Ok, I know I said I was going to review Producers first, but I do not have the DVD in my possession at the moment. A friend is going to let me borrow his copy and I am still planning on reviewing it, but for now I am doing my first review on Little Shop of Horrors. I am currently working on the video and it should be up hopefully by the end of the week.
Sorry about the fluffy title. Don't worry, there is no deep philosophical explorations of the human psyche here. What populates this entry is just a detailed recollection of the two events that made yesterday one of the oddest days of my life.
But first, some news.
News
- I got a gig writing for my campus newspaper, the New University! Check out my first article here.
- I also have forgotten, several times, to post a link to my most recent article on Game Partisan. Stand agape at its wonder here. Its a brief piece on why/how the Playstation 2 has remained so powerful in the market.
- Had a bit of a scare recently. My laptop had severe slowdown issues, websites taking minutes to load and the entire computer freezing up when having more than one thing open at a time. I cut out some of my internal processes from going in order to free up some CPU power, but it was still slow as hell. I fearfully dropped it off at a computer repair store and left it overnight for the technician, fearing the worst as I didn't sleep and thought of a school year without typing (my hands hurt after writing manually for too long). I get a call the next morning and I'm told that my PC Illin spyware software's newest update was a buggy piece of shit, and the entire application is pretty much useless with my other spyware programs. He uninstalls it for me and I'm on my merry way. Jeesh....worries.
Dichotomy of the Spirit - Paradiso
Here's the good part of the day yesterday. I only have an hour long discussion on Fridays, and with nothing planned to do on campus that day I arrived back at the bus stop near my home rather early. I decided that it had been too long since I last ate a meal at a restaurant (being that a student budget kept my diet to cheap grocery stores and on-campus fast food). That, and it was about 5 pm and I hadn't eaten yet. I had seen the restaurant chain called Spires around many towns I've lived in, and passed it off as another in the Coco's, Carrow's, and Applebee's line of family-friendly, middle-of-the-road prices diners. Today, however, was a day to spoil myself more rotten than I already do, and I got myself a table for one.
The first thing I noticed was the amount of elderly people dining around the restaurant (I had a booth in the middle section of the building and had a decent view of everyone). This is usual for the late Friday afternoons; its the end of the week and early enough for the elders sleep habits to not mess with their digestion, so nothing particularly out of the ordinary. I ordered myself a Coke (more diners need to have Pepsi, damnit!) and an order of Mozzerella Sticks. This is very important, a restaurant can be defined by either the Mozzerella Sticks or their Buffalo Wings. These two food stuffs are both easy to make and difficult to master, so gauging the taste and quality of these dishes can give you a good idea of the care and talent in the kitchen. Since there was no Buffalo Wings on the menu, I went with the Sticks.
At this point I felt I established my presence enough in the restaurant to leave my table empty to use the restroom, without worrying that a waiter will mistake my table as empty (and my laptop bag as lost) and take action. Luckily all was more than well, as I came back to my table with my Mozzerella Sticks already waiting. This wasn't a long trip to the can in any degree, so the speed of the service was definitely noticeable. This may mean the Sticks were previously frozen, but restaurants usually know better than to indicate that by bringing them out during the suspicious period of time, the minute or so it takes to nuke the Sticks, as patrons would be perturbed by the obvious method of cooking.
Another thing to note is that before I used the restroom, a few of the restaurant staff were closing the blinds in anticipation of some costumers sitting beneath the window pane. At first I thought this was a slightly offensive knee-jerk reaction to the age of most costumers walking in, as the thought is that elders don't like the sun and would melt if they sat in it too long. But, regardless of the thoughts behind the action, it was a boon to me, as I am practically vampiric in my distaste for sunlight, and the closed binds gave a nice, warm red filter to the light of the restaurant.
Anyhow, I have returned to a table with a Coke and a plate of Sticks and immediately sample one of them. They are quite good, so I polish off the plate. In the future, however, I probably won't order them again, not for the quality, but for the price. For 5 bucks, despite their being 6 sticks, their size was rather puny. I had ordered the special they had for Fridays, a Top Sirloin platter, with a dinner salad (Caesar dressing of course), mashed potatoes, and a dinner roll expectedly coming with it. Unexpectedly, the meal arrived before I even had time to finish my appetizer. Granted, there wasn't a lot of patrons in the diner, but the speed and courtesy of the service was noticeably superior to anything I've had in a long time.
A brief warning to the veggies and the vegans out their, this next brief passage is an ode to meat. Yes, meat. Glorious, glorious meat. I adore meats, especially those of the red variety. Every bit is a satisfying, hearty explosion of flavor and texture. With so many methods and cuts of meat to cook and sample, life can be said to be a series of meat-related experiences. I like it fried, grilled, charbroiled, roasted, sauteed, breaded, deep-fried, and baked. I am a meat purist, my chili is flavored meat in a sauce, and steak sauce is an insult. The taste of meat reserves a special place in the pleasure center of the brain, an unrivaled beauty to my tastebuds. Meat, oh how I love you.
I started on the steak and potatoes, layering each piece of steak with a bit of mash. It was a damn good steak, and at 9oz. for a bit over 8 bucks, a fantastic deal when all was taken into account. I was already feeling pretty full with the completion of the steak and mash, so I was unable to fully polish off the dinner salad, although I gave it a good run for its money. The dinner roll was the low point of the meal, coming across a bit flaky and hard. But that's a nitpick compared to some of the horrible experiences I've had at dinner time. I was already getting the brick-in-the-gut feeling that comes with being full, so when my waiter came back and asked what was for dessert, I was ready to pass. But he informed me that the Sirloin platter came with a dessert included in the price. To clarify: that's a three course meal: salad, steak with sides, and desert, all of great quality, for 8 bucks. Definitely a surprising high point.
After the scoop of vanilla ice cream I selected for my dessert, I was in a slight food coma, one of the lovely warm sensations that comes with a damn fine meal. With the soda and the Sticks and the tax, the check came out to 16 bucks, so I rounded it out to twenty with the tip. And here's another aspect of my personality that you should know, I don't tip. I'm like Mr. Pink that way. Yes, there are special occasions were I bestow an extra chunk to the check of my own volition, but it is earned, like respect. See the opening scene of Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs for a full description.
The details of the tip were as follows, multiple refills done, most of the them without me even asking. They saw my glass being emptied and put two and two together. Plus. The speed of which food was delivered, warm and placed on the plate in an attractive manner. Big Plus. And a general pleasant atmosphere and demeanor of all staff. Big Plus. If they could have offered me a small transit bus to help me avoid waddling the mile and a half home, I would have given them my PS2.
Now, you may be asking yourself, why the hell did this stupid little dinner resonate with me so much? Why did one trip to a nondescript diner make so much of an impact? Low answer: I think it's because I have a family history were food and meals were a respected place that connected the family and brought a lot of fond memories. Meals were not only cooked, but made with emotion. Recipes are cherished family items, and remembering helping Mom and both my Grandmothers in the kitchen are some of the fondest I have of my family. Hell, the greatest memory I have of the fucker who gave me his male chromosomes was in the kitchen making Manicotti (I'll make a dish of it sometime and post pictures of it up around here, SINNER style.) So a good, well prepared meal, even if I have to pay for it, is something to be happy about. Short answer: I have no fucking idea.
Dichotomy of the Spirit - Inferno
Here's where the fun really begins. A few weeks ago, out of the blue, my friend John tells me someone was looking for me. We'll call him Craig, because it sounds close enough to his name to appease me as I rant about him, and because it's not his real name, to avoid....whatever. I knew Craig as an acquaintance throughout the first few years of high school, not even registering on my radar enough for me to wave and say hi even time I saw him. One night, he was included in a sleepover that John had, a regular event for me and my high school crew. This one included me, John, Craig, and Bennett, who you all know and love from my constant plugs of him.
During this event we had a conversation of little value that I can remember, and the rest of the night was pretty much a blur, although I remember something happening. Anyway, I had not thought of this guy for years, so I was happy to get back in touch with him. John preempted my first conversation with him with the fact that he recently came out as gay. Okay, I think, this is no big deal. Yeah for him. I send him an email with my contact info, and he responds casually. Nothing to report. Then his second email comes.
John had also prefaced this conversation of ours letting me know that Craig was a bit of a romantic. Telling me this fucker was Shakespeare would not have prepared me for the shit he pulled. From that one night together he supposedly connected with me more deeply than anyone else on the planet, and know viewed me as the ultimate romantic icon of his life, him desperately wanting to be with me. I immediately had no fucking idea what to do. I was a bit freaked out by this sudden sexual disciple I had supposedly acquired effortlessly three years ago.
I go to Ben with this, and he pads it down saying that coming out for him was an overtly emotional experience, probably leading him to dramatize his general feelings. I'm placated, but still a bit wary of conversing with this guy as he asks me to. I befriend him on Yahoo Instant Messenger, and despite his icon saying he's online, he never talks to me. I sigh and think the situation's passed without anything awkward. Here's where the term [dichotomy] comes in.
I had come back from my glorious meal at the Spires restaurant a few hours earlier and was surfing the net as per usual (in addition to watching [Hoodwinked] on my laptop) when he IMs me. I take in a deep breath and begin to chat. It begins relatively normal, in that awkward, ask only very general questions kind of way. Inevitably though, the topic of his emails comes up, and he apologizes for their melodrama. I'm growing more and more comfortable until he brings up the subject of his sexual revelation. I congratulate him for figuring this out and attempt to move on, but he continues to find a way to weasel it into any other subject.
His description of the event was beyond anything I had ever heard before, and I spent almost every Wednesday in high school at the Gay Straight Alliance (GSA.) Supposedly his realization of his sexuality gave him a new lease on life. Ok, a normal reaction. He feels that he can feel more than he ever has. Still normal. Then he ties it in with me. Within this one night of conversation we had back in high school I had supposedly oozed confidence and charisma in who I was, bestowing upon him divine inspiration after he came out, and becoming his role model in living life. We now descend into creepiness.
I push those thoughts aside, talking to him about how I couldn't possibly bestow such feelings in him, he's reaching and reading far too much into a blase event that happened long ago; nostalgia changes memories. But he insists that I am the sole guider in this revelation and new lot in life he has, and he praises all my good qualities that he remembers from 3 years ago or somehow got out of a 3 minute text IM conversation. I boot up a window with Ben (privately of course) and tell him I'm getting freaked out, and I'm going to push him away. He asks me to be gentle, so I simply say tell Craig I am not his emotional messiah and I cannot help him with whatever he wants me for. I click for him to see me as [permanently offline]. He texts back as I exit apologizing and asking me to wait. For some reason I leave his window opening, staring at those words, either reveling in my bad assness or something else. Then I make the mistake of letting my soft side take hold and I return to the conversation.
Craig then begins to talk about how he can repay me for the help I have given him (?). I continue to push him away, getting a bit more forceful now. Any hopes he had of remaining friends to any degree are dead now. He continues to press on, and I go back to Ben's window and apologize to him, because I'm getting rid of Craig in the bluntest, harshest way I can now. Unfortunately, I fail for the first time in my life at doing so. I begin to become caustic in my responses, saying that he's letting an emotional high cloud his judgments. Then, he lets me know that he, in his Satanist beliefs, has no faith in divine powers or spiritual revelations, but he has faith in people. He has faith in me.
I am fully freaked now and I outright blast this guy with everything I have. I tell him he's absolutely following some stupid emotional feeling that isn't even close to what he thinks it is. Then he shifts from being the worshiper to the friend, the guy that went through AA and is looking at his buddy still trapped by the confines of alcohol. He says, very simply, that I have a lot to learn. The condescending tone reeks from those words.
Sorry to keep bringing this up, but one last thing about me: never claim superiority over me that you can't back up. You beat me in a test or a class or anything, you have my respect. I respect doctors and lawyers and anyone that spent 20 years in college when I can't wait to get out of my 4. You beat me in an argument, I will always concede it. But never claim, when you are less than a year older than me, that you, from a superior and lofty position above me, know me sufficiently to gauge my understanding of the world and prescribe my level of knowledge of it as inferior to yours, especially in the smug, content tone that most religious people have when I pass by.
I lose my cool worse than Gary Busey lost his mind, I start fucking ranting at him in the worst way I can think of. In the middle of it he claims he's wasting my time and he logs off. In my fury I type a final note to him that will appear at his next log in, and I take a shower to calm down. There are many reasons that I was pissed at that point: his supposed [Satanist] people of having faith in people is what I often prescribe to, although still within the boundaries of believing in spiritual forces; he got under my skin, which I haven't let anyone in years; and many many other complex weird shit that went through my head.
I draw this up against my experiences earlier that day, under the moniker of the Dichotomy of the Spirit, because these two events, when paired in one day, really represented two completely different levels of emotion and feeling, two plateaus of my mentality. The Long Conclusion: these two events brought me to the extent of my humanity, points of happiness and general contentment and of extreme mental discomfort and irritated-ness. It is between these two points that I, in all my personality, exist, the extent of who I am as a person. The Short Conclusion, the one I actually believe: I have no fucking idea, these are just two anecdotes I can tell when I'm bored.
Plugs
- As always, check out my best friend for-longer-than-forever, Bennett the Sage at his new contributing position at thatguywiththeglasses.com or alongside myself on Gamepartisan
By several requests, I have decided on my first musical film review. I will review Mel Brooks' The Producers. The review should be up within the next 2 weeks. To see the video, check out my youtube account. www.youtube.com/Modyman. Keep sending in other musicals you would like me to review and I will eventually get to them. Thank you again, and I look forward to all your feed back when I release my first review.
Stopping in for a bit to keep the creative juices from clogging with a few initial feelings towards the more anticipated titles coming out in the near future. Thanks goes to user pt1493 for the inspiration to do this type of thing, as he is already an expert at doing so. Check out his blog and see for yourself, while your there comment/rate/befriend and all that jazz. The dude got a hard hit a few days ago when Gametrailers.com shat on him by taking down all of his previous user movies, so the guy needs some love.
Legendary
If there is an IP of the near future to get me interested in the shooter genre, it would be this one. The story is definitely an intriguing one, disregarding the space marine/WWII dichotomy for a newer spin: you opened Pandora's box under contract, and now are attempting to rectify the mistake while being chased by multiple factions with varied interest in the Box and yourself. Although I am not a graphics whore, the game does hit a little on the underwhelming side with blocky textures and unrealistic monster design. The level design palette and monster AI seem to make up for it though, and the quasi-magical ability you inherit (zaps energy from fallen foes, turns it to health) adds a bit more intrigue to the package. From the gameplay videos I have seen, the levels do seem designed to box you in, though, and with the agressive enemy AI I'm unsure if that is a good idea. Definitely worth a look though.
Street Fighter IV
I am a Tekken man, have been since the PSX originals and will be even after the franchise dies out. But with the recent arcade expansion to the sixth title dragging an American-side release till next year, I look to the latest with Chun Li and Ryu for expectations. From what I've seen, it looks like the best of both worlds: the old Street Fighter aesthetic of half comedy half seriousness plus a newer sense of balance and design. I have to say I like the female models of older games in comparison, but I understand the look they were going for, and for all extensive purposes it holds up. From what I could play at Comic Con (one match, got my ass handed to me), it feels just like an arcade version of 2, which should keep the old and faithfuls happy. All in all the title looks solid, if not the grandoise of replayability that the Mishima clan have put their name on (Tekken reference), I'll be renting at the very least.
Bionic Commando
I've never played the original NES classic nor have had the system/time/money to spring for the Rearmed downloadable, but one thing keeps me willing to give this bastard a chance, and that is the gameplay feeling of the Spider-Man games (2 and Ultimate, at least) with a post-apocalyptic vibe that actual has a sense of vibrancy to it, not the washed out cliche of Gears of War. Interested, but waiting for a bit more before rendering a final decision.
Battlefield Heroes
Unless something has changed since I watched the developer documentary on this, the game is free to play. That, and the cartoon design choices ala Team Fortress, have gauged my interest enough to merit a download of the thing. It seems like just a fun game, without all the flair and gratuity most big-budget releases seem to tack on by contract. Other than that, not much to say on this baby, just looks like a nice escape in between real life excursions.
Spore
Never been a fan of God Games, and most likely never will be. But I can recognize when a lot of effort has gone into a project, and Will Wright has made it a habit of taking his name onto such IPs. Its nice to watch someone playing the game, especially in the creature creator mode, as the enjoyment always manages to become visible as they tack on limbs and eyes. Sure, I'll be surprised if it takes longer than a literal minute for the user submitted planets to contain solely penis and vagina monsters, but isn't that the holy bloody point? To relish a sense of impish immaturity in creating virtual life, to take the philosophical irresponsible role for once and just play for that laugh reflex? I think so.
Mercenaries 2: World in Flames
My soi bruddah, Bennett the Sage, just put a review of this IP up on his page on Revver, and for the most part I agree with him based on what I've seen. Story sucks, tank controls are pitiful, but the chaotic fun is intact (especially in co-op). Usually, I'm a man that likes to give a shit about the characters he's playing, and that usually requires at least a backbone of story. But, I find myself still drawn to this title, probably for the same reason I am drawn to the Postal series. This IP belongs in a great, respectable series of steam titles. No, not the Valve-hosted web client on PC, games that are specifically designed for you to put in after a hard day and blow off steam. And in this one, you make things splode. And they splode pretty. And they splode loud. And sometimes, even with the glitches, that's all you need.
Left 4 Dead
Again, having a gun in a game doesn't really do it for me, but for reasons unknown, watching gameplay videos for this title makes me want to play it with a desperation I haven't felt since my initial runthrough of Goldeneye on my daycare center's 64. The event of a zombie apocalypse has always interested me, even if it wasn't enough for me to actually watch zombie movies or read zombie comics, and the co-operative play seems like a damn fun time, and a great way to dive into the brain-feeders realm. I'll only pick this up if I can get some of my friends some copies, as I hate online play with people I don't know (all my run-ins have been with people whose vocabulary resemble transcripts from the Jim Crow Era). But damn dude, this looks like fun.
The Witcher: Enhanced Edition
It takes a lot of balls to go back to a project at this depth. The original game looked amazing to me, a veteran of the Baldur's Gate and Diablo franchises, and with the added content it has quickly become a must buy. A quick story overview, as we have come again across a game ballsy enough to contain one: you play as Geralt, an extremely powerful monster hunter for hire known as The Witcher, who goes about a medieval-esque world for bounties and to figure out an identity lost to you at the start of the game. Yeah, I don't like the amnesia plot device either, but the rest of the story seems more than enough to draw me in. The story takes place based off a line of Polish fantasy novels, and has a branching narrative arch dependent on actions taken by the player (always a plus.) The combat looks a bit rigid and the NPC design appears lazy in execution, but the score is eloquent and lush (I went ahead and streamed a couple tunes offline), and all in all looks like a more mature version of Fable, sans the cartoony look. Definitely on my buy list.
Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood
This one's a toughy for me, although not as tough as the upcoming Sonic Unleashed, but more on that later. I don't doubt Bioware's ability to create an RPG, I'm just wondering how well the Sonic universe lends itself to the role playing elements. The world excursion aspects look especially dull in the released videos, and combat looks like standard fare with little to no deviance from the standard elements. Chao raising doesn't appeal to me, hell Chocobo raising didn't, but I have always been a Sonic fan before and after it made sense to be. The comic book cutscenes are not the direction I wanted to see, but in looking back on how previous teams handled a vocal Sonic and crew, that may not be a bad thing. But hey, this decision is made easy by my lack of ownership of a DS and a lack of desire to ever own one. Problem solved. I do hope people give this one a chance, even if only to keep the brand alive until someone with the talent to bring the Hedgehog back to the glory days gets on board.
Sonic Unleashed
It all looked good up until the werehog. It looked like a return to form, with hardly never-decreasing speeds and a camera that couldn't keep up with you. With whacky levels of loops and hairraising turns, with enemies blasted out of the way by your speed and spikes. With trampoline buttons and ring collecting galore. Then came the fucking werehog. I don't remember him from the comics, the shows, and definitely not the games. I have no idea where the motivation to slow Sonic down and turn his game into a standard action beat-em-up. Not that I have complaints on how they handled it after the gameplay turn, I'm just questioning the gameplay idea itself. I know Sonic has had a history of terrible games, but I do not think this is the direction we need to turn to get the rodent back on the wagon. The game might be worth it for the day levels alone, when its just you, no sidekicks, no humans, just speed. Maybe someone just needs to finish Sonic Xtreme as a downloadable tie-in title, like Bionic Commando Rearmed, already.
News
- I seem to be all set for Irvine, registered for an advising session so I can finally register for classes (four days before the deadline, can't wait for all my choices).
- Someone asked me what my rent was for the house in Tustin, I would like to remind you its the one room and the shared bathroom, and its 575 a month, with utilities included, which is not bad for the OC.
Plugs
- As always, check out my best friend for-longer-than-forever, Bennett the Sage on Youtube at his new contributing position at thatguywiththeglasses.com or alongside myself on Gamepartisan
- Found this list that IGN did awhile back, on the top 25 PSX titles of all time. Thought it was worth a look, maybe you will too.
Just dropping off a few photos. The main chunk is of my new, AC-less place in Tustin. But first....
Hair
This is what came off my head this evening with a single shearing session with my roommate and her razors (which she was trimming her dog with earlier....they are human razors I swear....). The razor was on the shortest length setting (1). Yeah, the 'Fro is currently going a bit shorter for the moment. Never fear, tho, the 'the 'Fro ain't just about hair, the 'Fro's about style, about class, and about attitude, and it'll never leave me. I'll be the 'Fro, always and forever, because that's the kind of chill, fun-loving, cool, and kickass guy I am. You can take the hair from 'Fro, but you can never...ok, that doesn't work here.
The Tustin House
Here's a landslide of piccies from my new place....pretty straightforward for the most part.
Not much, but the rent is cheap for the OC area, especially with utilities included. The bathroom is shared but the room is my own, thankfully, since its only 10x11. My other roommates won't be around that much, which works for me....yeah, that's pretty much it.
Plugs
- As always, check out my best friend for-longer-than-forever, Bennett the Sage's, pad on GT, or be checking out his funny stuff on Youtube, or at his new contributing position here at thatguywiththeglasses.com or alongside myself on Gamepartisan
The product of a souped-up video editing program and humor, spanning from sharp sarcasm to goofy randomness, Snow White Remix is a 12-part personal project I did myself and uploaded on YouTube, which netted favorable reviews, despite fears that I may have violated many a childhood (but no worse than what Hollywood does).
Now, I'm playing for a tougher audience; an audience that cares about their memories of youth, but no matter. Part of being a writer/creator of anything is having people on one side saying "You rule!" while the other side says, "You suck!"
I present parts one to four of this piece to be watched and critiqued (just copy and paste to the address bar if you can't click on it):
Update madness going on, I know. But I'm going to take you all back in time a few days to.....a few days, to describe me chilling with director on his last day residing in Riverside before making the move to LA and UCLA....the cockmelon. I weave you this tale to slowly draw my point around to my review of Steve Coogan's Hamlet 2, which was what he and I saw that night. So, without further ado (too late) let's get into the thick of it, shall we?
A Not-Quite Farewell
I wasn't expecting this dinner-and-a-movie deal at all until I received this call, otherwise I would have never been masturbating to the third Land Before Time movie and had been getting ready to appear in public. Nonetheless, my director, Brian Tan (aka BLT, aka BT, you'll remember him from my Diary of an AD posts here) gave my cell a ring late in the afternoon and asked if I wanted to celebrate his last day in the city with some dinner. I, being the annoyingly loyal friend I fool myself into being, agreed, and was picked up a few hours later.
sexiness
We had some debate on which food to partake of, BT has this annoyingly understandable standard for what he calls diner restaurants (Applebee's, Friday's and the like) to the point where the option of a Coco's in the area pretty much trumps all others. We had already had some food there a couple of nights before, so that was out. We eventually decided on the Olive Garden a city away and drove off, talking about the future plans of FPS Productions with both of us transferring to other UCs, and about all of the great adventures we had over the past two years. We arrived at the restaurant and waited the 15 minutes to be seated (it was a Friday night) and ate and continued to talk for another few hours. Riveting reading, I know.
We had decided earlier to go and check a flick at the theater a few blocks down, with both of our Student IDs meriting the best post-matinee tickets around. As BT had already seen both Tropic Thunder and Pineapple Express, it feel on me to decide, and being the person that likes to experience people's first reactions at the same time as my own, I opted for the movie neither of us had seen, Hamlet 2....more on that later.
Two hours later BT and I traveled to a park near his home, his favorite place in Riverside, and we cracked open a pair of Guinness' and further philosophized on life after the move. A lot of heart-to-heart went on, the deepest conversation I had for a long time, kind of cathartic in a way. I gave him the needed confidence boost to make the final move to LA, as he was missing the action of our co-founded club location, and he drove me home. Bittersweet goodbyes ensued, and the night ended on a happy, nostalgic note.
Now...on to the shit.
Mulled Over: Hamlet 2
Allow me to preface this review by saying that this is the worst movie I have seen in theaters in years, and the worst movie I have seen period since my freshman year in College when I was subjected to the horrors of 1997's Spanish Prisoner. Not all of the blame goes to the film's producers and cast, as the effort to pull of comedy was present and duly noted, but the tottering script, bland acting, and lazy narrative made this movie only viewable through cringed eyes and gritted teeth. The best analogy I can come up with is the friend that you all placate when he tells his jokes; he's not funny, and you know it, but you laugh to make him feel good and not cause a lot of trouble. Then, one night, out of nowhere, you see him ascending the stage at a local open mic and beg him with your eyes not to go through with it. As he begins to hit bomb after bomb, you feel an unwavering and deep sense of pity for the man. This movie is that friend, who you can see try just so damn hard to be funny, but never, save for a very few brief moments, succeeds.
Perhaps this rank sense of disappointment stems from just how much I wanted to see this movie based on the trailer. It boils down the plot to a musical about finding Jesus Christ sexy and a parody of the absurdity of theater ala Christopher Guest's Waiting for Guffman. The very idea of a film based around the idea of an idiot writing a sequel to the greatest play in the English language seemed like comedy gold. Toss in Amy Poehler in one of her snappishly witty supporting roles and I was hooked on the concept. Its to bad that this film, once put to the 100-minute execution, fails to capture the genius of the trailer.
We follow a failed commercial actor (commercial meaning TV spots, not the adjective) Dana Marschz (Steve Coogan, who deserves beter) reduced to teaching drama at a high school in Tucson, Arizona, right up to the point where the elective is canceled and he resolves to put on one last amazing show to fund raise the program back. A tired archetype of the art courses being sad causalities of more federal budget cuts and final acts of desperation, but that's the least of this film's worries. They some how thought that tacking on a subplot of another archetype, a class of minority and antisocial misfits coming together to save whatever, would make the final better. Instead, it makes a lackluster plot seem pretentious. I've never seen a film work so hard to make sure the audience knows exactly how and why the film's plot unfolds as it does. The very first class Coogan's Dana has with the minorities, he references multiple other films following the overcoming class stereotype (Dead Poet's Society, Mr. Holland's Opus, take your pick) and sets himself up under the archetype of the inspirational teacher. This. Is. Not. A. Joke.
The class themselves consist of the two white kids, one the stereotype of the gay theater guy and the other of the oh-so-charmingly racist Christian girl, and the rest the traditional ideas of Mexicans your overly vocal Grandmother blurts out at parties: the matronly friend, the gangbanger with normal people talents, the poser, and the shy girl. No bloody kidding. You can predict, and you'd be right, that all of them bind together after their teacher looses faith, and the racist white cunt will fall in love (unconvincingly and completely out of the blue) with the most Mexican of the Mexicans and the gay guy comes to terms with who he is. There is also a subplot of Dana's wife (Catherine Keener) growing increasingly frustrated and leaving him for his annoyingly stupid roommate and Elizabeth Shue failing to act as her-own-bloody-self, but it shares the same horrid quality of writing and execution that it doesn't merit any more mention. Dana is also tortured by a student critic at the high school that somehow writes like a graduate student at Berkeley and the school's....administrator or something, that spurs the town against the play for its supposed graphic ideas. By the time the film actually gets to Hamlet 2 being written, I would bet most people not so desperately hoping the movie would pick up would have left the theater and demanded refunds.
It seemed impossible, but the film actually had a story-within-a story plot line of Hamlet finding a time machine and with the help of Jesus Christ, returning to save Denmark, and they couldn't pull a single laugh from the theater I was sitting in. I don't know how, and I cannot explain, but it just isn't funny. Even Amy Poehler as an obnoxious ACLU drone loses some of her saving grace by speaking some tired and cliche lines like I'm going to sue everyone here! The musical numbers of the film, written by one of the team behind South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut (and no, its not Trey Parker OR Matt Stone) have a beat and lyrics, but nothing that registers as humorous or entertaining, its as if the film's dialog was transcribed to a melody and put to lame choreography. There was no offensive material that I could see, aside from the sexual perception of Christ, but....whatever.
Aside from the terrible script and lackluster acting, the direction and cinematography of the film do nothing to promote any sense of artistic direction. Shots are pitifully straight-forward and it seems that there was no creativity in the photography department either. Costumes are run-of-the-mill and the art direction can snatch a double take once in a great while, but other than that, there are absolutely no redeeming features to this film, none. It hurts because I spent the entire film focusing my mental energy to try and somehow make this movie funny, even if it was just on the level of the ____ Movies like Date Movie and Epic Movie. As far as I can tell, its only lasting value is a blotch on the IMDB page of anyone involved with it.
I tried to like you, Hamlet 2, I really truly tried.
A quick bit of slice-of-life as I wrap up on a good amount of new postable-pieces, shall we? Coming your way is a new Top Ten, some new graphics, another Mulled Over movie review, and a bunch of random thoughts to keep the oddness of my being fresh in your mind. You'll be seeing those in the next couple of days, but for now, let's talk about how I hate my new house...
(We once again return to me posting pictures that reflect what I am saying, although are not taken by me, just a general reminder)
From the IE to the OC
Today was the day that I had to make my way down to Tustin, CA to meet with my new landlord and check out my digs for a 6 month lease (at least) while I round out my undergraduate studies at the University of California, Irvine. As my luck would have it, I continue my trend of living in the boondocks of the respective cities of my colleges, this time in a completely different town all together! But more on that in a bit, let's bitch about how much it was a bugger to get down there in the first place.
As it was a Sunday, I was expecting travel to be a bit of bitch, but the Metrolink station (a railed mass transit system ala San Fransisco's Bart train) only had one train going down into Orange County that day, and it was at 9:15 that morning. The waking up was no issue, I had gotten used to earlier hours working on the film set a week or so prior. My roommates were out the night/morning previous partying, and the one charged with driving me the mile or so to the Station was wasted enough to be impossible to wake. Luckily, my other roommate was conscious enough to be awoken by my knocking at the opposite door and offered to drive me if I would stop the racket. I agreed, and we were off.
I arrived at the station shortly before my train was supposed to take off, apparently too shortly. You know how, in most films, whenever a main character misses a taxi, bus, train, or car, its always by THAT much, so they run and wave their arms in vain in the direction of the receding vehicle? Yeah, that was me. Bloody fucking cockmelon of a morning that was. This uniformed bitch was apparently humored enough by my running jiggliness to inform me that it was, indeed, the only train going out that day. I cursed under my breath and collapsed on a nearby bench, defeated. I then, after a brief moment of self-pity, began the rapid-fire friend calling.
Even single person I knew the area got a voicemail message of me, sadly lamenting my situation and begging for a transport (with compensated gas for good measure). Unfortunately, none were able to provide, as I found out gradually as I walked from the station to the bus stop to return home, stopping at an ATM to deposit some cash on the way. I briefly checked into the Greyhound station to see if they went anywhere near Irvine, but was denied. I caught a bus back home and sulked as the last of my friends texted me with regrets. In desperation, I re-knocked on my wasted roommate's door and was able to bring her still-dizzy body to cognitive reason with my pitiful railings.
We then set sail on multiple freeways toward Tustin, along the way my roommate retold some of the more humorous aspects of her partying. We arrived in less than an hour, and I traveled around the townhouse complex trying to remember what bloody number to look for. After a few calls to the landlord, Michelle, I found #42 and got a brief tour of the place.
Not that I'm too picky, but this room was about 2/3 the size of my current room (not so much a big deal) and AC-less (gigantic, colossal, humongous, extraordinarily fucking big deal!), but due to time constraints I signed a check for the first month's rent and the deposit then and there and shoved my ass out to explore the city before catching a Metrolink back home.
As I was walking along the streets around Tustin, I noticed a disturbing lack of bus stops in the area. I would later find out that my student ID will act as a free bus pass, and that the needed stop to get to campus was within a quasi-reasonable walking distance, but around that time it added to my stress. I eventually found my way to the Metro station and bought a ticket to San Bernadino (it wouldn't allow me to buy a ticket direct to Riverside for some reason) and took a break at the Jack in the Box a few blocks away. Watched an episode of the West Wing on my computer while I ate some mozzarella sticks (first time eating) and passed the time. I was able to return to the station and hitch my ride, and I spent the next hour or so on the train listening to my walkman and thinking about the article I needed to write for Game Partisan and my next Top Ten (seriously, no life here.)
How I could afford all this stress
A few days before all this crap I was fortunate enough to be drafted into a side film project with my director. In addition to our own short films, FPS Productions acts as professional videographers for weddings, bar mitzfahs, etc. The day's deal was a 4 hour wedding/reception at a local park, with a 100 buck payroll. Being in my predictably poor state, I called and confirmed my shift, and we shipped down to the Citrus Grove/Park.
The ordeal was rather painless, a short ceremony of two Mexican families, in a canopy in the back of a nice little country club-esque building. The minister spoke in both Spanish and English, which made the traditional speech of do you take this woman... take on a rather interesting undertone, but my duty was to act as video cameraman as my director ran about taking stills of the occasion. Thankfully the family didn't want anything too special, meaning I could set up the camera on a tripod and follow the action while drinking a soda on their tab.
After the vows/rings/applauding crap came my (and everybody's) least part about weddings: group photos. This time, I got to be the person everyone hated, the annoying guy setting everyone up for the shot, organizing them into rows and whatnot. When it was just the bride and groom it was rather fun, modeling them into romantic poses and framing the shot made me feel very professional, which is always a good thing. But keeping two families, both of which contain crumbly old cogers that probably won't last the week, from killing each other long enough for a couple of shots was pushing it.
The reception lasted much longer, with us taking filler shots of the table settings and wedding gifts as the people sat down, later getting crowd shots of people laughing and talking with the couple. Once food was dished out, we buzzed around as shutterbugs are prone to do, snapping away at what looked good on camera, until everyone had seconds and we were contractually obliged to have a break and eat some of the catered food. Not bad, roast with roasted potatoes, with the option of buttered carrots w/ onions and a house salad. Good rolls, too.
Once dinner was over it was the final traditional fare: cutting of the cake, toasts from the best man, and dancing. The DJ (nice guy, wants to collaborate with us in the future...hehe) actually played the Chicken Dance (a wedding staple from what I heard, although I loathe the shit) and no one danced, most likely because they were all unaware of the largely American tradition. Once the Hispanic national music started up, everyone filled the dance floor and we got the last shots we needed before making our exit.
The final product for all of the weddings we do is twofold: an edited video ranging from 3-15 minutes (depending on what they want) and an edited photo slideshow. Thankfully I don't know the first thing about all that post-stuff, so I was just able to take the money and run, as it were.
More on slice-of-life later
I got another story that involves me and my director spending his last day in the city out and around town, but I don't think I have the energy for that right now, so expect that, along with my Mulled Over review of Hamlet 2 coming some time tomorrow.
Random Thoughts
Am I the only one that doesn't give a crap about Mario?
If three mozzarella sticks cost $1.39, how does it make mathematical sense to charge an extra 3 bucks for four more?
If I was President, I would make it illegal for any building that acted as a public living space to not contain air conditioning....
News
-I am now a g1! Ported over a couple of my older blogs from here across to their side of the internets, and plan on sending over at least one a day until I run out. Come visit me over at screwattack.com under the same name....although I'll be posting the same stuff over there as over here.......weee....
-Didn't get the contributing post , oh well. Lost by one vote....bummer....its cool. Supposedly they will do this multiple times, I'll just catch the next one.
-Come visit me on Facebook if your desperate to waste a few hours going through all my apps.
Plugs
- As always, check out my best friend for-longer-than-forever, Bennett the Sage's, pad on Youtube, at his new contributing position at thatguywiththeglasses.com or alongside myself on Gamepartisan
- This is a nifty little site featuring a ton of independently created adventure games ala early Lucasarts. Kinda cool.
Sorry I haven't been around for a while, those 13-hour shoots are killer. Especially for three days in a row, some nights I couldn't physically move long enough to get my things sorted for the next day. It did help me get to sleep quicker than I had been able to in months, but I'm definitely not going to miss the hours. I decided to just combine the final shoot weekend into one piece, rather than dwell on it too long in many blog posts. I was able to take and upload some pictures from my cell, so finally I'll be able to post pictures of what it exactly looks like to film with my company, rather than just doing a Google Image search. This is going to be another long one, but hopefully alot more interesting than a vocabulary cheat sheet.
a costume rack, because I couldn't find any other place to put it
Diary of an AD - Day 3
Friday, August 22nd, 2008
here is the hangar we used as our main set, down in Arlington in Riverside, California, took this photo on Saturday, when we were filming the helicopter sequences
For the next three days I would be required to get up around six in the morning and be driven to the set by my assistant AD, Kari, while listening to her vast collection of Bollywood music. It grows on you after a while, I'll admit. We stopped at a gas station for me to pick up some Gatorade for us both (5 bucks for two bottle?!?) and hit the freeway down to Arlington Road to the set. For the morning shots today, it was an early scene in the film with two of our lead cast, Locke and King, played by Farid Pourgadhiri and Wayne Stribling Jr., respectively. The afternoon would be devoted to the longest scene in the film, the one with the heaviest dialog and most shots needed to be taken. The location for this and most of the next few days was an airport hangar two blocks from where we shot our first big film, complete with helicopters and all the neat aeronautical gadgets one could expect. It was fascinating, taking time out of my duties to check out all the devices inside the helicopter on set (this one would not move, but would be within the shot as set decor,) not that I know anything about scientific equipment, but the pretty lights and various dials amuse me.
from the front angle, the copter looks like a bug...
Kari and I arrived somewhat late to the shoot, as the majority of the crew were buzzing around the set with their various jobs in preparation for the first shot of the day. We set up shop in the adjoining weight room of the hangar (all of this owned by a man named Jim, who was the epitome of awesomeness for allowing us to use it), all of the personal items of the crew would be stored here during takes, and it acted as a rest area for actors not on standby. The air conditioning would draw many of those on set to new levels of laziness during the day, as could be expected when temperatures in the hangar reached groggy heights around midday. Once we had coordinated the schedule with Richard Zapp, our producer and location manager, we headed out and began our duties.
this was a small little gym, with not a lot of seats, but with the AC and the lack of directors inside, it was the best break room ever
I assigned Kari to follow our co-director Brian Tan (he prefers to be known as BLT, as he hates his name, I call him BT because I won't refer to people as sandwiches) directly outside the hangar to shoot the opening scene, while I remained inside with the majority of the other actors, the second co-director Kevin Theal, and our set manager Bradley to choreograph the blocking and rehearse the lines for the scene being shot next. I enjoyed this part, like I did for much of the time I felt like I had something reasonable to do, as my expertise with actors (having been one all through high school) gave me a lot of say in how the scene would look. Once filming outside began we had to be silent, but the scene had a good number of run-throughs by shoot time.
There was a hitch early in the day with a clash between BT's shooting style and our cameramen's preferred method. BT is a man that utilizes what I call rapid fire direction where he wants to get angles rather than takes. Not a bad style for the larger scenes in the film, but not the most efficient way to capture this line-ridden scene. Eventually, after a headed camera crew meeting off to the side of the set, a compromise was reached and the shots began to take much less time to be captured. My main duty during this time was to follow BT around with the storyboards for the scene, to which he would consult in between shots and use to set up the next one. I would eventually be overshadowed and replaced with this job the next day, mostly because my services were often demanded with the actors during takes, making it impossible to do both.
Alka, our makeup designer, touching up Mr. Wayne Stribling Jr., who played King
Despite being a fascinating spectacle once edited, the actual film-making is an incredibly tedious process. To simulate it for yourself, use any sort of camera (even on your cell) and take a picture of a dime falling on a table. The dime has to be lit so it can be seen on the camera, in the middle of what you see, the sound must be heard clearly, and there can be no other noise in this 10-second clip. Just capturing this correctly will take more effort than you think. During this grinding, Kari was assigned one of the most recognized jobs on a film set, the clapper. She would put the clapboard up for the camera to see and snap it shut before each take. Aside from storyboard and actor duty, I was the guy that yelled the instructions before BT or Kevin would yell action. Contrary to popular belief, lights! camera! action! has rarely even been used on a film set, especially now. How I say it is roll cameras! [for the cameras to be turned on and positioned] cameras speed! [a cue for the cameramen to start recording] quiet on set! and then one of the directors would yell action! and begin the take.
what we basically drank for three days
Lunch was, and would be for the next few days, a dozen or so pizzas from a local pizzeria (we got a great filmmaking discount too: 6 bucks for each large, including delivery!). Kari really shined here when she organized a streamlined process for our cast and crew to get a few slices, a drink, and a spot to sit without much crowding or shoving. This was the high point of all three days, were simple things like AC and liquid made you glad to be alive, if sore.
what we basically ate for three days
The rest of the day began a vast blur in memory. I took some camera phone footage that'll be spliced around this blog, and eventually Thomas Marquez (my former roommate and our special effects artist) was called out to set some blood in a character's face who had been hit in the scene. Other big effects shots for the day were a wine glass breaking when our lead fell into frame after being poisoned, and the actual poisoning shot, where we had our actor prepped to cough up blood. The one that kept in our minds, however, was a rigged shot by Thomas that had our supporting character Clancy, played by Nathaniel Overlay, falling out of frame after his knee-cap exploded from a shot by King. Fuuuuunnnn stuff. Thomas basically rigged up some pipe and an air compressor and used to to simulate the gun blast and blood burst, to great effect.
can't see it very well, but the guy is hurt bad.....fake, but baaaaaaad
Occasionally I was sent into the break room to get our makeup designer (named Alka) to touch up a sweaty actor or anyone that was called on set. The more embarrassing tasks usually included getting beverages for the directors or props for the set. At the end of the shoot that day, we had gotten 67 out of 104 shots for the scene (higher than our expectations) and we left the set in the hangar for the next day. We ended, on average, between 6 and 8pm every night. My feet were killing me, as my only suitable footwear for the shoots was a pair of Converse, and those have barely no arch support, which can be killer when walking/standing for so long. After a quick debrief from BT and Kevin, we all head home for some sleep. I spent a couple of hours on my laptop and fell asleep instantly when I later laid my head down on the pillow.
Diary of an AD - Day Four
Saturday, August 23rd, 2008
Both today and tomorrow were a significant improvement over Friday. Once Kari and I arrived on set, we collected a few bucks from surrounding crew to get some donuts to perk us up. For the next two days, the morning shots would consist of those taken from a helicopter: aerial flights, taking off, landing, SWAT maneuvering, all the bloody fun stuff. I, Kari, and Kevin, however, were assigned to ground shots of police cars driving around the hangar. Fuck. It was small consolation, though, when I was able to do what I do best, keep actors and crew happy and entertained while we waited for the helicopters to take off and leave us to our uninterrupted shots. This time I used humorous stories from various points in my life to keep the flow going and no actors bored. I began a friendly relationship with one of our supporting stars, Kate Bridal, who played Lieutenant Nickles in the film, during this point, and I'm eagerly awaiting future tabletop gaming sessions with her (you can see where the conversation went.)
mrs. Kate Bridal herself, an Irish sweetheart, both on set and off
Most of our shots were simple, merely driving shots from a block away to the front side of the hangar used for the Locke and King scene on Friday. That left us enough time to play with angles and techniques, and we were able to get a good string of crane and dolly shots of cars driving. My favorite part was hooking up the car-mount cameras, the small device that suctions itself to the hood of a car, and holds one of our four cameras tight, so the car could take off and film its route up close and personal. I bloody love those shots, they are SOOO cool!
on set chaos, as it should be
BT later arrived on set and completely demolished our ideas, however, as he was newly imbued with asshole-ish tendencies from stress overload. It took some serious sit downs with me and Kevin to get him to cut the crap. Once the shots were taken from the outside of the hangar, all the crew were told to leave the actors in their action poses and leave the set. This allowed for the helicopters above to get some static shots of our little car party without all of our fat asses in the way. Once those were done, we were able to move back in and do some more conversation scenes.
just a part of our set, thought it looked interesting
Sadly, at this point I started developing a killer migrane, and that kept me inside the break room for far too long. Despite my hatred for film tedium, I hold a deeper loathing for anything that impedes me from doing my job (in this case, at least.) Kari had left for a dance class, so this was the point that I was replaced on storyboards. Again, it wasn't a big issue, as it was my least favorite part of the job.
our largest reflector we used on set
The second half of the day, in between my migrane and set work, was camping out in the break room with Kevin and Thomas and watching the dailies from the day before, in order to see if anything needed to be re-shot while we still had the cast and crew available. It was fun, as Thomas quickly found enough footage to quickly edit together a rough blooper reel to amuse us as we sifted through the 20-hours of takes and cuts. We replayed the Clancy knee shot to most of the crew and cast that walked in, as it turned out exceptional good.
one of our cranes, as it appears when not in use
My experience on set, then, was cut short for the day. but I returned triumphantly towards the end of the shoot to help out actor performance and other stuff. As the helicopter shots took a bit over schedule, we were only able to get from shot 67 to shot 87. We stopped short, and early, for because the blood effects for the final shootout scene took too much prep time for the day, and we couldn't go any further in the scene without it. BT begrudgingly sent us home, and once again I spent a couple of hours online before collapsing.
Voting for the Best of Blogs has officially begun over in the forums, and will last until August 28th, be sure to (me) vote for someone (me) that you think deserves (me) a prominent spot on the site!!!!!!! My last few blogs have gotten tremendous feedback and support, and have risen my average thumb/rating count by a greatly noticeable amount. So, I want to begin here today by expressing a deeply heartfelt thanks to all my friends here and their responses, in all their forms, to my work that I publish here. You guys are awesome sauce in a can. Now, on to the meat of my topic here today. Some expressed an i
Life
