CD Review: "Self-Portrait" by Jay-Jay Johanson

As I look back upon the past year, certainly my biggest disappointment was missing out on the chance to see Jay-Jay Johanson perform live in Montreal. My departure and his arrival in la belle province were within days of each other. Although I'm certain there will be other opportunities to see him, I can't help but feel a few pangs of regret in my more self-indulgent moments. The next best thing (I suppose) was that I finally got my hands on his latest album, "Self-Portrait". I realize that I'm a bit late to the party on this one, as the album was released in 2008, but it was incredibly hard to find here in North America. I was grateful to finally receive it as a birthday gift (thanks Christian!)

As I've stated in reviews of his past albums, Johanson is a highly introspective artist. His medium is trip-hop/jazz/electronic characterized by sombre tones and autobiographical lyrics. With each album it seems that Johanson bares a little bit more of his soul to us. His previous effort, "The Long-Term Physical Effects Are Not Yet Known" was, to my mind, pretty much his most perfect album so I had very high expectations for "Self-Portrait". After all, with a title like that I expected more of the same.

Ironically, I found "Self-Portrait" to be a much less personal effort. This is not so much a view of Jay-Jay the man, but rather a look at Jay-Jay through the lens of relationships he's had with women throughout his life. None of which, it seems, were very successful. Not surprisingly, if this is a "Self-Portrait", then the picture is a bleak one. Musically, the album veers away from anything catchy or pop; it falls more under the umbrella of jazz with lots of piano and hints of downbeats. The tone is dark and melancholy, brimming with regret.

The lead single, "Wonder Wonders" opens the album and sets the tone with musings of whatever happened to a past love. "Lightning Strikes" continues with much the same dwelling, marking the passage of time and healing of old wounds, leading to "Autumn Winter Spring". To my untrained ear, there really is very little variation on this album. Most of the songs are similar in tone, tempo, instrumentation. If you were to interpret "Self-Portrait" in visual terms, it would be a canvas of a solid, neutral colour. The difference between songs feels a bit like discerning the spectrum from grey to charcoal, slate, silver, oyster, pearl or taupe... Ok, that's a bit unfair, but there really isn't any "stand out" track on this album for me. "Liar" is short and sweet, like a brief interlude which gives us a bit of a break. "Trauma", definitely the most "jazzy" is probably my favourite track. I've always been drawn to maudlin, angst-filled lyrics and these are some pretty good ones:

"On the borderline of silence,
Trauma setting in
And the loneliness is killing me
So you've got to accept my apology
It'll all become a catastrophe."

Musically, the strongest and most stand-out track would be "Broken Nose"; a story of domestic violence marked by an urgent, pounding staccato piano line. Although I feel I've come to know Jay-Jay fairly well from his songs, I'm not really sure who the abused woman is in this tale of woe or how she fits into his autobiography. The vocal melody in "Medicine" seems inexplicably familiar to me, as though I've heard something similar before but I can't place it. The album ends with "Sore", which feels like a heavy black raincloud rolling closer onto the horizon. So, we're not exactly left on a high note.

"Self-Portrait" is a bit of a disappointment. It's "good" but falls flat for me. I can see this maybe being one of those albums that "grows on me" over time but right now I just don't feel connected to it. Perhaps Jay-Jay felt these songs were an accurate depicition of his life, though not necessarily a flattering one. (Like a passport photo may be a more honest representation than a soft-focus glamour shot?) I find the title of the album puzzling and a bit of a misnomer, since the songs seem to focus on the women more than on Jay-Jay himself. Honestly, I felt "The Long Term Physical Effects..." was more honest, more psychologically revealing, and overall stronger album but then who am I to say?

I've never been older

"Anything may be betrayed, any one may be forgiven. But not those who lack the courage of their own greatness."
(Gail Wynand in "The Fountainhead" - Ayn Rand)

Another year is coming to a close for me. I can't say I'm thrilled about getting older... although it beats the alternative! I suppose it's just "old fartism" taking hold, but I find myself re-evaluating; questioning things that I previously took as "given". My ability to "suffer fools" is steadily diminishing.

This coming year will mark a "milestone" high school reunion for me... that is, if I were to go to it (which I'm not). It will be 20 years, which is older than I was when I graduated! Back then I never gave much thought to ever being this old. The "year twenty-ten" sounded like science fiction. It still kind of does. The thing that really makes me bitter is that most of my youth was wasted on things I "had to do", rarely things I wanted to do. Some people spend their 20s travelling, partying, forming meaningful relationships (and some not so meaningful ones). Most of my time was spent going to school (to someday get a job), working pathetically low-paying jobs (with the hope of someday advancing to a better job), and spending time with people who meant nothing to me (usually met through meaningless jobs). So now I have a job. So what? Am I supposed to wait for retirement to start living?

You've been warned: a serious mid-life crisis is brewing.

Obviously it's not all bad. Mostly, I'm very happy with my life these days. I'm married to my best friend. I have money in the bank. I own a house and a car. I've met some interesting and kind people & made great friends (although I wish I could overcome my social awkwardness around them). I'm grateful there have been no major calamities (knock on wood). Still, I regret all the wasted time & energy. If only I'd known those people back then. If only I cared less then, or thought plans through more. If only I'd drank more. I wish I'd discovered Objectivism earlier in life!

As a footnote to the season: "Simplification" has become a key word lately. I would love to "downsize" the holidays. I find myself less sympathetic to certain charities or causes. I really believe North Americans have to drop some of their "needs".

"I'll brown his hash!"

"Life is but a Dream": A Review of AMC's "The Prisoner"

(Yes, spoilers abound!)

"Remake The Prisoner? Sure... and why not add a few brush strokes to the Mona Lisa while you're at it!"

(- cartoon I recall in an old "Starlog" magazine)


The idea of a "re visioning" of the 1960s cult classic "The Prisoner" has been tossed around for many years but the American network AMC has finally gone & done it! Between Nov 15 - 17, AMC returned us to "The Village", taking some baffling detours along the way.


The new mini-series consisted of six episodes, each named after an episode of the original series (often a misleading misnomer, as we'll discuss later). As with the original, the first episode is entitled "Arrival". We're presented with a man whom we know little about but learn that he has acrimoniously resigned from his job. (Why does he feel the need to spray paint "resign" on his office window? Why does he have a can of spray paint in his desk? But I digress...) In the "classic" series, our main character (as created and portrayed by Patrick McGoohan) was mostly an "unknown": we never knew what his job was, who he worked for, or why he resigned. In fact, we never knew his name -- lending credence to the idea that he is an "everyman". He could be anyone.. a stand-in for you or me. In the remake, we gradually learn our man (portrayed by Jim Caveizel) is named "Michael", he's a single guy living in an apartment in New York City, and he works for a company called Summakor where his job is monitoring surveillance footage from CCTs (closed circuit televisions), looking for patterns in human behaviour. Does that sound like he could be you? No, me neither. Let's continue.


Michael awakes in a desert. Not knowing where he is or how he got there, he finds "The Village", where the citizens have numbers not names and lead quietly contented lives, wallowing in blissful ignorance and seemingly lorded over by a mysterious control freak named "2" (played by a doddering Ian McKellan). Our man is christened "6" and learns that he is to remain a permanent resident there. 6 learns that anyone who believes there is anything beyond The Village is called a "Dreamer" (...because they usually have dreams about it at night. Duh!) Whereas The Village of the old series was rife with overt propaganda & brainwashing, the new Village feels like a caricature of suburbia where everyone just watches soap operas & eats nothing but wrap sandwiches and cake. The Villagers seem less sinister, and more like village idiots.

There's a defining moment in "Arrival" that effectively illustrates the difference between McGoohan's & Caveizel's "6". Upon arriving in the desert, the remake 6 witnesses a man being shot by some pursuers. Faced with this scenario, McGoohan's 6 would have seethed with outrage and then burst into action. Caveizel's character cries. In my opinion, this is NOT the same character and AMC would have been wise to give their new character a different number. To call him "6" suggests this is the same man. Clearly he is not. Even his Lotus 7 has been down-graded to a Subaru hatch-back. Seriously. They are not even playing in the same league!

The mystery continues in the 2nd episode, "Harmony". The title gave me false hope, as it alludes to one of my favourite episodes from the original series. "Living in Harmony" was a brilliant spaghetti Western story about a sheriff (6) who tries to bring justice to a corrupt town while refusing to carry a gun. In the remake "Harmony" is about how a fellow named 16 pretends to be 6's brother and the two of them drive a tour bus together. Hm. Next.

Things get back on track a bit in "Anvil". In the original series "Hammer Into Anvil", 6 plays a brilliant game of psychological "cat & mouse", playing on the paranoia of 2 and eventually bringing about his downfall. In the remake, 6 is recruited as part of the "Underground"; a covert network of spies. No one really seems to know who is spying on whom... and it doesn't really matter because in The Village children are trained in school how to spy on each other, so basically everyone watches everyone all the time. As it turns out, 909, who is 6's partner in the spy game, is (surprise surprise!) spying on him! Oh, and 909 is also having an affair with 2's son, 1112. Later, 1112 will murder 909. Why? Meh. Does it really matter? Ok... um... because death is the only way to escape The Village. And I should mention that along the way, 6 gets a couple of love interests himself: a mentally unstable doctor named 313 and a blind girl named 415 (whom he slept with back in NYC, but that was another life.)

Speaking of 1112, let's digress a bit & talk about the "2" family since this becomes the main crux of the whole series. 2's wife (whom I don't think actually has a number of her own) lives in a comatose state, presumably created by the 3 pills that her hubby shoves down her throat everyday. We're told one pill is a sedative, one pill is a hallucinogen and the third pill... well supposedly does something else. At this point, let's just throw the mother of all spoilers out there, shall we? 2's wife "dreams" the Village. It's her own psychological "utopia" that they're all living in. And yes, you guessed it... 2 (whose real name is Curtis) & wife run the Summakor corporation. So, Summakor watches people via CCT, and if you exhibit any unfavourable psychological traits, you're sent to "The Village" for rehabilitation. The problem is, Curtis/2's wife can't sustain the dream. When she wakes up, "holes" appear in the Village (literally, sink holes in the sand) and the holes lead to oblivion & death (honest). So Mrs. 2 needs a replacement. What a happy coincidence that Michael/6 turned up. And he also has a mentally unstable mate! Hmm...

It really is difficult to explain what goes on in most of the show. Taking a nod from "Lost", the plot doesn't advance in a linear way. Events are shown out of sequence. It's only when we learn more about Summakor that we see synchronicity between events in The Village and events in New York. The Prisoner always did raise more questions than it answered, but the remake gets very confusing at times. The end, however, ties everything up into a neat little package. I really don't need to tell you what happens as I'm sure your mind has already said "it must be... but that's too obvious & stupid". Well, yes that is what happens.

To me, the original The Prisoner could always be interpreted on 2 levels. On the one hand, it's a story of "man vs society". The individual against the collective. It represents a Kafka-esque struggle for the right of an individual to remain individual. On another level, the show was an allegory of the conflict of "man vs himself". A person who explored their own subconscious to understand why they've made certain choices in their life ("why did you resign?") and why they believe in their own convictions. This is why at the end of the original series, it's revealed that the mysterious "Number 1" who has been controlling things is in fact 6 himself (... albeit in a monkey mask!). In this context, the remake makes no sense. If I create constructs in my own mind, I can live in it. This makes sense on a metaphorical level and a common sense level. In the remake, The Village is a construct of 2's wife -- it takes a huge leap of faith and science fiction to accept that anyone else vacations in her head.

In conclusion: It's my opinion that if you're going to "reinvent the wheel" then completely reinvent it. Give us a completely new story with completely new characters. If you're going to just "re-do" something, then make it worth doing. Be faithful to the original but "value add" something to it. (eg. give us some "deleted" scenes, more back story, improve the f/x, build characterization.) To do any less is just a bastardization of the original.

As they say in The Village, "A still tongue makes a quiet life" so I'll end here. Be seeing you.

Lately I've been into...

Currently reading:

"World War Z" - Max Brooks

There's been a bit of hype about "World War Z" (and zombies in general, as discussed here previously), so when I found a used copy for cheap I thought I'd check it out. That was way back in September and I'm still trying to slough through it. I'm having a weird relationship with this book: sometimes I pick it up & have a hard time getting through a chapter. Other times I get really "into" it & dig it. Suffice to say it's not great "literature". My biggest complaint about it is that although it's an interesting concept, it's not great writing. Let me qualify that: "logistically" and "technically" it's really good. It has a great concept and the story is quite ambitious. All the individual "threads" tie together nicely and it seems like the author did a lot of research (scientific, military, political) to make the whole zombie pandemic thing seem plausible. My complaint is largely that although every chapter is supposed to be "spoken" by ethnically and geographically diverse characters, to me, they all have the same literary "voice". Maybe I'm just expecting too much. It is just horror fantasy, and admittedly I'm not even finished it yet. Damn all those undergrad English lit courses I took for inhibiting my enjoyment of pulp fiction! I keep looking for symbolism and meaning instead of just entertainment!



And now having just poo-pooed on "pulp" fiction....


"Concrete" - Paul Chadwick

The editions I'm reading are not the same as pictured here, but I've been devouring volumes of Paul Chadwick's "Concrete" comics. If you're not familiar with the series, here it is in a nutshell: These are the adventures of Concrete, formerly political speech writer Ron Lithgow, whose brain is transplanted by aliens into a massive clay-like and seemingly indestructible body. Concrete is a sensitive, introspective fellow who attempts to "make lemonade" from the lemons he's been handed, and embarks on extraordinary globe-trotting adventures (eg., climbing Mt Everest solo, swimming across the Atlantic ocean, etc.), or sometimes just use his new abilities to help out people in need. Problem is there are always complications. In lesser hands, this premise would invite heavy handed slapstick, but what Chadwick gives us is just the opposite. In the style of what's good about "indie" comics, it's done in a touching, sometimes philosophic, and ever so "human" way. Another thing that appeals to me is that it's just so 1980s America. Get your hands on a copy & see what I mean. My only complaint: I am baffled as to how Concrete's assistant Larry Munro manges to score so much tail...

Currently listening to:

To be honest, I've been kind of "off" music lately.

I'm bored with my old music collection right now (I still love it mind you, just bored) and haven't found anything new that's piqued my interest. The only "current" band that I'm digging these days is Death Cab for Cutie. But as much as I like them, I really need to be a certain mood or frame of mind to listen to them because my gawd they can depress me! And yes, I'm a Morrissey/Smiths fan from way back, so I am fond of melancholy pop!

On a related note: Why do people take their taste in music so personally? Why do people take pop music so seriously? Is it because when they listen to their earphones, the music becomes the voice in their head, in essence "their" voice and it incorporates into their personality? Seriously, let's discuss this! I'd like to hear your thoughts on this.

Well, anyway, as a result, I've been listening to "talk radio" more and more. And yes, most of it is really bad. Most radio phone-in shows seem to be an open forum for the ignorant and ill-informed to shoot their mouths off. Beyond that, you do occasionally learn some interesting things, mostly from science programs. But again, news and current affairs are depressing too.

My plan for this winter is to become a real homebody. Recently we moved the tv out of the room that was originally earmarked as mine, and I've starting setting it up as my drawing studio/projects room. Hopefully I can get some time & concentration in the coming months & start working on some arts & crafts. I feel better when I'm producing something but sometimes I just seem to lack the inspiration or the focus. There are so many distractions. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a little ADHD...

Come & get candy!

Halloween is the greatest holiday. No gifts to buy. No fussy dinners or awkward get-togethers. No stress.

Just show up & get candy. Perfect.

To clump or not to clump? That is the question.

We recently adopted a furry bundle of joy. She's a beautiful "F3 Savannah" cat (yup, one of those fancy designer hybrid breeds) and she's awfully sweet. My father-in-law remarked that she's "not neurotic" and I think he's right: this is the nicest, most sane pet I've ever owned... which seriously calls that whole "pets are like their owners" maxim into question. We have yet to find any bad habits or annoying personality quirks in her (well, apart from being a serious bed hog!). This is the first pet my husband & I have had together, and really the first time either of us has had responsibility for an animal (having only ever had "family pets" growing up... where you get all the perks and very little of the day-to-day responsibility for it). To date, we haven't even been able to sufficiently care for a plant, so we fear that we will bungle looking after a higher life form. As a result, we're quickly becoming fretful parents.

One of the first "red flags" for us has been the issue of kitty litter. Yes, I'm going to talk about the "unmentionables". As you may be aware, there is some controversy among cat owners as to the safety of "clumping" cat litter. These are the clay-based, scoopable litters that are widely available & probably the most commonly used today. I should preface by saying that as far as I can tell all arguments for or against clumping kitty litter are still theoretical: no one has yet done a scientific study on the safety of it. Whether or not you believe the clumping kitty litter is safe or not is entirely up to you at this point.

The problem with these litters concerns the chemicals that make the litter clump: sodium bentonite and quartz silica.

For starters, quartz silica is said to be carcinogenic to humans and possibly to animals too. If you've ever noticed how dusty it becomes when you are changing the litter, or when kitty is scratching around in it, you see the problem. The dust quickly spreads through the air, can be breathed in and of course, it is likely to attach itself to the cat's paws and settle on its fur where it could be ingested through grooming. Our cat has 2 litter boxes: one in each bathroom in our house. One of those bathrooms is next to our bedroom -- so effectively we would be breathing in this dust every night as we sleep. Before I was aware of the chemicals in the litter, I noticed the dust was irritating me. Knowing that it could be carcinogenic gives me the jibblies.

The second, and seemingly more common argument against clumping litter concerns Sodium bentonite. Sodium bentonite is an absorbent material that swells when wet, sometimes swelling 15 to 18 times in size. Some pet owners fear that this could be disastrous (potentially fatal) for animals if the pet were to ingest it. Again, this would primarily be by sticking to the feet of the cat and then the cat grooming its feet. Personally, I'm not quite as worried about this as I am about the carcinogens, but I have noticed our fur-baby's feet looking a bit white & dusty sometimes so it is a concern.

Our solution: we've switched to a non-clumping cat litter. It costs more, but we've started buying "Swheat Scoop", which is made of naturally processed wheat and contains neither of the aforementioned chemicals. It's not nearly as dusty either. At first I was afraid our fur baby would rebel against the switch, but there was virtually no transition at all and so far we all seem pretty happy with it. (Except now the "clumps" look like breaded chicken nuggets. Eeeww!)

Next parental dilemma: Are we feeding her too much? Ugh. More on that later.

Found

I recall many years ago reading an interview with John Lydon (aka Johnny Rotten of The Sex Pistols) in a Smash Hits magazine. He mentioned that one of his early jobs was working in the sewers. The interviewer asked what he did there. "Were you killing rats?" he asked.

"No", Lydon answered, "I was studying humanity".

Ok, so this piece isn't quite so harsh as that, but along similar lines. It concerns a gem I discovered on another one of my date nights at the Indigo magazine room.

"Found Magazine" is a collection of just that: stuff people have found. Papers littering the sidewalk, things pulled from garbage cans or recycle bins, forgotten stuff that's left behind on a bus seat or a park bench. They could be letters, resumes, flyers, birthday cards, shopping lists, notebooks or cassette tapes. The only criteria seems to be that (a) it was discovered somewhere and that (b) the original author/owner is not known to the person who found it. The magazine publishes photocopies of the found items, usually including a brief note as to where the item was found, or an a bit of conjecture about the meaning of the item.

This is modern day archaeology, askewed.

"Found" is a profound look at the mundane. It takes the ephemera of everyday life out of context, and through the absence of context assigns new meaning. Each piece becomes its own little mystery and your mind begins to fill-in the blanks with the "who, what, where, when and why". Sometimes the result is hilarious. Sometimes it's terrifying. Sometimes it's downright poetic. Truthfully, there is more meaningful observation in these pages than I've seen in a few literary journals. The best way to describe "Found" is "incongruous". In what seems like garbage one can find strange insight into the human condition.

If you're the voyeuristic type (and really, who isn't?) some of the stuff reprinted in the magazine is fascinating. For example, check out this note left on a windshield in a weird case of mistaken identity. From out of this one simple bit of poison pen, a human drama unfolds...

As they say, "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned", but notice the "page me later"...? She still loves him. This girl is seriously conflicted.

Issue #1 includes a poignant look at things found from the World Trade Centre after 9/11, which is surprisingly respectful, not stooping to morbid curiosity. There's also an interview with indie comic artist / author Lynda Barry, who is a self-proclaimed "scrounger" of found things. Another point of interest in this issue is "Cheeseburger in Paradise": a travel journal logging a particularly bland vacation in Hawaii. It becomes interesting when you begin to see the author partially as the typical "ugly American" stereotype, but also as just simple person with a mundane yet somehow satisfying life, and small aspirations.

If you're the type of person who likes to look for meaning in life's small moments, you'll love "Found". But it's not all deep: some of it is just baffling, goofy shit. I'm dying to listen to "Booty Time by the Ypsilanti All-Starz", a found cassette of 14 booty-rap anthems. And I'm anxiously awaiting the upcoming special issue of "Found" that promises to reprint the 40 page letter (!) by the paranoid license-plate woman.

http://www.foundmagazine.com/

Confessions of an Exhibitionist

When I was a child one of the biggest annual events in my life was the Exhibition. It didn't matter that it signalled the end of summer and the start of the school year -- the promise of over priced rides, un-winable games and cotton candy more than made up for it. To my child's mind, there was really nothing more exciting than a fair or Exhibition. And I went to a lot of them, usually with my grandfather, my father and my cousin. I was never really into the scary rides. My favourite memory was a ride that was like a merry-go-round, only instead of horses it was cars and motorcycles. I remember in particular a car with dark green sparkly paint that I loved. I liked to play games too. I don't recall ever winning anything big, but my cousin often did. One year he won a stuffed doll that was a silver robot and it made me crazy jealous.

Later, as a teen, the Exhibition became part of my warped romantic fantasy life. To go to the Exhibition with friends after dark seemed incredibly cool. I suppose it was the crowds and the neon lights and the noise, but for a few hours you could pretend you were somewhere other than the little jerkwater town you were living in. Maybe it was just my first exposure to the seedy underbelly of small town life that seemed dangerously appealing to me. There always seemed to be lots of gruff & unfamiliar faces trudging around in the dark, hordes of teenagers wound-up and hormonal, often itching for a fight, and of course the always suspicious looking "carnies". One year I remember a common prize given out at the games were small mirrors with different heavy metal bands stamped on them. Another year a prize was feathered roach clips. As a grew older, I became more cognizant of how skeezy and over-priced the Exhibition actually was and I stopped going. To this day, I still have vivid memories of the last time I went to the Exhibition as a teen. In my mind's eye, this song is an excellent snapshot of how I kind of remember it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHYt-GKzfF0

Perhaps it's just a sign of changing times, but it seems the Exhibition just isn't as big of a deal as it used to be. Now the fairgrounds are much smaller, it stays in town for only a couple of days and it seems very few people bother to go (myself included). Apparently they don't even charge an admission fee anymore, which indicates a drop in attendance. Maybe the reason is because our society isn't a "rural" as it used to be; the agricultural and livestock exhibits aren't as meaningful to us city folk. Would winning a "blue ribbon" impress anyone you know? And our sense of community just isn't the same as it used to be: no one in the city goes to the Exhibition to socialize with their neighbours. Perhaps another factor is that kids today have a lot more options for entertainment and recreation than when I was a child. Satellite tv, the internet, video games offer distraction that just wasn't available in the past. And I suppose if they're really feeling nostalgic for the midway, most families can take a vacation anytime of the year and visit a theme park for rides and games. Even the junk food that you used to only be able to get at the Exhibition -- cotton candy, pink popcorn, pogos, etc -- can be found year-round in other places. So, it seems that all the things that made the Exhibition special are becoming obsolete.

One of these days, just for old time's sake, I think I'll enter something in an exhibit, just to see if I can win a "blue ribbon".

"Somebody save me"

When did "Smallville" go from being one of the most enjoyable shows on tv to one of the most ridiculous? Admittedly, it's never been great drama, but it's gone from being a guilty pleasure to just plain guilty.

Let's backtrack for a minute, and talk about what made the show so great:

If you're not familiar with "Smallville", the basic premise of the show is it is a "no tights, no flights" story about the early days of Clark Kent living in Smallville, Kansas before he becomes Superman. As the series begins, Clark is an awkward and slightly geeky farm boy who is dealing with the typical adolescent problems (unrequited crush on the girl next door, high school bullies, etc.) when he starts discovering that he's "different" -- actually, he seems to be superhuman. As he explores his powers he confronts his parents and gradually learns of his mysterious origins. According to this interpretation, baby Clark was an alien who landed on earth, bringing with him a "meteor shower" that ravaged the little farm town in Kansas and changed the lives of everyone there. It eventually becomes apparent that a side effect of the "meteor rocks" (kryptonite) is it can mutate anyone who has been exposed to them, so the little town of Smallville has a disproportionate number of freaks. Naturally this all gives Clark an enormous guilt complex, intense feelings of alienation (no pun intended!), a sense of responsibility and of course a new mutant powered villain to fight every week.

The early seasons of the show were, frankly, beautiful. Just as Clark was in the full bloom of youth, every location in Smallville was bursting with lush colourful flowers, cozy pastoral farm scenes, small town life right out of Norman Rockwell and of course attractive young people. Well, plus meteor freaks. Still, there was something so compelling about those early years of the show, regardless of whether you're a comic book geek or not. And if you were familiar with the comic, watching the drama unfold was all the more delicious: how did Clark and Lex Luthor become enemies? How did his romance with Lana Lang start, and why did they break up? When is Clark going to start wearing glasses...?

Of course, "Smallville" was always the type of show that required a HUGE suspension of disbelief. Sometimes it was extremely far-fetched and absurd (the Kent family must own that room in the hospital because one of them was admitted every week!). Sometimes the acting or the writing was bad (whenever the story involved "red kryptonite" it got cringe-worthy!) and the occasional episode could be embarrassing to watch (remember Lana in the vampire sorority?) Again, I admit it was never high drama, but it was great escapist fun. And in it's own way it could be dramatic and touching. Try watching Jonathan Kent's funeral and not feel sad. Perhaps the greatest strength of "Smallville" was in its character development. "Smallville" was the first time I ever considered Superman to be an interesting character: a person with actual flaws, feelings and emotional baggage. And watching Lex Luthor was the "nature VS nurture" debate in motion: was he just born with evil genes, or did years of no one believing in him turn him into a monster? Pretty interesting stuff to attempt in a fluffy teen drama.

As with all shows that drag on long past their "best before" date, "Smallville" changed, and evolved into something very different from how it started. Every season had it's gold and it's dogs. I'm not sure I can exactly pinpoint where the show began to unravel for me. The developers/creative force behind the show, Alfred Gough and Miles Millar, left the series in 2008, hinting around at a struggle to maintain their creative vision of the show. Add to it, both Lex Luthor and his father Lionel (to me, the most interesting characters) were killed off. Clark and friends are all grown up now and working in Metropolis (begging the question, how is it really "Smallville" anymore?). The "no tights, no flights" rule has gone out the window with the introduction of a myriad of DC characters (Green Arrow --in costume-- is now a series regular, and there have been appearances by various others from the long-johns set). Generally, the show seems to have less & less basis in reality every time I see it, and as much I enjoy fantasy I do need some shred of credibility.

"Smallville" season 8 is out on DVD and for the first time in the entire series run I'm not in a great hurry to run out & buy it. (DVD has been my only access to the show, apart from sporadic episodes I've seen at other people's houses). Based on the few snippets I saw of season 8 the show has become more "soap opera" than drama. Still, the nostalgic part of me is ready to plunk down $40 for it because I'd love to recapture that old feeling the series used to give me. Right now, I'm torn... my heart says "yes" but my head knows better!

Perfect!

Yes, We Have No Brains!

I realize that I seem to end up talking about vampires quite frequently on this blog and I'm not really sure why... so let's give some equal time to the current horror flavour of the month: zombies.

Why are zombies so popular? Well, for one thing, they are probably the most "sex, drugs and rock n roll" of all the standard horror monsters. If you don't believe me, just take a close look at some of the legendary guitar gods and you'll see what I mean. Unlike vampires, zombies aren't sexy. They have hard living (and hard dying) written all over them. Their existence is completely from the gut, instinctual and "do as you please". Zombies just do not give a fuck about anything except for one thing: their addiction. Their whole motivation is getting their next fix. And they don't care what kind of abuse they have to suffer to get it. As for the "sex" part, well they're totally into "flesh"... only in their case, they just happen to feed on it.

On the flip side, every zombie story has its hero. The few, or the one, who wades through the mindless mob; the lone fighter in the sea of rotting humanity. Natural selection has given them the uncanny mix of brains, brawn and good luck and they manage to survive. Perhaps we identify with these characters, our feelings of alienation or individualism: "us against them", the age old conflict of man versus society. Or maybe we want to be them. Who doesn't want to be a survivor?

Beyond all that though, I think the real appeal is that at the heart of every zombie story lies a conspiracy theory. For every Raccoon City there has to be an Umbrella Corporation. Who doesn't love a juicy conspiracy theory? Every zombie outbreak can be blamed on the two most obvious perpetrators: big business or science. And who better to blame? It only confirms our suspicions that both are too rich, too powerful, and too secretive. While they play God our lives hang in the balance. Now, wouldn't a zombie outbreak be the ultimate "I told you so!"

Personally, my favourite zombie flick is "28 Days Later". For one thing, the idea of a "rage virus" strikes me as being plausible (in fact, some days I'm convinced I suffer from it myself!). Well, more plausible than waking the dead at any rate! Probably my favourite scene in the movie is when Jim, our survivor, first leaves the hospital and walks through the completely deserted London. The mood is strange and chilling, and probably one of the most effective I've ever seen in a horror film. According to my husband, the scene represents a utopia because there are no people. (He's a misanthropic sort!).

Over the past year or so I've been enjoying a variety of titles in "The Mammoth Book of..." series. These are thick anthologies on specific genres, the ones I get are different genres of comics but they make other titles as well. Admittedly, some of the stories collected therein aren't necessarily the "best" but they do cover a broad, international spectrum. The thing I enjoy most about the Mammoth Book series is that you get a nice sample of writers and artists that you might not have otherwise heard of and some of them are quite good.

In "The Mammoth Book of Zombie Comics" the gem for me was the multi-part "Dead Eyes Open" by Matthew Shepheard and Roy Boney Jr. Apparently the story came out of a failed internet project called DEADIES. This is a zombie story with a twist. Here, the zombies are rational, sentient, multi-faceted characters and the story is rather complex. Without giving away too much, the story creates a society where zombies have become a "race" and like any other minority group must the struggle for their rights and freedoms, rebel against the system and deal with prejudice. And Wil Wheaton is a character in it. Seriously. Check it out sometime.

In closing, a prediction: The next big thing will be werewolves. You've heard it here first.

In other news

This has been another crazy busy couple of weeks. I've been working longer hours and by the time I get home I am just ready to crash. So, once again I'm making excuses for not writing any new articles. Hopefully I'll have some new reviews soon. I've been reading some interesting things that I'm going to share later. In the meantime, here are some more random snippets of news, observations and free-floating hostility.

The loser cruiser. I've started commuting to and from work on the bus and I'm absolutely loving it. It gives me a good 30 minutes in the morning and again at the end of the day to unwind, listen to music, stare out the window. The walk home from my stop takes another 10 or 15 minutes, so I feel it gives me a bit more exercise too. Not sure how much I'll like it come winter but right now it is great. When I'm on the bus, I feel like I'm doing a good thing and besides, I really don't care to drive as much as I used to. I'm gradually freeing myself from the slavery of the automobile. My mind wanders on the bus too. I look around at the other people, these commuters all going off to fulfill their designated roles in society and I start to question my own place in it. I guess it gets a little deep.

Unfit parent. Today I was mistaken for an unfit mother. And yes, I probably would be if I had any kids. Today I ran into a friend and her 6 month old son. We talked for a while, then she told me she was on her way to the market to meet someone for lunch however, the elevator was out of order so she couldn't get the stroller there via the pedway. As plan B she was going to walk outside but it was teeming rain, so it didn't really seem like an option either. I offered to help out: one of us go up the escalator with the baby, the other with the stroller. Given the choice, naturally I opted to take the stroller. So, off she goes with the baby. I try to take the stroller up the escalator but the wheel base is too wide to fit. Of course, a small line starts to form behind me. I'd rather carry it up the stairs but it's a big, awkward stroller, too unwieldy for one person to carry. Thinking that I'm some helpless mother all by myself, some good Samaritan offers to help me carry it up the stairs, so she grabs the front and up we go. She quickly notices that the stroller is empty. "Where's the baby?" she asks. Seeing my friend coming back down the escalator I reply "Probably right behind us." The lady looks. "I don't see any baby...?" To which I reply: "Oh. Then I don't know." She gives me a slightly horrified look. At this point, she's probably thinking that, at best, I'm some crazy lady pushing around an empty baby carriage and at worst, that I've neglectfully let my toddler wander off into a crowd of strangers to be abducted. A quick glance around I see my friend's lunch date over in the corner holding the baby. So I did point him out to her.

"Mad about the boy..." My obsession with classic movies continues. I've been revisiting a lot of them in my off-time lately. This week my copy of the "Centennial edition" 2-disc version of "Sunset Boulevard" finally arrived. It is one of my all-time favourites, and watching it again I remembered why. (Note to self: I should blog about the awesomeness of it and film noir generally later.) It was the first time hubby had seen it and frankly I think he was more than a little horrified by it. Now he's finally seen the source of many of my creepy Norma Desmond-isms and jokes about our older woman/younger man relationship that I've been teasing him with for the past 8 years.


















Red thumb? The house has been taking up a lot of my time and energy lately too. Specifically, I am obsessed with improving the backyard and I will not rest until it is done! This is only aggravated by the ridiculous amount of rain we've gotten this summer. I am gagging to stain the deck and fence and plant something in that mud hole back there but the weather will not co-operate so I just can't get at it. When it does stop raining everything is dripping and mucky, and any activity just stirs up the bugs. It's not like I have a "green thumb" or any idea what I'm doing back there... I just know that it's f-ugly and it bothers me. I have a vision in my mind of what I want it to look like. Whether I have the skill to bring it off is doubtful. If any of you out there have any gardening skills or a particular flair for landscaping, please let me know! Last weekend I had a window of 2 hours of sunshine. I went out with my rake and got bitten by a huge mosquito and later, bitten by a spider. I'm still waiting for the proportional strength and web slinging to kick in.

I realize we've been neglectful about inviting people over to see the new place. We don't mean to be rude, we've just been busy. Honestly, it works best when people just invite themselves over! And I've been obsessing that certain things (like the backyard) are not up to standards yet and I'd like people to see them only once they are.

It's a total Disaster!

"There's a moment you know

You're fucked."

- "Totally Fucked" from Spring Awakening

Do you remember the trend of disaster movies from the 1970s? "Airport", "The Poseidon Adventure", "Gray Lady Down", "Earthquake"...the list goes on and on. Usually they featured a large ensemble cast of big name stars, and the plots followed different "threads" of characters that eventually pull together in the end as they all try to survive. I remember seeing quite a few of these movies at the drive-in as a kid. I wonder what was going on in the culture at the time that made these so popular? Did it have something to do with the Cold War? Was there a growing distrust of technology? A fear of mass transportation? Some reason to think "the end is near"? I'll have to bone up on my 70s history. I'd be interested in figuring it out.

The other night I brought out "The Towering Inferno" for our movie date night. Actually, this one was pretty damn good. And despite the inclusion of OJ Simpson, has a great cast. Although surprisingly low celebrity death toll in it. (I certainly didn't expect Fred Astaire to dance his way out of that one!) This movie is such a huge homage to firefighters, I'm frankly surprised that no one in Hollywood attempted to remake this one after 9/11.

In the 90s, there seemed to be a revival of the disaster movie: "Titanic", "Twister", "Armageddon", "Deep Impact" to name a few. People have always been fascinated with tragedy, and the more epic the scale the better. (Notice the introduction of disasters from outer space, so we don't just have Mother Nature or human stupidity to worry about anymore!) Hollywood loves to tap into our fears and paranoias, doesn't it? In the conflict of Man versus Nature we are horribly outmatched. Unlike the 70s disaster movies, these more recent movies seemed to focus on small groups of characters or individuals, rather than the big superstar casts. Looking back, I wonder if it was the fear of Y2K and the anxiety of the impending "end of the world", and the growing awareness of our ecological problems that sparked the interest in disaster movies again?

Similarly, movies and television in the 70s were fascinated by "the Bermuda Triangle". I often recall it as an often used plot device: airplanes mysteriously vanishing into the Bermuda Triangle and the travelers are gone forever. It was the geographical equivalent of oblivion. Whatever happened to that? Has our modern technology finally outwitted the ominous Triangle? Does anything disappear into it anymore? I just don't seem to hear about it as much anymore.

Count Dracula's Secret Ice Lollies

Finally, I feel validated.

For years I've been harping on about the short-lived "Dracula" ice cream bar from the 70s. As I recall they were a purple (grape?) popsicle shell, vanilla ice cream filling and a red jelly type of centre. I only remember having them a couple of times and then they disappeared. Whenever I'd get into one of those "do you remember..."/"whatever happened to..." conversations I'd mention them but no one else could recall them. I was starting to think I'd invented the things!

Not anymore.

As it turns out, they were actually called "Count Dracula's Secret". Whodda thought?

http://cobwebbedroom.blogspot.com/2007/08/count-draculas-secret-ice-lolly-ads.html

Thank you Paul from the Cob Webbed Room, David from the Do You Remember forum for the picture and to Christian, Lawrence and Karyn for helping me finally track it down!

Of course, at the same time I now feel a slight tinge of sadness. Yet another of my life's elusive mysteries solved. Without the seeking, what is left?



Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
The cycles of Heaven in twenty centuries
bring us farther from God and nearer to the Dust.
- T.S. Eliot

Update

Ok, so I haven't forgotten about this blog! I've just been super busy lately but I hope to settle down & write something new soon.

What I will say for now: Home ownership is both satisfying and very tiring! It takes a lot of time and hard work to make a house into your "home".

Lives of Quiet Desperation: In praise of William Holden

"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them."
- Henry David Thoreau

My favourite actor from the golden age of Hollywood is William Holden.

Sure, the man was gorgeous. But beyond that, I've always been drawn to the type of characters he tended to play: the cynical, defeated anti-hero. The man who "could have been" but knows damn well that he never will be. I found this quote by Michael Atkinson, in a piece called "William Holden: A Different Kind of Hero", that sums up his appeal quite nicely:

Holden was 'on the surface one of the Hollywood century’s typical all-purpose leading men, but beneath it [he was] the keeper of poisoned secrets, and a living embodiment of America’s postwar self-doubt and idealistic failure. He seethed with disappointment as a persona, and we all knew what he meant. Holden was the anti-Duke, an avatar of hopelessness, shrouded in the smiling physique of an all-American boyo. For every high school football star turned pot-bellied gym teacher, every prom queen turned food-stamp mom, and every good-hearted B student turned Cracker Barrel waiter, Holden was the walking, talking, growling truth, in a sea of showbiz lies. He always radiated the confidence and physical grace of an Ivy League wunderkind, and his timing and pitch were always perfect. Yet in his voice and eyes lurked a crushed dream."

Like all studio contracted actors of the day, he made a lot of forgettable movies; but when he was great, he was sublime. Perhaps his greatest role was as gigolo Joe Gillis in "Sunset Boulevard"; a shamed man who pays the price for selling out his principles. I always associate him most with Cmdr. Shears, the bitter, self-loathing everyman, torn between his own selfishness and inescapable fate in "The Bridge on the River Kwai". Holden was a master of portraying characters who, either as a result of their own poor choices or by cruel destiny, are painfully aware that they are in a situation from which they can never escape. I have always found this to be a powerful theme.

Random Shuffle

When things get busy in my personal life I tend to have difficulty focusing on anything for very long. Tonight my thoughts are all over the place, so I'll put the blog on "random shuffle" and share a smattering of things that have been occupying my head space as of late.

Flickr. I've been addicted to Flickr for a quite some time. When I first got a Flickr account my intention was to have a place to post my drawings and photos (which I still do). A nice bonus of adding your stuff to Flickr is that total strangers will look at your stuff and often comment on it or even add it as a favourite, which is pretty cool. Getting feedback on your work is always great, especially when it's from an unbiased source. Lately I find myself trolling other people's Flickr sites and discovering a lot of cool stuff along the way. Sure, some people use it as a repository for their boring party photos and such, but you can also find a lot of really interesting creative and artistic work there too. It's great for archival information too. Admittedly, I can waste many hours just creeping around on Flickr.

kijiji. It's a well known & documented fact that I am a cheapskate. I like to bargain hunt and I also like old, retro things. Ok, I have yet to actually buy anything off kijiji... but I check it constantly just in case something I want ever shows up there! With the move into the townhouse brings the need for some new (to me) household items. Right now I'm in the market for bedroom furniture. I want something high quality, in good taste -- and I want to pay next to nothing for it! I realize it is highly unlikely I will ever find anything there... but I've gotta look! After browsing a great number of ads there, I've come to the conclusion that (a) most people have no idea how to use a digital camera (pictures, when provided, are usually blurry and displayed sideways!) and (b) some people don't really give a shit about presentation, or accurately describing their item or even about spelling.

Movies. I've never been what you'd call a "movie buff" but I am slowly getting around to watching some on my "want to see" list. I've been having a weekly "movie date" night with my husband which is a nice change of pace for us. He likes romantic comedies, whereas my taste usually gravitates more toward older classics or rough & tumble escapism so we're enjoying a mix. Usually whatever we can borrow for free is what we end-up watching (... remember what I said about being a cheapskate?) Showing this weekend: "The Wild Bunch", "The Great Escape" and "American Graffiti". Mmmm... young Harrison Ford.... To Flickr!!!

"Heroes" Since this series premiered I've tried to follow it but only caught episodes sporadically. I borrowed season 1 on DVD and am finally watching it in sequence. Liking it a lot so far... although Hiro's childlike goofiness and constant squealing grates on my nerves. Thankfully I really enjoy the rest of the ensemble cast so they're a good buffer! My current favourite series is still "Lost", which gets more deliciously convoluted every episode and I love it. I can't wait for the season 5 DVD to be released so I can re-watch it.

Music. I haven't really been listening to anything new lately. I'm sort of going through a dry period right now where nothing new has captured my attention. I've been listening to Daft Punk "Alive" a lot, and I got a newly remastered double CD of The Smiths a while ago that I'll probably blog about later.

And to shift gears for a moment: Is it just me, or have you noticed an increasing amount of musical plagiarism on top 40 radio these days? The radio plays at my work so I am subjected to it all day long, and it seems every other song uses the music of some hit from the 70s or 80s with new, irrelevant vocals over top? It's like some vapid karaoke. And I have yet to hear any song that has been improved upon in this way -- just the opposite actually-- which begs the question, why bother? What a lazy, obvious cash grab that is! More and more I am learning that pop music really is just for teenagers. A 3 minute pop song is just the aural equivalent of fast food anyway; there comes a point when your tastes change or you just outgrow it and you really can't stomach it anymore. People take their musical taste very personally and seriously (myself included -- I can be as big of a music snob as anyone!) but in the end it just boils down to one thing: ENTERTAINMENT. When I was in high school we had an English assignment where we had to choose a song and prove that it was poetry. Most of the class failed that assignment. (I didn't. I chose the alternate assignment: to do a literary comparison of a song to a specific piece of poetry). Anyway, to me it proved conclusively that no matter how strongly you may feel about it, Bon Jovi or Poison isn't poetry. Rhyming couplets set to a catchy tune does not make art. Anyway, maybe my musical memory is too long. The entire evolution of popular music seems to be the bastardization of something that has already been done. Meh. I think it's just my old fartism setting in.

Tenko

Does anybody else remember this British tv series, "Tenko"?

Several years ago they re-ran this on the Vision tv network on Sunday nights and I became hooked on it. I would love to find this on DVD someday.

If I were to try to describe the premise, it would sound absolutely horrible in a "women in prison" kind of way but actually it was a very engaging and quality drama (in the typical British style). It was wonderfully depressing. Think "Bridge on the River Kwai", only with an all-female cast.

Read a much better description here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tenko_(TV_series)

I can't even find any clips on YouTube except the opening & closing credits and a cheesy fan video. o_O

I seem to have an affinity for stories about imprisonment. Must be something psychological about my own feelings of being trapped in my job, etc!

"Secrets in the Shadows: The Art & Life of Gene Colan" by Tom Field

"Gene's work is like the seam on a black stocking -- a glimpse of it leads you to want to see more, and yet you can't, and you're seduced into looking harder. This has to be played softly; it should never look like it's trying too hard."

- from the introduction by Glen David Gold

When I read the above quote in the introduction to "Secrets in the Shadows: The Art & Life of Gene Colan" I realized why I have always been attracted to Colan's artwork. In the overly exaggerated 4 colour world of comic book art where the standard was set by the bold, forceful graphics of Jack Kirby, and later evolved into the more aggressive, "in your face" styles of hotshot artists like Rob Liefeld or Todd McFarland, Gene Colan stands apart with his subtle, atmospheric tones and the soft interplay of light and shadows. It is often said that a great storyteller won't just "show you" what's going on but rather draw you into their world. This is the source of Gene Colan's greatness. And he doesn't beat you over the head with it! His pencils can convey so much through mood and impression; whether it is the mysterious astral plane of Doctor Strange or down foggy alleyways in search of Dracula, Colan's art can give you a wonderfully disoriented and decidedly creepy feeling!


As I've mentioned before, I tend to shy away from biographies... but I will read them when they lean more toward an insightful career retrospective. "Secrets in the Shadows" is a terrific example of this. Sure, a significant chunk of the opening part of the book is biography but even it is supplemented by lots of early artwork and meaningful anecdotes. Fields presents a delightful contrast, introducing us to an extremely timid and fretful boy -- afraid of the dark, the dead, and even afraid of an antique chair! -- who became the man whose name would be forever linked with one of the most evil characters in all of horror. Without dallying too long, the book gives us a quick but succinct account of Colan's early days in the military and as a young artist in the burgeoning comics industry in the 50s and 60s. Then we get to the reason we all came to the party: his work at Marvel.

The real "prize inside" of the book are the chapters "in conversation" with Colan and his greatest collaborators: Stan Lee, Tom Palmer, Steve Gerber, and his wife, Adrienne Colan. Here you get a glimpse of "Gentleman Gene" and the people who understood his talent and helped to bring out the best in his work. Until I read this book, I guess I never realized how misunderstood and under appreciated Colan's art is, and how viciously maligned it was by a few well known comic creators. (Suffice to say I lost a lot of respect for John Byrne after reading this book!) The book also includes a fun little experiment wherein different artists (including Byrne!) attempt to ink over Colan's pencils, showing what a difficult task that can be, surely giving fans a renewed appreciation for the skills of Tom Palmer! One piece in the book that I found particularly interesting shows the same scene from "Stewart the Rat" done by artist Tom Sutton and as done by Colan, effectivley illustrating the difference in pacing and storytelling technique.

Whether you're a fan or a detractor of Colan's art, "Secrets in the Shadows" will help you gain a greater appreciation of his unique style. There's really no secret as to which camp I belong... and this seems like a good time to show off a piece from my personal collection: a Gene Colan original featuring Dr Strange vs Dracula!

Deja Viewing

Truly this is the age when everything old is new again.

Personally, I've never been a fan of Hollywood remakes, revisionings, prequels, too long overdue sequels and so on. It's been my experience that these types of projects just fail to capture the creativity and spirit of the originals. Being "original" is what made things so great in the first place: they were new, unique, fresh, not pale imitations or wannabes. Sometimes remakes just miss the point completely and end up a bungled mess (looking at you here, "The Avengers" movie!) Often, part of what made classics so great were an "x factor" that really can't be recaptured: their success was driven by the personality or performance of a particular actor/actress, or it was "of an era" where the series came around at exactly the right time & just successfully captured the cultural zeitgeist of its day.

This year in particular seems to be the year when Hollywood is revisiting a lot of the staples of my pop culture diet, trying to cash-in on the series I have enjoyed the most from the past. Part of me gives the entertainment industry the benefit of the doubt & thinks they are just tapping into our collective sense of nostalgia & trying to rekindle the old flames. Still, I can't help but wonder if they're just completely bankrupt of ideas and have to rehash what's already been done. After all, using a premise that's already written & is already familiar to the viewing public seems like a quick and easy way to work.

Just this year there have been several "remakes" of my favourite tv series or books that have been released or announced:

Watchmen live action movie (2 thumbs way down from me on that one! I highly recommend watching the "motion comic" instead.)

Star Trek original series "elseworlds" movie (Which we've already seen & I discussed here previously.)

V a new mini-series on ABC

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQoSCEMzJYE

The Prisoner a new mini-series from AMC starring Sir Ian McKellan & Jim Caviezel

http://www.amctv.com/originals/the-prisoner/

The Lone Ranger a movie from Disney starring Johnny Depp as Tonto

http://www.lonerangerfanclub.com/newlonerangermovie.html

Jonah Hex a live action movie starring Josh Brolin

http://movies.ign.com/articles/807/807581p1.html

All I can say is best of luck... I mean, can you really picture anyone else but Clayton Moore as the Lone Ranger? Or The Village without Patrick McGoohan as Number 6, who also masterminded the entire series? Those actors are synonymous with those roles and the success of the series hinged on their creative input. Also, now that the Cold War is over and done, do audiences really have the appetite for the grand resistance story that was "V"? It certainly didn't work for the Watchmen movie. And as much as I love a good western, are frontier stories as relevant now as in the heyday of the space race?

Admittedly, I realize that my tastes are not always compatible with the majority of the viewing public (for example: I love classic Dr. Who but despise the wildly popular new series!) so naturally take my opinion with a grain of salt.

(Lest we forget... as much as we'd like to!)

The great purge of '09

"Have you noticed that their stuff is 'shit' and your shit is 'stuff'? God! And you say, 'Get that shit offa there and let me put my stuff down!'"
- George Carlin

I'd like to think that I'm not a particularly materialistic person but I suppose like everyone I seem to own my fair share of "stuff". Well, ok, a lot of it is actually "shit". I like to harangue my husband for being a pack rat but I guess I must share some of the blame for the current state of our messy nest.

Honestly, I really hate the idea of owning things. I prefer to keep my assets "liquid" (I'm a notorious tightwad!) Physically, I need free, open space. My parents often like to say that "things tie you down" and it is true in many ways. The very ownership of "stuff" requires a certain amount of responsibility (ie, paying for it, maintaining it, protecting it, etc) which can be a bit onerous (...pardon the pun!). For better or for worse, having possessions also keeps you grounded in one place (like George Carlin says, "A house is just a pile of stuff with a cover on it.") making it much more difficult to just pick up and move freely whenever or wherever you choose. And of course, "stuff" can easily turn into clutter... and that's probably my biggest problem with it. What starts out as harmless purchases here and there can quickly turn into "Jenga"-like precariously stacked piles... the ugly mass of over consumption. Stuff can be a cancer that just spreads over your life if you let it. And inevitably the morbid side of my personality can't help but wonder what's the good of owning all these things -- in the end where will it get me and anyway who wants to sift through all this crap when I'm gone? I really feel that material possessions can be a huge burden on my life.

Every now and then I've just got to purge.

My biggest fetish seems to be paper. Books, comics, stationary, art supplies, photographs... these are probably my greatest sources of clutter. These are things I constantly buy and even by "consuming" them doesn't make them go away: sketches & writings are kept for posterity; books that I've read I'll hang onto for reference; photos have obvious sentimental and historical value. It's really hard to get rid of these things! Usually I don't have any problem divesting myself of material things. I am happy to free up the space in my life and happier still if I can give the items to charity or to someone who could use them. Still, paper seems to be my clutter drug of choice.

This week I have launched a crusade against clutter. We've tackled the bookshelves and our old trading card games, weeding out the collection of excess or unwanted items. I think we could have dug deeper and gotten rid of more than we have -- husband fought me on a few things -- but it's a start anyway.

They say you've got to choose the hill you want to die on... I just hope mine is not a pile of clutter!

Star Trek

It's no secret to anyone who knows me that I'm an "old school" Trekkie.

No, I don't just mean that I've been a fan for a long time. I mean I like the original series.

I realize that I'm probably in the minority but I never really cared much for any of the spin off series. When ST:TNG first premiered I was at the height of my Trekkiness, so I watched Picard & all for about 2 seasons then my interest trailed off.

My reasons are simple: For me, Trek is all about the dynamic of the "big 3": Kirk/Spock/McCoy -- and McCoy was always my favourite. (DeForest Kelley had an uncanny way of stealing every scene!) Also, I like action and a straightforward story. Sure, I like a bit of science, a bit of a morality tale and something to think about... but the joy of Trek is watching iconic, archetypal characters playing out in a big space opera. Basically Trek is a Western set in the future: an epic story of wagon trains to the frontier & "cowboys versus Indians". The spin off series seemed so stiff & bland by comparison: everything seemed too cozy & polished and too touchy-feely for my taste. (And, of course I'm a sucker for anything retro so it seems most of my favourite tv series were made in the 60s anyway!)

Needless to say I was a bit leery of the idea of a Trek "prequel". My fear was that the cozy, polished blandness would rub off on my Trek of choice.

So, no spoilers here... All I will say is:

1.) Go see it.
2.) It doesn't taint the "canon" of the original series in any way.
3.) It delivers exactly what you'd expect from the original series: action, straightforward story, and the casting stays true to the original characters.
4.) Karl Urban does a surprisingly decent Dr. McCoy. One step removed from an "imitation" but still manages to be reminiscent -- yet respectful -- of DeForest Kelley.

In short: yes, I liked it. (And I rarely like anything these days!) ;)

Worst. Cliche. Ever.

Here's a hugely over used cliche these days:

"Best. _______. Ever."

This phrase is completely meaningless and it is everywhere lately. It seems to be used mostly in conjunction with something kitschy (e.g., "Best. Shark attack. Ever.") or some tired worn-out internet meme, going hand in hand with Chuck Norris jokes, ninjas and pirates or poking fun of 80s hair band videos. And the people who say it tend to say it all the time... about everything.

Presumably this is just the thing to say when you absolutely must chime-in on a message board but have nothing of value to say and apparently no actual opinion whatsoever. I've noticed it crossing over into "mainstream" media such as magazines lately too (eg., "Lost: Best TV Show Ever"). Maybe they think hyperbole is a way to create a hip, attention getting headline. In reality this is as cliche as "Not!" was in the 90s. This is lazy, slack-assed sarcasm that passes for wit on Twitter or Facebook and it's hard to believe someone in the "legitimate" media would deem it fit to print. It's meaningless. To quote "Napoleon Dynamite":

Napoleon: "This is pretty much the worst video ever made."
Kip: "Napoleon, like anyone could even know that."

Which leads me to the second part of this rant: Another thing I've noticed in magazines (and even on tv) more and more is "lists". This is another completely lazy piece of filler that should be saved for the internet not for anything that is for sale. "The 50 Most Beautiful People in Hollywood"; "Top Ten Greatest Science Fiction Movies of All Time"; "One Hundred Books You Must Read Before You Die". According to whom?

All opinion is completely subjective -- that's its very definition. So, should I really care that some nameless staff writer prefers product A over product B? Furthermore is that worth shelling out the cover price to read it? Opinion and editorial have their place in the media -- of course! -- but these "best of" lists are the type of thing that should be saved for a blog. Even so: this is my blog, but would you really care to see me randomly itemize things I like into numerical order of preference? Unless you have some personal interest in the author, it makes for a very boring read! And again, it's all just opinion: there's rarely any "justification" in these lists. What's the criteria of "best"? Does "best" equal most popular? Most publicized? Earned the most money? Is the actress who is in the current top grossing movie somehow more beautiful than one who is not? Is something "better" if it is part of the current pop culture zeitgeist than something older or overlooked?

What's the standard? Whose standard? Why should we care? Do we really need someone to tell us what we should like? It's all personal preference and it's just that; personal. Or, do these lists exist just to justify our preferences and flatter our egos: I am right to like what I like because a magazine says it is good. Are we that unsure of ourselves that we need "best of" lists to reassure us that our tastes are somehow superior?

That's probably the Worst. Idea. Ever.