davies's spin-off series <I>torchwood</I>, the 21st century is when everything changes, and that includes sherlock holmes ... at least in terms of the trappings. he still grabs a london cab when dashing off to investigate, but the cabs have horsepower, not horses. he still alternately annoys and abets scotland yard's lestrade (rupert graves), but now he bugs the hapless detective inspector by texting rebuttals to the media in the middle of police press conferences. he still has an addiction, but it's to nicotine, not cocaine, although it's sort-of alluded that he had a more illegal addiction at some point. his <I>science of deduction</I> is now a <A HREF="http://www.thescienceofdeduction.co.uk/">website</A>, but holmes still has a brother, mycroft (gatiss), who occupies a minor position in the british government or <I>is</I> the british government, depending on which version of his job description you believe, and who drives sherlock crazy with his concern.<br /><br />but the main thing that hasn't changed is that sherlock holmes is still desperate to not be bored, a fact the villain in this first story is counting on.<br /><br />the tale is titled "a study in pink," and it neatly mashes up details from other conan doyle stories with the plot of the novel <I>a study in scarlet</I>, the first appearance of holmes in print. as in the original, a mutual friend introduces watson to holmes. they meet at a hospital lab, holmes runs down all the reasons he might be a crap roommate, and watson is impressed by his future flatmate's whole deal. watson remains a wounded veteran of the afghanistan war, and moffat amusingly finesses the contradiction between the first novel (where watson's wound was in his shoulder) and later stories (where it's a leg wound) by labeling the latter a "psychosomatic injury." thus, watson walks with a limp and uses a cane, but no worries. the healing power of sherlock holmes is nearly as awesome as his giant deductive-reasoning brain.<br /><br />pretty soon sherlock holmes and dr. watson are greeting mrs. hudson (una stubbs) at 221b baker street. and pretty soon after <I>that</I>, watson is pulled willingly, if confusedly, into his first case, involving a string of suicides that turn out to be murders most foul.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TMTvKblwGtI/AAAAAAAABQk/INoRCa2TZ-g/s1600/bakerstreet.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TMTvKblwGtI/AAAAAAAABQk/INoRCa2TZ-g/s320/bakerstreet.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531809204801641170" /></a><br /><br />as with last year's <A HREF="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2009/12/you-look-so-fine.html"><I>sherlock holmes</I> movie</A>, the bromantic elements are emphasized, although moffat plays them less as oscar/felix <I>odd couple</I> shtick and more on the are-you-boys-TOGETHER? tip. the jangly-jaunty music, by david arnold and michael price, kind of reminded me of hans zimmer's score for the film, too. likewise, the dry, witty banter between our heroes flies fast and thick, which befits the feverish pace, slam cuts, swooping camera, and clever framing. sadly, there is not as much fire in the miniseries as in the film, but one cannot have everything.<br /><br />at 90 minutes, each episode is nearly movie-length, and they all feel stuffed full (something that cannot always be said for the much shorter episodes of <I>doctor who</I> this past season). i almost felt like the series was written for me, a viewer who loves clever yarns, adept acting, and awesome overcoats. but then moffat went and slapped me in the face with a gratuitously sexist moment. holmes's demeaning remark concerning sgt. sally donovan's (vinette robinson) extracurricular activities yanked me right out of my isn't-this-fun? mood for a good two or three minutes. (yes, she actively hates him and calls him "freak," so obviously there's no love lost between these characters. but here's an idea: how about having an insulting exchange with a woman that <I>doesn't</I> involve basically calling her a whore? crazy, i know.)<br /><br />anyway, the mystery is unraveled and holmes gets his man ... with more than a little help from watson, natch. before said man goes down for the count, he lets slip that he's working for someone else -- someone who has a great interest in holmes. "there's a name no one says," the killer taunts, "and i'm not gonna say it, either." (and it's not "voldemort," as any sherlock holmes fan has already deduced.) but eventually, he spills.<br /><br />all three episodes are well worth watching, but the last one, "the great game" (penned by gatiss and debuting on KCET nov. 11 at 9 p.m.), is easily the best, despite the maddening cliffhanger. you don't really need a giant brain to figure out the mystery, but i promise you one thing: you will not be bored.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-24578692014335128672010-10-01T13:11:00.000-07:002010-10-03T17:57:24.217-07:00boogie woogie<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZA8MdCkAI/AAAAAAAABPs/A5WWX9O3MJg/s1600/liberacepianotux.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZA8MdCkAI/AAAAAAAABPs/A5WWX9O3MJg/s320/liberacepianotux.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523173395895848962" /></a><br /><br />he was a child prodigy destined for greatness. he only needed one name. he was a pioneer of the personality-as-commodity school of celebrity. and, as he was so fond of saying, he didn't give concerts -- he put on a show.<br /><br />last weekend i took a road trip to blazing hot las vegas to see the <A HREF="http://www.liberace.org/">liberace museum</A>. my pals catherine and julie cooked up this idea at cat's birthday party a few weeks ago, so we did not take <A HREF="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2006/07/meet-ze-monsta-it-is-gorgeous-creature.html">the beast</A> but instead rode in the air-conditioned comfort of cat's honda. not sure why i decided to go along, as i'm not particularly a fan of "mr. showmanship" -- the flashy pianist who was the greatest entertainer of someone's generation, but not mine. in fact, i didn't really know much about him. but suddenly we all really wanted to see the museum before it closes on october 17, due to declining attendance and the liberace foundation's desire to focus on its work providing <A HREF="http://www.liberace.org/The-Liberace-Foundation.htm">scholarships to students in the arts</A>. which, especially in this day and age, is more important. (the collection will live on as a touring exhibition, according to the foundation's official press release.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZjGixVEYI/AAAAAAAABQU/1abRNAX-66c/s1600/liberace.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 268px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZjGixVEYI/AAAAAAAABQU/1abRNAX-66c/s320/liberace.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523210957080564098" /></a><br /><br />in life, walter "lee" liberace (who died in 1987 and was for two decades the highest paid entertainer in the world) assumed such sobriquets as "the glitter man" and "mr. showmanship," but his retconned catchphrase is "the king of bling." it's all over what's left of the merch in the gift shop -- postcards, stand-ups, refrigerator magnets, t-shirts, etc. and once you get a load of his mirrored automobiles, mirrored pianos, and elaborately sequinned costumes, it's hard to argue with that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZG6XxeP-I/AAAAAAAABP0/tVZeSA_Kshc/s1600/blingyroadster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZG6XxeP-I/AAAAAAAABP0/tVZeSA_Kshc/s320/blingyroadster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523179961644367842" /></a><br /><br />the museum is in two buildings in a corner strip mall on east tropicana avenue. liberace's music -- a blend of classical and pop revered by his fans and often reviled by critics -- wafts through both spaces, delicate and light-as-air, playful and unfailingly joyful. one building displays his cars and his pianos, the other one presents his costumes and jewelry, a little bit of furniture, and walls full of awards.<br /><br />cat insisted there was no way he could possibly drive the mirror-encrusted roadster shown above, because it would blind people! also among the auto collection is his 1972 gold metal flake bradley gt (with a silver candelabrum etched on each side), his custom-made mirrored rolls royce (with convenient one-man bar in the back seat), an old british taxi with a working meter (which the info card said he occasionally used to pick up friends at the palm springs airport), and a pink vw pimped out like a rolls royce.<br /><br />the pianos include a mirrored grand and a vintage player piano customized with mirrored tiles and other flourishes. another one is painted a deep blue to match one of his outfits. my favorite was this elaborately painted number that was featured in the 1945 film <I>a song to remember</I> -- about the life of frederic chopin, who was of polish origin like liberace. it inspired the budding mr. showmanship to create his famous candelabra-on-piano stage settings, and he bought the movie piano later on as a memento.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZK1WfC87I/AAAAAAAABP8/qydlHG54aIs/s1600/pianotoremember.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZK1WfC87I/AAAAAAAABP8/qydlHG54aIs/s320/pianotoremember.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523184273445811122" /></a><br /><br />for me what made the trip worthwhile were the costumes. almost all of them are totally over-the-top, but what do you expect from the glitter man? sequins, beads, feathers, fur -- all the trappings of luxury and excess, reflecting his oft-repeated quotation of his friend mae west, that "too much of a good thing is wonderful!" every outfit has a cape to go with, and special shoes too, because one cannot go running around in custom-made finery with off-the-rack footwear, darling.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZNs3omagI/AAAAAAAABQE/qb5aPlrxbaw/s1600/feathers.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZNs3omagI/AAAAAAAABQE/qb5aPlrxbaw/s320/feathers.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523187426260314626" /></a><br /><br />i took a lot of pictures, all with my iphone, which did surprisingly well considering that the showroom is covered in mirrors and draped with chandeliers, so light rays are constantly bouncing around. some of the cooler costumes are in a glass case, which made it really hard to get a good shot, but most are just behind ropes/rails. the purple ostrich feather ensemble above is among my favorites; it reminded me of lilacs (and i learned later from the website's <A HREF="http://www.liberace.org/Liberace-Trivia.htm">trivia page</A> that lilacs were liberace's fave flower, omg). but it's hard to choose just one. check out my <A HREF="http://gallery.me.com/hipspinster#100062">gallery</A> if you want to see more, including his famous red-white-and-blue bicentennial hotpants outfit and a fairly spectacular matador-themed costume, along with this red and black number that is vaguely art deco:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZh5z_V9qI/AAAAAAAABQM/lVElrUxWJWs/s1600/blacknred.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/TKZh5z_V9qI/AAAAAAAABQM/lVElrUxWJWs/s320/blacknred.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523209638852818594" /></a><br /><br />i couldn't get a good picture of the most amazing one -- the crazy-elaborate "king neptune" suit. (luckily, someone else on the internet has a <A HREF="http://www.flickr.com/photos/54717162@N00/405860089">great shot</A> of it.) it features a ridiculously high, clamshell-shaped back collar, loads of pearls, and a cape lining embroidered with shimmering green kelp strands and coral branches. it was his heaviest costume and weighed 200 pounds!!<br /><br />i told my dad about the trip, and he had a story about seeing liberace live, some time in the '70s, at a nightclub in jersey. his party was seated right next to the stage, and the woman in the couple he was with had on a LOT of gorgeous diamonds. liberace made his way up to her and kissed her hand, saying, "i don't know what you do, madam, but you're obviously doing it right!" ahaha.<br /><br />reading about liberace in the fairly extensive <A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liberace">wikipedia</A> entry left me pretty impressed by how driven he was and how much he did. (he played in cuba. he met the pope. he performed for the queen.) and also wondering what he was really like. in the clips i watched on youtube, including the one linked from the title of this post, his public persona is likable, almost sweet, and he seems to genuinely be enjoying himself even while busting out the schmaltziest shtick. he was savvy enough to lampoon himself (as did many comedians and critics), as when he appeared in a double role on the '60s <I>batman</I> show, playing a concert pianist and his criminal mastermind twin brother.<br /><br /><object width="400" height="325"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/hT7R7btVOOk?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/hT7R7btVOOk?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="325"></embed></object><br /><br />which is an odd irony, and not because liberace had a twin brother who died at birth (shades of <A HREF="http://photos.syracuse.com/post-standard/2010/01/liberace_elvis_presley.html">elvis</A>, ahaha). liberace lived a double life -- he was gay but spent his entire life denying it. it's sort of sad that a man who exhibited his talents and tastes so boldly ended up having to hide who he really was. but otoh it's hard to feel sorry for him, and he probably wouldn't have wanted that. after all, back in the '50s, he won damages from tabloids that made <A HREF="http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/thedailymirror/2007/05/liberace_sues_c.html">insinuations about his sexuality</A>. and, as he said then, "i cried all the way to the bank!"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-5137813939571794592010-04-16T21:33:00.000-07:002010-04-16T22:45:15.729-07:00when i grow up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8IuZSKbpbI/AAAAAAAABOY/T7PZpj9cV7o/s1600/11thhr.docamy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8IuZSKbpbI/AAAAAAAABOY/T7PZpj9cV7o/s320/11thhr.docamy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458976710233662898" /></a><br /><br />it's not a new doctor -- it's the same man. new <A HREF="http://www.bbcamerica.com/shows/doctor-who/index.jsp"><I>doctor who</I></A> showrunner steven moffat has said this a lot recently, and it's true. in his latest incarnation, the doctor is the same man. only different.<br /><br />the BBC's time lord hero has a new face (matt smith, above at left), along with a lot of other new things. and at long last -- well over a year since smith was cast to replace outgoing doctor david tennant -- the ever-growing u.s. who fandom will see him in action in "the eleventh hour," airing saturday night on bbc america at 6 and 9.<br /><br />do i even need to say it? all right, i will: SPOILERS AHEAD! STOP READING NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS.<br /><br />the episode kicks off at high, loopy speed, with the seriously damaged TARDIS flying out of control over nighttime london while the newly regenerated doctor dangles, hollering, from the open doorway. he crash-lands in the garden of a house where a girl named amelia pond, who lives there with her aunt, is praying to SANTA (ahaha!). she needs someone to fix the crack in her wall, from whence mysterious whispers emanate. "thank you, santa," she says upon seeing the battered police box that has just crushed the garden shed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8k9H4Lv-YI/AAAAAAAABOo/W3aGqUVeaSA/s1600/Picture+7.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8k9H4Lv-YI/AAAAAAAABOo/W3aGqUVeaSA/s320/Picture+7.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460963228713482626" /></a><br /><br />it's a great start (restart?), and in general i like matt smith as the 11th doctor. as much as i loved tennant (and christopher eccleston before him), and almost everything former showrunner russell t. davies did with <I>doctor who</I> (including bringing it back to the screen in the first place), i have been looking forward to a change. after all, change -- brought on by the character's periodic regeneration, allowing another actor to take over -- has been at the heart(s) of this show practically since it began in 1963.<br /><br />tennant became the most popular doctor ever in the UK, but matt smith is going to be the biggest doctor ever in the states. not because he's better than tennant or even necessarily more appealing to americans; it's just about timing. BBCA has relatively recently been ramping up its profile and didn't even air the show first over here for much of the new <I>who</I> run (which premiered here on scifi). <I>doctor who</I> is still a cult jam here, but the buzz is building. the major u.s. dailies have made a fair amount of fuss over this latest series, as have the entertainment rags and blogs.<br /><br />smith, 27, is the youngest actor to play the doctor (a couple of years younger than peter davison, who was 29 when he became the fifth doctor back in 1981). and his secret weapon is karen gillan, a 22-year-old scottish redhead who is super-cute and very likable as the doctor's new best friend, amy pond. this week they did some promo appearances in new york and l.a., and boy are they <A HREF="http://community.livejournal.com/ohnotheydidnt/45949357.html">adorably goofy and geeky together</A>.<br /><br />this apparent turn toward the youth market might be worrisome, were the very fine writer and award-winning fan fave moffat not at the helm. as it is, all that talk about smith playing old in a young body wasn't complete hype. smith makes a strong mark here, and i think it will become more distinctive. still, eleven's catchphrase -- "geronimo!" -- is not a patch on nine's "fantastic!" or even ten's "allons-y!" but at least he still says "whaaaat?!" and now he gets to pingpong about time and space in a redone TARDIS that is, as moffat says, "even bigger on the inside." hallelujah for that!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8k-xd2zLjI/AAAAAAAABOw/A6q7ZcINgxI/s1600/TARDIS+insides.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8k-xd2zLjI/AAAAAAAABOw/A6q7ZcINgxI/s320/TARDIS+insides.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460965042712423986" /></a><br /><br />(image lifted from the eclectic banana blog; thanks.)<br /><br />moffat is straightforward about his take on the show. "doctor who is a fairy tale," says he -- more grimms than disney, of course. his previous <I>who</I> stories often feature fantastical goings-on and creepy hybrids of myth and science fiction -- the gas-mask people in "the empty child"/"the doctor dances," the fabled weeping angels of "blink." however, like fairy tales, moffat's stories resonate not because of the supernatural but due to the all-too-human: lies, guilt, secrets, love. both moffat and RTD are emotional writers, but where RTD's <I>who</I> popped on every level -- visually, sonically, dramatically -- moffat's is so far more nuanced and intimate, although just as likely to get loud and silly.<br /><br />sure, the doctor has 20 minutes to save the world in "the eleventh hour" -- without TARDIS or sonic screwdriver. but that's just backdrop. this is really about setting up the relationship between the doctor and seven-year-old amelia, a complex and psychologically fraught connection that's a far cry from "nice to meet you, rose tyler. run for your life!"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8k_xkFcVsI/AAAAAAAABO4/jvRxJXfVk9I/s1600/d11s01ep01_wal_19_doctor_am.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8k_xkFcVsI/AAAAAAAABO4/jvRxJXfVk9I/s320/d11s01ep01_wal_19_doctor_am.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460966143896082114" /></a><br /><br />still wearing ten's battered suit and trainers, eleven hauls himself out of the TARDIS wreckage, but his extraordinary entrance barely fazes amelia. that crack in the wall, however, has her worried. "must be a hell of a crack," muses the doctor over a restorative meal of fish fingers and custard (the culmination of some overlong spit-take slapshtick involving the doctor searching for the right food to help him through the last phases of regeneration).<br /><br />he got <I>that</I> right. on the other side of the crack, an ominous authoritarian voice announces, "prisoner zero has escaped." amelia's heard those words before but doesn't know what they mean. the doctor doesn't either, but he's going to find out ... right after he deals with the regenerating TARDIS. he tells amelia he'll be back in five minutes, and then she can come with him. amelia packs a suitcase and parks herself in the garden to wait.<br /><br />and wait ... .<br /><br />"geronimo!" be damned; the real catchphrase this season may be "timey-wimey" (a moffat-ism that basically means time travel causes weirdness). that is, the doctor doesn't come back in five minutes: he comes back <I>12 years later</I>. well, it seems like five minutes to <I>him</I>, but ... like i said. timey-wimey. get used to it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8lAjnRZILI/AAAAAAAABPA/4sRoZIWx4eg/s1600/dr_amye1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8lAjnRZILI/AAAAAAAABPA/4sRoZIWx4eg/s320/dr_amye1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460967003744968882" /></a><br /><br />anyway, little amelia is now stunning redhead amy (karen gillan), the girl who waited a fucking long time. and her wait is not quite over. if this all seems kinda familiar, you've probably seen the tennant episode "the girl in the fireplace." penned by moffat, it had the doctor popping in and out of the life of madame de pompadour in a similar time-stretched fashion.<br /> <br />i got that feeling a lot: moffat, another lifelong who fan and more of a traditionalist than RTD, has made something so different, yet so very familiar. moffat establishes through-lines that will doubtless run all season, one of which is related to that crack in amy's wall, something called the pandorica, and the admonition that "silence will fall." there's also a laptop boldly emblazoned with the product name "MΨTH" (which recalls the atmos thing from last season but might just be a throwaway gag). amy doesn't have a family (nor, thank god, an unrequited or even requited love for the doctor), but she does have tenuous ties to ordinary life that may prove hard to shake. yet all this treading of familiar territory is preferable to new ideas that don't really work, such as the fast-forward "doctorvision" bit meant to show us, i guess, how the doctor's perceptions work.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8lBr3TnVeI/AAAAAAAABPI/zrDZddme32w/s1600/bowtie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8lBr3TnVeI/AAAAAAAABPI/zrDZddme32w/s320/bowtie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460968244999837154" /></a><br /><br />eleven's tweedy jacket and bow tie somewhat recall the second doctor's get-up, but he's not as deceptively clownish as patrick troughton played two. smith does have a distinctly eccentric edge to his acting, and if he doesn't radiate manic joy at playing the doctor from every pore (as did tennant), his doctor still at times comes across as benignly unhinged and perennially distracted, a la the great tom baker, the fourth, longest-running, and still best doctor ever.<br /><br />happily, amy is a bit unhinged herself. who wouldn't be, after that childhood experience? the doctor clearly left a big impression, as she grew up making dolls, stories, and comics about him -- likenesses so well rendered that when he finally does return, everyone in her tiny town is like, "hey, it's YOU! the raggedy doctor! YOU'RE REAL OMG!" which is a pretty funny running gag.<br /><br />it's rather horrifying, however, to have all the adults around you trying to convince you your "imaginary friend" isn't real, when you <I>know</I> he is. the experience has made amy more independent-minded but has also damaged her. "12 years and four psychiatrists," amy fumes at the doctor -- yikes.<br /><br />the doctor seems a bit hurt by her attitude. "i grew up," she snaps. "we'll soon fix that," he cheerfully replies. the doctor is peter pan, and now amy doesn't have to grow up.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8lExvCdOiI/AAAAAAAABPQ/FW0eCy-AlyE/s1600/notagain.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8lExvCdOiI/AAAAAAAABPQ/FW0eCy-AlyE/s320/notagain.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460971644394486306" /></a><br /><br />it <I>is</I> like a fairy tale, or a dream. we never see amy in regular clothes; she wears either her nightclothes or her ridiculous "kissogram" costume, a policewoman outfit with the shortest skirt evar -- just like how sometimes in dreams you're wearing totally inappropriate clothes for whatever's happening. even the new opening sequence befits a fairy tale, as the time vortex swirls like a menacing black rose, shot through with lightning bolts and fire.<br /><br />likewise, we see flashes of the more dangerous being behind the doctor's devil-may-care demeanor -- the emergence, perhaps, of the great and terrible time lord described by river song in moffat's "silence in the library." the doctor is the same man -- a point beautifully reflected in a sequence where 11 suits up in his new outfit while warning off the extraterrestrial threat du jour, as a montage of his previous incarnations plays over the alien's info screen. but by the end, when moffat puts a clever twist on the doctor's oft-repeated command of "run," it's clear that 11 can indeed be her doctor.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8lFKIbt8lI/AAAAAAAABPY/aPwuzneykn4/s1600/run.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/S8lFKIbt8lI/AAAAAAAABPY/aPwuzneykn4/s320/run.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460972063528186450" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-87467980899927622042010-01-02T16:11:00.000-08:002010-01-02T17:04:50.470-08:00blown away<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sz_grm5ltdI/AAAAAAAABOQ/548mIdyar08/s1600-h/10thdoctorEOT2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sz_grm5ltdI/AAAAAAAABOQ/548mIdyar08/s320/10thdoctorEOT2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422299516158457298" /></a><br /><br />guess what, people? i have seen "<A HREF="http://www.bbcamerica.com/content/123/doctor-who-the-end-of-time-part-two.jsp">the end of time part two</A>," and it is good. and that's about all i'm gonna say about it here. you can watch it tonight on bbc america and decide for yourself. i have a million thoughts about the final appearance of david tennant's doctor, however. although it was not as soul-rippingly sad as "journey's end," it was still a satisfying yarn and an emotional roller-coaster indeed.<br /><br />i laughed, i cried, i went "what the FUCK??!" so, despite lack of making me quiver on the floor in pain, i say well done, RTD. (and that's taking into account the inevitable OTT moments and did-you-HAVE-to? bits that are an essential part of the russell t. davies canon.) i alternately moaned and clutched the throw pillow and bounced up and down cheering, and that is an acceptable mind-fuck, so yay.<br /><br />and i must say, the regeneration was pyrotechnic indeed. yummy! in his first scene as the doctor, matt smith appeared a lot more confident than he did when running through it in the "EoTpt2"-related episode of <I>doctor who confidential</I>. (which was titled "alons-y!" hee.) and now we get our first trailer dialed to 11. check it; this is also the first time hipspinter has posted a video clip. (or <A HREF="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnPUF8an-XE">see it on youtube</A>.) it's a brand-new world indeed.<br /><br /><object width="410" height="330"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UnPUF8an-XE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UnPUF8an-XE&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="410" height="330"></embed></object><br /><br />one last thing: do not stay tuned for <I>demons</I> following "EoT." it sucks. i found it <A HREF="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2009/01/everything-old-is-new-again.html">ridiculous</A> when i watched the pilot almost a year ago, but thought i'd stick with it. only one episode later, i realized it was <A HREF="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2008/01/do-you-believe-in-magic.html">rubbish</A>. a waste of philip glenister and your precious time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-24564761050453832442009-12-29T20:03:00.000-08:002009-12-29T21:47:27.153-08:00you look so fine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SzrU1Y4V7QI/AAAAAAAABOA/WgiUIpMtOYQ/s1600-h/watsonposter.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 210px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SzrU1Y4V7QI/AAAAAAAABOA/WgiUIpMtOYQ/s320/watsonposter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420879115170737410" /></a><br /><br />this holiday season has been full of perpetually reincarnated fictional british heroes: on christmas day we got to see our favorite time lord, as well as shakespeare's angst-plagued danish prince hamlet, as portrayed by <I>doctor who</I> star david tennant in the film version of gregory doran's stratford-to-west-end production of the namesake play. and yesterday i caught the latest incarnation of the world's greatest detective, <A HREF="sherlock-holmes-movie.warnerbros.com/"><I>sherlock holmes</I></A>, starring robert downey jr. as holmes and jude law as his faithful companion doctor john watson.<br /><br />this guy ritchie-directed extravaganza is handsome but hardly cerebral (directly the opposite of how i imagine holmes to be), although there are a lot of great lines in a script also plagued by horribly cliched ones. ("solve this case -- whatever it takes!" ugh.) it is mainly a bunch of fight scenes and big ol' set-pieces strung together by an amped-up mystery and a few half-hearted attempts to show us holmes's deductive reasoning in action (which are mercifully soon abandoned for more traditional demonstrations of same). at least three people leap out of windows in this movie. one of them is on fire. that's pretty much all you need to know.<br /><br />the many references to watson as "the doctor" here led to silly associations in my head. at one point i even poked JD and asked her how come the doctor couldn't just use his sonic screwdriver to get them out of the situation. RDJ was pretty good as holmes (despite, apparently, some objections to an amurican playing the part; isn't that why it's called acting?). but in some ways this movie was, for me, all about watson.<br /><br />i'm not especially enamored of RDJ or JL as hunks of manflesh, but probably the best thing about <I>sherlock holmes</I> is how wonderfully, spiffily tweedy watson is with his walking stick and amazing clothes that seem to never get dirty, even in grubby ol' victorian england. his grey flannel/magenta pinstripe suit (seen above) is the best of several natty ensembles that kept my eyes riveted, as he does indeed wear them well. man-in-a-suit alert!<br /><br />the second best thing about <I>sherlock holmes</I> is the original music, by prolific veteran hans zimmer. much of it is this zesty yet off-kilter fiddle-y, banjo-y, piano-y stuff that provides a much-needed organic element in the mix of relentless fisticuffs, fiery explosions, elaborate chases, and wildly evil ambitions.<br /><br />i recently started reading sir arthur conan doyle's original holmes books, which i somehow never got around to as a kid. having inherited my techie sister's cast-off ipod touch, i downloaded a bunch of free holmes for my kindle app and started from the beginning, after reading a couple of short stories from later in the run. i've only just started <I>the hound of the baskervilles</I> (the third of the four early novels), but i've read enough to know that the movie's writers pretty much frankensteined different parts of doyle's tales and changed details at will. (one example: in the movie, holmes has never before met watson's fiancee, mary. but the whole second novel, <I>the sign of the four</I>, revolves around a case mary brings to holmes, which is how watson meets her in the first place.)<br /><br />as a result, we have a very au courant emphasis on the bromantic aspect of holmes and watson's relationship, with watson sniping about how messy holmes is and how he keeps borrowing watson's clothes without asking, fussing over how holmes always forgets his revolver, and protesting how holmes uses the dog to try out his latest sleeping potions. ("he doesn't mind," holmes insists, as the plump bulldog snores in the corner.) holmes is still the savvy deductive-reasoning dude and master of disguise, but his ass-kicker quotient is pumped way up. (and his drug-use quotient is shrunken to just barely mentioned.) he also acts very much like an adolescent boy over watson's impending nuptials, using cheap tricks and rudeness to try to split them up. which may all be in the original mix, idk.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SzrjSK8KZNI/AAAAAAAABOI/dAwHYwVTV9U/s1600-h/holmesposter.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 227px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SzrjSK8KZNI/AAAAAAAABOI/dAwHYwVTV9U/s320/holmesposter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420895002807657682" /></a><br /><br />anyway. the main story involves a chap named lord blackwood (the amazing mark strong, who has been and will be in many things, but who i especially loved in <A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Our_friends_in_the_north"><I>our friends in the north</I></A>). he's an apparent master of the dark magical arts who begins terrorizing london with his scary evil ways and has a BIG PLAN TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD. also hanging around is irene adler (rachel mcadams, who is just ok), a criminal american woman who has a History with holmes both here and in the written stories. a more mysterious figure from the holmes canon lurks in the background.<br /><br />the problem right now with BIG PLANS TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD is that every fuckin' genre movie has them. i know warner bros. can't make tons of cash if they don't inject some epic-ness and over-the-top action into a tale involving a guy who mostly uses his mind to defeat bad guys, but they could have still had lots of fight scenes and stunts and set-pieces with a story that had a little less at stake than some mofo who wants to bend the entire world to his will mwahaha. in other words, bored now.<br /><br />ah, but i mostly enjoyed the flick, although sometimes i laughed <I>at</I> it and not <I>with</I> it. it is way too long at two and a quarter hours, and the uneven pacing doesn't help. the thing takes off at full speed, which yanks you right in, but then it drags and revs up again in cycles that just make you wish they'd get it over with already. and, while i do love me some kicky-fighty, <I>sherlock holmes</I> has so many extended choreographed battles that, by the time we got to the big climactic numbers, i felt like i'd seen it all before.<br /><br />oh, well. it is worth seeing for the escapism of it all. the man on fire, btw, is not the only cool pyrotechnic thing. so if you, like me, are a firebug who's crazy about balletic fistfights and well-dressed men, by all means go see it. but do get yourself some popcorn on the way in.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-28845458814871552332009-12-24T22:39:00.000-08:002009-12-24T22:59:52.058-08:00blue christmas<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SzRevxUFAMI/AAAAAAAABN4/S2DDjovdI0Y/s1600-h/EOT.doctor%2Bwilf.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SzRevxUFAMI/AAAAAAAABN4/S2DDjovdI0Y/s320/EOT.doctor%2Bwilf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419060426417963202" /></a><br /><br />in honor of the beginning of "<A HREF"http://www.bbc.co.uk/doctorwho/s4/episodes/"}>the end of time</A>," here is a blast from <A HREF="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2007/12/do-you-hear-what-i-hear.html">christmas 2007</A> past. my original doctor who christmas song, penned for my DW buddy richie. although, while 'tis the season for a <I>doctor who</I> special, we are not going to get daleks. i don't think. but we <I>will</I> get wilf (see above)! so yay.<br /><br />Santa, Bring Me a Dalek<br /><br /><I>Santa, I've been good this year<br />Now bring on the excess<br />But I don't want no costly gear --<br />No earrings, no Lexus<br />No MP3, no GPS,<br />No diamond watch, no Wii<br />This Christmas I will be a mess<br />Without supremacy<br /><br />Santa, bring me a Dalek<br />I swear it is the best<br />Santa, bring me a Dalek<br />The Doctor's nemesis<br /><br />It's fun, it's keen, it's neat, it's mean<br />Oh, what a sight to see<br />The scourge of planet Skaro<br />As cute as it can be<br />A mutant form of human life<br />It's programmed to survive<br />Mostly made of metal<br />And yet still quite alive<br /><br />Santa, bring me a Dalek<br />The sci-fi king of death<br />Santa, bring me a Dalek<br />Or I will hold my breath<br /><br />[dramatic pause]<br /><br />I've been good, I've been sweet<br />I got high marks in school<br />I do just what my parents say<br />And follow all the rules<br /><br />So give me what my heart desires<br />This super-duper beast<br />It never stops, it never quits<br />It's tops, to say the least<br />There's just no better way to prove<br />I've got the upper hand<br />Come Yuletide night I'll be the one<br />Who's lord of all the land<br /><br />Santa, bring me a Dalek<br />It's round and cool and tough<br />Santa, bring me a Dalek<br />It's got balls, and that's enough<br /><br />Santa, bring me a Dalek<br />Right now, it's not too late<br />Santa, bring me a Dalek<br />I will ex-ter-mi-nate!</I><br /><br />happy christmas to all!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-4919243302424455282009-12-19T14:52:00.000-08:002009-12-19T17:58:18.460-08:00run<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SyQi9Ck7lGI/AAAAAAAABMo/wowEhRY4W-s/s1600-h/tardisonmars2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SyQi9Ck7lGI/AAAAAAAABMo/wowEhRY4W-s/s320/tardisonmars2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414491084065313890" /></a><br /><br />HELLO, FRIENDS. GUESS WHAT'S GOT ME BACK IN THE MOOD TO POST? THAT'S RIGHT: THE LATEST <I>DOCTOR WHO</I> SPECIAL, "THE WATERS OF MARS," AIRING TONIGHT ON BBC AMERICA. FOLLOWING IS AN IN-DEPTH DISCUSSION OF SAID EPISODE, COMPLETE WITH SPOILERS. SO DON'T READ ON IF YOU DON'T WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENS.<br /><br />"it's the end. but the moment has been prepared for."<br /><br />the final words of the fourth doctor do apply to "<A HREF="http://www.bbcamerica.com/content/123/doctor-who-the-waters-of-mars.jsp">the waters of mars</A>," the latest new <I>doctor who</I> special ... and the proverbial beginning of the end for incarnation number ten, played by the smashingly manic and wonderfully emotional david tennant. a mix of classic sci-fi thriller and dark morality play, the episode has already aired in the UK, and bbc america will screen it for stateside whovians tonight at 9 pm.<br /><br />four's last words work as commentary on tennant's departure just as well as they served tom baker (still the longest-serving doctor and, until tennant, the most popular) in his day ... for surely no moment in british tv history was ever quite so prepared for as the tenth doctor's last story, "<A HREF="http://www.bbcamerica.com/content/123/doctor-who-the-end-of-time-part-one.jsp">the end of time</A>." (like i would know, ahaha.) "the waters of mars" brought a deluge of "the-end-of-time"-is-near coverage: magazine features and covers, radio and tv interviews, news stories, and special tie-in episodes of programs like the panel show <I>never mind the buzzcocks</I>. the UK has so many <I>who</I>-related broadcasts that the doctor who news page made up a <A HREF="http://gallifreynewsbase.blogspot.com/2009/12/christmas-broadcast-summary.html">handy chart</A> for fans to keep track of it all. pubs in the UK will throw special parties to celebrate the final two-parter, airing on christmas day and new year's day over there, and dec. 26 and jan. 2 here. even <I>time out</I> magazine got into the act with a special edition featuring <A HREF="http://gallifreynewsbase.blogspot.com/2009/12/time-out-special-edition.html">10 different doctor who covers</A>, one for each incarnation.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1r9qnDhuI/AAAAAAAABNo/c3sgZZRWLT4/s1600-h/timeoutgallerydrwhonewspage.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 170px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1r9qnDhuI/AAAAAAAABNo/c3sgZZRWLT4/s320/timeoutgallerydrwhonewspage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417104633950865122" /></a><br /><br />so, yeah. the moment has been prepared for. however, something in "the waters of mars" is a more direct throwback to the demise of doctor number four, which happened in the serial titled "<A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Logopolis">logopolis</A>," way back in 1981. but let's not get ahead of ourselves here.<br /><br />in "the waters of mars" (working title: "red christmas"), the TARDIS materializes on the red planet, looking ever so fetching alone against the brick-colored landscape. out leaps the doctor, wearing the spacesuit he got in "<A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Impossible_Planet">the impossible planet</A>" over his burgundy-pinstriped blue suit. (which we will never see again, sob! it's my favorite.) he's still traveling without a companion, which is just a bad idea. and he knows that, so it's actually a crazy bad idea.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1MMOgHM3I/AAAAAAAABMw/cCuwmxKm_-s/s1600-h/idontknow2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1MMOgHM3I/AAAAAAAABMw/cCuwmxKm_-s/s320/idontknow2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417069699731501938" /></a><br /><br />he finds a base station and some scientists, led by the tough adelaide brooke (lindsay duncan), and quickly figures out he's in the middle of a soon-to-be-tragic historic event from the year 2059 -- background on which we see through the curious, somewhat clunky device of flash-asides to what look like 2009-era web pages with info about the scientist-pioneers. (a big problem of having no companion: no one to expositate to.) it's the flip side of the doctor's triumphant shout of "everybody lives!" from "<A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Doctor_Dances">the doctor dances</A>." that is, this time, everybody dies.<br /><br />the doctor knows the story and its characters well: in 2059, the inhabitants of earth's mars colony bowie base one (lol!) all died in a massive explosion. and he really should go. because this is one of those pesky "fixed points in time" that he's <I>not allowed to change</I>, due to the laws of time.<br /><br />shades of "<A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fires_of_Pompeii">the fires of pompeii</A>," no? but this time the doctor doesn't have the amazing donna noble around, not to persuade him to just save <I>someone</I>, but to stop him from going too far, as companions tend to do. and guess what happens? he goes too far. first, however, we get a lot of the usual clever banter and running about, along with some goofy robot shenanigans and a more external horror story involving contaminated water that begins to turn the bowie crew into super-creepy-looking zombies, one by one.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1cZvIoDnI/AAAAAAAABNA/0FyexbisToQ/s1600-h/WoMscawy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1cZvIoDnI/AAAAAAAABNA/0FyexbisToQ/s320/WoMscawy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417087524015705714" /></a><br /><br />eeeyieeee! scary, huh?<br /><br />the doctor can't resist this mystery. continuing to protest that he really should go, he stays right where he is and investigates the problem, even making a vague passing mention of the <A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ice_Warrior">ice warriors</A> (a reference to the classic series, be still my beating hearts). and as his time spent in this non-changeable event grows longer, he finds it harder to quietly accept the inevitable. fighting back is the doctor's raison d'etre. but today it will be his undoing.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1dR-LQayI/AAAAAAAABNI/UMuyAzpDmlg/s1600-h/WoMdrwindow.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1dR-LQayI/AAAAAAAABNI/UMuyAzpDmlg/s320/WoMdrwindow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417088490125945634" /></a><br /><br />lindsay duncan as adelaide is wonderful to behold, all tough and businesslike but with hints of love and compassion. adelaide embraces risk without a second thought, and the doctor admires that. but he's so impressed with her, and so upset about what's supposed to happen to her, that he breaks one of the rules -- the one about no spoilers for people's futures. he means to comfort her, but adelaide can't be expected to see things the way he does. as much as the doctor goes on about how his perceptions of time and the universe are painfully unique, he often fails to remember that in practice. instead of helping her, his relevation puts her through an even worse ordeal.<br /><br />once the doctor breaks one time lord rule, the rest start to seem pretty damn stupid, especially because they're keeping him from getting what he wants, which is to save these people. damn the consequences -- <I>he's</I> the only time lord left! so the rules of time are <I>his</I> to command! he can do anything he <I>wants</I>. and <I>no one</I> can stop him. mwahahahahaaaaa!!!<br /><br />i don't think i've ever wished harder for donna to pop in and smack him on the head.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1p014lRRI/AAAAAAAABNY/dTIFQdnCuWI/s1600-h/WoMdrspacesuitflames.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1p014lRRI/AAAAAAAABNY/dTIFQdnCuWI/s320/WoMdrspacesuitflames.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417102283335091474" /></a><br /><br />but, nope. no one's there to stop our budding doc vader. as the perhaps-not-last of the time lords finally went off the rails completely, claiming his legacy with a power-mad arrogance (which is probably just the sort of thing that caused time lords to make up their dumb rules in the first place), i couldn't help wondering just when he really started losing it. i mean, things like this don't happen overnight, right?<br /><br />arguably he's been kinda unhinged since the time war, but i prefer to imagine he snapped after returning donna to her human self, saving her life but going against her wishes, and dooming her to be ordinary forever ... not to mention lost to him forever as well. maybe the doctor's mind began to turn during that scene in "<A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Journey%27s_End_%28Doctor_Who%29">journey's end</A>," where, his awful duty dispatched, he's standing in the pouring rain, heading back to the TARDIS all alone, having lost his beffie, someone he probably actually could have traveled with for the rest of her life. i like this idea because donna's granddad, wilfred mott, is there when it happens, looking at the doctor in that kindly knowing way of his and telling him he will think of the doctor on donna's behalf. and we know from the trailer at the end of "the waters of mars" that ten will seek out wilf again.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1olI8zHZI/AAAAAAAABNQ/KD5Fsu6ueIo/s1600-h/EoTwilf.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1olI8zHZI/AAAAAAAABNQ/KD5Fsu6ueIo/s320/EoTwilf.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417100914063515026" /></a><br /><br />he will definitely need a friend. because when the dire resolution of his mars misadventure unfolds, it is dark indeed, akin to <I>torchwood: children of earth</I> dark. what adelaide does to stop him is so shocking and yet so clever -- exactly the sort of thinking he might applaud under different circumstances. in her own way, she does serve the companion's purpose of putting a lid on his excesses and keeping him grounded, although it's too late this time and she pays a terrible price to shake him out of his mania.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1USDdAD7I/AAAAAAAABM4/0zOgqXv_R7M/s1600-h/WoMdr%2BA.hatch.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1USDdAD7I/AAAAAAAABM4/0zOgqXv_R7M/s320/WoMdr%2BA.hatch.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417078595937898418" /></a><br /><br />when it's all over, the doctor's actions leave history, the mars colonists, and us viewers totally messed up. and the doctor doesn't look so good himself. he knows he did wrong, but he doesn't want to face the music.<br /><br />not just the music, mind you, but the song. ood song, that is. as the full weight of what he's done sinks in, the doctor leans against the TARDIS ... and hears the beautifully mournful psychic song of the tentacle-faced race known as the <A HREF="http://tardis.wikia.com/wiki/Ood">ood</A>. then he sees him -- <A HREF="http://tardis.wikia.com/wiki/Ood_Sigma">ood sigma</A>, standing expectantly in the snow.<br /><br />the doctor looks remorseful ... and afraid. "i've gone too far," he whispers. "is this it? my death? is it time?" he asks with distress.<br /><br />why does the doctor think ood sigma is a harbinger of his death? well, he's seen this sort of thing before. in "logopolis," he kept encountering this white figure, hanging around at a distance from the action. the figure, called the watcher, was a signal to four that his time was up. (and was also apparently some future incarnation of himself ... wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey!) he didn't make a fuss about it then; in fact, seeing the watcher was a sort of comfort. so far, ood sigma doesn't seem to be a future incarnation of the doctor, but, hey, anything could happen.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1ztvjGpNI/AAAAAAAABNw/A6ejTt64zZM/s1600-h/WoMoodsigma.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1ztvjGpNI/AAAAAAAABNw/A6ejTt64zZM/s320/WoMoodsigma.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417113156491584722" /></a><br /><br />but the doctor sure isn't comforted by sigma's appearance. in the last special, "planet of the dead," tennant's performance felt, by no means terrible, but definitely off his game, as though he just didn't have the energy to give it his all. here, he is fantastic -- not just in the broad physical shtick he does so well, but especially in the subtler moments. he does some of his best acting inside that damn spacesuit, for one thing. and also in this scene, where a dozen different emotions pass across the doctor's face as he slips into the TARDIS, still looking shaken to his core. the cloister bell -- that eternal harbinger of bad bad stuff for time lords -- chimes. and then the doctor turns defiant. "no," he says. and, slamming a lever on the console, he dematerializes the hell out of there. straight to, no doubt, the end of time. will he stop with the "i am the great and powerful time lord" jazz now? is he running away from his death because he wants to fix things or because that's what he does?<br /><br />we'll know the answer in less than a week. i can't wait, but i'm also scared. the doctor's dark side has always been there, and it can be magnificent to behold in the right circumstances, but i don't want him to keep being frighteningly megalomaniacal till he dies. i hope he snaps back to some semblance of his usual self while dealing with all the delicious spoilery stuff yet to come. because you know that, when we see him again after regeneration, he will be very different ... and not just because he'll be wearing matt smith's face.<br /><br />anyway. it seems i was right that RTD will be torturing the doctor to death for three episodes. SIGH. i never thought i'd say it, but all of this pain and drama and torment kind of makes me ready for a new doctor. (hmm. perhaps that is the plan.) i'm starting to miss the days when he just bopped out of the TARDIS with his companion and rushed off to embrace some new adventure. i mean, i am loving the angst and can't wait to see just how dark things are gonna get, but i really want the tenth doctor to have the proper wonderful sendoff he deserves. almost every single incarnation has died a heroic death, and if ten doesn't get one, i'm going to be well pissed off.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1q4_NVlKI/AAAAAAAABNg/Y-jMxF4zDKg/s1600-h/WoMbrainyspex.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sy1q4_NVlKI/AAAAAAAABNg/Y-jMxF4zDKg/s320/WoMbrainyspex.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417103454069167266" /></a><br /><br />furthermore, if RTD doesn't give ten a heroic death <I>and</I> rip me into little pieces and throw me to the floor and make me cry just thinking about the ending -- as with donna and "journey's end," which to this day i have to shut off before it plays out or risk blubbering like a baby -- well, then he will have FAILED. so, russell. it is on. and you'd better bring it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-35739352477156267302009-10-20T21:24:00.000-07:002009-10-20T23:35:08.428-07:00a love supreme<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/St6iCsolJBI/AAAAAAAABMc/NSfnE-HWaIk/s1600-h/brendanmullenbygaryleonard.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/St6iCsolJBI/AAAAAAAABMc/NSfnE-HWaIk/s320/brendanmullenbygaryleonard.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394927570861237266" /></a><br /><br />so, my friend <A HREF="http://www.variety.com/article/VR1118009842.html?categoryid=16&cs=1">brendan mullen died last week</A>, which was a really awful shock to many, many people. me included.<br /><br />if you don't know who he is, just google him and you'll see. that's him above, in a recent photo i nicked from his facebook profile, taken by the amazing gary leonard of brendan holding a much earlier portrait of himself, also taken by gary. (i hope it's ok to post this photo here; if not, please let me know and i'll take it down.) but as many (including the man himself) have already noted, brendan was a pioneer in the l.a. punk scene, nicknamed the mad scot (and possibly less flattering terms as well). so i, of course, met him through the local music world, when i was music editor at the <I>l.a. reader</I>. but i didn't even arrive in town until eight years after his legendary club, the masque, had closed. i first knew brendan as the booker for club lingerie; he'd leave me detailed voicemail messages with the listings for the week, which is how we did things in the dark time before e-mail.<br /><br />anyway, brendan was one of the many original punks i got to know through going to shows and being a music critic -- people i loved meeting and talking to, but around whom i also felt kind of intimidated, as i was younger and had not "been there," as it were. but brendan was easy to be around, and he was fun to engage in conversation: so passionate, smart, funny, and wry. over the years i came to really adore him and was always happy to see him and his longtime companion, kateri butler, at a show or anticipate them being at a party -- especially at a party, as i am horribly uncomfortable in groups and they were guaranteed friendlies. but brendan's world was big, and as i struggle to write this, i feel like my own sense of loss is small and remote compared to what his real loved ones, and the communities he was part of, have lost.<br /><br />still ... i knew brendan for a long time, and i felt comfortable with him. he was easy to talk to: as much as he could TALK, he was a good listener too. but we weren't really close pals, just simpatico people whose paths crossed a lot, especially after i took up with 00soul, who knows everyone from back in the day.<br /><br />and one of my best memories ever revolves around brendan; indeed, it was set in motion by him. it happened last year -- almost exactly a year ago, in fact -- when i took my UK trip and very spur-of-the-moment <A HREF="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2008_10_01_archive.html">met up with brendan in wales</A>, where he was taking a break to visit his friend michael while caring for his sick (now deceased) brother. brendan had seen my facebook status about being in cardiff, and messaged me to come to hay-on-wye for a day. i wrote about that adventure at the time (see link), but it really stayed with me as a rare pleasure -- being welcomed like an old friend in a totally foreign place, spending a whole afternoon and evening just sharing stories and a meal and very fine conversation. i'd been traveling alone for most of a week by then, and, although i loved the independence of that, it was a good change to have friends to talk to.<br /><br />the experience added a dimension to my friendship with brendan that hadn't existed before and made me feel like there was more to come. which maybe could have been so, but now that possibility is gone. i saw brendan a few more times, under circumstances both tragic and celebratory ... including at the bigfoot lodge in august, when 00soul and phast phreddie DJ'd to a packed house. i teased brendan then that the next time he needs a ride to london from the wilds of wales, he should just come right out and ask me, hahaha.<br /><br />anyway. someone said that brendan was no saint, and that may well be true. but he was always kind to me, and i really liked him, and i'm very sad that he's gone. my heart kind of breaks when i think of kateri, and i wish i could do something more than write these words. but i have to celebrate that brendan was ever here at all ... because of my own little vignettes of remembrance, sure, but also because, for a lot of people, the world would have been very different without him.<br /><br />so goodbye, brendan. you were a special person. and i'm really gonna miss you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-33994356843125519062009-09-21T22:26:00.000-07:002009-09-21T23:07:26.379-07:00midnite dog<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Srhh0H4bvmI/AAAAAAAABMM/UtSMAa_9wy8/s1600-h/midnitedon.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Srhh0H4bvmI/AAAAAAAABMM/UtSMAa_9wy8/s320/midnitedon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384160902618267234" /></a><br /><br />we interrupt this lack of service to make an announcement of epic proportions. epic RAWK proportions, that is ... <A HREF="http://www.theimperialdogs.com/">the imperial dogs</A> website is live at last!<br /><br />long before i ever knew him or was even an adult, my main man don waller was involved in some sort of voodoo experiment with amplifiers, musical instruments, leather, chains, fur pants, and shock value. the imperial dogs had the misfortune of being ahead of their time, but they did do the original version of "<A HREF="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=su101Rb7Qp4">this ain't the summer of love</A>," more famously recorded by blue oyster cult. and they also impressed iggy pop.<br /><br />anyway. but the point of the new website is, now there's a DVD of the group's live shenanigans, captured on B&W videotape in long beach on october 30, 1974 ... almost 35 years ago. and let me tell you, people -- i mean, i know i'm biased, but you've gotta see this thing. it is just, like, totally fierce and completely balls-out. the between-song banter alone is simply killin'. for a taste, visit the site to check out a couple of clips, or click the links above. it's an hour long, with a lush booklet full of history and lots of color pix (like the fetching one above of 23-year-old d-dub on stage), not to mention un-PC imagery, angry rants, dancing fools, and partial nudity. so don't turn it up too loud if you're at work.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-84930303575990390192009-07-25T21:48:00.000-07:002009-08-03T18:17:11.289-07:00back to black<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmvjA02lQNI/AAAAAAAABLs/Er8UUqxStMk/s1600-h/rhys-day5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmvjA02lQNI/AAAAAAAABLs/Er8UUqxStMk/s320/rhys-day5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362629384641790162" /></a><br /><br />this is rhys. he doesn't get to have a spiffy <I>torchwood</I>-logo'd action-y wallpaper image like the core torchwood team -- more's the pity, since he's totally worthy of one. rhys is the glue that holds gwen together ... and, while jack has been messing up badly at playing defender-of-earth, gwen's been doing a lot of the heavy lifting, with rhys there to carry her bag and come up with brilliant theories every step of the way.<br /><br />this review is shorter and not as originally written, b/c my macbook's hard drive crashed yesterday, taking with it my work on "day five." thankfully, i have an awesome brother-in-law who sorted me out on trouble-shooting and buying advice (new HD on the way). and also a spare laptop, my trusty old ibook g4. so now come the KAPS:<br /><br />SO <I>TORCHWOOD: CHILDREN OF EARTH</I> "DAY FIVE" AIRED LAST NIGHT ON BBC AMERICA, BUT I'LL STILL SAY SPOILERS AHEAD! BEWAAAAAAAAAAAARE.<br /><br />we got some answers at last in this episode, which is rich in deep, dark irony. but one burning mystery remains: what will become of the TW SUV?<br /><br />anyway. rhys didn't have much to do here, except sit on a park bench with a laptop, waiting for gwen's signal to transmit evidence to the world's media. and help gwen try to hide the kids rhiannon and johnny had taken in. btw, the aliens want the kids for the "hit." they're mainlining earth children. and it seems to be a growth market (or a serious addiction). it's kind of horrifying and kind of darkly funny -- very russell davies.<br /><br />and so today the children must be collected -- <I>all of them</I>, say the 456. the afternoon quickly degenerates into scary scenes of the-monster-is-us: soldiers descending on the kids, citizens fighting back, everyone screaming, and gwen running running running ... <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmvofrKrxSI/AAAAAAAABL0/jYkM7WIhK60/s1600-h/gwen_running.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmvofrKrxSI/AAAAAAAABL0/jYkM7WIhK60/s320/gwen_running.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362635412175832354" /></a><br /><br />... but jack saves the day by reversing the polarity on the 456 -- which requires a child, steven, who will of course have to die. jack saves the world but kills his grandson, alienating his daughter for, probably, ever. his fellow middleman, frobisher, also pays in blood, after finally drawing the line when the PM taps him to be the government's symbolic dupe and publicly send his daughters for "inoculation." instead, froby goes home and shoots his family and himself, mere moments before jack fixes everything.<br /><br />bridget takes the torchwood contact lenses and records the whole child-snatching operation, ruining the PM's career and leaving denise effectively in charge. boo-yah!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmvwROzyjEI/AAAAAAAABL8/kInrLA5rI3U/s1600-h/jack_alone-day5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmvwROzyjEI/AAAAAAAABL8/kInrLA5rI3U/s320/jack_alone-day5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362643960138468418" /></a><br /><br />so where's RTD gonna go after all this horror and trauma? after burning down the whole bloody thing? ianto dead, and more of a mystery than ever? (it seems like a waste that ianto could have blossomed as a character and now won't get the chance; but i guess that's life.) torchwood disintegrated? jack mercilessly frying his own grandson, tears streaming down his cheeks while his daughter screams her son's name from outside?<br /><br />well, where else but six months later, as rhys and a very pregnant gwen meet jack at night on a hilltop. she gives him his time agent wrist gizmo, and he says the whole planet is like a graveyard to him. she cries and says it wasn't your fault, but jack says ianto, steven, owen, tosh ... everybody was his fault. he began to like it, and look what he became. the monster was us ... but it was also jack.<br /><br />well, like i said. he wasn't all that fantastic a person (charming or not) even before he became immortal. but i guess he tried. so maybe he'll live long enough to learn how to do better. but for now he's too tormented to stick around. so, time to go off to the intergalactic monastery and become the face of boe, or something. yep, he's running away -- again. gwen weeps ... for jack, for her lost purpose, for everything they've all lost. and rhys -- who is still there, like always -- says let's go home. gwen takes his comforting arm.<br /><br />"yeah."<br /><br /><I>TW: CoE comes out on video this tuesday.</I>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-90557364234125255382009-07-23T17:42:00.000-07:002009-07-24T12:21:33.012-07:00ask<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmbjTPLS2aI/AAAAAAAABKQ/OlugbjlEYBU/s1600-h/ianto_gun.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmbjTPLS2aI/AAAAAAAABKQ/OlugbjlEYBU/s320/ianto_gun.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361222326062078370" border="0" /></a><br /><br />WELL, THEN. HERE WE ARE AT "DAY FOUR" OF <I>TORCHWOOD: CHILDREN OF EARTH</I>. IT AIRS TONIGHT (THURSDAY) ON BBC AMERICA, AND THE FOLLOWING REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS. SO STOP READING NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS. AND THIS TIME ... SOMETHING REALLY REALLY BIG HAPPENS. AND I'M GONNA TALK ABOUT IT NEXT PARAGRAPH, SO YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.<br /><br />what becomes a casualty of captain jack harkness's hubris most? is it his fretful moue, his sadly unrequited love, or his own unerring grasp of the inevitable? maybe it's his way with a coffeemaker or his flair for finding just the right tie. ianto jones had all those things ... not to mention his share of secrets. yet it's not his secrets that get him killed in this episode, but his implacable faith in his boss/lover, who is fatally incapable of keeping his damn ego on a leash.<br /><br />so yesterday we found out how <A HREF="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2009/07/stuck-in-middle-with-you.html">jack's tied to the 1965 thing</A>, and today the whole world finds out about that previous 456 visit. and <I>torchwood: children of earth</I> begins its inexorable slide off the rails. but at least now we understand better why jack was so blase about handing that little girl to the evil fairy creatures in <A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Small_Worlds_%28Torchwood%29">"small worlds"</A> -- he'd already done that sort of thing before.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk-D0qJgBI/AAAAAAAABLM/w-BTiewcKz8/s1600-h/jackwkids.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk-D0qJgBI/AAAAAAAABLM/w-BTiewcKz8/s320/jackwkids.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361885066757242898" /></a><br /><br />in 1965, the 456 said a new strain of flu would kill multi-millions, then offered an antivirus in exchange for the "gift" of a dozen kids. jack may have been the decision-maker with the evil fairies -- giving them the girl so they wouldn't destroy the whole planet -- but he was just a middleman in 1965, like frobisher now. as jack's contact on that night explains, he got the job b/c he's the guy who doesn't care. in fact, he even says it's a pretty good deal.<br /><br />gwen can't believe jack didn't see it was a protection racket. (well, darling, your fearless leader is many things, including not too bloody bright.) at once disappointed and self-righteous, ianto asks jack how come he never told him about this. "i tell you everything," ianto says. (hmm, really?) jack gets defensive and asks what he should have done, and ianto says that the jack he knew would have fought back.<br /><br />yeah, well, be careful what you wish for, grasshopper.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk8wtKlkhI/AAAAAAAABK8/Qr8mjSa898U/s1600-h/iantojack-day4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk8wtKlkhI/AAAAAAAABK8/Qr8mjSa898U/s320/iantojack-day4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361883638816674322" /></a><br /><br />meanwhile, after frobisher asks what the 456 will do with the children, the alien shows them ... via a terrified cameraman sent into the tank. amid the toxic muck and alien limbs, we see one of the children from 1965. wearing a sort of ventilator over its nose and mouth, he's kinda ... plugged into the multiheaded creature. still a child, in the same clothes even, and seemingly ... aware. everyone -- torchwood, frobisher, the PM and visitors -- recoils in horror.<br /><br />hey, we don't hurt the kids, say the 456 (who look disturbingly like a cross between something out of doctor seuss and the aliens from <I>alien</I>), and they live a long time! frobisher loses it, and the creature flips out and plays a recording of froby asking to keep 1965 on the downlow. the cameraman gets out. and so does great britain's big secret. then the 456 give them one day to deliver the kids ... or else they'll annihilate the world.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk9U44tzEI/AAAAAAAABLE/rd5mG29kjtM/s1600-h/the456-day4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk9U44tzEI/AAAAAAAABLE/rd5mG29kjtM/s320/the456-day4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361884260438232130" /></a><br /><br />the PM and his cabinet discuss what to do. exceptional weasel rick yates, played by voice of the daleks nicholas briggs, actually says they could maybe play on current fears about overpopulation and spin this as a <I>good</I> thing. nice! but the banality of evil is in full effect in these briefings (secretly recorded by lois's camera eyes), where they refer to children as "units." nothing like a little dehumanization to sanitize a dirty process.<br /><br />all options exhausted, the PM tells his more squeamish underlings to save the hand-wringing for later: they've got 10 percent of their own children to sacrifice. well, not <I>their</I> children, of course -- the kids and grandkids of everyone at the table will be spared. but how do they pick the victims ... uh, units? denise riley (deborah finlay) has the genius idea to use the school <STRIKE>lead</STRIKE>league (EDIT: misheard that and misunderstood it too!) tables to identify the bottom 10 percent. hey, they'll just be a burden on society anyway. it's practically a win-win!<br /><br />time for gwen to make stuff happen again. she sends rhys and a laptop full of video to an undisclosed location, ready to transmit everything to the media. she also shows the info to johnson and turns her to their side. via lois, she confronts the PM and makes him let jack and ianto into thames house. gwen can't save clem, though: the alien has had a vestigial connection to him all along, and kills him by remote. poor clem.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk_y1HaacI/AAAAAAAABLk/JPyYiJfPY_A/s1600-h/clem_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk_y1HaacI/AAAAAAAABLk/JPyYiJfPY_A/s320/clem_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361886973845465538" /></a><br /><br />jack cowboys into thames house with ianto. he's going to confront the 456 and show ianto how he'll fight back. and then he kills ianto. he doesn't actually murder the lad, but when jack rashly threatens the 456 with war if they try to take earth's children, the alien responds by locking down thames house and releasing a deadly virus, killing all the panicked cockroaches of government trapped inside (except for dekker, who somehow makes it into a decon suit without breathing the air).<br /><br />why didn't jack just do something more useful, like examine clem to find out how the 456 control the children? that's what the doctor would have done.<br /><br />so maybe there's supposed to be something tragically romantic about ianto marching bright-eyed to his death by his lover's side. but mostly it's infuriatingly pointless. also, i knew it was coming, and not 'cause i was spoiled, b/c i wasn't. it was just ... obvious. so many references to TW agents dying young = someone's gonna get it. and RTD is the joss whedon of brit tv: if a couple is happy, one of them must die (or get trapped in an alternate universe or fly back to their own time or what<I>ever</I>).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk-ZV5SokI/AAAAAAAABLU/ms7QEdz0N2Y/s1600-h/iantonjack-day4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk-ZV5SokI/AAAAAAAABLU/ms7QEdz0N2Y/s320/iantonjack-day4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361885436456378946" /></a><br /><br />after his starry-eyed convo with his sister about jack, i knew for sure we were going to lose our lovely ianto, he of the dry wit, sharp outfits, strong coffee, insane detail-mongering, and wickedly clever schemes. i mean, it's no doubt impossible for anyone to resist those 51st-century pheromones and that flashy immortality, but, although one of the things i've loved about <I>torchwood</I> is its delight in unapologetic boy love, it's clear that ianto did struggle with his feelings for jack. he seemed to have strictly liked girls up to that point and even had a fiancee when we first met him ... a fiancee who was turning into a cyberman and nearly destroyed everyone, but poor ianto still loved her.<br /><br />so maybe ianto also had a fatal need to be needed. in any case, jack's willing playmate crumples to the floor while the captain cries that it's all his fault. ianto weeps and says, "i love you." jack moans, "don't." then he begs ianto to stay with him. (mixed messages to the mofugging end!) "don't forget me," pleads ianto. jack says he never could -- not even in 1,000 years' time. he <I>promises</I>! ianto dies, and jack begs, "don't leave me, please."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk-uA_8UyI/AAAAAAAABLc/saYp9SNCLK8/s1600-h/noooo-day4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Smk-uA_8UyI/AAAAAAAABLc/saYp9SNCLK8/s320/noooo-day4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361885791624385314" /></a><br /><br />this is the part of loving humans that the doctor can't deal with: watching them die. but jack always plunges right in -- we know he had at least two serious relationships in the 20th century, and probably more -- the pain be damned. it is hard not to think that, on some level, the allegation that he doesn't care is true. people are shiny good fun, and adoration is fantastic, but ultimately they're just so much tissue paper to jack.<br /><br />anyway. the 456 win. jack sobs and kisses ianto one last time. then he slumps dead beside his dead lover, his hand on ianto's shoulder.<br /><br />the cabinet watch it all in horror. denise says they have to surrender. 35 million children, says the PM. or 6.7 billion people, counters denise. (the needs of the many, yada yada ... .) the PM tells red-eyed frobisher to put the plan into action.<br /><br />in a makeshift morgue, gwen walks forward, alone, to ID the bodies. she uncovers jack and looks at him, the tiniest smile playing around her lips. then she steels herself and pulls back ianto's shroud. jack wakes up and remembers. gwen cries and tenderly straightens ianto's tie. (sob!) jack hugs her as she whispers words of sorrow and defeat.<br /><br />"there's nothing we can do."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-12106473215096767972009-07-21T20:27:00.000-07:002017-11-20T12:52:09.621-08:00stuck in the middle with you<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmaHKYtwnqI/AAAAAAAABJg/gQQZnab0DV0/s1600-h/bbca_tw_coe_800x600_6.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361121018933976738" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmaHKYtwnqI/AAAAAAAABJg/gQQZnab0DV0/s320/bbca_tw_coe_800x600_6.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<br />
GOOD EVENING AND WELCOME TO MY REVIEW OF <i>TORCHWOOD: CHILDREN OF EARTH</i> "DAY THREE." BBC AMERICA WILL BE SHOWING IT TOMORROW NIGHT (WEDNESDAY) AT 9ET/PT. SPOILERS FOLLOW, SO DON'T READ ON IF YOU DON'T WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENS.<br />
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yesterday, <a href="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2009/07/babys-on-fire.html">torchwood regrouped</a> as the world prepared for the 456's arrival. today, tension mounts around the globe and inside the british government, as the secret of 1965 threatens to blow up big. meanwhile, jack and co. get back to work with a renewed sense of camaraderie. but this is <i>torchwood</i>, so you know that's not gonna last.<br />
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gwen, jack, ianto, and rhys set up the hub2, as rhys christens their new HQ in an abandoned warehouse. it's dank and has no electricity, and jack has to wear tracksuit bottoms and no coat. he still manages to be all inspirational leader-y ... then accidentally reveals he knew gwen was pregnant before rhys did. the man-fur flies, and rhys flounces out.<br />
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but this is no time to pout. torchwood's assets are down to a couple of guns, a now-dead laptop, some contact lenses, and not much else. the software's still on the server ... if only they had some computer equipment. and power. and proper trousers.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sma9qQTY7LI/AAAAAAAABJo/LXhdZk2Nuo8/s1600-h/couchtrio-day3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361180940059602098" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sma9qQTY7LI/AAAAAAAABJo/LXhdZk2Nuo8/s320/couchtrio-day3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 220px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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ever-resourceful gwen suggests a crime spree: cue slightly slapstick montage of the quartet staging fights and posing as waiters to score credit cards, laptops, even a car. (fancy wheels are <i>essential</i>.) ianto brings back other necessities: coffee, new clothes, and ... perhaps most implausibly of all ... for jack, a new coat, just like the old one. jack is back!<br />
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and he really ought to call alice, whose nervous attempts to contact him finally attract johnson's peeps. they soon work out who she is. her mom was a torchwood agent too, who died of old age. ("rare for torchwood," observes johnson. word.) that means alice gets to be all kickass when johnson's minions come around. she tells steven to do like they used to in granny's games. granny torchwood, that is. they flee ... and alice BELTS one dude with a cutting board, then takes his gun. go, alice! but johnson, though impressed, has them surrounded. then steven freezes, pointing to the sky.<br />
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it's the same around the world, kids all frozen and pointing. steven. frobisher's daughters. and all the children at rhiannon and johnny's impromptu day-care center, set up because parents gotta work, the schools are closed, and johnny needs the extra cash.<br />
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also pointing, of course, is clem -- who's just been sprung from the camden clink by gwen (with a little help from pc andy), who continues to be the get-it-done star of this show.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sma-nb6An_I/AAAAAAAABJw/qbHJkBVkjN8/s1600-h/gwenwithrhys-day3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361181991146397682" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sma-nb6An_I/AAAAAAAABJw/qbHJkBVkjN8/s320/gwenwithrhys-day3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 220px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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she not only retrieves the tearfully grateful clem, who's been having increasingly intense 1965 flashbacks, but also talks lois into wearing the contact lenses ... the special torchwood contacts with camera lenses, lipreading software so monitors can "hear" what's happening, and texting capability for communicating with the wearer.<br />
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lois is impressed, but scared to help torchwood again. it's treason! she can't do this -- it puts her right on the front line. anyway, frobisher doesn't take her into the 456 room. only bridget. gwen says please help us, lois habiba. you're our only remaining hope. lois can't. sorry. but she takes the lenses.<br />
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earlier, at the hub2, ianto wants to know if jack will ever stop not-dying. jack's pretty sure the can't-die thing is forever. so someday jack will see ianto die, "of old age," and just keep going? yeah, says jack. well, says ianto impishly, better make the most of it! they try to get some alone time, but rhys won't leave. rats. instead, they review clem's case: 1965, scotland orphanage, yada yada. jack's remembering something. and after he sees 40-year-old pictures of his fellow assassinees, he <i>totally</i> knows them. he just never knew their names. who were they, asks ianto. but jack just grabs his coat and runs out. typical.<br />
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all the children in the world (and clem) are pointing at thames house, as a ball of fire stabs down from the clouds, straight through the roof. ianto and rhys watch from atop the hub2.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sma-7E2D3dI/AAAAAAAABJ4/7UVVDumnZXo/s1600-h/iantorhysroof-day3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361182328553201106" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sma-7E2D3dI/AAAAAAAABJ4/7UVVDumnZXo/s320/iantorhysroof-day3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 220px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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frobisher dashes into the 456 room; dekker's already there. they watch the fire flow into the glass enclosure, boiling up inside. and now something, dimly visible, is in there.<br />
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"we are here," say the kids, and go back to playing. clem tells gwen they're back. she takes him to torchwood.<br />
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at thames house, frobisher makes bug-eyed but resolute first contact. the 456 speaks in an almost hypnotic low baritone ... and also makes weird, animal-like howls and roars. it thrashes wildly at regular intervals, causing a giant, vaguely vulture-like head to hit the glass and yellowish brown goop to be flung against the windows. super-gross.<br />
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scared though he is, frobisher has to get this 1965 stuff sorted out for boss and country. it's his duty, you know. he asks the alien to keep the previous encounter with britain off the record ... and the 456 says ok. phew! then frobisher and dekker bail, looking at each other like, <i>that</i> was freeeeeaky!<br />
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but frobisher scarcely has time to re-rack his nerves before the PM calls to say, guess what? you get to stay our point man on this.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmbAlqs1uDI/AAAAAAAABKI/RYGQtm1CIgQ/s1600-h/PM-day3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361184159781206066" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmbAlqs1uDI/AAAAAAAABKI/RYGQtm1CIgQ/s320/PM-day3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 180px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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that's how the PM placates UNIT colonel oduya (charles abomeli) and american general pierce (colin mcfarlane), who are very unhappy about an alien ambassador being on british soil ... and suspicious that the landing was clearly planned, without their input. the PM says well, the 456 came to us, what could we do? and he craftily suggests letting the civil service handle dealings with the 456. this sitch calls for a middleman. and who better than frobisher, since he's already spoken to the 456? plus, mwahaha, he's expendable.<br />
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pierce demands the PM guarantee he won't enter the negotiation room. yeah, <i>not</i> a problem. ok, deal.<br />
<br />
meanwhile, jack steals mrs. frobisher's mobile, then calls froby and threatens to expose everything if he doesn't let jack talk to the 456. but frobisher has alice and steven, nyah! so jack needs to keep it zipped. jack threatens frobisher's family, but frobisher knows it's a bluff. and he's gotta go, because he has a date with a goop-spewing alien.<br />
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at thames house for the first <i>official</i> negotiation, everyone's in place -- including lois, who bluffs her way in by implying there's something "private" between her and frobisher. bridget seems to have heard this sort of thing before. "don't go thinking you're the first," she sniffs. lois is wearing the contacts. torchwood's in!<br />
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gwen, ianto, rhys, and clem watch via laptop as frobisher requests that the 456 stop using their children for communication (it agrees). then he takes a question from the audience (aka general pierce): why did it come to britain? the 456, keeping its part of the bargain, basically says oh, no reason. gwen and ianto realize the government got the 456 to lie ... but now the thing says they want a gift -- your children. ten percent will do nicely, thanks. clem freaks and says they want to take them, like they did before, like "the man" did. the man's coming back too -- in fact, he's here! and according to clem's flashback, he's ... jack. say what?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sma_TY939iI/AAAAAAAABKA/b_ZOZ5tl8zg/s1600-h/jacknkid-day3.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361182746271544866" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sma_TY939iI/AAAAAAAABKA/b_ZOZ5tl8zg/s320/jacknkid-day3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 220px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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jack stands there, accused and guilty. we flash back to 1965, and now jack's there too, in his coat, telling the children to walk into the light.<br />
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loyal gwen says no, jack fights aliens. right, jack? no, says jack, "i gave them the kids." ianto looks stricken. in 1965, jack gave them 12 children. what for? "as a gift."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-72250329868795104922009-07-20T18:33:00.000-07:002009-07-20T19:15:53.915-07:00baby's on fire<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmT_AgM7q7I/AAAAAAAABIw/nO3lZ914-PU/s1600-h/bbca_tw_coe_800x600_3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmT_AgM7q7I/AAAAAAAABIw/nO3lZ914-PU/s320/bbca_tw_coe_800x600_3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360689840586992562" /></a><br /><br />LOOKEE HERE, IT'S A REVIEW OF <I>TORCHWOOD: CHILDREN OF EARTH, DAY TWO</I>, AIRING TOMORROW NIGHT (TUESDAY) ON BBC AMERICA. YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS -- SPOILERS AHEAD!!<br /><br /><A HREF="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2009/07/tick-tick-boom.html">yesterday's review/recap of day one</A> was rather out-of-hand, lengthwise. this one's shorter, hurray!<br /><br />ok, so. torchwood's down but not out ... not while the heart is still beating. better yet, said heart, aka gwen cooper, is blasting away two-fisted. look out, haters!<br /><br />when gwen comes to after the explosion, choking on the smoke and temporarily deafened, the hub's just a fiery crater. two EMTs arrive -- but they're really assassins! the people who blew up her workplace and hurt, maybe killed, her friends? gwen so kicks their asses, taking their guns and the ambulance, then questioning one lackey, who screams (b/c she shoots him in the leg) that he works for the government and was only following orders.<br /><br />pc andy (tom price, yay!) overhears johnson tell her minions that gwen and ianto are terrorists. he protests, but later directs her crew to gwen's place, still insisting she's not dangerous. gwen, having rushed home to collect rhys and get the hell out of there, pops up and blasts the black ops' SUV ... but only the tires. some terrorist, smirks pc andy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmUS1eGD-8I/AAAAAAAABJY/yszAPKgiI_E/s1600-h/gwen-day2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmUS1eGD-8I/AAAAAAAABJY/yszAPKgiI_E/s320/gwen-day2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360711641275300802" /></a><br /><br />dekker tells frobisher that the 456's message is instructions for building something. which they're doing, on the top floor of thames house, aka the HQ of british secret service MI5. frobisher says how come the 456 can communicate with such detail but still uses the children? dekker says it's to scare the humans, duh.<br /><br />frobisher chats with the PM, asking whether any other country has been contacted besides britain. seems not. still worried about repercussions if the world learns their secret, froby wonders how long they can keep the previous visit quiet. then he actually thanks the PM for trusting him with all this responsibility. what a tool. the PM loftily informs frobisher that all he's done is put him on the front line -- the first to fall. indeed.<br /><br />alice isn't really in this episode, except for repeated scenes trying to call jack. but he can't come to the phone right now, b/c he's having the worst. day. EVAR.<br /><br />johnson's minions find an arm, shoulder, and part of a head at the hub site. they whisk it all off in a body bag, watched from afar by a grim-faced, still bloody and dusty ianto.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmUKzR-Ip7I/AAAAAAAABI4/7eY9bBLX9g0/s1600-h/iantoclose-day2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmUKzR-Ip7I/AAAAAAAABI4/7eY9bBLX9g0/s320/iantoclose-day2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360702807568066482" /></a><br /><br />jack's body parts go to a government facility, where the bag's put in a cell with camera surveillance. pretty soon it starts to fill out, so johnson has the bloody skeleton chained to the cell wall. apparently they found the <I>back</I> of his head; otherwise, wouldn't we see part of jack's face instead of just a gory skull?<br /><br />most of this ep is about running and rescue (and regeneration ... not just of jack but of TW itself), but we get some of the nicest character moments here too, amid all the chaos. especially lovely is how rhys learns of gwen's pregnancy, a surprisingly light scene that wonderfully demonstrates how tuned-in these two lovers are. (nice work, writer john fay.) they're bumping along in the back of a lorry loaded with potatoes -- their stealth transport to london.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmUNiYpIeiI/AAAAAAAABJA/Dw7ySJmBzzM/s1600-h/GnR-day2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmUNiYpIeiI/AAAAAAAABJA/Dw7ySJmBzzM/s320/GnR-day2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360705815836129826" /></a><br /><br />gwen says she feels sick, even though she never gets travel sick, and then flumfers a bit, asking rhys, you know how some announcements go better in your head? and he's like, whattaya mean, announcements? and she just kinda smiles and looks away for a sec, and he totally gets it without her even saying. in spite of the dire situation and uncertain future, they're sooo delighted. sweet.<br /><br />it's back to business when they meet up with lois, who's proving to be as tenacious and one-step-ahead savvy as any torchwood operative. she overhears when johnson calls froby to report jack's revival, then bugs him about the torchwood thing, risking bridget's wrath. lois intercepts gwen's call to frobisher's office and meets the fugitives at a cafe. while handing them cash for a meal, the floor plan to jack's prison, and the salt, brown sauce, and sugar, she fills them in on the blank-page assassinations. she doesn't even lose her cool when gwen huffs where's frobisher (torchwood's usual government liaison)? she just says he's the one who ok'd the bombing.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmUSh7dVZII/AAAAAAAABJQ/172F3FYPChU/s1600-h/lois_TW.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmUSh7dVZII/AAAAAAAABJQ/172F3FYPChU/s320/lois_TW.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360711305560155266" /></a><br /><br />all the while, lois works out her own moral confusion -- if TW are the bad guys, why doesn't their file say so? and if TW are the good guys, why's the government trying to kill them, and who is lois working for, exactly?<br /><br />rhiannon's husband, johnny (rhodri lewis), steps up too. soldiers ransack their house in the middle of the night, searching for ianto, who later sneaks a message to his sis inside the morning paper. it says meet him at the place where their dad broke ianto's leg, and bring a laptop. rhiannon's upset that he's put them in the middle of all this, but johnny insists they're the only family ianto's got. so he's not a total homophobic oaf, after all. he may change his mind about helping when he finds out ianto took his car, though.<br /><br />in london, we see the scary traffic circle not once but TWICE. eyiieeee!<br /><br />fleshed-out now, all white and nekkid, jack yanks on his chains and yells a challenge. johnson appears through a portal high above him, snarks, then pours gallons and gallons of concrete into the cell. now, <I>that's</I> containment!<br /><br />lois, gwen, and rhys hatch a crazy scheme to rescue jack: gwen and rhys will pose as undertakers picking up rupesh's body. the ruse holds, even after the escorting soldier flirts hard with gwen, and rhys loses it. the grunt narrows his eyes and accuses them: "you're a COUPLE, aren't you?" ahaha.<br /><br />but of course they can't rescue jack b/c he's drowned in concrete. plus, johnson and crew tip to the plan and bring on the firepower. (gwen's only got two hands, after all.) they're nicked -- but then there's a huge CRASH! it's ianto. and he's driving a forklift truck ... which he uses to extract jack's entire cell. gwen and rhys hop on, and they're away. it's totally ridiculous -- and totally awesome!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmUQDZylcoI/AAAAAAAABJI/s_BFt7D0Vf0/s1600-h/IRG-day2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmUQDZylcoI/AAAAAAAABJI/s_BFt7D0Vf0/s320/IRG-day2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360708582103151234" /></a><br /><br />ianto drops the block of jack into (what else?) a quarry, and it breaks apart. jack awakens as the trio drive to the bottom to retrieve him. he stands in the rubble, still naked, with an indecipherable look on his face. then he says, "told you i'd be back!" irrepressible. gwen, averting her eyes, hands him a jacket and says get in, we've got work to do.<br /><br />back at thames house, frobisher, dekker, and bridget -- an odd mirror image of ianto, gwen, and rhys -- check out the finished construction job. it's a big room, dominated by a glass chamber being filled with a prescribed combination of gases -- poison to humans. dekker says perhaps the room is an ambassadorial suite. or a throne room. or maybe a slaughterhouse.<br /><br />they muse how the 456 will arrive inside this sealed glass chamber. no clue, but whoever they are, they're coming for britain. bridget wants to know why. dekker says indeed: why, mr. frobisher? the bureaucrat just walks away, leaving dekker to approach the now fog-filled chamber. he breathes on the outside of the glass and adds some fog of his own.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-77394104074278721492009-07-19T22:23:00.000-07:002009-07-19T22:38:40.162-07:00tick tick boom<I>the 21st century is when everything changes, and torchwood is ready.</I><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmN2cBzL-EI/AAAAAAAABHY/RiDLYoZoC54/s1600-h/torchwoodteam.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmN2cBzL-EI/AAAAAAAABHY/RiDLYoZoC54/s320/torchwoodteam.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360258205392566338" /></a><br /><br />and <I>torchwood</I> fans are ready too -- ready for series 3 of this hit <I>doctor who</I> spin-off to begin, after well more than a year's gone by since the heartbreaking end of series 2. the new season consists of only five episodes, already shown july 6-10 in the UK and debuting tomorrow night on BBC america. <A HREF="http://www.bbcamerica.com/content/262/index.jsp"><I>torchwood: children of earth</I></A> will usher in the new BBCA HD channel and be aired from 9 to 10:15 pm ET/PT -- thus, without the usual slash-and-burn edits required to make most british series fit US tv length standards.<br /><br />i'll post daily review/recaps of each episode, so here's the first one. but first, the obligatory spoiler warning. YES, THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 1 OF <I>TORCHWOOD: CHILDREN OF EARTH</I>. DON'T READ ON IF YOU DON'T WANNA KNOW. 'K? THX.<br /><br />this installment plunges in with a creepy flashback, followed by a string of spooky incidents and surprising reveals that jet-propel us to the mind-blowing cliffhanger. creator/writer/exec producer russell t. davies sketches in backstory along the way, which is great for anyone new to <I>torchwood</I>. but longtime fans might be disappointed that we only get a passing nod to dearly departed team members tosh and owen, who died horribly last season. they sacrificed themselves in the line of duty -- something that happens a lot with the titular secret alien-fighting organization. which didn't make the pair's departure any easier for me to take, but clearly, surviving leader captain jack harkness (john barrowman) and his team, gwen cooper (eve myles) and ianto jones (gareth david-lloyd) -- all pictured above -- have moved on.<br /><br />a brief prologue in 1965 scotland shows adorable children getting off a bus in the middle of the night ... and getting swallowed up by a blinding light. then it's just another morning in present-day cardiff, where the underground torchwood base is hidden by the bay. gwen's at an ATM, wearing a cool leather jacket with yet another awesome bag slung over her shoulder. a mom bustles about her kitchen, reassuring her kids that that bully won't bother them again. a dad with a briefcase dashes past his daughters at breakfast, promising to text his wife later. another mom warns her son not to let the cats in. and gwen's hubby, rhys williams (kai owen), drives his delivery truck through a neighborhood.<br /><br />all around these adults, children are all just stopped dead in their tracks. it's a reliably creepy sci-fi trope that builds up unease as it recurs and expands throughout the episode ... turns out it's happening everywhere in the world. at first the frustrated adults think it's some kind of a put-on. but ALL those kids in the crosswalk, frozen in place? not. normal.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPllIL-yfI/AAAAAAAABIA/7BER8t2ecv8/s1600-h/day1_jackgwenchild.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPllIL-yfI/AAAAAAAABIA/7BER8t2ecv8/s320/day1_jackgwenchild.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360380407516678642" /></a><br /><br />not normal is par for the course on <I>torchwood</I>, usually bullet-pointed as the darker, sexier, more morally complex offspring of british sci-fi institution <I>doctor who</I> (which was revived in 2005 by UK tv guru davies). yet, while entertaining and at times thought-provoking, the show has been pretty uneven, not always as challenging or emotionally affecting as <I>who</I> has been. <I>TW</I> is an echo, with captain jack himself serving as RTD's own version of the doctor, a time lord with multiple lifespans and seemingly endless knowledge of the universe, who has a knack for showing up to avert a crisis or at least lessen the damage.<br /><br />thanks to a cosmic accident of sorts, jack, originally an ex-time agent and con man from the 51st century (uhm ... probably), can't die. he's lived for ages and really isn't quite human anymore, so he's kind of like a time lord, except he has sex. the doctor inspired jack to do better, and eventually he decided to remake torchwood, previously a lethally reactionary government organization, in the doctor's honor. jack's crew has faced some bad, ugly, menacing stuff, but usually they're only defending some people or cardiff or the UK ... not the entire world (with exceptions). <I>children of earth</I> ups the ante with a sweeping tale that pits torchwood against not only a relentless global alien menace but also the horrors of bureaucracy and plausible deniability (shudder).<br /><br />director euros lyn balances the epic and the intimate in RTD's rumination on secrets, lies, and conspiracies. gorgeous panoramas of such settings as cardiff and london and pell-mell action sequences complement the tight two-shots, close-ups on small gestures, and subtle, slowly revealed connections among the characters. there are so many parallels here b/w individual and collective lying, and the lengths to which the characters will go to maintain their lies. just like we all tell lies to ourselves and others, whether big or small, whether just to coworkers and loved ones or the whole world. here the fabrications, designed to conceal everything from innocuous facts to horrifying truths, may be an integral part of who certain characters are ... which is never the whole picture, of course. maybe we don't see some of these supporting players at their best, but the lies the main characters tell begin to alter some fundamental perceptions about themselves. even jack, who we know is a bloody born liar.<br /><br />but this ain't a philosophy lecture; it's <I>torchwood</I>, with all the rapid-fire sniping, snarky quips, unabashed boy love, and full-tilt running you'd expect. still, episode 1 is a romp compared to the the devastation awaiting us down the line -- much of which revolves around how sometimes what we lie about can be incredibly destructive, in ways we never intended and could not have foreseen.<br /><br />what kind of stuff could jack be hiding from his peeps? where do i start? OK, he has a daughter. (only one?)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPjztPARVI/AAAAAAAABHo/LNy4XwzCilU/s1600-h/alice_TW.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPjztPARVI/AAAAAAAABHo/LNy4XwzCilU/s320/alice_TW.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360378458956383570" /></a><br /><br />that's her, above. her name's alice (lucy cohu, totally awesome), and we saw her before, telling her young son, steven, not to let the cats in. jack lies that he wants to take the kid out, but alice says no way. she knows what he's up to -- she's his daughter, after all, even though she keeps away from him b/c he doesn't age and she does, and that's freaky. steven doesn't even know that "uncle jack" is really grandpa.<br /><br />turns out ianto has family too -- his sister, rhiannon (the charming katy wix), who we also saw before, talking to her kids about the bully. and no, ianto cannot take them out today. besides, they need to talk. by which she means, is he gay or what? a friend spotted him and jack having dinner. ianto first, you guessed it, lies, saying that's his boss. but rhiannon guilt-trips him about not being around since their dad died, so he confesses. moony-eyed ianto says it's not men, it's just him. only him. and he's definitely not lying now. sigh. then his beefy bro-in-law comes in, looking like a giant hobbit, and brays, "i hear you're taking it up the ass!" great. BTW, says bro-in-law, your car's been nicked. triple-deadlocked or not, the torchwood SUV is gone baby gone.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPn4WI_GJI/AAAAAAAABIo/J4XlmwKgTBs/s1600-h/day1_iantofamily.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPn4WI_GJI/AAAAAAAABIo/J4XlmwKgTBs/s320/day1_iantofamily.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360382936702982290" /></a><br /><br />earlier, at a hospital, jack and ianto banter about whether they're a "couple" while conning dr. rupesh patanjali (rik makarem) into letting them see a dead man ... from whom they extract an alien entity. rupesh catches them -- he's heard about torchwood (like half of cardiff, despite its alleged secret status) and seems interested in joining. but i say let rhys join instead, since he's the one who figures the weird kid thing is timed to a british schedule -- right before school, and then at break, for example.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPkqClvfrI/AAAAAAAABH4/3g8Ylcd2QBw/s1600-h/frobisher_TW.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPkqClvfrI/AAAAAAAABH4/3g8Ylcd2QBw/s320/frobisher_TW.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360379392401833650" /></a><br /><br />yes, well. the government is way ahead of rhys. earlier, in london, briefcase dad -- aka home office bureaucrat john frobisher (peter capaldi, above) -- fakes a pleasant chat with a colonel from global alien-defense task force UNIT when a young woman arrives with the tea. the colonel is actually filling frobisher in on the weird kid thing, but mustn't discusss such formidable things around the new assistant.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPmkCrbn7I/AAAAAAAABIQ/6Kly14twFhM/s1600-h/day1_lois.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPmkCrbn7I/AAAAAAAABIQ/6Kly14twFhM/s320/day1_lois.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360381488369737650" /></a><br /><br />her name's lois habiba (cush jumbo), and she answers to someone far more formidable than UNIT: frobisher's right-hand woman, bridget spears (susan brown):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPmwqOxXxI/AAAAAAAABIY/3EytlPnQEBU/s1600-h/day1_bridget.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPmwqOxXxI/AAAAAAAABIY/3EytlPnQEBU/s320/day1_bridget.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360381705145376530" /></a><br /><br />rupesh is hanging around outside the hub, so gwen goes to chat with him while jack and ianto argue more about the couple thing. both agree they hate that word ... and both are totally, yes, lying. gwen gets in some exposition for those who've never seen <I>TW</I> before. rupesh earnestly blathers about how some people can't deal with knowing aliens exist now ... like the christian lady, his first case, who killed herself b/c this revelation made her feel insignificant. "it's like science has won," he quotes her as saying. haha, RTD, you naughty atheist, you!<br /><br />but this is no time for reflection, b/c the kids are going off again. they stop. and then they start screaming!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPiq43EJ-I/AAAAAAAABHg/oCClGg51SvI/s1600-h/day1_children.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPiq43EJ-I/AAAAAAAABHg/oCClGg51SvI/s320/day1_children.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360377207946749922" /></a><br /><br />that noise ceases, and then they chant, "we we we we we we we we are we are we are we are coming. we are coming. we are coming. we are coming. we are coming." OMG, says gwen, while ianto videos it all. cut to a mental hospital, where an older man is doing the same thing. the staff is mystified. they also video.<br /><br />when it stops, the kids are normal again. but the man falls to his knees and cries, "they've found me!"<br /><br />frobisher's office is inundated with calls ... including one from jack. but lois doesn't know him or torchwood ("how do you spell it?" hee!). however, resourceful and curious lois (as plucky and nosy as another lois, superman's main squeeze ms. lane) does some research on the down-low. meanwhile, mr. dekker (ian gelder) comes to tell frobisher that, as dekker warned, the 456 are back -- referring, it seems, to whatever's going on with the children. frobisher looks scared.<br /><br />cut to frobisher's car going around a big-ass traffic circle. now, THAT'S scary!<br /><br />frobisher is going to tell the prime minister (nicholas farrell, all supercilious) the 456 are back. dekker scoffs that elected officials come and go, but the 456 were there before him and will be there long after ... as will they, the civil service. "the cockroaches of government," dekker declares. later, the PM, who knows about the 456, tells frobisher to erase the historical record ... but the PM doesn't know anything about it, <I>capish</I>? time to issue a blank page -- a nice little euphemism for deleting said historical event. and anyone associated with it.<br /><br />which includes, we learn after lois snoops some more, three people to off ... plus captain jack! whoa. so maybe jack, despite his protests to the contrary, <I>has</I> seen this sort of thing before.<br /><br />gwen visits the man in the asylum, timothy white (paul copley):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPl5iPD0SI/AAAAAAAABII/Z7emUjFQfE4/s1600-h/day1_clem.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPl5iPD0SI/AAAAAAAABII/Z7emUjFQfE4/s320/day1_clem.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360380758106296610" /></a><br /><br />she learns he had a scottish accent when he first entered care, as a child. she talks to him about "we are coming." he looks scared but denies aliens exist. then he sniffs her and says she's smelling, i mean telling, the truth, so he talks. (psychic sense of smell? ahaha!) he was one of the kids on that bus in 1965. a light took his friends, but he ran. occasionally, tim stutters something over his shoulder, as though talking to someone who isn't there. he says there were people too, but he can't remember. and, he says, they're coming back.<br /><br />before gwen leaves, tim tells her his original name: clement mcdonald. he adds, almost casually, that she's pregnant. congratulations! whoa.<br /><br />jack goes to the hospital to sweet-talk a kid out of rupesh. but the doc is no eager-beaver potential new recruit after all. he's a lying bastard, in fact, who shoots jack and lets in some black-clad commando types with guns, along with their boss, the hardass johnson (liz may brice).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPnbDWTgGI/AAAAAAAABIg/SPNkMwp6Pq8/s1600-h/day1_johnson.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmPnbDWTgGI/AAAAAAAABIg/SPNkMwp6Pq8/s320/day1_johnson.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360382433442365538" /></a><br /><br />she orders her minions to bring in timothy white and shoots jack when he revives, then tells rupesh they think jack's immortality is connected to the torchwood hub (wrong!), which makes it a target (uh-oh!). then they rummage about in jack's abdomen. gross.<br /><br />at the asylum, clem smells trouble. he splits mere moments before the fake cops come to take him away. at the hub, ianto has the deets on clem gwen wanted, but she's not listening -- she's staring at a high-tech scanner image confirming she's preggers.<br /><br />jack pelts in: he woke up with rupesh dead beside him (shot by johnson). then he sees the scan. gwen's stunned, but happy. so is jack: "ianto, we're having a baby!" he rests his hand on the scanner, and an alarm goes off. there's a bomb inside him OMG! jack shoves his team toward the exit, over their horrified protests.<br /><br />above ground, the "we are coming" starts again, and everyone freaks out. at the hub, jack drags ianto away from his post. "there'll be nothing left of you," ianto cries plaintively. "i can survive anything," jack blusters. really? the red emergency lights flash, the music swells, and OMG nooooo! jack kisses his boy, maybe for the last time, before ianto takes the water tower lift to outta there. "i'll come back," jack says. "i always do." it's not all that convincing. jack has died a lot of ways, but never by gut bomb. he watches the countdown's final seconds and closes his eyes. outside, gwen runs along the dock.<br /><br />BOOOOOOOOOM!!!! she falls, as flames blaze around her.<br /><br />and the children say, "we are coming ... back."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-32865399248493739742009-07-18T11:44:00.000-07:002009-07-18T13:58:54.528-07:00our house<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIZ4Y1ZvHI/AAAAAAAABGQ/BS32sTxuUyA/s1600-h/DSCN1074.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIZ4Y1ZvHI/AAAAAAAABGQ/BS32sTxuUyA/s320/DSCN1074.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359874963054115954" /></a><br /><br />so last week was the big family reunion of my mom's people -- held at my uncle ara's palatial home in rochester, NY. (pictured above is the view of the pool and hot tub from the deck of the house ... the yard beyond is huge, and the house behind dwarfs all others in this nice suburb.) synchronistically enough, the weekend celebration incorporated not only my big brother's birthday -- we busted out the two cakes (one chocolate, one lemon, both delicious) after midnight on friday, when all the little kids were asleep, ahaha! -- but also the tenth anniversary of <A HREF="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2009/05/swingin.html">my mother's death</A>. in fact, the last time i saw most of the family was at her funeral and wake.<br /><br />this was a much happier occasion, of course. our part of the clan converged on the estate on friday afternoon; my younger sister and i drove from erie in a borrowed '96 mustang convertible (sweet!), following my dad in his honda minivan to the rochester airport to pick up my eldest sister, affectionately known as the squirrel. the airport is reached via a sharp, short ramp off the highway ... the place is so small that i almost didn't see it at first, ahaha. which made collecting our human package quite a lot easier than picking up someone at LAX. when we arrived at the house, my niece was already there, and my bro and his wife soon turned up.<br /><br />this is the armenian side of the family, so the theme of the weekend was "would you like something else to eat?" shortly after arriving, i was introduced to buffalo chicken wing dip -- an alarmingly delicious concoction of all-melted-together chicken, buffalo wing sauce, cheese, and maybe some other stuff, which we scooped up with those fritos that are shaped like spoon bowls. omg, get it away from me! wait, maybe just a little more.<br /><br />the first night was a casual feast of burgers and hot dogs, macaroni salad, green salad, fruit, and other sides i've now forgotten. my uncle and wife cheryl had stocked many coolers with beer, soda, and tons of varieties of mike's hard lemonade, a not-very-alcoholic drink that's pretty pleasant when consumed sparingly. (pomegranate lemonade, ftw!) i started drinking kind of early and felt pretty tapped out by around 10:30 -- lame, but oh well. i had to catch up on the new <I>torchwood</I> anyway.<br /><br />bedrooms were handed out according to age, so my dad, who was the oldest one there, got a room, which he shared with my bro. but i got to camp out in my uncle's huge RV in the driveway with my two sisters, sister-in-law, and niece, which meant we all got a slice of bed -- a rare privilege when many attendees were sleeping on the floor, some of them in the giant closets. (the advantage of closet-sleeping became apparent on saturday, when those who were thus situated slept in a lot more, isolated from the hubbub, than those who were not.)<br /><br />mornings brought coffee, danish, croissants, cereal, and baked egg 'n' meat dishes galore. the whole weekend seemed like one big long meal, but technically the main armenian family dinner was on saturday. my brother and niece cooked a giant vat of delicious rice pilaf, shown here in progress:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIe0zHBHGI/AAAAAAAABGY/6TO1gsGkDQQ/s1600-h/DSCN1037.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIe0zHBHGI/AAAAAAAABGY/6TO1gsGkDQQ/s320/DSCN1037.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359880398945983586" /></a><br /><br />my bro brought along his own pan and other tools, plus something like 6,000 pounds of butter for this dish. my niece did a stellar job ... we're all so proud of her for carrying on this family tradition. and my sis-in-law made TDF stuffed cabbages and green peppers, which went FAST when the feast was finally laid out.<br /><br />another tradition, trickier to reproduce, was my grandmother's version of kata, an armenian flatbread. not like a cracker, but a round, low loaf ... i've heard it called other things, but that's what they always called it, so hey. grandma's kata was legendary and fiercely prized. whenever she showed up for holiday dinners or family get-togethers, we always looked for the greasy brown paper grocery bags containing the magical stuff. (and when i was in college, she would make it for me to take back to the dorms, oh yeah!) but of course she didn't have a written recipe, so reproducing hers has been a challenge, to say the least. one big joke is always that the secret ingredient is cigarette ashes -- i don't think anybody actually added them, although several family members took up the kata gauntlet.<br /><br />here are the bags with the golden booty, awaiting unveiling:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIgy_MnwOI/AAAAAAAABGg/h-NeOLcNYDI/s1600-h/DSCN1040.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIgy_MnwOI/AAAAAAAABGg/h-NeOLcNYDI/s320/DSCN1040.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359882566854230242" /></a><br /><br />the greasy spots mean they've done something right. here's the treasure on the plate:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIhd0WRGXI/AAAAAAAABGo/Ulcbmi7Qax8/s1600-h/DSCN1078.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIhd0WRGXI/AAAAAAAABGo/Ulcbmi7Qax8/s320/DSCN1078.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359883302676273522" /></a><br /><br />note the generous supply of butter alongside, just in case you need some <I>more</I> on top of what's already in there. btw, not everyone in the family likes this stuff. some say it "tastes like cardboard." that's ok, heretics -- more for us!<br /><br />earlier, we had some lovely homemade hummus and baba ghanoush with pita, and a nice healthy veggie platter:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIjW1hOaUI/AAAAAAAABGw/nXEe5BLusSY/s1600-h/DSCN1053.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIjW1hOaUI/AAAAAAAABGw/nXEe5BLusSY/s320/DSCN1053.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359885381754841410" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIjrD0riRI/AAAAAAAABG4/uNQgkzeGB0M/s1600-h/DSCN1063.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIjrD0riRI/AAAAAAAABG4/uNQgkzeGB0M/s320/DSCN1063.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359885729191921938" /></a><br /><br />the main course included kebobs grilled to perfection by my cousin kara's husband, who also made blender drinks all weekend. he was the mixmaster <I>and</I> the grillmaster.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIlHZ-uY4I/AAAAAAAABHA/ubQzofz2OtE/s1600-h/DSCN1080_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 178px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIlHZ-uY4I/AAAAAAAABHA/ubQzofz2OtE/s320/DSCN1080_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359887315687596930" /></a><br /><br />also we had the aforementioned stuffed cabbage and green peppers, plus baked beans, another family fave:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIlVaCM-oI/AAAAAAAABHI/SFL2OeTBpsE/s1600-h/DSCN1081_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 148px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIlVaCM-oI/AAAAAAAABHI/SFL2OeTBpsE/s320/DSCN1081_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359887556220353154" /></a><br /><br />on the lighter side were tasty bean salad and fruit:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIlz-I3LoI/AAAAAAAABHQ/dtiy2tvDBdY/s1600-h/DSCN1077.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SmIlz-I3LoI/AAAAAAAABHQ/dtiy2tvDBdY/s320/DSCN1077.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359888081308036738" /></a><br /><br />the dining room table was also covered with plates of cookies and other sweets, including loads of different baklava from an armenian bakery ... but kara made some of her own. i shared a piece with cousin sandy while we were making our nearly triumphant comeback at trivial pursuit (or maybe it was when i was helping her win at scrabble?) ... omg, soooo good. almost as good as grandma's, and i mean really, almost as good. as in, totally awesomely delicious.<br /><br />in spite of the endless amounts of fantastic food and the gorgeous surroundings -- plus a bonus thunderstorm that was pretty thrilling to behold and didn't dampen our saturday all that much, as it eventually moved on -- the best part of the weekend was being with the family. as a child and even a teenager, i loved gatherings on my mom's side, b/c there was always so much boisterous fun and delicious food. this was a return to that sort of thing, except now i was one of the older people, along with the aunts and uncles and first-gen cousins, surrounded by teeming hordes of young second cousins ... some of whom are all grown up and have kids of their own, others of whom are teens, preteens, and younger.<br /><br />the logistics required to pull this off must have been very complicated -- kudos to ara and cheryl, cousin sallie, and everyone else who planned this thing. (how many store runs did ara make in just one day? i dunno, but i think wegman's loves him now.) we even all got gift bags with family reunion t-shirts. i don't know how they did it, but i definitely enjoyed being part of it. my own contribution was burning many copies of an interview i did with grandma 25 years ago while a student at penn state, with her talking about escaping the turkish massacre in armenia and coming to the states as a child.<br /><br />i spent a fair amount of time with my immediate family, whom i don't get to see very often. part of that was passed being soundly trounced at backgammon (tradition!) by the squirrel, who was clearly channeling mom when she rolled double fours, double fives, and double sixes all in a row. but also, i discussed the merits of majoring in photojournalism with my cousin jenna, who's going to penn state (another big fam trad ... the reunion t-shirts were penn state blue and white). and two of the teenagers of kara and sandy entertained me well into the night on saturday (after the fiercely fought scrabble and trivial pursuit games were done), spinning 'round the menus on their ipods and asking if knew this artist, and this one and this one, and check out this AWESOME drum part, and aren't that guy's vocals just the <I>best</I>? diana and TJ, you rule.<br /><br />we reminisced, caught up, teased, laughed, played games, snapped photos, jumped into the pool, relaxed in the hot tub, watched auto racing, snagged free diagnoses from the family's doctor, took walks, napped, drank, snacked, noshed, nibbled, scarfed, and dined in a huge, ever-changing swirl of relative bliss. at any given moment, lots of people were doing stuff -- eating, cooking, drink-making, gaming, hacky-sacking -- while lots of other people looked on. it was like being at a golf tournament, except with a lot more noise and talking. and no clubs.<br /><br />my younger sister's husband drove up on sunday morning, so i had the mustang to myself when i took off for erie later that afternoon -- stomach full of delicious pulled pork sandwich, grilled steak, leftover pilaf and kata, bean salad, etc., etc., and head full of family. being plunged into the middle of all those people and automatically belonging felt kind of great -- a sensation i've never really thought i missed, but it was surprisingly comforting. along with simply loving the kids and being happy just watching them conduct their own party-within-a-party, i was especially glad to have spent time talking to my mom's sister, aunt rosebud, on saturday. plus sandy and i, who are the same age and hung out a lot in certain summers of our youth, totally rebonded, and i was sad to have to leave her. especially since we would've totally kicked ass on the '90s version of trivial pursuit.<br /><br />i got gas and headed for the thruway (what we californians call the freeway), as i had to make a dinner date (hahaha) back in erie that night. i was thinking about how much mom would've loved the weekend -- she used to hold big family parties sometimes, back when we were kids -- and just how long it has been since she's been gone. some snow patrol song came on the car stereo i had hooked up to my ipod, and i got kinda sniffly for a while. good thing nobody saw <I>that</I>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-87748200714856767192009-07-16T10:42:00.000-07:002009-07-16T13:26:01.329-07:00try it again<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sk_Lt7cO8MI/AAAAAAAABF4/s1aJ0qI6zuM/s1600-h/doctormarthacalling.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sk_Lt7cO8MI/AAAAAAAABF4/s1aJ0qI6zuM/s320/doctormarthacalling.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354722471877472450" /></a><br /><br />rumors have been swirling for a while now that when <I>doctor who</I> star david tennant (pictured above) and showrunner russell t. davies appear on a panel later this month at the <A HREF="http://www.comic-con.org">san diego comic-con</A> with director euros lyn, they will <A HREF="http://io9.com/5306667/euros-lyn-to-direct-doctor-who-movie-for-2011">announce a big-screen <I>who</I> project</A> starring DT, written by RTD, and directed by lyn.<br /><br />well ... maybe. but my first reaction was "no fucking way." first off, let's not forget that RTD was supposed to appear at the con <A HREF="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2008/07/happening.html">last year</A>, and he canceled at the last minute, which bummed me out b/c i bought a one-day ticket mainly to hear him speak. it turned out ok, b/c the panels that did happen (one for <I>torchwood</I>, one for <I>DW</I>) were pretty great, with exec producer julie gardner, writer and incoming showrunner steven moffat, and some of the <I>TW</I> stars.<br /><br />but anyway. a <I>who</I> movie? announced at comic-con, when one might imagine that bbc america would be more focused on basking in the glow of the newly broadcast series 3 of <I>TW</I> (starting july 20 on BBCA and ushering in the brand-new BBCA HD) and promoting the last three <I>DW</I> specials starring DT as the 10th doctor, which will air sometime later this year or maybe early next? i dunno.<br /><br />aside from the logic problems, the whole idea gives me a bad feeling. it would be great to have a big-screen <I>who</I> flick, but OTOH, it feels really weird that they would do it this way. with <A HREF="http://hipspinster.blogspot.com/2009/01/everything-old-is-new-again.html">11th doctor matt smith</A> already in the chute, as filming supposedly begins next week on series 5, for broadcast next year, it seems strange that they'd use this opportunity to hype a flick starring the guy who quit, even if he is the most popular doctor EVAR.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sk_NCzWDlGI/AAAAAAAABGA/9tUgqsj_eR8/s1600-h/MattSmithnTARDIS.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sk_NCzWDlGI/AAAAAAAABGA/9tUgqsj_eR8/s320/MattSmithnTARDIS.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354723929992959074" /></a><br /><br />and, even if the film falls between smith series, i don't get why they would sign matt smith (above) to a multi-year contract to be the doctor, and then make a movie, allegedly slated to come out the year after only his first series has aired, with the previous actor to play the doctor. (yes, they made a <I>doctor who</I> movie in 1965 with a different actor, peter cushing, while william hartnell was the doctor on TV. but that's different, for obvious reasons.)<br /><br />i mean, i can't flat-out say a movie with DT won't happen. and to quote the doctor, i'd love it! but i still think that DT, RTD, and lyn will be at the con to promote 10's final eps. lyn directed them, so that fits, and they won't air here until ... uh, well, whenever. also, it's like, if this movie has been a possibility (the only official statement from the beeb has been that "a script is in development" ... which doesn't mean it's even close to being in production or even pre-production), why would tennant quit being the doctor, then do specials, then leave? why not end at series 4 and then make the movie, have that, and then have matt smith?<br /><br />also, i'm kind of ready for this chapter of <I>who</I> to end, despite how much i love 10. i want to see what the fantastic steven moffat is going to do with the doctor, and matt smith too. i watched "the empty child"/"the doctor dances" the other night (moffat-penned, starring christopher eccleston as the 9th doctor ... pictured below), and just kinda fell in love again with the mixture of emotional nuance, darkness, humor, romance, and crazy broad gesture that moffat can do.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sk_Qj3Qz9cI/AAAAAAAABGI/Pq-xuzoZUgk/s1600-h/9thdoctor.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sk_Qj3Qz9cI/AAAAAAAABGI/Pq-xuzoZUgk/s320/9thdoctor.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354727796515272130" /></a><br /><br />OTOH, what with every sci-fi/fantasy franchise in existence cashing in right now, it's the perfect time to plan a big-screen who adventure. and with RTD supposedly <A HREF="http://www.express.co.uk/posts/view/113365/Dr-Who-genius-leaves-for-America">moving to the u.s.</A>, plus julie gardner (who also works on spin-offs <I>torchwood</I> and <I>the sarah jane adventures</I>) joining the l.a.-based bbc worldwide america, <I>doctor who</I> is closer to hollywood than, well, ever. it would make RTD's moving-on-now stance a pose, but that wouldn't be terribly surprising. and, while DT seemed to be shifting toward more "serious" projects (hosting PBS's <I>masterpiece classics</I> starting in the fall and having a part in UK WWII drama <I>glorious 39</I>), then the announcement came that he will <A HREF="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/8137724.stm">play a villain</A> in the latest installment of the british <I>st. trinian's</I> franchise, apparently involving pirate gold and naughty schoolgirls. (hey, a guy's gotta eat ... not to mention: naughty schoolgirls!) but anyway, in one recent interview DT did sorta cryptically mention the possibility of being in an unnamed big-deal sci-fi project in the future, so it very well could all happen just as the rumors say it will.<br /><br />but, as much as i love <I>doctor who</I> and have since childhood, i dunno if the average american idiot will. (yes, i'm assuming it would be made at least partially with the US market in mind, like the '96 tv movie ... otherwise, why bother making the announcement at an american industry event?) <I>DW</I> has a higher profile than ever here, but it's still a cult jam. which is rather how i prefer it, but that's another story.<br /><br />whatevs. if there is a movie, i'll definitely see it!<br /><br />anyway, not that matt smith needs MY sympathy, but i'm starting to feel sorry for the dude. he's not even been seen in the show yet and already he's being shoved to the side by DT. ahaha. oh well. i suppose he'll be in the relentless spotlight soon enough.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-12353329630797851652009-07-06T22:20:00.000-07:002009-07-06T23:17:57.225-07:00life begins at the hop<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SkBpA7OZwkI/AAAAAAAABFo/nh17K4tPNLE/s1600-h/SkinsS1-2cast.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SkBpA7OZwkI/AAAAAAAABFo/nh17K4tPNLE/s320/SkinsS1-2cast.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350391821935166018" /></a><br /><br />remember when you could just get fucked up and dance away your problems?<br /><br />that's what the kids on UK teensploitation drama <A HREF="http://www.e4.com/skins/index.html"><I>skins</I></A> do ... which is one of the reasons it's my latest shameless UK tee-vee fascination. it's all tender young things (see most of the series 1-2 cast, above) trying to sort out life while they drink, drug, party, shag, snog, mope, fight, cry, and accessorize -- you know, the usual dressing up in costumes and playing silly games that youth is heir to.<br /><br />most of them are in college, which is sort of like high school here, but different. in <A HREF="http://www.bbcamerica.com/content/328/index.jsp">the first two series</A>, the alpha male is the kid in the lime green shirt at the top of the above photo; his name's tony, and the redhead pressed against his chest is michelle, his GF, with whom tony's BFF sid, the kid in the watch cap and specs, is also in love.<br /><br />but sid's real soul mate is cassie, the blond girl at far right, a zany free spirit with a bunch of problems, mainly an eating disorder. (the actress, hannah murray, is pretty great ... she was one of the many rumored to be the next <I>doctor who</I> companion, but that gig went to scottish lovely karen gillan ... and that's OK, 'cause i think hannah would be better suited to playing a time lord -- specifically, romana -- instead.) the topless boy pressed against <I>her</I> is maxie, the prettiest gay boy dancer you ever did see, who's one of the more sensible characters. but he and his beffie anwar (to the left of tony) struggle to remain friends b/c anwar's muslim and thinks homosexuality is wrong. the girl in the orange shirt is jal -- a talented musician who's quick to lend a sympathetic ear to everyone's drama, even though her own troubles get shoved to the side. (not pictured is chris, a fun-loving fuck-up who forms a surprising bond with jal ... and has a fling with his psych teacher.)<br /><br />on the downside, there's way too much puking, and, while some of <A HREF="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Skins-Various-Artists/dp/B000V6JYJQ">the music</A> is great, a lot of it is relentlessly emo. especially in series 3, which has a different cast:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SkMHr6u2jGI/AAAAAAAABFw/MbDJenkO0vc/s1600-h/skins-s3cast.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 156px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SkMHr6u2jGI/AAAAAAAABFw/MbDJenkO0vc/s320/skins-s3cast.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351129233327819874" /></a><br /><br />i liked the first two series better, partly b/c tony was more a charming, conniving borderline sociopath, where the latest alpha male, cook, is a psychopath with anger-management issues -- and, while different episodes focus on different characters, the alpha male does tend to be in a lot of them. as alpha males will do. cook (third from left above) really got on my nerves, and most of the boys in S3 were rubbish, although the girls were pretty cool.<br /><br />anyway. i'm not really one of those people who thinks that life is high school over'n'over again (lawd forbid!), but something about <I>skins</I> does resonate. yes, i kind of love living vicariously through the crazy party scenes where they drink and down whatever they can get their hands on, then dance in a gang at the discotheque, and never suffer a hangover ('cause those days are <I>gone</I>). but i think what attracts me the most is the ... fronting. they all act like they know what they're doing but often haven't got a clue. i feel like that a lot. still.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-81463535158929448552009-06-21T19:45:00.000-07:002009-06-28T23:05:57.112-07:00the man comes around<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SjxStcOzYdI/AAAAAAAABFI/QN0RnmS5hSY/s1600-h/GK-dusty.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SjxStcOzYdI/AAAAAAAABFI/QN0RnmS5hSY/s320/GK-dusty.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349241398035177938" /></a><br /><br />finished watching HBO's <A HREF="http://www.hbo.com/generationkill/"><I>generation kill</I></A> the other night. it was a pretty big deal when first broadcast almost a year ago, but i just didn't catch up with it till now, mainly b/c the dvd fairy handed us a copy a while back.<br /><br />you can read about it at the link above, or <A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Generation_Kill_(TV_series)">on wikipedia</A>, but in a nutshell, it's a seven-part drama about the early days of the iraq war, as seen through members of bravo company, part of the marine corps' 1st reconnaissance battalion. based on embedded journalist evan wright's book of the same name, it was co-created and -written by the guys who made <I>the wire</I>, david simon and ed burns. remember embedded journalists? remember shock and awe? remember when the war was going to pay for itself and be over in a few weeks, months at the most? remember when you were considered a traitor for speaking out against it?<br /><br />yeah, good times.<br /><br />the miniseries brooks no sentiment, of course. and it is definitely a sibling of <I>the wire</I>, with that same hyper-verité vibe -- all clipped scenes, terse dialogue, semi-impenetrable lexicon, and deepening resignation.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SjxgRPXYqwI/AAAAAAAABFQ/P23fb6aowEA/s1600-h/brad%26reporter.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SjxgRPXYqwI/AAAAAAAABFQ/P23fb6aowEA/s320/brad%26reporter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349256306707966722" /></a><br /><br />the characters are many (28, wiki informs me ... no wonder it's hard to keep everybody straight), but probably the main guy is sgt. brad "iceman" colbert (alexander skarsgard), whose humvee squad hosts the fictional version of evan wright, usually just referred to as "reporter." (that's them in the picture above, brad in the middle and reporter with the camera.) scribe gets up-close and personal with both the war and the rest of the humvee squad, which also includes utterly insane driver ray (james ransone) and crazy deadshot mofo trombley (billy lush).<br /><br />their platoon commander, lt. fick (stark sands), is richie cunningham-esque with his round baby face (although the actor was about 30 when he filmed this), so it kind of follows that fick is a stand-up guy. a little too idealistic for his own good, considering, but devoted to keeping the shit from rolling onto his guys, which is what a good leader does. he is totally outnumbered, however, by idiots.<br /><br />b/c, just like at any job, the bosses are largely incompetents, often taking self-glorification into account as much as, if not more than, reaching the objective. but, unlike most jobs, the idiot bosses can quite literally get you killed. however, the grunts take this in stride ... i mean, they hate it, and they bitch about the morons in charge all the time -- and at one point, one even tells an officer to his face that he's incompetent. (actually, that was the corpsman, the navy medical personnel assigned to the group, but still.) but they just kind of roll their eyes, shrug, down more <A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Twinlab">ripped fuel</A>, and keep right on videoing everything while dealing with the crazy orders, not to mention the blind firefights, lack of proper equipment, endless waiting, food shortages, primitive conditions, health afflictions, and confusing local populace (who's the enemy? who's not?).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sj8AarXThWI/AAAAAAAABFY/h7qoBrSt1F0/s1600-h/bradgrass.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sj8AarXThWI/AAAAAAAABFY/h7qoBrSt1F0/s320/bradgrass.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349995340656510306" /></a><br /><br />the videotaping leads to the marine-made movie that figures into the finale, accompanied by johnny cash singing his appropriately grim judgment-day ballad "the man comes around" (the title track from his 2002 album <I>american iv: the man comes around</I>), complete with quotations from the book of revelation and packed with biblical metaphors.<br /><br />the show itself displays little patience with religion, and the dialogue is filled more with what mr. spock might call colorful banter: routine racist jibes, misogynist slurs, and homophobia. so, you've been warned. yeah, sure, that's what it's "really like," but i'm just sayin' -- some people might find that stuff a turnoff. for me, it was worth watching, but the constant objectification of women did feel like verbal battery at times. when the guys are tossing slurs at each other, at least it's a (usually goodnatured) battle of words. but there are no women around to give as bad as they got.<br /><br />however, the irony is that it quickly becomes clear, as protocols are broken and the marines are forced to do things like abandon men they should've taken prisoner (men who will later be slaughtered by saddam's republican guard for surrendering), that the grunts are the ones who grasp the total fucked-ness of the situation, and who in their own way see the moral quagmire to come, long before anyone in charge could even admit there was a problem. so let's hear it for crude motherfuckers who know what time it is.<br /><br />watching this series while the fucked-up situation unfolded (and continues) in iran added an extra layer of irony. we stomped into iraq and murdered the locals ostensibly to set them "free," and now we're helpless bystanders as the citizens of iran fight for their own freedom. i don't mean to suggest we should do something military, but there's been such intense debate even about <I>what</I> president obama should say and <I>how</I> he should say it. we're walking softly and keeping the big stick in the closet -- a far cry from the swaggering that helped bring this newfound sense of cautious conscientiousness into vogue.<br /><br />still, for all its matter-of-fact toughness, <I>generation kill</I> has unexpectedly emotional moments that spring from the characters being rubbed raw at times. the lack of sentimentality in the story, and the way the viewer becomes absorbed into this world, give these moments an unbearably poignant intensity. you're pulled in -- partly b/c of the writing, with the characters revealed mostly through endless, often seemingly trivial or routine conversations and group sings while rolling in the humvees. partly b/c of how it is shot, with lots of tight inside-the-vehicle views, closeups on men and their weapons, tense two- and three-shots ... as well as sweeping vistas of the landscape and sky, and driveby views of the displaced people, the destroyed cities and villages. but also, for me, having to pay attention to the slanguage and acronomicon made it kind of like reading a tv show, which was pretty cool.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sj8HXw_rcII/AAAAAAAABFg/pAf-lTPAzeY/s1600-h/brad%26josh.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sj8HXw_rcII/AAAAAAAABFg/pAf-lTPAzeY/s320/brad%26josh.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350002987209814146" /></a><br /><br />bravo company's mission does end -- well, not so much end as close the loop of an endless cycle -- and the series doesn't deal directly with the clusterfuck to come (one darkly wry recurring phrase is that the war's almost over). but it certainly foreshadows the oncoming mess, mainly as the troops connect the dots while they just keep sucking it up -- leaving prisoners behind, seeing civilians blown up, capturing foreign jihadists who entered the country <I>after</I> the u.s. invasion. the pattern is just forming for the grunts, but we see the all-too-familiar origins of what's been a dire, expensive, and seemingly never-ending part of our history for the last six years. and, all apologies to mr. cash, i don't see any justice on the horizon.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-69359745938242645032009-05-31T22:09:00.000-07:002022-06-01T11:10:57.959-07:00hello birmingham<p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SiOAtq3coII/AAAAAAAABE8/9rlmrgBiatc/s1600-h/tillerremoved.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342255105080860802" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/SiOAtq3coII/AAAAAAAABE8/9rlmrgBiatc/s320/tillerremoved.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 258px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>
<i>a bullet came to visit a doctor
in his one safe place ...</i> </p><p>today <a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_tiller_shooting">dr. george tiller was murdered</a> while serving as an usher at his church in wichita, kansas. an unapologetic abortion provider, he was one of the few u.s. physicians to perform late-term abortions. (the photo above, taken from the AP story at link in previous sentence, is of his body being removed from the church.) as a medical professional who had been doing this since the 1973 <i>roe v. wade</i> supreme court decision, he was, of course, <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2009-05-31-abortiondoc_N.htm">used to threats</a>. and indeed, dr. tiller had been shot before, in both arms, in 1993 by an anti-choice hater. (it was the same year that david gunn became the first u.s. abortion doctor to be shot dead, in pensacola, florida.) </p><p>tiller usually had a bodyguard when going to/from his clinic -- which was bombed in 1986 and often the target of vandalism. but he didn't have a bodyguard in church ... b/c church is supposed to be safe.
as it turns out -- and as ani difranco underscored in her 1999 song "hello birmingham" (quoted above) -- nowhere is safe from these fanatics. </p><p>ever since <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/news/education/2009-05-17-obama-notre-dame_N.htm">president barack obama spoke at notre dame's commencement</a>, i've been thinking about <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barnett_Slepian">barnett slepian</a>. until today, he was the most recent medical professional to have been killed by an anti-choice activist: in 1998, slepian was murdered by james charles kopp, <a href="http://www.salon.com/news/feature/1999/04/17/abortion/">shot at through his kitchen window</a> while making dinner in his home in amherst, near buffalo, new york. the crime inspired difranco to write "hello birmingham," which is a thoughtful yet rawly emotional song. it's very moving, especially when heard in concert.</p><p>dr. slepian has been on my mind for a couple of weeks, because i wanted to blog about obama's speech but i was just too angry about what he said. before he went to notre dame, some had denounced the university for inviting obama -- a dirty, abortion-rights-supporting bastard -- to address the graduating class. so obama decided to <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/news/washington/2009-05-17-obamatext_N.htm">directly address the controversial issue</a>. and it was just too much to see the president, who is supposed to be pro-choice, using the opportunity to continue the democrats' mealy-mouthed campaign to appease the opposition by (a) acting as though people who think women don't have human rights have any sort of point and (b) implying that each "side" in this conflict is equally guilty of lacking fair-mindedness and of "demonizing" the other.
but angry rants are just so 20th century, so ... no post.</p><p>still it bugged me, the idea that we who believe in abortion on demand, without apology, somehow need to be more open-minded about those who think they have some moral right to run women's lives. that we need to watch our language and not call such people "right-wing idealogues" -- b/c that's not "fair-minded."</p><p>i looked up "idealogue" in webster's. here's what it says:</p><p><i>1 : an impractical idealist: THEORIST </i></p><p><i>2 : an often blindly partisan advocate or adherent of a particular ideology</i> </p><p>considering that pro-lifers tend to think there's no circumstance under which abortion is justifiable, and that this means they believe women should be forced to give birth even if they don't want to, it actually sounds like a totally accurate word to me.</p><p>in the days that followed the president's speech, the pro-life camp lived up to our unfair characterizations, with lots of letters to the editor and web comments declaring endless variations on the assertion that no common ground was possible with people who don't believe abortion is murdering baybeez. the crazy was going off to such an extent that i started wondering if perhaps obama's comments had been some kind of twisted rahm emmanuel ploy to expose the anti-choicers' true colors.
a nice dream, but the truth is that obama belongs to the sadly misguided "let's compromise to show how reasonable we are" crowd (of which hillary clinton is also a member). the ones who have fallen into the trap of letting fetuses and debates about when life begins trump defending women's rights. who never fail to cede ground when accused of being too liberal on abortion. who yak on about reducing the number of unwanted pregnancies and assure the haters that they, too, understand how abortion is a "moral," "ethical" issue. bollocks to that. it's a personal, medical issue ... and if morality (aka religion in this scenario) comes into it, then it's between the woman and her god or representative thereof.</p><p>while browsing the news links after the speech, i read an editorial (which i didn't bookmark and now cannot find for the life of me) that discussed obama's notion about the two sides finding ways to come together. the piece mentioned his statement about each side demonizing the other and noted (paraphrasing) that pro-lifers had bombed clinics and killed doctors, while pro-choicers had called the opposition really bad names.</p><p>after the slepian killing, pro-life forces rallied and protested at clinics in buffalo and rochester. an operation rescue rep mocked calls for nonviolence and warned that more blood would be spilled. today, after tiller was murdered (some would say assassinated, and i would agree), the wichita-based operation rescue claimed to be shocked by the killing (for which a suspect, reported anti-choice "fanatic" scott roeder, <a href="http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5g8-DEMtAE9q4i4ySQ0eV_qZefmRQD98HHL3O1">was arrested</a> this afternoon) ... even though its website ran a "tiller watch" page (no longer available for viewing) and labeled him a murderer. i know i'm paranoid and suspicious, but i just don't think they were really that shocked.
i think i preferred it when such groups were open with their hate, rather than this hypocritical PR speak. (not that there wasn't plenty of faux hand-wringing back in 1998, too.) the lip service paid to the doctor's killing was quickly followed by operation rescue founder randall terry fretting that obama would somehow use this act of terrorism to persecute those who oppose abortion rights. (this came somewhere after his claim that it was tragic how the doctor had died before he had a chance to get right with god. how the hell would randall terry know what state of grace, or not, dr. tiller was in?)</p><p>yes, let's show how reasonable we are to people who can turn the cold-blooded murder of a doctor who saved lives into a threat to <i>their</i> existence. let's play nice with fanatics who would rather see our viewpoint eradicated (a viewpoint, by the way, that is still the rule of law in this land) than live and let live.</p><p>of course obama <a href="http://content.usatoday.com/communities/theoval/post/2009/05/67484015/1">condemned tiller's killing</a> today. i'm sure HE actually was shocked by it. and i'm certainly not suggesting that the president is somehow responsible for this. i'm just saying that we've suddenly been brutally reminded that this fluffy dream of everyone coming to the table ... or at least coming to an agree-to-disagree type of understanding ... is disingenuous and naive. it has been and always will be the anti-choice camp that takes things too far -- too far to tolerate.</p><p>it's people who support a woman's right to choose who are bombed, who are harassed, who are killed for doing what's right. obama and his ilk only undermine the position they're supposed to defend by making it seem like pro-choicers aren't doing enough to find common ground. i find it hard to believe they don't get that nothing but total surrender will <i>ever</i> be enough for the haters. so why perpetuate the illusion that the so-called pro-life movement is reasonable? it isn't. and it's because of THEM, not us, that true accord will <i>never</i> happen.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5202245.post-45768934363013830652009-05-27T21:55:00.000-07:002009-05-28T00:29:54.157-07:00fire of love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sh4aolAb3lI/AAAAAAAABEs/Tx9q-99qmJk/s1600-h/glock.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sh4aolAb3lI/AAAAAAAABEs/Tx9q-99qmJk/s320/glock.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340735492539014738" /></a><br /><br />a friend of mine has a "bucket list" -- a la the jack nicholson/morgan freeman terminal-illness dramedy <I>the bucket list</I> -- although she, unlike the characters in the flick, is not dying. one of the things on her list was firing a gun, and monday was the day for her to tick that item off -- and i got to join the shooting party, as part of my birthday present from JD.<br /><br />on monday night, i picked up JD at her k-town pad and pointed the beast east on 6th street, all the way to the <A HREF="http://www.thelosangelesgunclub.com/">los angeles gun club</A>. it's a boxy building inside a small warehouse compound, with a small parking lot right in front. inside it's very bright and spare, with display cases full of weaponry marking out an l-shaped space from which employees hand out rental guns and sell boxes of ammo. on the walls above are a wide variety of targets -- everything from your standard silhouettes and circle targets to bottles and cans on a fence to photos of menacing guys in hoodies and other thuggish types -- posted on the walls so you can choose. the south wall is windows looking into the range, with entry doors on either side.<br /><br />the name of the place brought to mind legendary l.a. band <A HREF="http://www.myspace.com/thegunclub">the gun club</A>, fronted by the late jeffrey lee pierce. a group beloved by many but not well known to me. thus i was forced to learn, and discovered on <A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gun_Club">wikipedia</A> (confirmed by 00soul) that keith morris of the circle jerks named the band, but not after this particular gun club. still, it is a synchronicitous musical link, with the bonus that "fire of love," a 1982 single by TGC (and also the title of the band's debut album), was originally done by <A HREF="http://www.rockabillyhall.com/JodyReynolds.html">jody reynolds</A> in 1958, the year jeffrey lee pierce was born. (also, they both suffered from liver ailments.)<br /><br />a lot of different l.a. music scene figures and other famous folk passed through or worked with the gun club: <A HREF="http://www.furious.com/perfect/gunclub.html">this very detailed article</A> gets into that. jeffrey lee died in 1996 at the way-too-young age of 37 -- not of a gunshot wound (that would be TOO horribly synchronicitous), but a brain hemorrhage. i remember when 00soul went to the memorial. he told me a story about him and JLP drunkenly singing doo-wop on the sidewalk outside the music machine one night years before ... one of those rock 'n' roll moments that takes on a life of its own, fleeting and yet eternal. like a shot through the heart (at least if you're an <A HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ashes_to_Ashes_(TV_series)"><I>ashes to ashes</I></A> fan).<br /><br />one of our party actually did fret that she would accidentally shoot someone, but of course there were no casualties. JD and i paired up in lane 3, after getting the rundown from alonzo, a cheerful man in a gun club jacket. you must carry your unloaded gun, clip, bullets, etc. into the range in a plastic carrier box, and wear your protective headphones and eyeshields. unless you rent a rifle, which JD did -- as it doesn't fit in the carrier, you just hold the unloaded gun straight up and transport it that way.<br /><br />to her disappointment, they did not have an M-16. "too much," said alonzo. (she was in the army for seven years and is a very good shot, BTW.)<br /><br />we started with a military 9mm, a very nice gun that didn't kick much but seemed a little too big and heavy for my hands.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sh4wcqF5x8I/AAAAAAAABE0/nJoLJEES20w/s1600-h/m9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HDzg85Po6cQ/Sh4wcqF5x8I/AAAAAAAABE0/nJoLJEES20w/s320/m9.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340759477001504706" /></a><br /><br />i did hit the target -- many times even in vital areas (head, heart). but my aim drifted left in a wicked way. which helped later on, when we got a glock and JD came back with a target, "tactical situation no. 3," depicting a gunman with a woman hostage, him standing to her left. i totally blew that mofo away and DID NOT hit the hostage! i was chuffed.<br /><br />the glock was a lot lighter but had much more kick, although that didn't bother me. (there i am with it at the top of this post.) but most awkward for me was the rifle, a winchester copy i am told, which i only fired maybe 10 times. while i did hit the target (bottles and cans, clap your hands), it was hard to master the gun. i've never fired a long gun while standing, so it was challenging to hold it against my shoulder, sight it, fire, etc.<br /><br />it was fun to try, though. we all seemed to really get into the experience. one guy rented an ancient, WWI russian rifle with a bolt action that was, like, so loud. we're standing there, innocently blasting away with our pistols, when allasudden there's this BOOOOOOOM! right next to us. WTF? even with plugs in and headphones on (i needed earplugs too because the noise in general is very bad for already abused ears like mine), it was sonic.<br /><br />at last we returned our gear to alonzo, cashed out, and said thanks. "we'll be back," we vowed, like ahhnold. and trundled off to <A HREF="http://www.sevengrand.la/main.html">seven grand</A>, a downtown whiskey bar where JD ordered a sour with <A HREF="http://www.bulleitbourbon.com/Gateway.html?Lang=en-us&BrandId=SO&RefUrl=http%3a%2f%2fwww.bulleitbourbon.com%2fTemplates%2fStandardContentTemplate.aspx%3fNRMODE%3dPublished%26NRNODEGUID%3d%257b995A4519-FFB9-4956-8753-5EBBB93B9743%257d%26NRORIGINALURL%3d%252f%26NRCACHEHINT%3dGuest">bulleit bourbon</A>, just to keep the theme alive.<br /><br />shooting definitely got my adrenaline going, and burned off a lot of nervous, anxious energy. it has a certain allure as stress relief. but i need to try more guns to find which is best. i want to shoot a revolver. and i gotta work on my breathing, and my aim. (tough b/c i cannot see the sights without my reading glasses ... kids, don't let anyone tell you differently: aging sucks.) and i probably should have taken off my rings, but ... oh well. next time.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0