Congratulations, this is a rant

Strange day where I lectured for three hours straight in the morning and there were two consecutive earthquakes in the afternoon.

I went home early today and almost fell asleep watching The Romantics. I don't think it had anything to do with my recent lack of sleep. I hear it is based on a book, which I have not read. The author wrote the screenplay, which should have been a good thing. It was also brimming with beautiful people, including Malin Akerman whom I have always had a guilty crush on. Also, Anna Paquin and Adam Brody. And Katie Holmes without her famous hair. And Josh Duhamel. These ridiculously gorgeous actors play a bunch of college friends who reunite to see two of their own get wed. This movie had so much potential but it tripped all over itself in the effort to realize it. I'm not sure even Josh Duhamel's abs could have saved it, but it would have helped to have had more of that. He recites a poem, but by then, I was only watching because I am polite.

So. Out of politeness, I finished the movie and then went to sleep. It was touch and go at first (I had me some caffeine), but my exhaustion eventually won out. It was the kind of sleep where drool is a definite possibility and strange, vivid dreams are a given. It would have been restful, but I woke up when the sun was going down. Naps that end in twilight are the worst. I get cranky and often declare that I Want To Rip Someone's Head Off.

In It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini, the protagonist Craig Gilner obsesses about his numerous daily tasks until he becomes paralyzed and is unable to accomplish anything. He calls this process Cycling. Vizzini provides a name for something I am quite familiar with (In another post, I will talk more about how much I could relate to It's Kind of a Funny Story, it was kind of alarming). I have had episodes where it became impossible for me to finish anything because I would psyche myself out with overthinking. And because I was unproductive, I would fall into a depressed stupor. This has not been the case lately, though. I have been mobile and prompt, and participating. But even then, there is still so much to do. This would not be so bad, but there are also the unforeseen and unfortunate setbacks to deal with. My frustration and anxiety about school has been growing, and I can feel my brain ticking. Fuckstockings, I am teetering on the edge of Cycling.

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Writing helped, but I feel bad that this negativity is now loose in the Universe. To begin the healing, I give you chicken and potatoes!

Later.

Smoke and mirrors

An excellent link from my friend Jing: the dying art of pencil-drawn animation celebrates the dying art of stage magic.

Here is the trailer for The Illusionist:

Watch out for...

The full-length trailer for Pixar's Toy Story 3 is out. If I were you, I'd watch out for a familiar forest giant...Pixar is bringing on the Ghibli love! Plus, Ken and Barbie are still at it.

Blogging as cold medicine

Sick today and trying very hard not to feel sorry for myself. Tried reading but the words just sort of swarm around in front of my eyes. I don't want to sleep anymore because the fever dreams have been extremely vivid and disturbing.

Been catching up on movies lately. I saw An Education and loved it. Carey Mulligan was charming as Jenny, an impressionable 16-year old who has a relationship with an older man played by Peter Sarsgaard. There is something slightly twisted about that guy. As the movie progresses, you notice subtle changes in Jenny as she learns more about people and the world. Near the end, she says: "I feel very old, but not very wise," which is how most of us feel sometimes.

This morning when my brain was less fuzzy, I saw Jason Reitman's Up in the Air and now support George Clooney's Oscar bid for Best Actor. When the movie starts, we see a man who lives a fast-paced life, flying from one state to the next. He is a loyal patron of the airline terminal, feeling more at home here than he is in his one-bedroom apartment. To him, the thought of settling down is unappealing, even laughable. His philosophy is to carry the metaphorical empty backpack, to go through life untethered by the weight of relationships. And the thing is, he doesn't come off as a soulless prick. We like this guy regardless, even, of his job. George Clooney makes us feel for him. That is good acting.

Anna Kendrick has come a long way from her small supporting role in the Twilight movies. In Up in the Air, she plays a fresh Cornell graduate, an overachiever who is excited about her new job. George must show her the ropes, and the two have wonderful chemistry. Jason Bateman was an especially nice piece of casting.

Feel slightly better, but I think I'll go lie down now. Will try my luck with a book again, or brave my dreams. Later.

Or you can use a banjo

"When using a blunt weapon, the goal is to crush the brain (remember, the only way to kill a zombie is by destroying its brain). This is not as easy as it sounds. The human skull is one of the hardest, most durable surfaces in nature. So, of course, is the zombie's. Extreme force is needed to fracture, let alone shatter it. However, this must be done, and done with a single, well-placed blow. Missing your target or failing to breach the bone will leave you with no second chance.

...A section of lead pipe will work for a single encounter but is too heavy for those on the move. A sledgehammer has the same drawback and also requires practice for its user to hit a moving target. Aluminum bats are light enough to work for one, maybe two fights, but are known to bend after prolonged use..."

(From pages 31-32 of The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead by Max Brooks)

Sherlock Holmes and the Na'vi go to a party

Great weekend in movies. Lem and I saw Sherlock Holmes on Friday, and followed it up with Avatar on Saturday.

FRIDAY

When one hears that Robert Downey Jr is playing Sherlock Holmes, you don't ask questions. As soon as it's showing, drop what you're doing and go see it. Downey has the charm and humor to bring this brilliant eccentric to life. When the movie opens, Holmes is being chased down the dark streets of London. Backed into a corner, he calculates the series of blows necessary to incapacitate his pursuer. Later, he is in a boxing ring and his adversary spits on the back of his head. Again, his mind estimates the required combination to win. These computations take only a moment. On both occasions, the enemy hits the floor, shattered bones and all. Holmes has already determined the damage sustained by his opponent's body...and pride. Ass-kicking has become an intellectual exercise.

At first, Jude Law as Dr. John Watson seemed like a far stretch. But it worked. The chemistry between the two old friends was endearing. (Watch: Holmes and Watson sitting side by side on a rickety bed, post-explosion, and trying very hard not to hug.) Kelly Reilly's turn as Mary Morstan, Watson's fiancé, was a pleasant surprise. She barely got any face time in the stories, so it was great to see her portrayed as a strong woman, unimpressed by Holmes's guile. Rachel McAdams is wonderful as the criminally sexy (ha-ha) Irene Adler.

The plot itself lacked cleverness, failing to evoke the why-didn't-I think-of-that knock on the forehead. On the other hand, Holmes's appraisal of people did demonstrate those brilliant deductive skills. The film was obviously a prelude to a greater story, one where we will eventually encounter the arch-nemesis, Professor Moriarty. We will wait for that one with bated breath. The game is afoot.

SATURDAY

Lem and I finally saw Avatar. We caught the late afternoon show, a schedule apparently favored by the general public. Lem sipped sullenly from a vanilla frostee, glaring at the long queue in front of him. Despite all those people, we managed to get good seats. Wearing over-sized 3D glasses, we braced ourselves for a movie that has been hyped to the high heavens. For once, the hype did not exaggerate.

The story is set in 2154, a time when humans have plundered so much of the earth that no green remains. Having completely exhausted the natural resources on their own planet, the humans launch an off-world mining project on the moon Pandora. RDA, the corporation responsible for operations, treads carefully because Pandora is inhabited by sentient humanoid beings called the Na'vi. Jake Sully, played by Sam Worthington, is a young marine who joins the company's Avatar division. Human researchers neurally link to genetically-engineered Na'vi bodies to gather information about the world and its people. Their ulterior task is to forge diplomatic relations with the indigenous community. The group is led by a no-shit, ball-breaking scientist Grace Augustine (portrayed to a T by the great Sigourney Weaver). She often clashes with corporate head slug Parker Selfridge whose depravity was crafted so perfectly by Giovanni Ribisi.

The plot is, by no means, anything new. In fact, it is a story not unusual in the Philippines. Indigenous peoples displaced by outsiders exploiting their land for commercial gain? Sound vaguely familiar? Ma, who knows a little something about natural resource management, remarked about the movie's parallels with ancestral land issues in the Cordillera. (She saw the movie in the Netherlands, and had to manage with Dutch subtitles for the Na'vi translations.) Avatar may have fallen into step with previous movies of the same theme, but it is a theme that hits close to home. A lack of empathy can be deadly.

In a very Tolkien-esque move, James Cameron creates a strange, untamed world where its inhabitants can literally commune with Nature. The plants glow in the dark and the animals are fierce and lethal. (Lem has declared that we must procure him a Banshee.) Cameron was thorough. The Na'vi, an entirely imagined race, have their own language and culture. They are a people who have preserved an intense connection with their environment, a quality steadily disappearing among human beings.

In one pivotal scene, the music turns ominous and Lem comments, "This is where the Titanic sinks." It's true: Cameron is dangerously becoming formulaic, and therefore predictable. But he makes up for it with stunning visuals and heavy action sequences. Images overwhelm the senses. With revolutionary film-making technology burning at his fingertips, Cameron meant to ASTONISH. He certainly did.

In a nutshell: Avatar was fucken awesome.

For the dolphins

Director Louie Psihoyos and an intrepid team of environmental activists risk incarceration, and more, to expose the annual slaughter of 23,000 dolphins and porpoises in Taiji, Japan. The Cove is the most riveting film you will watch from 2009.

The small Japanese town, Taiji, is a major provider of captive dolphins in the world today. Small whales, particularly the bottlenose dolphin, are captured alive and sold to various ocean parks and aquariums. There is a heated, long-standing debate on keeping dolphins in captivity for science and recreation. One faction considers it a justified sacrifice for research, arguing that such close study will yield valuable scientific data. In contrast, the group on the other end of the argument believe that the practice is inhumane and deleterious to wild populations. To the fishermen of Taiji, the captive dolphin trade is a lucrative undertaking. A dolphin alive fetches a larger profit than when it is marketed as meat.

However, the exploitation does not end there - far from it. In a hidden cove, known now as the killing lagoon, fishermen proceed to slaughter the thousands of remaining dolphins. There is no distinction: calf and adult alike are stabbed with long spears and then hauled with hooks unto waiting boats. The dolphins do not die instantly. For several minutes, they thrash painfully in the water and bleed freely from their wounds. They futilely look for an escape, suffering until the very end. The water literally runs red with blood.

For more than a decade, Japan has been proposing to abolish the international ban on whaling.

The Cove has been hailed as a thriller; a chronicle of the fearless efforts of a group of conservation warriors. But more than that, it is a piece of powerful advocacy. It is informative, discussing essential issues in cetacean conservation. For instance, it corrects the misconception that dolphins are pests to be culled in order to preserve fish stocks. An excessively large human population, not the subsistence feeding of cetaceans, is responsible for the alarming decline in fisheries. The film also provides a new fold in Japan's rejection of international whaling policies. Apparently, it is a subversive act: a people refusing to be subjugated by Western culture. The preservation of a national identity is necessary, but I seriously doubt that driving another species to extinction is the way to do it.

The Philippines itself is a hotspot for whales and dolphins. Our waters are home to twenty-four confirmed species, including the beautiful humpback whale and the acrobatic spinner dolphin. Locally, the primary threat to small cetaceans is incidental mortality. They drown, entangled as by-catch, in long lines and fine mesh nets used for fishing. The impact of these deaths on wild populations is still vague, but it is obviously harmful to small populations such as that of the extremely endangered Irrawaddy dolphin in Malamapaya Sound. The few marine mammal experts in the country have their work cut out for them, but plunge tirelessly on anyway.

The Cove focuses on dolphin conservation issues in Japan, but it reminds us all that most of the time, change cannot be affected by large conventions, but by the actions of a few very passionate and committed individuals.



P.S. Remember that news story about an emotional Hayden Panettiere at a dolphin protest? It was in Taiji. She is seen for a few seconds in the film.

In a Nazi-occupied France

In Kill Bill, Uma Thurman's Black Mamba scalps Lucy Liu's O-ren Ishii with a samurai. In the new film Inglourious Basterds, Lt. Aldo Raine's men must each collect 100 Nazi scalps. Quentin Tarantino directs another delightful, bloody ride.

Inglourious Basterds does not disappoint. I'm still recovering from the shock of watching the Bear Jew, one of the Basterds, beat a Nazi officer to death with a baseball bat. In another memorable scene, Brad Pitt's Aldo the Apache questions Diane Kruger's Bridget von Hammersmarck about a rendezvous gone awry. To obtain more accurate information, he pushes his index finger into a bullet wound on her leg. Squish, squelch.

Christoph Waltz delivers as the dangerously intelligent, but comically vain, villain. Colonel Hans Landa of the SS is a man of fine tastes, versed in several languages. His reputation as The Jew Hunter is well-deserved, infamous for his hawk-like cunning and dogged pursuit of prey. Deadly and silently efficient, the man missed nothing. Eating apple strudel has never looked so sinister.

Wild Thing!

On Christmas eve, I saw Where the Wild Things Are, Spike Jonze's adaptation of Maurice Sendak's classic children's book.

Max is a young boy dealing with the loss of his father. His teenage sister, busy with her friends, is unable to relate to him. And Catherine Keener plays the loving, but constantly preoccupied mother. Sadness has lodged itself in his heart, and he lashes out at the world. One night, unable to contain the Wild Thing snapping against his insides, he bites his mother and runs away without any supper. He dashes through the street and into the woods, roaring his terrible roar and gnashing his terrible teeth. He finds a boat and sails it through a great sea to where the wild things are. He tames them with his awesome power and becomes their king.

Each of the wild things has a name and is distinct in some way. They are an embodiment of feelings we cannot name, of emotions we hide deep inside ourselves. Max makes an instant connection with Carol, a wild thing who is also dealing with loss through rage. The dialogue was wise and searing, made so by its earnest delivery. In one scene, Carol talks to Max about loneliness and my breath caught. Max Records as Max was amazing.

The island is an untamed paradise. Max and his wild things play among giant trees and sleep in a fort made of tunnels and twigs. Carol and his friend KW build a miniature city in a cave in the middle of a sand desert. This island is our the Secret Place, quiet and primeval. If an adult were stranded here, they would freak out.

Elements of Sendak's wonderful story are visible and serve as the movie's foundation. But Jonze's extrapolations are inspired. He took a children's picture book and transformed it into an exploration of the human condition. The cinematography will make your eyes go wide with child-like wonder; the material will make your chest tighten with beautiful, inexplicable pain. Karen O and the Kids provide a brilliant soundtrack for the film.

It is ON

Today on KubiTV

Being back home, I've reverted to the role of glorified Bill-Payer. The money doesn't necessarily come from me (ha-ha), but I do literally pay the bills. I spend lots of time in lines and run into all kinds of situations, not all of them pleasant.

This morning, I went to the bills payment center on the third floor of SM Department Store (wasn't I just talking about this place?) and discovered that it does provide the intended convenience. They accept payments for insurance, utilities, most communication and internet service providers, and major credit card companies. The water bill still needs to be settled at the Baguio Water District in Utilities Road, about half a kilometer from the mall. But as I understand it, negotiations are underway for SM to begin receiving water payments. Imagine if that happened. I could accomplish bill-paying duties in one fell swoop. This is great news on the domestic front.

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Slim pickings at the movies. Lem and I saw Ninja Assassin and are thankful our tickets were free. The action scenes were probably wicked...if we could see them. We admit, the ninjas vanishing into the shadows was pretty cool. On the other hand, every other action scene fizzled in bad light and ended too soon. Yes, we know that ninjas move with preternatural speed and should make discreet kills, but what is a ninja movie without properly visible fights?

For one shining moment, when the ninjas massively kick Europol ass, I imagined the movie was a pointed jab at Western ignorance. I was wrong. The police eventually use heavy Western artillery to decimate the ninja clan's mountain hideaway. I am thinking too much.

I did like the scene where Rain's character, Raizo, practices stealth on a nightingale floor. One misstep and the woodwork sings like a bird, alerting the target to an intruder's presence. In Japanese history, paranoid leaders had these floors installed in their palaces as a security measure against assassinations. I remember Takeo from Lian Hearn's amazing novel Across the Nightingale Floor. I think I'll re-read it for a real ninja fix.

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Now that I'm blogging again, I've begun narrating events of my life in my head. I find angles to write about and test out working sentences to myself. This is a useful mental exercise that draws away from my usual train of thought. The people closest to me are up to their eyeballs in my frequent random bursts of neurosis. Restarting the writing habit has been good for my brain, which is becoming addled from disuse.

Going Green

I think Eva Green is wonderful. The woman is stunning; it's a challenge not to gape. Her large, blue eyes radiate a depth that is frightening. They can burn holes into your soul. Eva is strange and intelligent, deliciously complicated. She is indifferent to her celebrity and thinks all directors should go to drama school.


Eva has taken on a range of fearless roles, from a liberated young woman in The Dreamers to a beguiling desert princess in Kingdom of Heaven. As Vesper Lynd in Casino Royale, she makes James Bond fall in love and ruins him. In her new film Cracks, she plays a beautiful but obsessive teacher at an English boarding school for girls. In this video interview, she talks about her fascination with unbalanced people and how "it was interesting to explore the darkness." My kind of woman.

F-O-X

You've Got Mail was on HBO this afternoon. Nicole and I have seen this movie so many times, we can accurately recite lines from the script. We have actual, meaningful conversations using quotes.

Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, masters of The Romantic Comedy, are in their element. Only Meg Ryan and her signature nose-wrinkling can pull off saying things like "Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?" without sounding ridiculous. And Tom Hanks as Joe Fox makes a lovable capitalist.

The comfort factor of this movie, to me, is extremely high. It is shot in a laid-back New York where people spend lots of time in parks and coffee shops. Many of the scenes take place during the day when the sun is out and the world is at its brightest. Also, no one seems to be working. The main characters own bookstores, places I consider fixed points when my world is spinning. I like how they smell.

Books close to my heart are also seen here. In one scene, Meg Ryan's Kathleen reads Roald Dahl's Boy to a group of children for Storybook Lady Hour.


Towards the end of the movie, when Joe and Kathleen talk about what their relationship would be like if they hadn't been at war, I think of Lem. We would never fight about what movie to rent on a Saturday night.

"Clash" Remake

Sam Worthington is Perseus in the upcoming remake of the 1981 film Clash of the Titans. If Zeus wasn't such a player, there would be a serious dearth of Greek heroes. In Mallrats, Jason Lee's Brodie declares that only Wonder Woman's uterus is capable of carrying Superman's offspring. I wonder the same thing about Olympian sperm and mortal wombs. Zeus himself has managed conceptions across multiple species. Talk about robust.

Monsters look menacing by default. As a consequence, they are often misunderstood and/or maltreated. According to actual myth, Medusa was minding her own business on a secluded island until Perseus decapitates her and takes her head for a wedding gift. Where's the justice in that? Nonetheless, bring on the gore!

Nolan keeps us coming back for more

Christopher Nolan writes and directs the science-fiction mind-thriller Inception.

The man likes to mess with our heads. In Memento, he takes us through what must be the most gripping mystery/thriller ever conceived. My brain has never recovered from that experience.

He also likes to surround himself with equally passionate actors. Obviously, his preference is for those whose intensity can match and fuel his own. He directed Christian Bale and Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight, a movie that leaves one literally exhausted from its sheer weight. And now, Leonardo DiCaprio in Inception. A brilliantly assembled supporting cast further reinforces his vision and effectively translates it onto the screen. Michael Caine and Cillian Murphy have made repeated appearances and are also in the current film.

I can't wait to see this movie. Here is the trailer, to tide us over until its release in July 2010.

This place is so dead

I don't know how long I'll be back this time :)

Let's see...what have I been up to?

These days, I'm mostly taking care of my wards:

I'm back in Baguio while Ma pursues higher learning in Neverland. We miss her and wish the eighteen months would go by faster.

I have been compulsively downloading music (reporting this to anyone who'll listen) and so far loving:



















One night, I couldn't sleep and watched Zombieland on Pirated Movie Channel. The zombie genre liiives!



















See you all again soon. Peace.

Fathers and forgetful angels

Mamma Mia. Meryl Streep isn't a bad singer and uses her body as if she is not about to get a hip dislocation at any moment. Everyone in that film looked happy- even when they were sad, they were cheerful about it. I do not see Colin Firth as a gay man. Stelan Skarsgard kind of creeps me out. When Pierce Brosnan sings, there's a point at the beginning of the song where it sounds like he's still clearing his throat. The scenes these three men share are the most endearing, but the hilarious Julie Walters could give them a run for their money. People in musicals clearly haven't heard of paternity tests.

Hancock. A couple of questions. Why did Hancock get amnesia if he had healing abilities? I mean, it took Peter Petrelli a while to regain his memory but he managed it. Also, if Mary didn't want to be found out, why did she go on a rampage in downtown Los Angeles dressed in that fetching black outfit? Way to hide your superpowers. And also, why did she keep bringing up details about their past? The man has amnesia, woman. He has no idea what you're talking about. Which brings me to: why was she acting like everything was his fault? Didn't she abandon him for the last eighty years? Aaand, what did Hancock use to attach that huge heart on the moon? (Or was it paint?)

DARK KNIGHT NA BUKAAAAS!!! EEEEEEE!!!

And did those inmates feel awkward around each other after they got his head out of his ass?