Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Blogtoosa


Those of you who know my better half, Watoosa, may be interested to know that she has now sipped from the goblet of blog Kool-Aid. She calls her joint The Conscience Pudding, a name she has shamelessly swiped from the work of the fantastic Edward Gorey (a favorite around our house). You can find it listed in the margin of this page, or just click here.

The picture above is one of her stylin' at the ruins of Knapps' Castle, a few miles outside of town.
In the interest of equality, here's one of me at that same site, climbing a chimney that looks like a giant pair of pants.


Actual Student Writing

"Philosophers plunge into the bowels of what truth really means in order for society to have a firmer grasp of it."

For the love of Zod, I wish I'd never read that sentence.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Best. Bond. EVER.

Not that that's saying much.

My theory about Bond is that the idea of the James Bond character is greater than any of the movies. The best are probably Goldfinger and From Russia with Love. The Connery films (excluding Never Say Never Again, a film which falsified its own title), as well as Lazenby's Her Majesty's Secret Service, had a sixties glamor that holds up well even today. But toward the end of Connery's first run, they started getting campy. In You Only Live Twice, Bond is surgically altered to look Japanese. Or was it Klingon? And his penultimate Bond film, Diamonds are Forever, gave the world an early preview of the aesthetic wasteland that would be the 1970s.

With Roger Moore, the franchise went beyond campy to downright cartoonish. Part of the reason why is the previously mentioned aesthetics of the 1970s and even the early 1980s. When you see Connery's Bond, his clothes and car and those of many of the other characters still look good, albeit in a retro way. Not so with Moore. His clothes look chintzy and garish, and he drives this piece of crap, made by a company that promptly went out of business. But apart from being victimized by their own sense of fashion, the Moore movies were just corny. Exhibit A: the final combat between Bond and Herve Villechaize.

The Dalton films are so unremarkable I've forgotten everything about them, even the titles. And Brosnan made a decent Bond, even though he looks a little sissyish when he runs. But those films were just Bruckheimeresque action flicks, with a few Bondisms thrown in.

All that has changed, now. When I learned that Daniel Craig would be the new 007, I didn't think he looked right for the part. When I heard that Ford would be supplying the cars, I shook my head in disbelief (think Ford will now go the way of AMC?). When it came out that Craig couldn't drive a stick and had to have a stuntman do all the driving, I gave up entirely. But I decided to go see Casino Royale when the reviews came out and saw they were all remarkably strong (here's a good one).

Believe the hype. This is the best Bond movie ever. The biggest improvement is the writing. Gone are the insufferable puns, thank God. In their place is actually interesting and rather witty dialog. It's almost as if the writers thought there might be a few intelligent people in the audience and wanted to avoid insulting them, for a change. The opening title sequence is fantastic--no lascivious sillouettes this time, but great animation playing on card and roulette imagery. The chase scene immediately after the titles is one of the most exciting things ever put on film. And the Bond character is given much greater depth; we see a man who has extraordinary capabilities but also certain vulnerabilities and weaknesses, and who is setting out on a career whose psychological toll he has yet to grasp. Don't get me wrong--this isn't an artsy-fartsy character study film. But the writers realized they could make the action more affecting by developing their characters a bit more than usual. And they succeed. The movie does drag a bit toward the end, but honestly it's such a fun ride that I couldn't complain. So I walked out of the theater convinced that this was the Best bond film ever.

But does Craig give the best performance of Bond? I'd say he gives Connery a run for his money. He fills the role nicely. While he's not a pretty face, he has a different kind of charisma that works well for the role. And when he throws a punch, you believe it, unlike when Roger Moore would employ a Shatneresque karate chop, for example. Craig's Bond is genuinely dangerous, and that's refreshing after decades of fops.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Personal Ads from the Bizzaro World

You never know what's going to pop up on Google desktop. Today, I saw a link to this story about personal ads in the London Review of Books. What kind of person, you might ask, chooses that publication to look for a romantic connection? People who post ads like these:

"67-year-old disaffiliated flâneur jacked up on Viagra on the lookout for contortionist who plays the trumpet."

and

"Baste me in butter and call me Slappy."

and

"61-year-old laryngologist and amateur taxidermist looking for a woman with whom to share, among other things, dancing and cardio-pulmonary resuscitation."

And my favorite bit:

"A woman in the current issue, for instance, specifies that she is looking for a man "who doesn't name his genitals after German chancellors" (not even, the ad says, "Prince Chlodwig zu Hohenlohe-Schillingfürst, however admirable the independence he gave to secretaries of state may have been.")"

That one got me thinking: the bizarre nature of these ads is a bit like German absurdism, only with ironic humor. Imagine these quotations coming not with a wry smile but with the creepy earnestness of this fellow. It totally works! So, is that all that separates the Brits from Germans? I know we'd all like to think that this man's career demonstrates the German sense of irony, but that might be wishful thinking.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

One More Cool Thing We Did


On Friday evening, we went to see the Royal Drummers of Burundi. It was fantastic. They were preceded on the billing by a group called Mombasa Party. That group played a set of fairly pleasant, low-key, and mostly forgettable African songs. As they finished their last number, the Burundi drummers came slowly sauntering onstage, clicking their sticks with each step. Each one took his spot behind a drum, and then without much warning, they laid into their drums. It sounded like a cannon going off. There was an audible expression of shock in the row behind me. And it was glorious.

The picture included here shows the central drum, carved out of a tree trunk. The others looked just like it, which is to say, heavy. That made their entrance after the intermission all the more impressive, because they came out carrying those things on their heads! And not just carrying them, but playing them and dancing at the same time.

I can't imagine how loud it was onstage, because it was plenty loud twenty rows back in theater. All in all, a fantastic show. Reminiscent of the Kodo drummers of Japan. See either group whenever you get a chance--you won't be disappointed.

The Getty

Last Saturday, Beth and I went down to LA for the day. First, we my friend Ryan and his friend Daniella at the Farmer's Market, which--inexplicably enough--has little produce for sale but does feature a Singaporean/Malaysian/Indonesian restaurant called "The Banana Leaf." I recommend it. Then we went to the Getty, which was fantastic. I had no idea how large the whole thing was. It actually comprises four main buildings, each of which has two floors of galleries. The campus sits on a mountaintop, from which you can view Los Angeles in one direction, and (I think) Malibu in the other. I also highly recommend going, whenever you're in the godforsaken wasteland that is Los Angeles. It's free, too.

A few pics: