Watchmen (Director's Cut)

Directed by: Zach Snyder

Written by: Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons (graphic novel - writer and illustrator, respectively); David Hayter, Alex Tse (screenplay)









To start, I'm a huge fan of the original "Watchmen" graphic novel, and was very excited when I heard a movie was in production. I struggled to wrap my mind how they were going to adapt the complex narrative structure and visual dynamics into a linear film.

The truth was, they didn't. They distilled the story down to the core plot, removing most of the flashbacks and the "Tales of the Black Freighter" story-in-a-story. Still, what was left was still a pretty decent adaptation, though it was a very loose adaptation. Some elements are almost shot-for-shot reproductions, while others were changed significantly.  (The most noticeable item that was removed was the fake giant alien squid invasion at the end, and I was rather bummed that it was changed.)

The acting in "Watchmen" is mostly not great. Most of the characters come off as cardboard. This is a major hinderance to the enjoyment of the film because it drags it down too often. At points, it felt like some of the actors were reading their lines without understanding why they were saying what they were saying. In retrospect, though, they were not given the greatest script to work with, focused too much on visuals and recreating dialogue that was written to be said by characters on a page.

This movie has grown on me more, as I've reflected on it. But the director's cut is far too long to enjoy, and it has too many flaws to ignore without much running in its favor. It is not, by any means, a comic book / superhero movie acceptable for children. And I wouldn't recommend watching it without any familiarity with the original source material.

The Soloist

Directed by: Joe Wright

Written by: Susannah Grant (screenplay); Steve Lopez (book)










This movie sets out to tell the true story of journalist Steven Lopez (Downey) and his attempt to help rebuild the life of Nathaniel Ayers (Foxx), a dispossessed man who once had the opportunity to be one of the great cellists.  In that goal, it succeeds.

To it's credit, the movie does not reduce itself to sappiness.  There is a tendency in telling stories like this to gloss over the ending, to reveal some major change.  The struggling journalist learns the value of friendship and the need to help the homeless.  The musical vagrant returns to greatness at his instrument.  Instead, the ending is much more realistic.  There is no transcendent moment.  The characters have indeed grown, but the change is not monumental.  I appreciate that the filmmakers decided not to fit a trite conclusion onto the film - that was not the point.  They stayed loyal to the story (as far as I know it), even if that meant the conclusion does not satisfy in the usual sense.

My biggest disappointment in the movie was that I struggled to truly care about the characters.  They failed to come alive, but rather felt exactly like people playing out a story that had already been written.  I learned everything I needed to know about them from the trailer.  This is not the greatest performance by either of the leads, though, to their credit, I appreciate that both worked outside their usual character style and tried for something different.

"The Soloist" felt like a movie that had a lot of potential, but didn't live up to it in the way that it could have.  But maybe that's the point - the movie itself is about people not able to live up to expectations.  I'm not suggesting that the filmmakers intentionally produced a movie that fell short of goals, but rather that it is fitting that it occurred - whether intentional or not.  They tried for something different - to reveal something true, even if in their quest for veracity they opted not to resolve the problems of every character.

Under the Dome

Written by: Stephen King












"Under the Dome" is one of Stephen Kings longest books, and it manages to showcase both his biggest strengths and clear weaknesses, often simultaneously.

To start with the positive: "Under the Dome" is ambitious.  In it, King sets out to document the decay and downfall of society when faced with the unearthly challenge of being stuck under an impenetrable dome.  And he absolutely succeeds.  Yet, at the same time, this "documentation" is often too meticulous, providing more detail than anyone really needs or cares about.

"Under the Dome" has some of King's most fleshed-out characters in any of his novels.  They feel almost real.  (OK, maybe Big Jim is a bit over-the-top at points - but what car dealer isn't?)  But too much attention is given to characters whose purpose is minimal and have no real affect on the story.  At one point, we meet a character, and over the course of five pages we learn all about their family and personal history.  A chapter or two later, that character is killed off.  It's almost as if King never learned the difference between major and minor characters, and so everybody gets the "major character" treatment, regardless of their significance.

I'm not sure how else to characterize "Under the Dome" except that it represents Stephen King at both his best and his worst.  If you're the type of person who likes Stephen King, you'll likely find what you like in droves.  If you're the type of person who looks down on King's work, you'll find plenty to gripe about too.  For me: I enjoyed it.  I just wish it had been about 400 pages shorter.

Art & Copy

Directed by: Doug Pray

Written by: Gregory Beauchamp, Kirk Souder (original concept); Timothy J. Sexton (narrative consultant)

Doug Pray's documentary "Art & Copy" analyzes the art and copy departments of several major advertising firms and tells the history of several classic advertising campaigns.

In the shadow of the success of "Mad Men," it's interesting to see how real-life advertising is developed in the modern world. The film traces the development and structure of several different advertising firms - all of them with their unique philosophies built into their individual corporate culture.

Beyond looking at the business mechanisms of advertising, it was also neat to find out how several now-unforgettable advertising campaigns developed.

Despite how interesting it was, "Art & Copy" had no real message or purpose. At the end, I was not quite sure what I was supposed to take away from the film.

If you like "Mad Men" or PBS-style documentaries, then "Art & Copy" is right up your alley and you'll love it. If not, this is probably one that you can skip.

Catching Fire

Written by: Suzanne Collins

This second book in the "Hunger Games" trilogy picks up, almost literally, where the first book left off.

Katniss has returned to her home in District 12, survivor of the brutal Hunger Games. But there are rumors of uprisings in other districts inspired by her acts of defiance against the cruel Capitol. President Snow puts pressure on Katniss to smooth things over. But when she fails to do so, he uses his power to call Katniss for the extra-brutal "Quarter Quell" edition of the Hunger Games. How will she fare against in another game of life-or-death against other Hunger Games survivors? And will she be able to survive now that President Snow needs her dead in order to retain control of the dissenting districts?

I'm not going to lie - I was very disappointed in this book. To be honest (and, hey - spoilers ahead), most of this book is a re-hashing of the first book. First, there are the constant reflections and reminders of what happened in the first book. Then, there is literally another edition of the Hunger Games. Granted, there are a few twists, but it felt very derivative of the original. Never before has a sequel felt so directly reliant on the original.

To continue piling on the negatives: The romantic triangle dilemma that Katniss finds herself in, caught between Peeta and Gale. Honestly, neither of the male characters have much definition, and there's no clear reason to pick one over the other. Rather, Peeta and Gale seem to be slightly altered mirror images of each other. A role of the dice could make the decision, and would probably be the best strategy.

Once you get through all the negatives, though, there's a skeleton of a good novel here. As soon as the Quarter Quell begins, the story becomes filled with action - and so takes off. Collins should stick with the action sequences, as Katniss's internal struggles merely bog the novel down.

Honestly, I felt this novel was just filler material between the first novel and the conclusion. I'm not sure how much it added to the story material. The twist conclusion - which, by far, was the best part - felt somewhat like an excuse to get Katniss from Point A to Point C.

Carriers

Written and Directed by: Alex Pastor, David Pastor

What if, in the future, a disease wiped out most of the population? What would you to survive? What if Hollywood produced a low-budget horror movie with that exact premise?

This movie takes place after a biological apocalypse, where we meet up with the Green brothers Danny (Pucci) and Brian (Pine), who have developed rules to help themselves and their girlfriends survive on the road to an elusive beach paradise.. The rules are constantly bent and broken, though, as they encounter other survivors, such as Frank (Meloni) and his infected daughter (Shipka). The pressure to survive weighs heavily on Brian, who slowly begins to lose his sanity and his humanity.

It's regrettable that the film took such an open-ended (though recently overused) premise and failed to take it anywhere. This movie didn't do anything that hadn't already been done by other films to more effect. The filmmakers' message was hard to pull out, and even then it was rather vague.

One scene in the movie stands out as being a cut above the rest of the movie: the scene at the "emergency hospital" set up at the abandoned high school with the doctor. That single scene managed to be unsettling, disturbing, and filled with tension without the need for graphic gore. The character's interaction with the doctor - and the terrible choice he and the group are forced to make - is fantastic, while there's also great tension with what's going on in the car outside. I can't say enough about how that one scene showed how great the rest of the film could have been.

Overall this movie had too much going on. There were too many settings left unexplored, too many characters left undeveloped, and too many stories that were left untold.

I simply can't recommend this movie. If you do watch it, simply watch it through the scene with the doctor at the high school (you'll know the part), because it's all downhill after that. (And, in my own defense, the only reason I watched the entire movie was because I was over halfway through by the time I realized how bad it was.)

Surrogates

Directed by: Jonathan Mostow

Written by: Michael Ferris, John Brancato (screenplay)

Written by: Robert Venditti, Brett Weldele (graphic novel)

There's been a rash of graphic-novel-to-film adaptations lately. Some are good, some are poor, and some fall right into the middle of mediocrity. "Surrogates" falls squarely into that final category.

In the future, people rarely go outside of their homes. Instead, they send robots - the titular "surrogates" - to do their dirty work with no risk of physical harm or death. But when the son of the inventor of the surrogates is somehow killed via his surrogate, detective Tom Greer (Willis) is assigned to investigate. What he unravels, though, is a scheme that goes far beyond a murder scheme to the battle between authenticity and artificiality.

This film had a lot of potential. And the opening sequence - a montage explaining the history of the robotic surrogates - lives up to that potential. Things fall apart after that.

There are a few interesting twists - such as who is behind this plot to destroy the surrogate network. But, given the limited cast of characters, it's not too hard to figure out that it's got to be one of them. The moment when the audience realizes that the first murder is only a small part of a much larger conspiracy adds a bit of excitement at a crucial moment, even if that plot point is revealed in the trailer.

Once again, the one and only Bruce Willis falls short of a great performance. His character falls flat, considering that his purpose is to show the dynamism inherent in humanity. He only shows moments of life, and most of those are action sequences. Moments in this film that require any form of emotion are lost with Willis.

Most importantly - for a movie that is supposed to call to mind the need for true human contact - the film failed to make the audience care about any of the characters. This prevents the theme of movie to become fully realized.

Ultimately, the film "Surrogates" felt itself like a surrogate for a better film.

2012

Directed by: Roland Emmerich

Written by: Roland Emmerich, Harald Kloser

With the Mayan calendar fast approaching its end in 2012, it was inevitable that the film industry would try to capitalize on people's fears of mortality. In this case, disaster film expert director Roland Emmerich was picked to put together perhaps the ultimate catastrophe movie.

The end of the world-as-we-know-it begins when a solar flare sets off some kind of chain reaction which will cause the earth's crust to shift dramatically. International governments (including the American president played by Danny Glover) decide not to tell, but instead begin a secret project to attempt to save the human race. Meanwhile, most normal people (including John Cusack cast, oddly enough, as a chauffeur) begin to notice that weather disasters, such as tornadoes and earthquakes, are happening more frequently and with more intensity. Eventually, the civilized world begins to crumble as a chosen few desperately try to reach the international safe-haven in China.

There is a lot that goes wrong in this movie (and I'm not talking about the disasters), but let's start with the good.

Woody Harrelson. Woody Harrelson plays a back-woods government-conspiracy fearing lunatic radio broadcaster who tips off John Cusack's character that there may be more going on than meets the eye. Harrelson's character is by far the most fun and interesting, and it's unfortunate that he ends up with so little screen time.

Now on to what's wrong with this film - everything else!

To begin, the movie is entirely too long. Coming in at over two and a half hours, the movie is unnecessarily bloated and drags on far to long at many points. Some suggestions on how to cut? Start with the absurdly large cast. There are too many characters that the film tries to follow, and by the end the audience doesn't really care about any of them. For example, the entire subplot about the Russian billionaire's mistress having an affair with his pilot could be cut - it adds nothing to the film whatsoever, but consumes at least ten minutes of screen time. The same with the subplot about the scientist from India - not sure what he's doing in the movie at all.

Now, usually, when one goes to see a disaster movie, they expect to see some whopping special effects. Usually. Apparently Emmerich (who otherwise has a pretty good track record) missed the memo on this one. The special effects were underwhelming and unimpressive, and, after a while, repetitive. There are only so many "giant earthquakes toppling skyscrapers" sequences that a person can see before they lose their meaning. (One highlight, though, was the scene in which Cusack's car is being chased by a collapsing LA freeway - instant classic moment!)

The movie seemed to overlap and repeat itself too many times. It's easy to lose track of how many times someone says "It's happening sooner than expected" (or something along those lines). And there are three - literally three - scenes at an airport in which a plane has to take off in the midst of disaster on the runway. Sure, they happened at different airports, but a little variety in the disaster drama might have gone a long way.

Typically, I enjoy these types of movies for what they are. But in this case, I'd just had enough by the end of the movie. I'd only recommend this movie if you can't see any of Emmerich's other epic disaster movies. For what they're worth, "The Day After Tomorrow" and "Independence Day" give a much better bang-to-buck return. Sorry "2012" - maybe you'll be more exciting next year, but I'm not holding my breath.

Up

I must admit that I was originally hesitant to watch "Up" given that it arrived with such universal acclaim, which often leads to disappointment. Thankfully, disappointment never arrived, though. Wonderment showed up instead.

Carl Fredrickson (voiced by Ed Asner) is a lonely, grumpy old man who isn't quite sure what to do with himself after the death of his adventure-loving wife Ellie. When he is forced out of his home by redevelopment in the neighborhood, he decides to pick his house up via balloon and move it to Paradise Falls - a trip he had always promised his wife, but never followed through on. Along the way he picks up an energetic but misguided boy scout named Russell and a loyal if challenged dog named Dug. Almost to his goal, Carl runs into the missing adventurer Charles Muntz (voiced by Christopher Plummer) who has grown a bit crazy in search of the elusive bird called the Snipe. Ultimately, Carl must choose between the past he built with his wife - quite literally his home - and the "family" he has acquired on his quest.

The first twenty minutes of this movie are some of the most emotionally charged scenes in any feature film I've seen - animated or live action. Directors Pete Docter and Bob Peterson use these waves emotion masterfully to help pace the story. Every moment of action is tinted with a moment of emotional reflection. The musical cues heighten this effect, reminding us of Carl's wife whenever he needs to make a difficult decision.

My only complaint about this film - and this is a minor gripe - is that it felt a little too chunky and episodic. The "person vs. person" conflict that gives the film its climactic moment felt too distant from the early "person vs. self" and "person vs. nature" conflicts. In fact, the whole final conflict between Carl and Charles felt a bit forced and unnecessary compared to the profound simplicity of Carl's personal conflicts.

Still, this movie is easily one of the best films of the last few years. It is humorous and entertaining while also containing an intense emotional poignancy. Although the "happy ending" may not have been Carl's first choice, it is ultimately the most fitting ending to such a strangely powerful movie.

The Men Who Stare at Goats

Tagline: "No Goats, No Glory."

Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor), a small-town journalist desperately trying to impress his estranged wife, travels to the Middle East to cover the Iraq War. On his way, he runs into Lyn Cassady (George Clooney), who reveals that he's a psychic soldier on a secret mission. Turns out, as Cassady explains, that in the 1980s the Army trained a whole unit - the New Earth Army - to use new age strategies to fight the wars of the future, led by Bill Django (Jeff Bridges). But, alas, a power struggle ensues with one trooper, Larry Hooper (Kevin Spacey), fracturing the group. Using his psychic mind and intuition, Cassady leads himself and Wilton to a secret base in the middle of the Iraqi desert. Apparently, after the New Earth Army was dismantled, Hooper founded a Blackwater-style group and is making major money launching psychic warfare. Ultimately, Cassady and Django decide to sabotage Hooper's operation by spiking all the food with LSD and then they go riding off into the sunset, never to be seen again and leaving Wilton to try to report the strange tale.

This movie is good. Not great, but good. But, if it isn't already evident, the movie is hard to explain in conventional terms as well. It isn't quite fiction, but it isn't quite non-fiction either. (The opening title states "More of this is true than you would believe.") For a movie that seems to drag on at points, it is surprisingly short.

The hazy gray middle area that this movie occupies is ultimately what held it back. Cassady is so strange, crazy, and off-the-wall that I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to laugh at his absurdist ideas or to pity him for his disconnection from reality. At times the movie is artistic journalism, self-discovery journey, road trip, social commentary, and comedy. None of these are necessarily exclusive from one another, but too many of them packed into just shy of 90 minutes pulled my mind around too much. There were even just a few too many big-name actors thrown into such a short script. (And, I'm not complaining, but it seems like Jeff Bridges can now only play "the washed-up ________ trying to redeem himself." Insert "hippie" for this movie, "country singer" for "Crazy Heart," and, probably, video game programmer for the new "Tron.")

Despite my final confusion, I can easily say that I enjoyed watching the movie. All of the leads - Clooney, McGregor, Bridges, Spacey - were fantastic, dynamic characters. The rich colors of the sets and scenes gave a sense of being just on the edge of reality, without falling away to fantasy. The best comparison I can think of is that this movie is like a grilled hamburger - good on its own, but a few more spices could have made it much better.

Directed by: Grant Heslov

Written by: Peter Straughan (screenplay) and Jon Ronson (book)

The Road

There's no reason for me to summarize the plot for "The Road" because I've already covered it on this blog.

Honestly, I need to stand up to all the critics who characterized the movie as a flop. This film was an honest adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's masterpiece. Was it as elegant or artistic or original as the novel? Of course not! But John Hillcoat's film was faithful to the heart and soul of the book. Of course, the result of working so closely with the source work is that the film is bleak and depressing, leaving the viewer to ponder the ultimate fate of humanity for an hour or two after finishing it.

Of course, to stay true to the meaning of the text, the film did have to stray from a literal page-by-page duplication of the book - which led to some unfortunate cuts. For example, although the whole scene was less than a minute, the encounter with the dying man who had been hit by lightning was cut (although it can be found in the "Deleted Scenes" on the DVD). This cut was made - I presume - because The Man and The Boy (portrayed wonderfully by Viggo Mortensen and Kodi Smit-McPhee) are supposed to live in a world nearly devoid of people. Yet, the most comprehensible sequences in the film are when they encounter others like them. So, to balance the need for human interaction to move the film's narrative forward with the need to convey the fact that only a few humans are still alive, many cuts were made.

The setting of the film is pretty well exactly how I imagined the gray post-disaster landscape that McCarthy outlined, although I did not quite imagine so many abandoned cars for some reason (but I put that fault on myself and my inability to imagine anything not made explicit in the text). The art and set direction kept everything gray and covered in ash. This bland background made the flashback sequences with the Woman (Charlize Theron) more powerful, with pastel colors giving a sense of life before the world decayed beyond repair.

I cannot say enough about how impressed I am with Viggo Mortensen's portrayal of the Man. Although his acting is not over-the-top in this movie, it is perfect for the role he plays. And for a movie that spends ninety percent of its time focused on two characters, the minor characters were critical for making this film great. Robert Duvall's portrayal of the Old Man is heartbreakingly beautiful, tears welling in his eyes as he recalls the ultimate fate of his absent son. Guy Pearce expertly suggests his trustworthiness with subtleness but clarity.

The biggest problem this movie had was the narrative structure - the fact that it had a clear one. In the book, McCarthy was able to convey a sense of timelessness, or, rather, a lack of time. Every gray day blends into one another, and there is no way of distinguishing each. There's no sense of order to the days. Yet, because of the linear nature of a movie, this movie takes on a timeline that the book does not have. This is the film's biggest artistic departure from the book.

I highly recommend this movie. Everyone should read the novel first, of course. My only warning is that you need to be prepared to suffer through a pretty deep, depressed mood for a while after the end (even though it ends on a hopeful note).

Read Hard

Five Years of Great Writing from "The Believer"

Edited by Ed Park and Heidi Julavits

For those of you who do not know, “The Beliver” is the monthly, non-fiction left-jab to “McSweeney’s” quarterly, fictional right-uppercut (although, considering I know nothing about boxing, I might have the whole metaphor flip-flopped). This book collects the best (arguably) pieces from the first five years of the magazine’s history and puts them in one place for those of us who either did not know the magazine existed or – as in my case – could not the darn periodical.

I added “arguably” to a sentence in my opening argument not because I did not feel that some of the essays were great, but rather because I could not tell whether some of the essays were great or not. One of the factors that makes “The Believer” such a fantastic magazine – the editors’ lack of inhibition in publishing essays regarding just about any subject or theme – also contributes to the book’s biggest weakness. For many of the essays, I could decipher that the piece was well written – but I lacked the cultural capital to make it accessible. Frankly, in some cases, I had no more than a shadowing understanding of what the essay was about.

The perfect example of this inability to relate to the essay is Franklin Bruno’s piece “In Praise of Termites,” which discusses the life and work of film critic Manny Farber. The article repeatedly referenced Farber’s writings on film theory – which I have not read, and I doubt most non-film major people have read. The article also discusses how Farber interpreted several movies which I have never heard of and, obviously, never seen. By the time I finished reading this seventeen page monster, I only had a vague understanding of Farber’s work.

The book does have many great essays, though. (And, in retrospect, I should have probably started by discussing those pieces instead.) One of my favorites is Paul LaFarge’s explanation / history / personal narrative regarding “Dungeons & Dragons.” LaFarge infuses D&D metaphors throughout the essay to help explain the game (such as “entering the cave” instead of “learning about the game). Yet, after introducing the essence and dynamics of the game to the readers, the essay shifts into a history of how the game was developed and what happened to the intellectual property rights. Finally, the third act begins a personal narrative of how the writer game to play a game of D&D with the game’s most recognized developer (there were many, we learn earlier).

Another fantastic piece – and perhaps my favorite – is “The Sinatra Doctrine” by Rich Cohen. Cohen’s essay fantastically weaves the story of the song “My Way” together with a the song’s most famous performers and how they came to sing it. We are strung along through a history which begins with Paul Anka writing the song as a farewell for Frank Sinatra, explains how that farewell actually revitalized Sinatra’s career, connects Sinatra’s disdain for rock and roll to how Elvis eventually began performing the song himself, and reveals how punk rock’s rejection of Elvis’s cooption of rock and roll’s soul led to the Sid Vicious performing the song. Ultimately, we are lead back to Paul Anka – the original writer (though he stole the tune from an unsuccessful French pop piece) – still performing his most famous piece of music, although he did not make it famous himself.

Other highlights include William T. Vollmann’s meditation on the destruction of war – “And Suppress the Unpleasant Things” – and Joe Hagan’s search for the greatest musician to ever disappear off the face of the earth – “Transit Byzantium.” Ginger Strand’s examination of the history and purpose of aquariums – “Why Look at Fish?” – was cute and enlightening. Jonathan Lethem’s “The American Vicarious” takes a snapshot of Nathaniel West’s short novels and their relevance to modern society, although I felt that it was over before the intellectual momentum began.

I recommend this book, but only for people who are ready for an intellectual workout and are not afraid to find out how little they actually know about significant parts of our modern American (or in some cases, international) culture. At least I can use what I found out I don’t know as a springboard to find out more next time I am at the library.

Zeitoun

Over spring break, I decided to forgo the usual "light" reading and hit something a little more serious. But, at the same time, I needed something with a bit of literary flare. Dave Eggers's 2009 book "Zeitoun" was the cure for what ailed my reading needs. The book traces the story of how Hurricane Katrina affected Abdulrahman Zeitoun and his family (specifically, his wife).

Before the storm, Zeitoun owns a flourishing painting company as well as rents out some properties. As the city is evacuated, he refuses to leave with his family - claiming that he needs to look after his property and business. Although he survives the initial flooding, he repeatedly refuses to abandon his city despite his wife's fears of the widespread violence. He keeps in touch with his family for several days as they make their way to safety.

Then, he disappears. He stops calling his family. No one can reach him. Even his brother in Spain and his family in Syria are contacting agencies in an effort to locate him, with no luck. As days pass, his wife braces for the worst and begins planning a life without her husband. Then, she gets an anonymous phone call telling her that her husband is alive, but in prison.

Turns out that he had been arrested by a pseudo-military group for looting, but had gotten stuck in a broken judicial / prison system which required no trials or due-process - and had no official record of his arrest. Eventually, though a little perseverance (and some emotional arm-twisting), the husband and wife are reunited and live happily-ever-after (almost).

In the tradition of Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood," Eggers wrote "Zeitoun" from the angle of fiction. This allowed him to use literary devices - suspense, rising action, flashbacks - to tell what was already a fantastic story. The beauty of the prose was effectively able to disguise the massive amount of research that went into writing the book. Eggers was able to balance writing the story from two perspectives - Zeitoun and his wife Kathy - while also including the opinions and views of others involved in the events. Eggers also interwove flashbacks to Zeitoun and Kathy's pasts

Hidden underneath the narrative of the story is an expose of the complete breakdown of the political and judicial system in the wake of the catastrophe. Zeitoun, because of his Syrian hertiage, was treated like a terrorist, was convicted of a crime without being told of his charges, and was not even allowed a phone call to tell his family he was alive. When, after some legal pressure he was given a bail hearing, his location was still considered "classified information" - so although there was a bail amount, his wife had no way of setting him free.

At the heart of such a powerful story, though, are two simple themes - a struggle with faith and the strength of love to overcome obstacles. After the storm, as Zeitoun is able to bring aid to his stranded neighbors, he begins to feel that his presence was part of a divine plan, but after his arrest he begins to question how his predicament was allowed to happen if he had been doing the work of God. Of course, his wife's love for him compels her to keep searching for her husband, even in the face of overwhelming evidence of his death. When Zeitoun is finally released, the police refuse to give back his ID and the usually docile Kathy literally accosts the District Attorney until his wallet is given back (although mysteriously missing the money and credit cards).

As usual with items published by McSweeneys - I recommend this book!

Manhood for Amateurs

A few months ago, I stumbled across this new Michael Chabon book at the local book megalopolis and bought it without hesitation, even though I was still in the middle of reading "Maps and Legends" (reviewed here earlier). Surprisingly, although the book was published in October, there isn't much online for it. Rather, the book seems to have arrived without much fanfare or comment. (In fact, if you closely examine Chabon's Wikipedia page, there's still nothing about it.)

The full title of the book is "Manhood for Amateurs: The Pleasures and Regrets of a Husband, Father, and Son." The cover depicts a type of "compass" for manhood, which pretty well

Essentially, the book is a collection of essays (and most of them very short) on the topic of "manhood" (at once a dubious term, after finishing reading). The essays are broken into four "movements," beginning generally with childhood and moving through life - young adulthood, marriage (and divorce), fatherhood, and ending with some thoughts on human mortality (not unlike the Joyce classic "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.")

What is amazing about Michael Chabon's work, as always, is his ability to use the mundane and common to signify something much deeper about the human condition. For example, in one essay he uses a description of a gift his father gave him - some old baseball cards - to launch into a reflection on how his father symbolically passed on to him the All-American-Man game of baseball. In another, a question from one of his little sons about how to draw a girl leads into a larger discussion as to whether or not, as men, we can ever truly understand women.

The weakest phase in the book is in regards to middle-age and beyond, though I attribute this to his lack of experience and perspective on those matters.

Whereas the essays in "Maps and Legends" discussed larger cultural issues - the value of genre fiction - the essays in "Manhood" are much shorter and incredibly personal. This is a new side of Michael Chabon. Until now, his novels have remained largely impersonal. We've been forced to interpret him through his plots and characters - such as Grady Tripp's struggles with writing his book in "Wonder Boys" as a reflection of Chabon's own attempts to finish his second novel "Fountain City." (And, as a would-be critic, this reasoning is weak at best and irresponsible at worst.) Still, even here - when Chabon seems to be revealing everything to us - he still hides behind a thin mist of symbolism and metaphor - as though he can't exactly tell us some things directly.

Chabon's writing is still masterful and entertaining. I'm happy to pass this book on to my dad, as well as to re-read it in the years and years to come.

Avatar

Last night my wife and I went to see the new James Cameron movie "Avatar" in 3-D. Actually, it wasn't so much a "movie" as it was a "completely different experience." I have never been quite as amazed and awed coming out of a movie theatre as I was last night.

Now, this is not to say that "Avatar" is the perfect film. Rather, it is unlike anything else I've ever seen (although it obviously takes some elements from previous science fiction and fantasy books and movies). Using 3-D technology, Cameron was able to take the audience to another world.

But, before I start gushing, a little bit about the movie. Apparently, in the future, humans are mining some sort of high-energy ore on a planet called Pandora, which is worth a ton of money back on earth. The only problem is that the planet is already inhabited by a blue humanoid species which considers pretty much every nook and cranny of the planet to be sacred in one way or another. Enter Jake Sully (Sam Worthington), a former marine who has taken his brother's place in the "Avatar Program" - which allows humans to take control of an alien body and live through that body. The company in charge of the mining needs to get to a massive ore deposit which, unfortunately, lies directly beneath the natives' largest city (so to speak), and is looking for a diplomatic, but forceful, way of moving the aliens. Tensions rise between the scientific team researching the planet - led by Dr. Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver) - and the business and security teams - led by Parker Selfridge (Giovanni Ribisi) and Colonel Quaritch (Stephen Lang) respectively. Long story short - too late! - the science team, using their avatar bodies, defects and joins the natives in resisting the human expansion. Sully manages to become the leader of the natives (in a manner reminiscent of the rise of Paul / Muad'ib in "Dune"), and - in a fantastically massive battle scene - manage to defeat the invading corporation.

The movie was well written. The plot unfolded nicely with enough twists and turns that it did not become predictable. Many story elements that were developed early on - such as, say, the territoriality of the native animals - played out nicely at the end.

It was hard to ignore the political message of the movie - there is no question left as to where James Cameron stands on issues like Manifest Destiny or, say, the Iraq War. But that aspect of the movie does not dominate the entire story or drag it down. Rather, it adds to the mystique of the plot and gives it a nice allegorical feeling without coming down too preachy.

This blog wouldn't be complete, though, if I didn't comment further on the 3-D experience. Seeing this movie in 3-D gave me a glimpse into the feeling my parents must have had when they first saw color television - something familiar taken to a completely different level. I didn't so much "watch" "Avatar" in 3-D, I "experienced" it. Cameron did a great job of using the 3-D technology to create a sense of realism and depth to the environment without falling into the usual 3-D traps of making something jump out at the audience.

I highly recommend seeing "Avatar" in the theatre. And, if you're already shelling out $11 to see it, I'd highly highly recommend paying the extra couple of dollars to see it in 3-D. (Unless you have a depth-perception problem, because the effects may be lost on you and you could have spent that money on overpriced candy.)

Inherent Vice

Although it did not take me very long to read Thomas Pynchon's newest novel, "Inherent Vice," it has taken me a long time to absorb it and develop anything coherent to say about it. Coming in at just over 350 pages, it's Pynchon's shortest work in quite a while, and, maybe as a result, it is also his most coherent and readable. (Of course, considering Pynchon's prior work, everything is relative - "Inherent Vice" has already produced a pretty comprehensive wiki.)

The best way to sum up the book is: Raymond Chandler noir crossed with an acid trip.

The book starts with the protagonist - Doc Sportello, a private detective who spends most of his time high - being approached by an ex-girlfriend who suspects that her boyfriend's wife (read between the lines there) is up to something fishy. Of course, a day or two later, there's gunfight which ends with the boyfriend - a highly influential real-estate developer - as well as the ex-girlfriend missing and his bodyguard dead. Stoner's logic leads Sportello to try to unravel this mystery despite the fact that he knows he will not be paid, which leads to even more mysteries and subplots which include an undead saxophone player, a brainwashing center disguised as a rehab hospital, a half-developed futuristic commune in the Nevada desert (which might also be a portal to other dimensions), an "Atlantis" myth for the Pacific, and the "Golden Fang" which is simultaneously a building, a dental group, a drug cartel, and a boat. In the end, nothing is really resolved except a mystery which at the beginning is a passing comment. Yet, in true postmodern fashion, th

ere is a sense that "all's well that ends well" because none of the major characters are dead and life goes on.

Although the complexities of noir fiction are nothing new to Thomas Pynchon (see "The Crying of Lot 49"), this book is much more "real" than his prior work. It is set in a (mostly) real place - 1970 Los Angeles - and features (mostly) real locations - such as Pink's and the Original Tommy's. Yet, these places are rendered as unfamiliar because the narrator is inherently unreliable due to his drug vice (pun intended). So much of Sportello's time is spent drinking, smoking weed, or dropping acid th

at it's sometimes hard to tell which parts of the story are the true, underground conspiracy and which are just waves of drug-induced paranoia. The sense of real provided by the setting, then, becomes an illusion.

Almost humorously, Pynchon seems to reference his real life elusiveness through the character of Coy Harlingen. When we first hear about Coy, we find out that he was a saxophone player for the band The Boards who just recently (in book time) died of an overdose. Yet, as the plot unravels, he keeps popping up everywhere - even being shown on television getting arrested at a Richard Nixon rally. Eventually, Coy even re-joins his old band, but nobody recognizes him. His logic, then, is to hide in plain sight: nobody recognizes him because they all think he's dead. Anybody who s

uspects that he faked his own death would never think to

look for him at the same places doing the same things he previously did. Coy, in a way, comes to represent Thomas Pynchon - he hides in plain sight. Pynchon has admitted doing normal, everyday things. He even recently had lunch with Salman Rushdie and has appeared (dubiously) on "The Simpsons". Yet, he's managed to maintain his anonymity despite his celebrity. Although his books always make the bestseller list and his name is synonymous with postmodernism, his face is a paper bag with a question mark on it. He is a voice, a book cover, a name. Yet, he is also human and does human things. He is "dead" t

o the world, yet he lives the way he would if he were "alive."

I'm still not quite sure I understand all of what "Inherent Vice" was really about (assuming it was about anything - which is a valid point in Pynchon's work). At once the novel seems both nostalgic for 1970 while at once pointing to its hollowness. Doc starts out to solve one mystery, becomes a part of another, and helps to solve a third one while the original one plays itself out - and so he is both a major player and a completely helpless pawn. Coy is both stone cold dead and vibrantly alive. So, what are we to make of these contradictions? The closest we get to a solution comes from the character Bigfoot Bjornsen when he says (which could be echoed by Pynchon himself):

"If I didn't know, I would never admit it to you. And if I did know, I would never tell you."

Adam

Last week, Nicole and I went to see "Adam," a 2009 film written and directed by Max Mayer. The movie stars Hugh Dancy as the title character - a young man with Asperger's syndrome - and Rose Bryne as his neighbor Beth.

As the movie begins, Adam's father has just died and he is adjusting to life alone in New York. Beth moves into his apartment complex and the two become good friends, and, eventually, more than friends. Beth reads about Asperger's syndrome so that she can help Adam function better in normal society, even helping him practice for interviews. Tension arises in their relationship, though, as her parents demonstrate disapproval of what is happening and feel that she could do much better. The story reaches its climax when Adam gets the job of his dreams in Flintridge, California, and wants Beth to come with him - but Beth is torn between her love for Adam and her fear that she will never have a normal life if she leaves her family. Ultimately, Beth decides to stay in New York, and Adam moves away on his own. In the last scene, we catch a glimpse of Adam's life in California, and it is apparent that he has become better functioning and is doing well on his own.

I really appreciated that this movie attempted to tackle a very sensitive issue in our modern society - the relationship between "normal" people and those with Asperger's syndrome (on the Autism spectrum). People with Asperger's often have trouble forming emotional connections because it is hard for them to read and understand the emotions of other people, and this often leads to a ego-centrism which prevents healthy relationships. In the movie, Beth realistically fears that Adam will never say "I love you," no matter how much he cares for her. At one point, emotionally upset by a family problem (the film's shallow subplot) she has to tell Adam to hug her because he cannot read between the lines of her comment that she "could use a hug." As the population of people with Asperger's and Autism grows and grows, these are essential human issues that must be faced and addressed at some point, and this movie represented a big step in the right direction.

Except, I think, for the end...

I've spent a lot of time thinking and debating how I felt about the climax and resolution of the story. Beth chooses to stay in New York because she feels that Adam does not truly love her, but that he is only using her because he needs her to navigate the complexities and subtleties of society. Yet, I felt in Adam's plea that he needs her to move with him so that she can "teach him how to get to work" (as well as other tasks) - I felt that in that plea he was, in his own way, saying "I love you." Adam's Asperger's prevented him from understanding her need to hear "I love you," but in his plea I felt he was saying what everyone means when they say those three words - that you need that person in your life, by your side, to help get you through the small and the big tribulations and challenges of simply living. At that moment, I feel that her selfish need to hear three words prevented her from hearing the meaning behind those words that he was outlining.

I'm also a bit confused over the message of the ending. Beth abandons Adam in his time of need, but - good news! Adam's even better than before! Somehow, by leaving him on his own, Adam has learned to survive successfully and overcome his social difficulties! Is this realistic? Probably not...

The final scene of the movie has Adam reading a book that Beth has written about a talking raccoon family (one aptly named "Adam") and how "they didn't really belong there, but there they were." What is that line subtly suggesting about people with Asperger's? That they don't belong? That we just need to accept that they are here to stay? I feel that is probably the wrong message - I feel that we need to embrace them as members of the human race and find out how best we can work with them for the benefit of all - to end the "normal" and "not-normal" divisions that plague our social interactions. This movie, in its (possibly innocent) last lines, suggests otherwise.

Overall, I was impressed with the movie. Dancy's performance was fantastic. And, although I'm not sure I agree with the message of the movie, it's about time a movie made any kind of comment on an issue which is very quickly becoming something that cannot be ignored.

Terminator Salvation

I held out as long as I could, but on Wednesday I finally broke and went to see "Terminator Salvation." The 2009 film, directed by McG, is the fourth film in the "Terminator" series, but is the first one to take placed after Judgement Day - the day that the Skynet military computer program becomes self-aware and launches an attack to wipe-out humanity.

In terms of a timeline, "Salvation" takes place after Judgement Day and the first full assault of the machines, but before John Connor (played in this film by Christian Bale) has risen to total command of the human resistance. We are at a lull in the war - the machines are making smaller campaigns to collect and kill the smaller human settlements, while the humans are still working to organize themselves into a homogenous resistance. The civilized world has been generally obliterated by the machines, with only a few buildings left standing and nature generally taking back the territory.

Into this world wakes up Marcus Wright (Sam Worthington), who isn't quite sure what has happened and can only remember donating his body to science before being executed for a presumably horrendous crime. (The astute eye might catch that the paperwork he signs has Skynet Labs letterhead - foreshadowing!.) He runs into a young Kyle Reese (Anton Yelchin) and a little girl in the remains of Los Angeles, and together they decide to track down John Connor. (On the way, though, Reese and the girl are captured by the machines and taken to Skynet headquarters in San Francisco.) Just as he is about to meet Connor, Wright steps on a mine which, instead of killing him...

...reveals that he is, in fact, a new model of Terminator with a human heart and brain! This comes just as much of a shock to Connor as it is to Wright, who does not understand what has happened to him. Connor and Wright agree on a plan in which Wright will infiltrate Skynet headquarters and disable the defenses so that Connor can come in and rescue Reese (who, we all know, needs to survive so that he can go back in time and father Connor).

Big twist here - this was all part of Skynet's plan! Wright had been programmed (without knowing it) to go out, earn Connor's trust, and bring him back. Wright, realizing his unwitting betrayal, rips out the chip that Skynet was using to manipulate him and decides to use his machine-level strength to protect Connor. Eventually they escape, but Connor's heart is damaged and, in a symbol-heavy resolution, Wright donates his heart to Connor to keep the hope of humanity alive.

(Oh, and there was a subplot about a weakly organized human resistance trying to destroy the machines with some sort of radio wave which would tell them to shut down. When the leaders of this resistance group do not listen to Connor and launch an attack, the machines destroy that arm of the resistance, and Connor comes to power.)

Was the movie a neat episode in a franchise which had been sent off-course with the third film (forever unnamed here)? Yes. Was it a great movie? No. The plot of the movie moved across long flat plains and would then make huge jumps. The characters were all these confused, introverted people which made it hard for the viewer to have any sort of relationship with them.

The movie suffered from not really adding anything to the prior movies. It seemed more like a fan-fiction story made into a movie. We didn't learn anything new about Connor or the war with the machines. It did not directly effect on developments made in the original two stories, but also did not bring anything new to the table. Rather, it simply seemed to exist in a world that had already been created.