The Awkward Unicorn

New Years Resolution

2012-01-06T15:08:00.001-08:00

I decided my resolution this year is to actually write on this blog more. Seeing that it's already January 6th, it's about time I finally made due.

Last night Beth was trying to figure out how to have her hair cut, and being as technically savvy as she is, she found a "virtual makeover" program on Elle Magazine's Website. Considering that my other resolution is to be more active with my wife's interests I decided to support her in doing it myself.

Hence this little doozy featuring myself with Sarah Jessica Parker's hair:

Not unlike Fabio actually. Except with less eye-liner.

Shortly after showing this to Beth she was kind enough to inform me that I take enough of an interest as it is, probably too much of an interest, and she recommended I delete any evidence of this lest it would appear on the internet, specifically this blog where I'm posting it now. Happy New Year Everybody.

Felicity and Time Travel

2011-11-29T23:41:00.000-08:00

Well, it finally happened. Beth and I finished watching the entire series of Felicity. Now before you silently judge us, in Beth's defense and my shameful, shameful, guilt, it was actually my second time through. What can I say? I was a freshman in college and had a lot of things to figure out, and I also liked to have a reason to skip class. Any reason.

"It's lunchtime and Yo Momma's on again? ...Who needs Theology anyways."

If you don't know what Felicity is about, it's basically a girl who goes to college for four years, works at Dean and Deluca, and repeatedly breaks up and gets back together with the same two people over and over again. If you're wondering how a group of guys I knew in college were watching this show, one possible reason is that I knew a lot of closeted gay people back then, the other reason is that J.J. Abrams helped create it. That's not to say the show is filled with smoke monsters and polar bears, but there is a lot of drama and at some point somebody gets hit by a bus.

I should also mention that Matt Reeves, the maker of one of the best movies ever made, also worked on the show.

The problem with Felicity, I realized, is that the show apparently kept going way longer than I actually thought it did. Whereas whatever I watched took up about two weeks of classes, Felicity on Netflix can take up to a month. Each episode is an hour long, with twenty four episodes to each season, and each season spanning a year in Felicity's life. Essentially, I felt like I was at college all over again, and it was still a long, excruciatingly dramatic experience, with a few exciting moments thrown in where somebody gets hit by a bus.

I was surprised to discover that at some point towards the end of the series the show still had four episodes left after every single loose thread was already tied up. At this point I assume J.J. Abrams took back the helm and did what he only knows best, which of course was add time travel. So spoiler alert people: Felicity travels through time. Just like Urkel did at some point in Family Matters, with the the obvious exception being that Urkel did all sorts of crazy crap and Felicity was based in the real world where people went to school and worked all day at Dean and Deluca to pay off student loans.

Now anyone who knows me can say that I'm a huge fan of anything related to time travel, and am certainly willing to fit it into any show, especially if it involves robots of some sort. But here I had a problem. As opposed to doing something important in the past, like make tons of money and actually go to classes instead of watching reruns of Yo Momma on MTV, Felicity instead chooses to do exactly what she did before and repeatedly break up and get back together with the same two people over and over again until she screws with the space-time continuum enough to start killing people on accident. This could have been cool, but instead is just confusing because, again, the show wasn't Family Matters and Felicity isn't able to drink a potion and become Cool Urkel Stefan.

"Yo Mamma's a cool Urkel -OOOOH! You just won cash moneee!"

Not that it ruined the show or anything. I still have fond memories of watching Felicity in a dorm that reeked of mildewed ramen noodles, and enjoyed seeing it a second time in my new room which pretty much smells the same sometimes. Now that it's over, it's time to move on and see what else Netflix has in store, which I really hope isn't Family Matters. I guess moving on is really what Felicity was all about.

Melancholia - Movie Review

2011-11-21T22:15:00.001-08:00

Melancholia
*****

Split Melancholia in half and you have the beginning of a rather slow chick flick and the conclusion of the best science-fiction guy-movie you'll ever see. As one who would kind of like to see if Mr. Darcy is about to be consumed by a giant planet, such a premise fascinates me.

"M'Lady, I do believe we're screwed... Shall we retire to the rumpus room?"

Part one begins with the wedding of Justine to Michael (played by Kirsten Dunst and Alexander Skarsgård, respectively, otherwise there would be a man in the bridal gown which belongs in a different kind of art film altogether). It's unsure to say how much of their relationship was based upon mutual feelings or economical factors, even though everyone appears to be wealthy. Although they do seem to have their fun beforehand, things soon turn sour once they reach the mansion. Amidst Justine's quarreling parents who were previously divorced, Justine's anxious sister Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg), and obscure business dealings, the marriage itself becomes background noise. The relationships are rather complex, and they're not made easy to define. It's a kind of confusion that works though. Justine wonders how she got there herself, and her subsequent choices define the darkness that she enters. Meanwhile, far above them, a distant star is giving it's last breath.

Part two takes place some time later in the future, when the wedding is a faint memory obscured by Justine's profound sadness. She mopes around the mansion as her sister Claire attempts to care for her, despite distinct distain from the both of them. They are brought together by an approaching blue planet named Melancholia, which is expected to graze Earth's path and then wander off. It's expected to because who would imagine that it wouldn't? Claire's husband (Keifer Sutherland) is sure it won't, which comes as a comfort to Claire, at least for a little while.

Depression is something that we see as a weakness, something to be cured. The film is in two parts to show us a perspective from the other end of the spectrum. Happiness can come with overbearing weights of expectation, while depression can offer that freedom that comes when there is nothing left to lose. In one part, one is strong, in the other, one is weak. It's strange how in the face of the ending of the world neither of them change all that much, but it's interesting in how they come to understand that. This is one of the most beautiful films I've seen, both in the way it is composed, and in the way it makes you feel. You're left with that feeling for a long time, and even if you don't necessarily like it I guarantee that you'll be thinking about it for a long time to come. See it.

Say Meow Again - A Journal Entry From Little Zack

2011-11-13T17:11:00.000-08:00

When I was little my family did a lot of traveling. One year in particular we had journeyed to France, England, and (what some may consider to be less exciting) the mid northeast of the United States. Fortunately much of this was chronicled through daily journal entries. I seemed to enjoy writing mostly about what I ate each day, which appears to be numerous meals at Mc Donald's. It was a magical time.

This entry I found is particularly amusing and involves my cat Furball, who liked to make a dramatic display whenever we were about to leave. I should note, it has the best ending line ever. I think I might use it more often.

Here is the entry nicely typed (typos included):

"Columbus, Ohio

11/18/1996

A few days ago I went to Maryland, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and Ohio. We got a late start because my cat was up a tree. My whole family was going crazy! First my dad tryed to get her down by a hose of water. It shot up like a bullet except the cat went higher. Then my mom tide a string to the cats muffy mouse. My mom started saying see see mouse yea. But it didn't work. Then my sister started meowing. She went Meowwww. Then the cat came one step down. Meow again said my mom. My sister went meow. It didint work. No it was Meoww said my mom. Evry one went in side because it was the first snow of the season. Then the cat got lonely. evrybody was looking at the top of the tree throug the window. No whan could see the cat up the tree. But evry one thoght that the Cat was hideing behind the branches. I looked at the ground then I saw a cat hiding in the snow on the ground. evry one else was looking at the top of the tree. I said to them look the cat is on the grouned then evry one bursted out of the house. when they got the cat they fed her balone."

How To Make A Costume For Free And Go To A Weird Party

2011-11-07T23:06:00.000-08:00

There are years when you'll spent countless hours perfecting your Halloween costume to elaborately capture your style, sense of humor, and vast knowledge of internet memes. And then there are years where you end up looking like this:

Most of what we have here are remnants of old costumes Beth's parents had stacked in the garage. Some I suspect for their animals.

Our dear friend Trevor was visiting from LA and decided to stop by after kicking back a few brooskies with his old man. Did I spell brooskies right? In any case, he was in the mood to find some authentic Visalia Halloween parties to go to, and realizing that we're never invited to any said Halloween parties, we decided to crash one that our friend was invited to while wearing disguises.

I'm fairly certain Trevor's costume is just an alternate reality version of Trevor, with some homeless/rockstar/Hagrid from Harry Potter thrown in there too. I meanwhile am a little bit more of a mystery, but Trevor and Beth noted that I'd fit in pretty well in some of the weirder scenes of the movie Eyes Wide Shut.

I think Beth stole the show though as a rebellious cross-dressing Amish person.

The party we attended turned out to be somewhat more disturbing than our costumes. Upon arrival we were met with blazing music, and I have no memory what the house looked like from the outside due to the fact that the lion mask I was wearing is carved from wood and has extremely small eye holes.

Once I had removed it I realized Trevor was missing, which was odd because we had literally been inside for no more than five seconds.

Stranded in the foyer we could only stand awkwardly silent while people asked who we were.

Luckily we found our friends who were waiting in the backyard. Their Dr. Who costumes showed a certain amount of time and effort our costumes clearly lacked, and yet, I'm still proud of us.

Eventually we were reunited with Trevor who admitted to making a straight b-line towards wherever he could find alcohol. His reasoning was that he was going to get a free drink or two before anyone kicked us out. And if that doesn't describe Trevor then maybe this picture will:

It's kind of why we love him.

Abandoning Trevor to his punchbowl of orange-flavored liquor, we left with our friends to a quieter porch in a different part of town, where we could make chit-chat without having to stare at a random guy who passed out on a lawn chair. Overall, I would say it was a success.

And so I leave you with a festive pumpkin I modeled after our cat who keeps peeing in the shower.

Happy Fall Everyone!

A Little Bit Of Spray Paint Art

2011-10-24T14:39:00.001-07:00

One day while I was over at Max's he showed me his ways of making spray-paint stencils. Although I still didn't really know what I was doing, I did manage to make what I have below. Beth thought that her resemblance to Cleopatra was a bit unsettling, and I think that's why I like it best.

Dinah: Defender of the Cat Door

2011-10-23T23:15:00.000-07:00

YOU SHALL NOT PASS.

Adventures In Portland

2011-10-23T22:13:00.000-07:00

My trip to Portland began with the purpose of a job interview and gradually evolved into making Halloween decorations with my brother-in-law John. One thing I know about the guy is that he's a very accomplished conversationalist and is capable of speaking on an expansive range of topics covering anything between the film "Dude Where's My Car?", the social life of lumberjacks, and even the sordid history of a local restaurant-turned-porno-shop.

"You know why it's called the One-Eyed Cobra, right??" He said laughing, as he drove me from the train station, along with his mother in the front seat next to him.

After a 17 hour train ride and a case of overwhelming allergies, I wondered if anything I was experiencing was real. When I found myself stuffing a clown suit with plastic bags, I accepted the random nature of this strange new universe.

John has always makes a personal goal to top whatever seasonal decorations he had on his front lawn the previous year, much in the same way he monthly tops his voicemail message with a new theme. When I first approached the house it was guarded by a group of ominous black shrouded creatures creatively fashioned out of trash bags and wire. There were at least two disembodied hands and feet within eye-sight at all times, either laying on a grave or hanging in a tree.

"The goal is to literally scare the piss out all the little kids in the neighborhood," he told me.

The clown suit I was stuffing was a costume John had purchased on sale but realized was one size too small. Being resourceful, John makes use of whatever materials he has around. Even christmas lights came in handy for turning his shrub into a giant jack-o-lantern. His plan for the clown was to have it hanging from a noose over his driveway.

I traced an old pair of John's boots on a large piece of foam he had refused to recycle for this specific purpose. Surprisingly I didn't need to exaggerate much, and he cut them out and spray-painted them green for the clown's feet. Then we got to work on the head, which was a repurposed plastic skull we covered in painted duct-tape to imitate flesh.

While we did this he told me stories of "Uncle Sam," a Special Forces Marine who lived before there was such a thing as a "Special Forces Marine." His accomplishments included diving into a frozen lake to retrieve a dead body, locking a drunken wife-beater in the trunk of his car, and again locking a bartender in his own freezer so that his underage boys could have a drink. Such a legacy.

My job interview hadn't gone great, mostly because it wasn't much of an interview. Despite my attempts to arrange a meeting in advance there was no one for me to really meet with and I was told they wouldn't be hiring a new batch of employees until the next month, or possibly next year. I did, on the other hand, get a few free cups of coffee, which was a nice consolation prize.

Feeling the need to accomplish something on the trip, I applied to a Good Will store for a shift supervisor position, which I didn't expect to do but found myself feeling good about.

Before my trip back I spent the morning watching John tie a rope to a bottle and repeatedly attempt to throw it over a tree branch without damaging any of the cars in the driveway, which proved to be quite a challenge. He lovingly named the clown "Herpes" and hoisted it up into the air, it's decrepit face grinning to all who pass it, or look out their second floor window.

Whether he's telling you about his old foul-mouthed co-workers by the docks, biker gangs in Montana, or Elvira: Mistress of the Dark, John always seems to have a topic to wear the hours the away. I felt as though I was quiet for most of the trip, but with John around not much needs to be said. Uncle Sam has his own stories, but it's a guy like John who people want to talk about. Now I have some stories of my own.

Boxcar Children

2011-10-22T06:28:00.000-07:00

If there's one thing I've learned from taking the train it's that I never need to talk to anyone ever again. If I'm there, people will talk to me. Take for instance my seat companion Tumbleweed, a very nice self-identified hippie from California who hopes she'll be reincarnated as a house cat someday.

"You know what raccoons really like to eat," She said, "corn. They love the munchies."

This, for once, was a conversation I was actually very much interested in.

Tumbleweed was traveling from Eugene and Portland after visiting friends and family. I'm not really sure who was friends and who was family because everyone was referred to as brothers and sisters. Knowing that this in turn made me a brother was kind of cool. I once tried calling people this for a week in college after watching a bunch of LOST episodes with that Australian guy, but sadly could never pull it off.

"I just got back from my sister's place." Tumbleweed told me, speaking very quickly. "Man, I couldn't get out of there faster, you know she ditched me at the bar last night? Yeah, just hopped in a car with a bunch of guys. Her fiance's gonna be pissed. I was pissed too, some girl bought a nugget from me last night for 20 dollars and this morning I realized it was a one dollar bill."

As the conversation turned to this I began to realize that people are really very complicated. Or at least their lives are complicated. They themselves are just happy if you listen about how complicated their lives are. Take for instance the sweet elderly man who told me about his extended family.

"My son, I just don't know what his problem is. He has all sorts of issues." He told me. "And he's a psychologist so you'd figure he'd be able to fix it himself."

Then other things are just downright scary. I was exiting the train in Sacramento and watched a young black girl run screaming out the doors. She and her apparent boyfriend were running in circles, and I wasn't sure it was some sort of weird game until he outright punched her onto the curb. Once the security guards swarmed I was told by another passenger that it was an argument over a cellphone. I spent the rest of the time waiting for the next train in the brightest lit area possible. Had I still had my car keys they would've been poised and ready in case I needed to defend myself. Somewhere deep within me I hoped I had absorbed some knowledge from the self-defense segments on Nate Berkus.

For the most part though people just want to get along. I was sitting in the lounge car when a woman started praising the Bloody Mary's Amtrack serves in the cafe.

"The forest is so pretty!' She said, "It's a real shame those people out there are spoiling it with their above-ground pools."

In a way, I had to agree.

"I'm not a hippie," She sang, "I'm just trying to adjust."

I'm not really sure what that one meant, but it sounded interesting.

"I can't wait to get off this train and self-medicate." She continued.

I smiled, nodded, and put on my headphones although my ipod had run out of battery long ago.

Once she had enough she retired to her seat, but meanwhile, outside the window, rolling fog revealed trees, rivers, mountains, through tunnels and over bridges, against cliff walls and under boulders, and just kept moving until someone else took my place. I'm sure whoever it was had something else to say as well.

Travels With Furball

2011-10-11T13:32:00.000-07:00

The first airport security guard to stop us was a friendly older gentleman who wanted to make sure we weren't trying to take too many carry-on bags with us to the gate. I pointed out that our extra bag was actually carrying my cat.

"Oh my!" He said happily, "and what's it's name?"

"This is Furball."

"Herb-all! Well it's a pleasure to meet you Herball!"

"...Right."

He bent down to look Furball in the eyes but she was too busy quickly whipping her head from side to side to see the crowd of people walking through massive x-ray machines and putting bags onto small conveyor belts.

"Now I do notice that Herball here isn't asleep." He said.

"Yeah, she's pretty old so we weren't sure if it would be a good idea to drug her up." Furball has been my cat since the 3rd or 4th grade. I'm 24 now and am unfortunately too lazy to figure out how old that actually makes her, but her papers say 13. How exactly veterinarians figure out cat ages is a mystery to me, but my wife thinks it probably has something to do with rings around the tail.

"Well good luck Herball!" The old man said.

We continued through the line until we got to the next security checkpoint, at which the man checking our tickets immediately started to sneeze.

"We have a cat with us," I said. "How exactly does this work?"

The man continued sneezing and said, "Well that explains it." Blowing his nose he continued, "You'll have to take her out of the carrier and walk through."

This terrified me.

Furball has become notorious throughout my family as the cat that likes to scratch everything, especially faces, mostly children's faces actually. How exactly this ancient cat would react to a strange world of loud noises, x-ray machines, and massive flying machines was something I wasn't eager to discover.

We walked up to the next line. I was stopped by another security guard and I leveled with him.

"So the Turkey hasn't really kicked in yet," I said, "And honestly, this cat has really sharp claws. Can I just send her through the x-ray machine anyways?" Secretly I just really wanted to see the image of a deranged cat skeleton show up on the tv screen.

"You could, but I'm not sure if it would come out the other side." The man replied. "That said, I ain't chasing after no cat."

I sighed, shook my head, and after taking off my shoes and belt, I started to unzip the cat carrier.

She definitely didn't want to come out, and immediately upon being released she dug all of her claws deep into my shirt.

"Yeeeesh!" The security guard said, suddenly backing away.

Furball has over the years lost small patches of hair leaving her at times looking like a wild animal. I imagine walking through security in bare feet, sagging pants, wearing a ragged shirt, while carrying a very scared animal, that I looked somewhat like a refugee. How nobody threw spare change at me is a mystery.

Luckily, despite a few minor scratches, we made it through, and Furball was more than happy to hop back into the carrier once again.

The entire flight went without any major incidents, mostly because the sounds of a baby crying and a scared cat are oddly similar. The Indian man next to me didn't even realize he was sitting next to an animal until we were about to land.

Now Furball is officially a California cat, and no matter what, has lived to see both coasts of America (which I consider to be a major achievement for a feline). Who knows where her adventures will take her next, especially considering she has already ventured underneath a pile of firewood in the backyard where I had to struggle to get her out. It's nice having her around, and I wonder what she must think of grown-up Zachary and his strange world of airplanes and dogs and other cats, but I think she likes it. She definitely likes it better than being called Herball.

One of those faces

2011-09-18T17:17:00.000-07:00

Beth and I had spent the long weekend dog-sitting in Los Angeles and decided that we should take a short break to visit our friend Jehoaddan. She, along with her husband, had just purchased a quaint house in Highland Park and was in the process of moving. After a quick tour the three us began to walk back to her apartment. It was then that a car pulled up behind us and someone from the front seat yelled “Hey!”

My initial reaction when someone does this in Los Angeles is to curl up in the fetal position, in the same manner you would during a grizzly attack, a tornado, or a marathon of What Not To Wear. In this instance the "Hey" was so friendly that we turned around and smiled. We discovered that the greeting came from a young man wearing glasses sitting in the passenger seat of a car, with a girl next to him as the driver.

Immediately I recognized him as my friend Thatcher, who I once shared a bathroom with during my freshman year in college and had since never really had a meaningful conversation with. Probably because of said bathroom. The fact that we both had to hear each other doing our business while studying kind of put a damper on things. Still, knowing he had recognized me made me feel somewhat special, so I responded enthusiastically “HEY!! How’s it going?!”

“Hey,” he replied, "um, it's going good."

Oh Thatcher, I thought fondly, always so awkward. That guy is high-larious.

“Good to see ya!!!!” I said back, waving enthusiastically.

“Hi!” Beth chimed in, also recognizing him as her friend from Visalia.

Then Jehoaddan, with a slightly perplexed look, came forward and said, “These are my friends Zack and Beth.”

Suddenly I realized that this guy wasn’t in fact my friend Thatcher, but actually somebody who I had never met before in my entire life and now was probably trying to figure out, at that same moment, how he could have possibly known me. Did we run into each other once at a bar? Were we in the same homeroom in high school? A neighbor perhaps? Good thing I didn't mention we shared a bathroom.

The guy smiled, nodded, and sat quietly for a moment while deeply in thought, before slightly shrugging and following it up with, “Well I'll see you later!”

The girl in the drivers seat promptly drove off.

Jehoaddan turned to me and asked, “Did you meet him at our wedding?”

For a moment I considered saying yes, just to spare us all the embarrassment, but realizing that I didn't actually go to their wedding, I bit my lower lip and admitted, “No. I have no idea who that guy is."

"Really?" She said. "But you seemed so friendly."

Beth too gave me a perplexed look.

Suddenly I realized that in the moment that I said hi, every single person on that street was trying to figure out how exactly anyone knew anybody else, to the point of making up entire false memories. To everyone there, that guy and I already went way back.

"Well, if it makes you feel better," Beth later told me, "He probably thought you were on crack."

Somehow it actually did make me feel better.

I think the next stranger I'm running into is getting a hug.

Song Cover of the Day

2011-08-15T22:23:00.000-07:00

Eef Barzelay, you win every time.

Beth and I actually e-mailed him to attend our wedding. And He actually responded. Our cat Georgie Fruit, in some sort of drunken stupor, almost emailed him back with "BBBBQBNZ," or, barbecue beans for short. Well here he is with a cover of Neutral Milk Hotel's In An Airplane Over the Sea. (via: torre)
Yes.

I Confess

2011-08-13T20:08:00.000-07:00

I got locked in the ghetto scary bathroom at my friend Max's place.

Max recently renovated his garage into an art studio. And by "renovate," I mean it's an art studio even though it still looks like a garage. We've been doing our best to paste a few works of art here and there. I stopped by a few days ago and he had already painted a few masterpieces onto glass including an awesome depiction of a giant octopus and one of Batman with very feminine lips.

What do they mean? I don't know. I'm not a doctor. But they look awesome.

The only problem with Max's art studio is that the closest bathroom is pretty ghetto. By ghetto, I mean, the door lock doesn't work. Myself, being a self diagnosed sufferer of Irritable Bowel Syndrome, suddenly had a need to use the restroom, and yet, didn't realize the whole door-locking problem until I was already finished.

I suddenly found myself in a peculiar five foot wide situation between a locked door and a window with a very snugly fit screen. I momentarily thought about yelling for help, but then realized, "Oh yeah, I'm in the bathroom. The place where everyone goes to defecate." Basically I would be yelling "Please. Help. I defecated and I can't get out."

I hung my head for a moment in shame and then pulled myself together. I would get out of this situation in the least embarrassing way possible.

This of course resulted in me mustering all my strength to remove the screen window and then climb out a rectangle much smaller than my entire body and fall into a patch of shrubs in Max's front yard.

After taking a moment to brush off the dust, I casually looked around to make sure no neighbors had witnessed this, and then walked back into Max's garage from the outside.

I greeted him calmly and realized my plan was a success. I had somehow entered his house through the garage, used the bathroom, and then, miraculously, re-entered through the garage door outside of his home without anyone noticing. Basically, I could have been a time traveler, and no one would have ever known. Awesome.

I pushed the whole experience out of my mind until the next day, when after eating lunch with Max he asked me, "Could you help me unlock the bathroom door behind the garage?"

"Why certainly, my good friend." I replied with an air of convincing ignorance. "Why, whatever could have happened?"

"I dunno, the door somehow got locked shut."

"Ah, what a mystery. Well I guess we'll just have to submit that one to Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction, if you know what I mean. Ah Ha Ha."

"Sure dude." He said.

We shimmied the door and fiddled with the outside lock until it came undone. But then, the evidence of the previous night foiled my thinly veiled secrecy.

"What's the screen doing on the floor?" Max asked.

"Okay," I said, lowering my voice, "I have something to tell you. I got locked in your bathroom last night."

Max, reasonably, laughed in my face. I laughed too, now suddenly understanding that my shame was just as ridiculous as the entire situation.

I put the screen back into place and headed back home. The secret was out, but now we knew, never use the scary bathroom, unless you have a plan.

Skyline - Movie Review

2011-08-13T17:24:00.000-07:00

Skyline
view trailer
***--

At its heart Skyline is a very fun and inventive sci-fi action flick. Unfortunately much of the film is concerned with brains, and as far as character development goes, there isn't a whole lot to be found. Then again, it is an action flick after all, so at least they're trying.

I had a creative writing professor once tell me that if you ever want to make a story far more complicated, make one of the characters pregnant. Skyline understands the concept of this principle with one of the central characters, who starts off the film with morning sickness just before somebody is pull off the balcony by a floating blue light. She, along with her husband, are spending a post-party night at their friends magnificent apartment in LA. It's modern now in the way I imagine modern looked to people in the 80's. That is, everything is run by a remote.

The first ten minutes of this movie don't make a very good impression. First of all, the opening credits appear to have been made by a freshman in college who just figured out how After Effects work. Secondly, everyone looks like they're straight out of a Sci-Fi Channel "made for tv movie." Thirdly, the movie starts off with a flash forward which is really just a cheap method of telling the audience that this is an alien movie even though we see all the same events take place ten minutes later down the line. Start off as a normal movie why don't you?

But get past it. Those are minor gripes that actually, maybe only I have. Skyline has a lot of things that really work. Take for instance a scene featuring an agonizingly slow garage door. Sometimes, what you want to happen faster suddenly starts to happen all too quickly. The film plays well against what you want the characters to do, and seems to find inventive ways to reverse them.

What the film is lacking is a sense of humor about itself. I would have cared for any kind of comic relief. Maybe not Jar Jar Binks, but somebody who would make light of the fact that even though these people are cornered in an apartment by brain eating aliens, at least they're cornered with a supply of energy drinks and alcohol. Honestly, it's not so bad. I would've kicked back a bit and took in the glowing lights with a pair of sunglasses.

All that's left to analyze is the ending, which arrives at a half hour before it should have. The movie was made with a very small budget, so what happened? Did the funds just run out? Did somebody say, "Well, at least we'll have something for the sequel?" As far as length goes, it actually ends at about the right time. But at the last ten minutes I was met with an action film that turned into a really very good sci-fi movie. That leaves me with a pretty lame first ten minutes, and a very good last ten minutes of a movie that actually isn't finished. Well, there are good bits thrown in the middle too, but they are only punctuated by characters interacting with "Well what's your plan HOT SHOT?!" And "You've got a better idea?!" Honestly, the characters themselves with their glossy make-up and carefully disheveled hairdo's were a little alien to begin with; so I guess there's not much to worry about if some interstellar beings take their place.

With all that said, for a relatively small film (made roughly for 10 million) there is an abundance of great special effects that work due to some very well written and edited scenes. It's made for the sole purpose to entertain, and to entertain without getting an R-Rating, and to make money, so I think it's a success. Good for them. This isn't really a movie though. This is a great television pilot. Since it's for free on Netflix, I recommend tuning in.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes - Movie Review

2011-08-11T19:50:00.000-07:00

Rise of the Planet of the Apes
view trailer
**---

Let's face it. No one reads Curious George to see what's going on with the Man In The Yellow Hat. They want to know about that crazy monkey who does his shenanigans, gets into trouble, but comes out fine in the end. Well here we have Rise of the Planet of the Apes, an apparent prequel to Planet of the Apes which was an adaptation of the French Novel "La Planète des singes," or rather "Monkey Planet." I guess there really isn't anything new under the sun.

Well, Rise of the Monkey Planet begins and plays out much like the first ten minutes of a zombie movie, but for roughly an hour and a half. It involves a bio technology that works better than expected (at least where chimps are involved) and then mankind gets to reap the benefits. This occurs first hand with Will Rodman (played by James Franco) who presents his cure for Alzheimers while a mother ape goes bananas in the lobby and breaks through the futuristic glass computer screen in the meeting room. We all know a meeting like this would take place with boring PowerPoint presentations, but I guess if it's realism we're looking for we're in the wrong theater. Needless to say, things don't pan out well for the investors, but Will at least gets to take home a consolation prize in the form of mother ape's baby. The baby ape soon meets Will's deteriorating grandfather (John Lithgow, in a role much less scary than what you've seen in Dexter or Blow Out) who names him Caesar.

Well, all hail Caesar, king of the apes and king of the actors. Caesar is played by Andy Serkis, who reprises his role as King Kong in a more sizable fashion, and who most people remember as Gollum from Lord of the Rings. Here he's in his element, and so are the special effects. Yes, it may be too reminiscent of Jumanji at times, but the film manages to find the particulars about the way that apes move and make them integral to the plot. Zombies might move fast these days, but you don't see them swinging from the trees.

The movie doesn't always work. The humans are never quite as entertaining as the monkeys. As far as this working as a reboot of a series, the script squeezes in some sort of mentioning of a mission to Mars, which I guess includes Charlton Heston on the ship. There's the peculiar feeling that not as much happens as there could have, and the strange feeling that James Franco's character is doing the right thing even though he's eventually responsible for killing off most of the humans on the planet. A better movie would have recognized this, or at least even mentioned it. Don't expect any big questions to be addressed.

The original Planet of the Apes played as a Freaky Friday of sorts, turning the leashes onto those who held them. Here at least we get to see apes escaping from San Francisco. Personally, if the movie really wanted to go the distance, I would have had them escape to Alcatraz and have it claimed as Ape Island.
But then again, as Carl from the Simpsons once said:
Carl: "I heard we're goin' to Ape Island"
Lenny: "Yeah, to capture a giant ape. I wish we were going to Candy Apple Island" Charlie: "Candy Apple Island? Whatta they got there?"
Carl: "Apes. But they're not so big"
In this case, they're pretty dang smart.

Source Code - Movie Review

2011-07-29T11:17:00.000-07:00

Source Code
view trailer
****-

Source Code is one of those movies where you're constantly trying to understand what's going on, and long after it's over you're still trying to figure out the exact same thing. I like movies like that. It doesn't always make sense, and I'm pretty sure this one doesn't, but I found myself thinking about it for a long time until I found myself thinking of ways it could make sense. Suddenly, I was the sci-fi author, and that's the kind of transformation I look for when I go to the theater.

The film begins with Lt. Colter Stevens (played by Jake Gyllenhaal), who awakes in a wreckage only to be mentally transported into the mind of a dead man for eight minutes at a time. Why this is happening to him and how is a mystery to him, but the guy was trained to take orders and that's what he does. Not that he has much of a choice. His superiors communicate to him through a small screen and tell him that the man who died was a victim of a terrorist bombing on a train that same morning. His job is to revisit the man's memory over and over again until he has identified the terrorist so that the army can intervene before he strikes again, this time with a dirty bomb in a major city.

The film then leans from sci-fi into a mystery, and then, with the introduction to the dead man's girlfriend, into a romance. Colter likes her too, but with only eight minutes what difference could that make?

The film has so much going on and so much ground to cover in such a short amount of time, that it's a miracle any sense is made of it at all. The writer and director, Duncan Jones, has proven his sci-fi capabilities before with my personal favorite Moon. Here he's dealing with tangent worlds splintering off into infinite loops while juggling time travel, a political thriller and a romance. Think about it too hard, and things might unravel, but watch the movie and the loose threads won't matter. There are enough problems to deal with to avoid the question of how.

This might be a guy movie, but I suspect the inclusion of Jake Gyllenhaal could make it easier for the ladies. His performance is great, and I suspect this character could have been Donnie Darko all grown up. From the trailers, I expected a fair amount of action, and it does deliver, but what I didn't expect was the certain haunting feeling that the movie acquires. It takes science and adapts it to life after death. It takes physicality and removes it from the importance of influence. It doesn't matter if the whole concept makes complete sense, it only matters if the concept makes some sense out of you. This is a film I would be glad to revisit, even if I am just thinking about it.

Splice - Movie Review

2011-07-29T10:29:00.000-07:00

Splice
**---

Now, I for one am a huge fan of splicing when it comes to horror and sci-fi movies. After all, it worked great in The Fly, but then again, The Fly did have Jeff Goldblum. Splice earns it's own points with the casting of Adrien Brody, who appears to like alternating between roles in films like the Pianist with roles in films like, say, Predators. Luckily, this film is a bit more scientifically based than what Predators gave us, but then again, this is no Michael Creighton novel. No one is going to leave the theater saying "OH GOD IT'S SOMEWHERE OUT THERE RIGHT NOW AND IT WANTS TO BREED WITH ME," whether or not they're saying that in fear or unbridled anticipation.

Splice is about two hot-shot geneticists who make somewhat disconcerting wiener monsters in the name of science. This is done (you guessed it) by splicing the genes of various animals together. On the brink of finding the cure to cancer, the two decide to secretly go the distance and throw some human DNA in there as well, 'cause why not? The two scientists Clive and Elsa (Adrien Brody and Sarah Polley) waste no time and soon have a little bundle of razor-teethed joy scrambling around the office. They do what any sensible scientist would and make it wear a dress.

The little tyke is soon named Dren (Nerd spelled backwards), but she grows up fast. Like any sensible parents, Clive and Elsa lock her in a barn to keep her from staying out too late, which doesn't quite work when they realize she has some bird DNA in her too. With no one around it's easy to see that Dren wants some company. Perhaps a little bit too much, especially when it comes to Clive, who in my opinion, probably liked the alien girl from Avatar a bit too much.

For a horror film, the movie is not quite scary enough. For a science fiction film, it doesn't delve quite deep enough. The movie just hovers on the surface somewhere between laughably absurd and interestingly absurd. If honed a bit better, it could have asked a lot of interesting questions. The subject is timely, especially considering that we live in an age where scientists have just made a dog that glows in the dark. Had the story been a little less compromising, it could have been a thoughtful piece. Had it compromised more, it could have been a great mindless horror flick. The special effects are for the most part rather impressive. All things considered, the acting is quite good. Overall though, it's rather forgettable.

Do You Like My Hat?

2011-07-05T18:37:00.001-07:00

I made it myself! Well, mostly. Beth actually helped out by making the pom pom and adding the red trim at the bottom. The rest however was mostly crocheted with a pen while I was at work. Now I just have to learn to use a real crochet hook again. It turned out a bit bigger than I expected, considering that I have to duck through doorways when it's standing upright, but that's how I like it.

I wore it while making Beth's birthday breakfast in the kitchen and pretended I was a Keebler Elf while whipping up some crepes. We're both 24 now, which is kind of weird, but I think we're getting to a place in our lives where we have a better idea of what we want to accomplish, which for me is finishing the last page of Where's Waldo. After that, who knows where we'll end up.

It's the Fourth of July

2011-07-04T15:23:00.000-07:00

This is an American flag right? ...No? Dang.

AMERICAAAUUUH!

It's the Fourth of July today and I thought it was time for the Awkward Unicorn to give a few top tips on how to keep your displays of patriotism safe. You know, for the children.

#1. DO NOT EAT A MEXICAN POPSICLE FROM THE DOLLAR STORE LABELED AS "MANGO AND CHILI FLAVOR"

This piece of advice comes from personal experience. If you happen to come across a popsicle labeled with the promising combination of both Mango and Chili, just walk the other way. Trust me. This terribly awful dessert appears to have been mistakenly labeled, as the only taste I can detect is that of human sweat scrapped off the back of a laborer working out front of Home Depot. With an aftertaste that is reminiscent of spicy sea water, I'm not altogether sure this popsicle is healthy or sanitary.

#2. PLEASE DON'T THROW FIRECRACKERS AT ME

Although it actually hasn't happened yet, I'm really paranoid that someone's going to throw firecrackers at me. If you happen to see me ducking every time a moving vehicle comes my way, don't be alarmed, and don't throw a firecracker at me. Again, stop throwing firecrackers. I've actually never seen anyone do this, so I'm certain I'll be the first person it ever happens to. So if you think about it, just don't. Don't. Seriously. Also, do not suddenly point at my feet and yell "FIRECRACKER! FIRECRACKER!" as I will probably believe you and scream like a japanese school girl.

#3. IF YOU HAPPEN TO KNOW HOW TO SET UP A TRAMPOLINE COME OVER TO MY HOUSE

Okay, so this isn't so much of a "safety tip" as it is just me trying to set up a trampoline that was given to me for my birthday. I have a box of various sized springs and I'm not sure where they all go or if they serve any kind of purpose at all. I tried piecing things together, but I ended up with a boat, and boats do not bounce and I wanted to bounce for the Fourth of July. If you're angry that this isn't actually a very good safety tip then here:

#4. NO THROWING FIRECRACKERS ON THE TRAMPOLINE

One might hit me and that is NOT COOL.

#5. SOME DOGS DO NOT LIKE FIREWORKS

I learned this last night when my neighbors were celebrating. From all the barking in my house I deduced that dogs do not like fireworks, and therefore gave up my plans to strap sparklers to our Corgi. I suggest you do the same. Although I do recommend you imagine a Corgi holding a sparkler, as that is what America is truly about.

#6. DO NOT LIGHT FIREWORKS NEAR THE HOUSE OF MY CRANKY NEIGHBOR

Although some of my neighbors seem to like festivities, if you're looking for a place to celebrate tonight I do not recommend a place near the yard of the cranky old guy who lives on the other side of my block, as he occasionally likes you yell "Hey you no good kids, git off of mah property! Yeah, that's it! Scram! Scram now! Git out! Go!" And will continue to yell long after you're gone.

#7. WEAR SUNBLOCK

Although this tip doesn't always apply to nighttime festivities, I still suggest it nonetheless, especially seeing that I have two strange circular sunburns on each of my hands. I'm not sure how they got there, but suspect it was some kind of weird Close Encounters of the Fourth Kind situation. Solution? Always wear sunblock.

Cartoons

2011-06-03T12:15:00.000-07:00

Well, this just about made my day much brighter.

Devil - Movie Review

2011-06-02T21:14:00.001-07:00

Devil
***--
click to view trailer

Don't worry about me if I just so happen to be watching a lot of scary movies lately. My wife is out of town and as they say, "when the cat's away, the mice will poop their pants in fear." Or something like that. This time I decided to take a look at M. Night Shyamalan's inspired Devil (which I should clarify is actually directed by John Dowdle). I for one enjoy films like this, films that require little in the way of set-pieces and require a skilled hand to make compelling. The film isn't perfect, in fact, I completely understand why it was met with low-to-mediocre reviews, but there is something unique to this film that managed to earn more stars than I expected to award.

I should first point out that the film should never have been titled "Devil." Why? Because I don't like it. Do I not like it because it scares me? Yes. Just go with "Elevator," M. Night, or "Up (not to be confused with Pixar's Up because this one involves the Devil on an elevator)." But it is what it is. After a pretty great credit sequence, the film begins with a group of five strangers hopping onto an elevator. One is a businessman, one a repairman, another a little old lady, and the last a pretty lady who's entire life is pretty much based upon being pretty. Of course, once the doors close the elevator screeches to a halt and the four are left to ponder what in the world is scratching their backs whenever the lights start flickering. If my wife was there she probably would've just assumed it was one of my terrible back rubs - HEYO! Wha haappened?!

A private detective is lucky enough to be on the spot after a suicide took place at the same building only hours beforehand. What a coincidence. He's a damaged man with a dark past. His family was killed in a hit and run five years ago. And yes, he's a recovering alcoholic. If you're taking shots based upon horror movie cliche's you're probably recovering too.

All this to say that Devil is still very much engaging. What in the world is actually going on here? Will everyone actually die? Sure, some of these characters are a tad shallow, but beneath their shallow waters is an emotional depth you can't help but connect with because, let's face it, some things are cliche because they're true and they work. Despite having a title that sounds very evil, Devil shows an incredible amount of redemption. This is, I think, one of the sweetest horror films I've seen in a long time. Yes, it still has some scary moments. Yes, people die. Yet unlike most horror films, it ends with a note of salvation, which to me was a breath of fresh air after a long time in a very small place. Who knew that a film called Devil could have such good old Christian values? Maybe the name does fit.

Insidious - Movie Review

2011-06-02T20:06:00.000-07:00

Insidious
***--
click to view trailer

There is a certain purity to be found in the horror film genre. These are films meant purely to excite, to engage, and to incite a core reaction that's built into our genes. It's a roller ride without leaving the room. For all extensive purposes, Insidious is a great example. It does exactly what it's supposed to do, and often it does it very well. Things pop out at you, things pop out behind you, and things hang around long after they should have.

I honestly, think this is a really one of the most well made horror movies in a long time. That said, I can't help but shake the feeling that this movie was heavily inspired by Drag Me To Hell, a superior film, I think, but I'll get to why later. Insidious is centered around a common happy family who move in to a house that just so happens to have a distant cousin of Darth Maul living in the attic. Their adventurous young boy ventures up there one day only to fall off a reasonably high ladder and slip into a coma. The real problem however, is that the boy doesn't appear to have any brain damage to speak of. Over the next several months he's cared for by his mother, whose frequent piano practices are cut short by clattering books, slamming doors, and the sounds of screams coming from the baby monitor. These people seriously need a vacation.

Despite only having a PG-13 rating, Insidious knows how to find it's scares without showing too much. It's far more disturbing than most horror movies that opt for blood and guts, and smarter because of it. The film balances an eerie atmosphere well with sudden scares, borrowing pages from Poltergeist, The Shining, Disney's Haunted Mansion, even videogames like Silent Hill. Expect many things to suddenly appear in places they weren't before, and expect them to be gone on a second glance. So much of this film really works.

The film is smart enough to include a bit of light humor with the introduction of a group of paranormal investigators, two of whom bumble about the house with homemade gadgets made from children's toys. The shock is that they actually get the job done. I personally found the viewfinder to be particularly effective. Their boss, played by the wonderful Lin Shaye, is quick to inform the unlucky parents that their son is trapped in a netherworld called "The Further." This, I should add, is technically a spoiler because it occurs in the final half of the film, but I should also note, an entire netherworld is a lot to cover with only a quarter of a movie left to go. The paranormal investigators work so well because they're really very good characters. I'm not sure I can really say the same for the parents. Mostly they're there to get scared.

The film Drag Me To Hell had a lighthearted spirit to it that served a purpose along with the terror. Something actually happened, and something was actually learned. Yes, Insidious does scare, and does so with a clever spirit aiming to entertain, but there isn't much left to be taken away, or taken to heart. There are some truly great moments here. Some with shocking appearances, some with just downright eerie moments. But much like a roller coaster, it will end, the handle bars will go up, and you'll have to get back in line. At least we'll have the memories.

I Really Miss This Girl

2011-05-29T19:44:00.000-07:00

A week is too long.
Even if she is spending it in Hawaii.

Nice Work There Kitten

2011-05-29T19:07:00.000-07:00

Well, many people may not know that there is yet another cat in my life. Her name is Dinah, she's a Siamese, and likes to play with yarn and Georgie Fruit's tail (which Georgie of course hates, but puts up with). There are many great things about Dinah. For one, she likes to sleep on our pillow at night so it appears like I'm wearing a cat as a hat in the morning. At the same time however, she's also a cat that likes to climb my leg with razor sharp claws or crawl into small spaces and cause trouble.

Today I returned home from the park to discover and extremely unpleasant odor emanating from our room, so unpleasant in fact that I would say it literally smelled like poop. The door was open, as it usually is for Dinah to have easy access to her litter box, but apparently this made no difference to Dinah who looked up at me from her chair and slowly blinked.

I took a quick survey of the room and looked for any noticeable piles of excrement. Seeing none, I quickly picked up Dinah and took a whiff of her hair while wondering if there was actually poo in the room or if Dinah simply smelled like a homeless man.

If there's one thing to know about me it's that I have a large nose, and taking a cue from the Fruit Loops commercials of yore, I decided to follow it. This method, I soon realized, would become a lot worse before it got any better. Following the pungent odor, I soon arrived at our dresser and gave a silent prayer that she didn't mistake my open drawer of clothing for a litter box. Luckily I dodged a bullet, but momentarily wondered if what I was smelling was my dirty pile of socks. No, it was definitely poop. And it was somewhere. The mystery of the missing poop remained to be solved.

Suddenly I noticed the tiny crevice beneath the dresser. It was too dark to see, but I realized that there was a large slip of paper that I could grab with the ends of my fingers. Pulling it out, I discovered a sizable deposit of pure untainted cat poop, so sizable in fact that it almost seemed to rival Dinah herself. Had she simply been hoarding it? Did I need to call A&E and get a documentary crew to film this? So many questions ran through my mind.

In any case, it gave me a reason clean my room with copious amounts of Lysol, and another reason to write about cat poop, which really is the entire reason I created this blog. In conclusion, you just read an entire story about me finding cat poop in my room. You're welcome.

Top Ten Best Films of 2010

2011-05-28T17:53:00.000-07:00

Now that we're half way into 2011, it's the perfect time to catch up on the best films of 2010. Granted, I haven't seen all that's out there. I'm pretty sure I missed out on at least half a dozen Tyler Perry movies, but already assuming that those take the cake let's look at the rest.

BEST SCIENCE FICTION FILM

Nominees:
-Never Let Me Go
-Monsters
-Daybreakers

WINNER: NEVER LET ME GO

Much like Gattaca, Never Let Me Go is very much a sci-fi film in concept, yet it's smart enough to focus upon the human condition. Yes, the concept of clones being harvested for use by society isn't unheard of, but unlike Michael Bay's action flick The Island, this film doesn't feature a copious amount of soda ads and explosions. Never Let Me Go is a tender examination of life in it's fleeting passage. There are no grand escape plans, in fact, there really isn't very much action to speak of. It's about people making the most of the time they have, or regretting the time they have wasted.

FILM WITH THE COOLEST CREDITS

Nominees:
-Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World
-Enter The Void
-Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky
-Despicable Me

WINNER: ENTER THE VOID

For me this year marks as a breakthrough in movie credits. Whereas I used to not care at all about "reading" during a movie, now it's becoming something to look forward to. Does that mean I'm getting old? Despicable Me did a great job by including a short animated segment throughout the credits using a unique and clever camera technique. Coco Chanel & Igor Stravinsky used a copious amount of elegant fractal designs rendered in beautiful 3D. Scott Pilgrim earned extra points by starting with 8bit graphics and nearly beat out the competition. Meanwhile, Enter The Void (which was released in France in 2009, but here in the US in 2010) blew my mind apart. If I had an award for "Most Drugged-Out-Insane-Scary-But-Pretty-Freaking-Awesome Film of the Year" (which I could, now that I think about it) this would take the cake. For your enjoyment I have posted it below.

BEST HORROR FILM

Nominees:
-Devil
-House of the Devil
-Another movie with the word "Devil" in it
-Another film not titled with the word "Devil" but still involving the Devil
-Tyler Perry's Madea's Big Happy Family

WINNER: BURIED

All in all, 2010 wasn't an altogether amazing year for horror films, but we did get some great moments. We had the promising opportunity to watch three skiers get stuck on a ski lift in Frozen, an entire town go haywire and nuked in The Crazies, and Ethan Hawk take blood in his coffee with Daybreakers, but the one thriller that really had me on my toes was the minimalist Buried. Somehow within an eight foot coffin, enough action took place to keep me from ever tearing my eyes off the screen. Ryan Reynolds gave a terrific performance to complement an equally clever script, all tied up with an ending that will haunt you for weeks.

BEST ANIMATED FILM

Nominees:
-A Town Called Panic
-Toy Story 3
-The Illusionist
-Despicable Me

WINNER: THE ILLUSIONIST

If there's one thing that 2010 has taught us about animation, it's that cartoons can be dark too. Toy Story 3 closed this magnificent trilogy with the sad fact that everyone grows up, but my pull-string Woody doll is still somewhere out there. Despicable Me shared some laughs by featuring a grumpy villain with adorable yellow minions as the protagonist. The exception to the rule was A Town Called Panic, which despite it's sensory overload sensibilities, was thoroughly charming and hilarious. All in all I was most blown away by Sylvain Chomet's The Illusionist, a melancholy exploration of the relationship between an aging magician and his young female companion. The film is beautifully animated in a way that only hand drawn animation can be. It is focused on subtlety and nuance, and how that carries into the lives we lead. Altogether, the film is magic.

BEST COMEDY

Nominees:
-Date Night
-Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World
-Going The Distance
-Death At A Funeral

WINNER: DATE NIGHT

It was a somewhat rough year for comedy. I think the world can only shuffle the cast of The Thirty Year Old Virgin around so many times before things get a little stale. We had Get Him To The Greek, which I have started three times but for some reason never feel compelled enough to finish, and Hot Tub Time Machine, which I'm told repeatedly is funny but turned off after the first five minutes of non-stop cursing, vomit, and poop jokes (not that vomit and poop jokes can't be funny). Luckily we did have some highlights. The new Americanized version of Death At A Funeral turned out surprisingly well, and in some ways almost runs smoother than the original. Going the Distance was perfectly charming, and of course Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World was a visual feast with special charm. Somehow though the formula for Date Night just worked. What could easily have been forgettable, Date Night is even still, after another viewing, a very funny movie. Observant and charming, the film manages to tie together common marriage dynamics with absurd action sequences. Steve Carrell and Tina Fey are equals in both delivering lines and physical comedy, and as if that wasn't enough, they actually make you care about these characters. This is a film that makes you feel good after you watch it, and after a year of films like Black Swan, The Social Network and 127 Hours, I really needed it. Speaking of which...

MOST DEPRESSING FILM OF 2010

Nominees:
-Buried
-Black Swan
-Never Let Me Go
-Blue Valentine
-The Road

WINNER: BLUE VALENTINE

Although the end of Buried almost made me cry in the shower, it carried with it a sense of bitter satisfaction. But good gravy, if there's one film of 2010 to make you want to take a smoke break it's Blue Valentine, a film that chronicles the disintegration of a marriage between two people that once were quite happy. It's a good movie, but good in the way that Revolution Road was good. You'll never want to watch it again. Top this one off with a chaser of Date Night to make yourself feel better.

BEST MOVIE ABOUT SPEECH THERAPY

Nominee:
-The Kings Speech

WINNER: THE KINGS SPEECH

Finally, I have a reason to have an award category for speech therapy. The King's Speech was one of the unexpected highlights of 2010. Filled with wonderful characters, this is a film that makes you feel good in the best way possible. Here we see people genuinely trying to help each other, and in the process become good friends. A fantastic true story beautifully filmed and terrifically acted.

BEST DOCUMENTARY

Nominees:
-Freakonomics
-Exit Through The Gift Shop
-Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work
-Art of the Steal
-All of the 20 or so documentaries having something to do with the education system

WINNER: EXIT THROUGH THE GIFT SHOP

This one was kind of a dead giveaway, but Exit Through The Gift Shop was filled with so many characters, so many ideas, and with so much strong feeling that it simply remains unforgettable. This isn't to say that the other documentaries of the past year should be forgotten. With the numerous films documenting the broken educational system of the United States, we're given something new to worry about as opposed to all of the global warming documentaries we've collected over the past two years. Finally, something else we have idea how to solve. For those looking to distract themselves, we also had a documentary about Joan Rivers, which was actually pretty interesting. One highlight for me was Freakonomics, which, based off the book of the same title, played out like an extended episode of This American Life, only based a tad more statistical data. Did you ever hear about the girl named "Temptress?" It's worth looking into. Exit Through The Gift Shop however was just so much to think about. After all, how do you deal with man who wants to make art, but isn't an artist? What is the influence of hype on art, and can hype itself have an artistic merit? Does success cheapen the meaning of art, or the importance of the artist? Maybe the artist who blocks out his face is actually the only one who should have the final say. Blahhhh. I need to take a nap now.

BEST ADAPTATION

Nominees:
-True Grit
-The Illusionist
-Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World
-The Road

WINNER: TRUE GRIT

Yes, Scott Pilgrim was visually one of the best things to come out of 2010, but as far as adaptations go I can't say it completely worked as a film. Entertaining as it was, it played out like an entire television series over the course of two hours. The Road was a faithful adaptation that stuck very close to its original pages, but somehow lacked a great deal of the emotional intensity that Cormac McCarthy injected into his story. True Grit however wasn't just an adaptation of an older film or story, but an adaptation that encompassed the entire era of justice in the west. Infused with equal measures of quirky comedy, intense drama, and bittersweet relationships, True Grit works. It's unfortunate that I couldn't come across enough western films to set a category aside, but luckily this one was all I needed.

BEST OVERALL FILM

Nominees:
-Inception
-The Kings Speech
-The Illusionist
-Never Let Me Go
-True Grit

WINNER: INCEPTION

Inception created a world unlike any other and carried with it a story so sprawling and dense that it's a miracle alone that the film is even comprehensible on the first viewing. Featuring strong performances, beautiful visuals, excellent editing, and that loud "BRAAAAAAAGH!" noise, Inception works on every level. And there are a LOT of levels. It's not only the best film of the year, but I'm willing to say it's one of the top films of the decade.

An Ode to 4th Grade Favorite Movies

2011-05-27T16:23:00.000-07:00

Today I asked each of my students to write a poetic "Ode" to their favorite movie. Enjoy.

"My favorite is The Terminator.
He is awesome.
He hates blossoms."

For some reason I was surprised to find the word "blossoms" used at all in one of these poems. I asked him what he meant by it and he simply replied saying "Because the Terminator hates flowers." Makes sense...

"My favorite movie is Holes,
because they have to dig like a lot of holes.
I like it because they dig a lot of holes."

Simple, yet, effective.

"Once upon a time,
there was an army.
They fought all of the people,
and never died.
Then they all died.
From CANCER."

Although this poem is neither an "ode" nor about any film I can think of, I find some sort of promise in it. I should note that the word "CANCER" was written in bold across the entirety of the page. Very dramatic.

Here's an epic piece that spanned both the front and the back of the construction paper:

"Ode to me, The Ninja.
I have ninja stars.
I can kill you.
I have the assassin star,
and the acid star.
I can kill any ninja of the ninjas.
I'm the master of ninjas.
I'm a cool ninja.
I can sneak up on any ninja on earth.
Be careful.
I can assassinate you.
So keep an eye on me.
'Cause I can sneaky camouflage in anything.
You can't get by me.
I'm the awesome ninja."

I think there's a pretty good Die Antwoord song in there.

This next one was written by one of the girls.

"My favorite movie is Monsters Inc.
Because there are a lot of closets
and I need a lot of closets
for all my clothes."

All in all, I think it was a success.

More Poetry By Students Who Hate To Write Poetry

2011-05-14T17:17:00.000-07:00

In an attempt to further captivate my 4th grade students with the wonderful world of poetry I decided to have them write about their favorite foods. I assumed that I would receive numerous entries reflecting their love for the spicy chips known as "Taki's" (an outlawed food that is often bartered among the children in a strange sort of black market for candy), but was instead delighted to find numerous poems dedicated to pizza.

Enjoy.

"Pepperoni's are red.
Cheese is Yellow.
Sauce is also red.
Dough is white.
That makes pizza."

"Pizza is my favorite food.
It is so cheesy
and pepperoniee."

"Bread is white,
Meat is brownish,
Mac is yellow."

"My favorite food
is ice cream.
Dessert is my favorite time.
I like to eat ice cream
for my favorite food."

"Favorite strawberries
are so good,
they make you want more.
They are so so juicy.
Whenever you take a bite
Juice comes out."

"My pizza is a feast,
and is also a feast,
so it is a feast."

"Ice cream is my favorite dessert.
You can make it carmelly or chocolatey."

"Pizza is cheesy,
and is delicious,
because it is cheesy."

4th Grade Haiku's

2011-05-04T16:16:00.000-07:00

In teaching my class of 16 fourth and fifth grade students poetry, today I introduced them to the world of Haiku's.

Behold.

"We went to the beach,
The beach is so so so fun,
so so so so beach."
-Elexia, 4th Grade

"I won the fun race,
It was really really fun,
I won a medal."
-Preston, 4th Grade

"I love my dog he
ate my homework. Now I don't
have to do it. Yay!"
-Alex, 4th Grade

"My dog is so good
but sometimes he pees on me
but I still love him."
-John, 4th Grade

"My cat is so fat.
He eats like four pan-cakes. And,
He also eats poo."
-Carlos, 4th Grade

Genius.

Jogging For My Life

2011-05-04T10:42:00.000-07:00

As a city, Portland managed surprisingly well to quarantine the true crazies from the somewhat normal citizens of the world. If you were to stay in the North West part of town you could enjoy a gelato while listening to a well-dressed hipster complain about dog leashes interfering with his daily bike route, but stray just a block too far past Burnside Avenue and you could be shopping in a Goodwill next to a smelly overweight homeless lady who dyed her hair neon yellow using house paint. True story.

The most common stranger I came upon was that of the late twenty-something man whose biggest priority in life was trying to figure out a way to convert his food stamps into cheap alcohol. It just so happened that while Beth and I ventured along a nearby nature trail that we came across a group of these individuals, who, despite it only being three in the afternoon, were already fairly well sauced.

"HEY! You two!" One of them yelled while stumbling. "It's this guys birthday today! Guess how old he is!"

After briefly looking back to make sure they were addressing us, we then shrugged our shoulders.

"He just turned 21!! WOO!"

"Wow. Congratulations." I said, fully aware that all of these men were well into their thirties.

"Can you believe this guy is only 21?!"

"Nope."

"We're gonna draaaaank!"

"Awesome." I said, as I started walking slightly faster.

We continued along the trail and in the meantime tried to forget about the slightly disturbing interaction we had just undergone. We distracted ourselves by saving the stray slugs who wandered aimlessly on the path and risked being trampled by the high traffic of bicyclists, dogs, and joggers. After a while we were so overwhelmed by the fresh air and lush greenery, that we had completely forgotten that the only way back home was directly past the drunken birthday party.

"They're probably gone by now though." I said. "You think?"

They weren't. From around the corner we could already hear the crashing sounds of broken bottles and obnoxious high-fives.

"Okay. I have an idea." I said. "According to Portland etiquette, people don't bother joggers, so if we just start running and look really determined to finish our work-out, we'll be fine."

"But Zack," Beth said, "You never run. Ever."

"Well it looks like there's a first time for everything."

After mentally preparing ourselves, we began running around the corner while breathing heavily and furrowing our brows. I even went so far as to look at my wrist to check our time, even though I don't wear a watch.

Then disaster struck.

After a single yard of jogging my foot got lodged on an exposed tree root and immediately twisted itself. Falling face forward, a cloud of dust exploded out from under the weight of my body hitting the ground.

"HOLY F*%&!" One of the drunkards yelled, while laughing. "Did you guys see that?"

I quickly jumped up and waved. "I'm alright, I'm alright!"

"Yo, we're in no condition to drive you to a hospital bro!" Another chimed in, also laughing.

Wincing in pain, I limped towards Beth who slowly shook her head.

We wandered out of the forest as we heard the sounds of laughing ebb in the distance. Rubbing my swollen ankle back home, I started to wonder if it was just everyone in this town that was a little bit weird, or if, in fact, I was one of the crazies.

The Strawberry Nose

2011-04-27T17:17:00.000-07:00

Corgi Lemonade

2011-04-12T13:57:00.000-07:00

Being in need of money, I resorted to my one career choice that really seemed to pay off when I was in elementary school. I decided to re-open my lemonade stand. True, such an undertaking was challenged by the fact that I'm twenty three years old, have a mustache and am married, but somewhere deep inside of me I knew that I could pull it off.

Realizing that I needed a hook for the overwhelmingly Mexican populace of Visalia, I stole the family dog and promptly got to work on my sign for "Corgi Lemonade." I didn't quite think about whether people would question if by "Corgi Lemonade" I really meant "Corgi Pee In Styrofoam Cups," but I assumed that the matter would be pushed out their minds once they laid their eyes on the adorable furry mess that we call Charlie.

Well, after three hours and a scorching sunburn, I had made a total of three dollars. It might not sound like a lot, but that's at least 12 quarters. Which still isn't a lot, but it's something. Maybe not much, and certainly not enough to reason with Beth that it was a good idea, but it was something nonetheless. Charlie meanwhile kept busy by barking at the passing cars and gobbling honey roasted sunflower seeds while making distinct pig sounds.

I'm not sure why I was so dedicated to the idea. I guess it was just something I decided I had to do. In any case, it was a good way to spend a Saturday.

Drive Angry - Movie Review

2011-03-01T22:21:00.000-08:00

Drive Angry
**---
view trailer

The experience of watching Drive Anrgy is just about the same as standing in the gun section of Wall-Mart for two hours. You'll find yourself seeing lots of balding fat men wearing sweaty t-shirts with stretched American Flags emblazoned on the center, and probably intermittently yelling "F*&% YEAH!" for no particular reason, except that they can, and that's really the only reason Drive Angry exists. It was made because somebody can, and also because somebody will also pay to see it. Like me for instance.

I for one watched Drive Angry in an empty theater while eating Taco Bell that I sneaked in under my jacket. I would recommend you do the same, if only the 3D effects didn't make me want to puke partially digested Cheesy Gordita Crunch into my lap. Drive Angry is a very bad movie, made to be so, but still, really quite bad. This is a film that hopes to evoke the golden age of cinema known as the grindhouse era, which really only exists because people have always been making bad movies and were once doing so on very small budgets, and apparently fake blood is cheap. Now we have 3D. So imagine how much better this era is. Oh wait, they've had 3D for a while now, haven't they?

Well, this fine film stars Ghost Rider, I mean Nicholas Cage, who reprises his role as an escapee from hell to avenge his daughter's death and save his infant granddaughter from being sacrificed by a group of red-neck satanic worshipers. If that doesn't make much sense to you, don't worry, nothing makes sense. The film is a veritable minefield of exploding plot-holes. Or should I say POT-holes! Get it? Drive Angry? I'll let myself out.

Well, the first hole I should specify is that for a film entitled "Drive Angry," Nicholas Cage does a surprisingly small amount of driving angry. In fact, he's not very angry, mostly just mildly inconvenienced that he has to drop his cigar and bottle of Jack to start shooting a group of men armed with whips, chains, and a tazer. I should note, he doesn't drop the woman he is currently engaging in intercourse with. For anyone who hasn't seen Shoot 'Em Up, this is pretty great, for people who have however, they will immediately spend most of the time after this scene thinking about how great that movie was.

As Nick Cage continues his odyssey chasing down a satanic leader who has a penchant for wearing Willy Wonka's jacket and a pentagram necklace (of which he is repeatedly stabbed by throughout the film), he meets the scantily clad Piper who hops into the front seat with a surprising amount of eagerness. Occasionally she may ask a perfectly valid question, such as something along the lines of "How did you just get shot in the head, have a distinct bullet hole in your eye, but are somehow still alive?" which is only resolved by Nicholas Cage saying, "The bullet's still in there. I CAN FEEL IT." How does some of this dialogue take place while they are driving on a bridge that seems to extend endlessly throughout an additional fight scene? I guess now I'm the one asking too many questions.

I should also note that this film includes a diverse range of reaction shots, with most of them occurring awkwardly. What did I expect the woman who had terrible gun-fight sex with Nicholas Cage to say when she was discovered by the cops the next day? Lord only knows, but somehow that was simultaneously exactly and not at all what I expected.

Cage is followed by a mysterious character named "The Accountant," (played by the very good William Fichtner) who, although I assume is perfectly aware that Nicholas Cage can be shot in the head yet still survive, nevertheless convinces police (by repeatedly showing a fake FBI badge) that they should try to shoot him to death. Does any of this make sense? No. But it does happen in 3D, occurs mostly in slow-motion, and involves numerous exploding limbs. So it's still pretty satisfying.

By no means should this movie be watched alone. This is something made for those late nights when you and your friends need something to talk about. It's one of those films that if you're laughing at it, then really, you're just laughing with it, and if you are actually laughing with it, then you're probably missing the point. As such, for a bad movie, it's almost perfect.

Opening Night

2011-02-24T21:18:00.000-08:00

At some point in every man's life, there comes a moment where he has to say, "Screw it. I'm walking home." For me that moment came on opening night of my play. Although I wasn't paid in cash for my performance, I did receive a large tub of jelly beans and a single rose, which I heartily accepted with an air of excitement.

I took both of my gifts along with me only to stand in front of the theater wondering where in the world my ride was. Had I known my ride was still in Fresno, clubbing with his cousins and apparently taking shots off of scantily clad women, I probably would have taken matters into my own hands much sooner, but after circling the block for two hours I had to realize I was on my own.

I had no cell phone, after leaving it with my wife who had left that morning for a trip to Los Angeles, and after paying fifty cents to a pay phone that had apparently been disconnected in the early 1990's, I realized I had no way to contact anyone on the outside world. A few trips to the receptionist at a nearby hotel proved useless after realizing that I had no knowledge of my in-laws phone number. So I continued to wait.

Somewhere, deep in my mind, I rationalized that my situation would be resolved in the same way my situations of being lost in a supermarket were resolved as a child. I would simply wait in the same exact spot until someone realized that I was missing. And maybe cry. Around midnight I began to realize that this was not the same situation.

At this time a friendly black man approached me and, laughing to himself, said in a raspy voice, "Boy's got a single rose for a lady! All you need is one my man! All you need is one!"

I laughed back and nodded, slightly hoping this was enough of a reply. It wasn't.

"Girl's always ask for a dozen, but you know what happens? They die, my man! They die!"

"Ha, I know what you mean." I said, quickly nodding while slowly backing away.

"Say my man, I only have six dollars and my car needs gas. You think you could spare a few bucks?"

Realizing I had only two dollars in my wallet and that this guy probably didn't own a car, I apologized and started walking home.

Although I've spent some time in New York, here it's a bit harder to find a taxi. Also, I'm cheap. Really cheap. So I never really wanted to find one in the first place. It wouldn't be until the next day that I would find out that the distance between my theater and home was just about four and a half miles, which to a reasonably in-shape person is perfectly fine, but to someone who prefers to play video games and uses stumbleupon is basically the same as the Oregon Trail. Would I end up with dysentery? Only time could tell...

The town I live in is mostly known as the agricultural capitol of California, so I was surprised to come across a guy twirling fire within the first three blocks of main street.

"Wow. That guy is crazy!" I thought. While I held a jug of jelly beans, a single rose, and was wearing heavy makeup and eye-liner.

I continued walking, and having been without food for a mere few hours I already began hallucinating that the person walking behind me, who was blasting techno through their headphones, was not only following me but was playing their music to the exact pace of my feet.

About half-way I decided, probably poorly, that if I was going to go through with this that I might as well be mildly intoxicated and bought a beer at 7-Eleven. Still wearing eye-liner.

Now, slightly intoxicated, and dehydrated from said intoxication, the trip slowly became less scary, then more exciting, and then as a result, a little more scary again.

Nevertheless, I made it home. It's a difficult realization, understanding that you really need someone else to count on when times are hard, but at least I'm glad I made it back safely when I realized that I could make it home on my own. Next time though I'll be sure that there are two cell phones in order before I leave.

Laser Koala Escapes From Tron

2011-02-21T11:20:00.000-08:00

I realized that I never got to post the Christmas gift I made for Beth.

I really wanted to make something that says, "I love you" while also saying "I also love lasers." I think this was a perfect middle ground. So here it is. I call this work: Laser Koala Escapes From Tron.

Behold!

The Illusionist - Movie Review

2011-02-16T00:36:00.001-08:00

The Illusionist
*****
view trailer

I once watched a magician pass a rubber band directly through another, and although I know it was probably a simple trick, for the life of me I have no idea how he did it. Especially when I held the other rubber band myself. The art of close up magic lies not in the great reveal, but in the technique itself, which lies predominantly in the subdued hand of it's executor. We are not so encumbered by how the rabbit came out of the hat, as to how the rabbit came into our line of sight without our perception of it. It's really about the slight of hand. The Illusionist is one of those rare films that focuses entirely not upon a trick based entirely upon the perspective of the viewer, but upon how the illusion was created by the manipulator. Perhaps manipulator is too harsh of a word...

Here we are granted the illusion of a provider, or a father figure, who grants his follower with whatever she so desires, as long as she does not require the father himself to provide his insight. After all, a magician never reveals his secrets. For her he provides her shoes, her clothing, her food, and yet he remains somewhat of a mystery. How strange it seems that he works a second job as a caretaker for the automobiles of the wealthy, miraculously removing oil stains with the most obvious equipment at his disposal, be that rain itself. And yes, he sells out, using his talents to sell brassieres and stockings in store front windows. Do his actions justify the dismissal of his follower? We may say no, but success for some may be defined as otherwise.

L'Illusionniste is an animated film unlike any that you might have seen. It requires no real subtitles or audible language, and unlike it's predecessor The Triplets of Belleville, it requires no surreal visuals to engage it's audience. This is a film that is based upon the subtleties of human interaction. If you were to attend a class in animation you would probably be asked to animate a rock. I think if you were to ask the director of this film, Sylvain Chomet, you would find that there are a great deal of subtleties you would never have thought of.

The Illusionist in this film is no hero or villain, in reality he does no harm. He is never revealed to be authentic, nor a fake, he simply is presented as a genuine showman who presents himself as he is. As with any illusion, the question as to it's authenticity is placed within our hands.

Buried - Movie Review

2011-02-13T00:30:00.000-08:00

Buried
*****
view trailer

Would I be giving too much away if I said that after watching Buried I definitely considered crying in the shower? Or maybe punching a wall? Or maybe punching a hole in the shower wall and then having to explain to Beth through the hole in the wall why I was crying in the shower in the first place? I don't think it's too much of a spoiler. It's just more of a fair warning. Buried is one of the most intense films I have seen, and it takes place entirely within a 9 foot box.

This is a story of Paul, who has found himself buried alive in a coffin in Iraq. All he has at his disposal is a cell phone, a lighter (which I personally wouldn't have used so much in an oxygen limited environment) and a surprising amount of deadly snakes. This is certainly a "what would you do" situation, and frankly Paul makes the most of it. He calls the FBI, his wife, his work (to even call in the day off), but somehow he still has to go the extra mile, and a few miles after that, and then get called back to be told he has quite a few miles left to go.

Buried knows exactly where you as a viewer would take it, and then takes it further than you would expect. That is to say, this is a smart thriller. I have seen films that multiply the set-pieces by two dozen and still feel less intense, yet Buried makes it work. You might expect an "O. Henry" ending, as I did, but the one you find might be even more ironic than you would expect. In a better world Ryan Reynolds would be nominated for an Oscar for this. This is the kind of role some actors would dream for, and Reynolds plays it perfectly.

I admire films like Buried, which use their limitations in setting and content to intensify the drama of the situation at hand. It takes a great deal of creativity and ingenuity to make something like this simultaneously exciting and different, but it works. This is a very intense, and extremely involving film. Whether or not you're happy by the end doesn't negotiate your engagement in the journey.

If You're Wondering Where I've Been

2011-02-04T11:48:00.001-08:00

Let this cover of the Visalia Delta Times Choices section be the answer:

I'm Prince Charming in the Enchanted Playhouse production of Cinderella!
The show runs for three weeks through February 4, 5, 6, 11, 12, 13, 18, and 19th.

It's been a little crazy here with the lack of posting on The Awkward Unicorn, but now that rehearsals are finally over I can get back to writing and share even more crazy Japanese videos. Thanks for the support!

Introductions

2011-01-27T11:39:00.000-08:00

I was slightly surprised to learn that all of my fellow tutors at Conyer Elementary are not only addressed by their first name, but also along with the required prefix. For example, I would be called Mr. Zack by all of my students. The name however hasn't stuck yet, seeing that the children would much rather call me by the nickname that appeared on my first interaction with a student. From that point forward I was called Shaggy, as in Shaggy from Scooby Doo.

Yeah, I can kind of see it.

The first question I received was, "where's you're dog Shaggy?"

"Well," I said, for some reason still wanting to be answer the question seriously, "I actually do have a dog at home." Immediately I envisioned myself solving mysteries with a welsh corgi at my side.

"Is he riding in the Mystery Machine?" They quickly replied.

I stood back in amazement that these children even knew who Scooby Doo was, and that he did in fact ride in a van named The Mystery Machine.

After that I instructed my kids to call me just like they would any teacher, with respect, because the name Mr. Zack is so very respectful.

The next day I was approached by one of my students who during recess stopped to survey me with an analytical eye before saying, "You know, you remind me of someone in a book I read..."

"Oh really!" I exclaimed while thinking to myself that this means two very good things:

1. This child was actually reading.

and,

2. I was probably someone cool like Sherlock Holmes, or Gandalf.

"What book?" I asked him.

"I'll show you in class!" He said excitedly.

I had nearly forgotten about the entire interaction until later in the day when I was called over to his desk.

"Mr. Zack! I found the book I was talking about!"

"Oh really!" I said excited.

"Look!"

The boy at that moment opened up his copy of the Guinness Book of World Records to show me the one page on which I would truly belong. In large type at the top I read: PEOPLE WITH THE BIGGEST NOSES.

I said nothing for a moment, and then closed my eyes and nodded. "NICE." I said. "Nice one."

Children can be so cruel.

Rumble In The Bronx - Movie Review

2010-12-23T14:21:00.000-08:00

Rumble In The Bronx
view trailer
*****

I realize that my review for the recent film Black Swan is filled with big words and strange ideas. Now I'll level with you, I'm a simple man. Big words scare me. I'm not really sure where that came from. I can't even pronounce most of those words correctly on any given day, and when I do I'm probably mistaking that word for one that better describes the cheap bean and cheese burrito I just bought. So today I decided to review a film that really requires no words, a film in fact, that was probably written without any words whatsoever. This film, my friends, is the 1995 masterpiece Rumble In The Bronx starring Jackie Chan.

In this tour de force emotional roller coaster of a picture, Jackie Chan abandons his career as a police officer in Hong Kong to attend his uncle's marriage to a large black woman, leaving Jackie in charge of his store while the two leave for their honeymoon. If only Jackie Chan knew that a street gang has hidden stolen diamonds in the wheelchair cushion of a disabled boy living in the same neighborhood.

I cannot even attempt to understand the brilliant minds that went into crafting this story, which I should also add involves Jackie Chan at one point stealing a Delorean, fastening a large sword out of its door, and then proceeding to charge towards a massive hovercraft in the middle of the city. How someone comes up with this I'll never know. I'm like an ant hanging onto the rope of the Goodyear blimp.

Although the film was clearly made in the 1990's, after the technological breakthroughs seen in films such as Jurassic Park, stylistically Rumble In The Bronx appears to be a pure product of the 80's due to the colorful costuming, obviously dubbed voices, and unfortunate haircuts. In terms of the script the dialogue is crafted beautifully, especially in regards to the disabled boy who, after being thrown from his wheelchair by a group of gangsters, repeatedly whines "MY CUSHION!" despite all other concerns that a rational person in that situation would otherwise be preoccupied with.

Of course, Rumble In The Bronx is all about action. If you came to see Jackie Chan jump out of a truck filled with multicolored balls just in time for the truck to be pushed off of a building and send balls scattering through the streets, then you, my friend, know exactly what you came to see. In fact, you were very specific.

All in all, Rumble In The Bronx is one of the most satisfying viewing experiences I have ever had the pleasure to share with my friends. If you've never seen it, then I think you need to take a stroll through this majestic piece of history.

Black Swan - Movie Review

2010-12-22T17:07:00.000-08:00

Black Swan
view trailer
*****

I consider it rare to witness a film so fully consumed by its own sense of raw dissonance, but Black Swan certainly hits the target. The iconic and soothing music by Tchaikovsky clashes violently with the fragmented and tortured soul of a ballerina who in turn projects her own strained psyche against her seemingly pristine environment. It could be argued that she is simply a victim of her surroundings, responding to a career centered fully on perfection yet demanding of spontaneity, playing part in a family relationship that demands intimacy yet in that demand negates its own value. This is someone who is drawn to revolt against what she has become, and it's not an easy process to go through.

The film focuses on Nina, a promising ballerina who takes aim for the central role of Swan Lake. Technically perfect in her technique, she only lacks that certain something that can only be attained by lifetime experiences. At home she is comforted by her mother, who dresses her wounds and tucks her in at night. It's a relationship that is taken so correctly to the point that it becomes terribly wrong. Behind stage she is haunted by another dancer, Lily, who, while lacking what Nina has in her technique, makes up for in spades with her strong personality. Let's also not forget the setting, New York City, which here is captured only in the sparse area on the edge of the tightly composed frames.

Nina is played by Natalie Portman, and I assume little more needs to be said for her performance. This character becomes very much a real person, with something very complicated and troubling lurking just beneath the surface. Her descent is a gradual, yet thoroughly convincing one. Let's also not forget that this film is also directed by Darren Aronofsky, who here somehow manages to combine all that he has learned from Pi, Requiem for a Dream, The Fountain, and The Wrestler into one film. You can probably guess that the ending isn't altogether happy, but there is something else there too.

The film is composed masterfully. Just listen to the sound design, or take notice of some of this editing. Special effects tend to have their problems, but here they seem to sneak their way into the one corner where you least expect it, be it in a painting or something as simple as goosebumps. Of course I did have to ask myself just how many times Natalie Portman needed to unexpectedly turn around in the mirror before it became scary again, but that's a bit of a lame point in the big picture. The whole film is designed for that single pang of anxiety to grow into a throttling hurricane. When it's over, you won't quite find it left without leaving that heavy feeling in your chest. That's just part of why it's so good, and part of why it's so good when it's over.

This One's For You

2010-12-22T17:06:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas!

The Great Chase

2010-12-17T01:31:00.000-08:00

"That's strange," Beth mentioned, as we pulled up to her house. "My mom's only taking Maggie for a walk."

Maggie, the oldest of the Hall's three family dogs, waved her golden tail happily as we rounded the corner and put the car into park. Rarely ever alone, the elderly retriever mix seemed to be beaming with excitement. Beth's mom, Margaret, meanwhile simply looked confused.

Beth and our friend Joseph hardly approached her before she held up an empty collar and said in bewilderment, "I was taking the dogs for a walk when Charlie just disappeared."

"Well did you find him?" Beth asked.

"No." She replied casually, shrugging.

Charlie, or "Charles in Charge" as we like to call him, is the young corgi of the pack and has most often asserted his power-hungry attitude by loudly barking at odd hours of the day and diving out the door whenever it's about to be cracked open for visitors. To find out that he had once again escaped was not much of a surprise.

"Well what about Holly?"

"She's around the side of the house." Margaret replied.

Holly is the black Labrador mix who looks far more intimidating than the bed snuggling animal that she really is.

We discovered Holly had been safely tied to a trashcan until the situation had been resolved. Knowing how fast Charlie could be, however, made me think that it would be quite a long time.

Suddenly Beth yelled, "There he is!" and pointed two blocks down the road where sure enough a white puff of Charlie's fuzzy hindquarters wobbled through a neighbors garden.

We started running, but with Beth wearing shoes two sizes too big I decided to break into a full stride ahead of her, a sight, which I should once again emphasize, involves lots of exaggerated arm movements and looks completely ridiculous.

Charlie, who was then suddenly aware of an approaching predator, suddenly started running as well.

It was then that I began hearing the sound of a deep, low rumble growing behind me. It was as if a great storm were approaching, or more likely, that a car had suddenly blown out all of it's tires and was scraping bare metal against the pavement.

I was too far into the zone to turn back, but as the rumbling sound drew nearer it became too much for me to bear.

It was then that I looked back to see a large black shape quickly approaching me. Some sort of strange, otherworldly machine, smaller than a car but larger than a lion, rush towards my frail body.

Once I heard the barking somehow my brain immediately understood the situation.

In fear of being left alone in the driveway, Holly had also broken into a full stride down the street, following her humans in the corgi chase. This decision, however, became immediately regrettable for Holly who was now dragging behind her the large dumpster she remained tied to. In this moment I believe Holly lost all perception of who she was, where she was, and where she was going. All she knew was that she was being chased by a loud, smelly, and very angry monster that wanted to kill her and she was not going to stop running until the terrible thing was gone. Holly then bolted down the street at the speed of light, dragging behind her the evil trash can monster past Joseph and Beth and all others who might stand in her way.

At that moment a car suddenly turned the corner and quickly swerved out of the way in a desperate attempt to avoid the street chaos. Personally I like to imagine the driver suddenly pulled the steering wheel as hard as he could while quickly yelling "LOOKOUTITSADOGPULLINGATRASHCAN!" at the top of his lungs.

Realizing I could never get hold of Holly, I instead grabbed the trash can and was pulled along with it several feet until Holly realized that nothing was trying to eat her.

Beth and Joseph had caught up in time to hold the trash can while I went ahead to grab Charlie, who by this point had stopped moving entirely and was simply staring at me in awe.

I picked up the 30 pound corgi and returned to the rest of the group who were conversing with a neighbor. The man had just come outside to pick up his own dog who apparently had run out of the house after hearing all of the commotion in the street.

"Okay," the man said, nodding his head in a vague haze of comprehension. "So your dog... ran off... with the trash can?"

With none of us either affirming nor challenging that statement the man then shrugged and returned inside.

There was nothing more we could say.

So Very Busy

2010-12-08T12:57:00.000-08:00

I don't like being a busy person. It cuts in on the quality time I would otherwise spend playing Halo or watching strange Japanese commercials on youtube, such as this one below:

I completely understand this.

This week has been a surprisingly busy one. Yesterday Beth had a doctors appointment scheduled at the same time as my job interview so we had to deal with the delicate task of attending both at the same time with only one poorly working car and one cell phone. What I realized too late however was that I had no idea how to get to the office I was interviewing at. Luckily for me, there's my old friend Google, which as it turns out is also my arch nemesis.

I left Beth at her appointment along with our cell phone in case there was some sort of terrible mishap like an exploding x-ray machine. I wasn't sure who she would call if that were the case, but I figured it would probably be for the best. After I went off on my own I was slightly confused as to why the building I had an interview at was located in a back alley behind a hospital and was also completely abandoned. Considering that I did hear about the job off of craigslist, I didn't think much of it at first, but at some point I had to wise up to the fact that Google had done me wrong.

I returned to the doctors office to take back my phone, but then realized that I never saved the phone number of my interviewer. Thinking logically (which is unusual for me) I decided that this problem could be solved simply by calling every phone number on my recently called list.

Confident with this plan, I began calling.

There was a strange, almost surreal moment when I realized that I heard a nearby phone ring at the same time I began calling. Although it didn't click with me immediately, I realized I had made a terrible mistake when the receptionist picked up her receiver and I heard both in person and over the speaker of my own phone her ask, "How may I direct your call?"

"Ahhhhhhh, sorry," I tried to quietly mumble before I quickly hung up.

I sat quietly for a moment while Beth gave me a confused look, and the receptionist, equally confused, set down her receiver and returned to work.

I decided then that I should probably leave.

I did manage to find the office, promptly twenty minutes after my initial interview time, but felt satisfied with the results. Multitasking isn't easy, but it can be done. Just as long as you're willing to completely embarrass yourself.

Well. I'm Sold.

2010-11-17T14:02:00.000-08:00

Cowboys AND Aliens? I'm not sure if I could ask for more.
...Maybe time travel and velociraptors? One can dream I suppose. One can dream...

Cinderella Man

2010-11-16T01:15:00.001-08:00

Although I still have yet to hear back from any of the jobs I have applied to, I have managed to start off this week by auditioning for the local production of Cinderella. I was a bit disappointed to hear that this version of the tale has neither the cute mice of the Disney version nor the disturbing foot-binding of the Chinese version, yet I gladly got to read the part for Prince Charming a few times (The role I was born to play!). I'll let you know how it all turns out.

In the meantime, cherish these pretty pictures Beth took when we visited Yosemite. A magical place that I can only usually pronounce as Yoseemeaty, or Yusemetay.

Nothing says mountain man like a leopard backpack.

I really really like her.

I mean, really like like her.

Brotha's.

Beth has many more very pretty pictures that she's still editing together on my very slow laptop that shuts down if the cord so much as wiggles a tad too far from the wall (which kind of defeats the purpose of a laptop), so I'll let her reveal all the majestic splendor herself later. I have to say, the fresh air was something I never realized I really craved. After many years I'm starting to realize that I'm a nature guy after all. I like it.

Sickness and Such

2010-11-12T17:28:00.000-08:00

Thanks a lot, Children. You managed to get me sick again. Aren't you happy with yourself? I hope you are. Jerks. Then again, I can't blame you. You're cute, cuddly, and easy to entertain if you like being held upside down from your ankles.

Luckily it was only an over-night fever that knocked me unconscious, but after being unemployed for several weeks and having my food stamps on hold for some reason, I thought I already had enough sick days to relax and managed to get out of bed long enough to drop off another web design application.

My sweet wife meanwhile has been feeling down and out lately after also getting sick from said children and suffering from chest pain and headaches. She made it out to visit the doctor last week who quickly ordered tests of all sorts, including blood samples, an EKG, an X-Ray, and, most dreadful of all, a stool sample. Considering that I pass-out from any sort of blood loss, I was thankfully not there to witness any of these. I did however have the task of delivering the stool samples to the doctors office.

Now, I'm not sure if you've ever taken a stool sample before. Lord knows I haven't. But I'm fairly certain you've never taken someone else's stool sample to turn in to the doctor for them. Since I was going out anyway to job hunt I figured I could knock out two birds with one stone and spare my wife the embarrassment of saying "Here is my poop" to some nurse.

As I carried the sample into the office I thought that on some not-too-distant level it was basically the same as leaving a paper bag of flaming dog poo on someone's front porch in the middle of the night. Except in this case it's the middle of the day, the person is right there to take it, it's your poo, and they actually thank you for it afterwards. In some ways it was kind of the greatest prank of all.

(This image was all I could find when Igoogle image searched "Flaming bag poop." It makes me think that Martha Stewart is one sick lady.)

I brought the samples to the nurse in a plastic grocery bag, since the idea of walking into a room with two test tubes of poop in each hand just didn't seem right to me. What I didn't expect was the nurse to be accompanied by another woman who was in the process of having her blood taken.

In fear of passing out, I quickly placed the test tubes onto the counter and ran away.

At least I knew that the drop-off was complete. Am I a good husband? Maybe. I probably lose some points for writing about it online. But I tried. And now if you'll excuse me, I have to delete this story from my Facebook newsfeed.

Frozen - Movie Review

2010-11-08T18:07:00.000-08:00

Frozen
view trailer
***--

You can't help but give Frozen an "A" for effort. This is a good movie, and it's good precisely because it's something you haven't seen before onscreen, but have certainly thought about on those family ski trips from long ago. It takes an understated fear and then highlights it, and although on some level it may be like taking someone's fear of getting their shoelace stuck in an escalator and then stretching it out for a feature length film, on another level Frozen manages to throw together enough elements to keep us interested.

At first Joe isn't so excited to have Dan's girlfriend Parker tag along for a Sunday afternoon ski trip, but when she manages to bribe three lift tickets out of a somewhat sleazy resort employee, Joe starts to come around. It isn't until the three sneak on the lift for one last run that the weekend escape makes a turn for the worse. The somewhat sleazy employee leaves his post, the new guy mistakes three other skiers for the three he was told to wait for. He hits the off switch, kills the lights, and Dan, Joe, and Parker are left swinging on the lift far above nature. This wouldn't be so bad, if there wasn't a blizzard approaching and the resort wasn't only open on the weekends, but as it happens that's the case. They have an entire week to look forward to.

It's a great "what would you do?" situation. One thought is to drop. Another is to perform a quick high-wire act and make way to one of the support poles. Of course, all these might be a little bit more complicated if wolves were involved.

If only MacGyver were here. I had assumed that Parker's smoking habit might have proved useful since she has a lighter, or that some secondary uses could have come in handy for the team's ski gear, or maybe that the phone number they tried so hard to remember might come into play. Unfortunately there aren't a lot of improvised inventions to come in handy. Then again, it seems that most of their equipment is thrown off into the snowy abyss in vain attempts to gather attention.

Great films often require characters to come face-to-face with apparent dead-ends. In these situations you can either have those characters use a tool they picked up earlier on, have them crawl through the dead end with nothing but their fingers, have a magical happening to show them another way out, or just watch them squirm. Frozen has one dead-end, but uses just about all of these to keep us interested.

If only it wasn't so frustrating to watch these characters reminisce about childhood memories when what they should be doing is getting off the freaking ski lift they're trapped on. These people seriously need to get their priorities straight.

Frozen is often intense, sometimes quite gross, but very much different and entertaining. I must say that the variety of deaths (even with the few deaths involved) in the end lacked a sort of creativity. But maybe I was thinking this was another Final Destination. Still, it was worth watching, and even better, I'm sure I'll be thinking about it on my next ski trip.

How We Do Halloween

2010-11-02T21:09:00.000-07:00

After purchasing a large quantity of womens clothing from Salvation Army, my Willy Wonka costume was complete.
Beth meanwhile struck Halloween gold with her costume as the chocolate river.

Together, I think it was magic.

Luckily, the jacket hid the shoulder pads.

If anyone wants to join us, we also managed to gather together an entire Oompa Loompa costume that has yet to be used.

As for our pumpkins, this year we celebrated the two most important things in our life: our cat Georgie Fruit and the 1982 feature film E.T. The Extraterrestrial.

The Georgie Fruit pumpkin I designed turned out to be a little "too hot for TV," so we kept it inside. But I must say I'm very pleased with the results:

The inspiration:

Meanwhile, the E.T. that Beth carved pretty much blew my mind:

Now on to the next hoiday!

See Any Resemblance?

2010-10-30T14:16:00.001-07:00

This is me doing my best Dennis Quaid.

A Chihuahua On Main Street

2010-10-28T15:32:00.000-07:00

I had once won a small spelling contest in a creative writing class with the word Chihuahua, but apart from that I can't say I have a great respect for the breed. They are small, yappy, extremely active, and often result in The Dog Whisperer slapping his head in frustration. But yet, the Chihuahua is still considered a dog, and as such it only seems right to help one when it is in need.

As Beth and I drove down Main Street of Visalia, we saw one such Chihuahua dive in and out of traffic repeatedly. We drove slowly by as it wandered aimlessly and frightened down the sidewalk. There was no apparent owner in sight.

Pictured Above: Artists Rendering

Here I was struck with the dilemma of either helping a dog, or aiding in the evolution of the rest of species by letting it get wiped out of existence. Unfortunately my conscience resolved that an annoying yappy dog alive was at least better than a silent ugly dog dead, and so I stopped the car on the side of the road and attempted a quick rescue.

What I soon learned is that Chihuahua's are incredibly sensitive, and although it was a safe half-block away, it would repeatedly stop in its tracks and stare vacantly in my direction until I made any sort of movement, at which point the runt would shoot off in a full sprint down the street. I attempted a variety of approaches; whistling, saying "here doggie!" in a high voice, and making ticking noises with my tongue, but all I managed to do was gather more confused onlookers.

A group of business men outside of a bank eventually asked me after my first cycle around the block if the dog was mine. At first I was a little shocked and briefly considered asking if I looked like the sort of guy who would own a mangy chihuahua.
In fear of the answer I just said no.

After I had followed the dog four times down the same street a strange idea began to form in my head. I asked myself, "Am I, a human, faster than a Chihuahua?" After all, I am a man. A hunter, even. I imagined that thousands of years ago I would be hunting Chihuahua's in the African plains, steadying my spear until I would suddenly pounce, wrestling said Chihuahua into the ground. I would possibly even eat it right there. Raw.

Suddenly disturbed by the mental image, I pushed it out of my mind and began running.

The Chihuahua, meanwhile, turned at this moment to see me barreling towards him. Terrified, he turned and ran.

The chase was on.

I of course realized at this moment that my previous jobs have been web design opportunities, and I actually hadn't ran in several months, if not a year. Suddenly I was confused as to how exactly it was done. My legs seemed to be moving just fine, but what about the arms? I began mechanically moving them up and down, not unlike I was repeatedly pulling levers.

"Would it be better if I ran like the T-1000 from Terminator 2?" I thought.

My wife gazed at me while I flailed my body at the highest speed it was capable of, which is, as it happens, less than one third the speed of a Chihuahua.

As I rounded the corner it was gone, leaving behind only a vagabond tumbleweed blowing aimlessly in the wind.

Beth and I hopped back in the car and returned home.

A few nights later I was driving to the grocery store when I saw him again, the same Chihuahua staring at me from a lonely street corner, illuminated only by one single fluorescent light. From behind the wheel of Beth's Toyota my eyes met his, and between us we shared the same bit of knowledge:

The chase isn't over.

The Social Network - Movie Review

2010-10-23T21:49:00.000-07:00

The Social Network
****-
view trailer

Maybe it was the overwhelming sense of pure ambition, but the film The Social Network might as well have been a modern retelling of The Fountainhead. True, with the architect in this case being Mark Zuckerberg, who built his skyscraper of Facebook on the digital foundation of the internet and has yet to see it fall. It's quite a wonder to see an invention go from an idea to a universally known verb, especially when it happens so quickly. This is however, a story of ambition, how ambition can be fiercely opposed by both enemies and friends, and how that ambition can tragically turn to isolation.

The story begins with a harsh break-up between Zuckerberg and his girlfriend Erica Albright. Mark's mind is simply focused on something else and that something else turns into the vengeful "Facemash," a hot-or-not photo comparison site that narrowed down the women of Harvard from most attractive to least. It was as successful as it was inappropriate, just like most terrible things on the internet. Although he very well could have gone on to create the next "two girls one cup," instead Zuckerberg was approached by a group of Harvard crew members to create a private online network for students of the university. Suddenly the idea for an online gated community outside the sketchy slums of MySpace became planted in Zuckerberg's mind, and he ran with it. And since he was doing all the hard work himself, he left the crew boys to fend for themselves.

So the story of the social network is structured around the various legal battles that ensued after Facebook.com rose to success (after it changed from TheFacebook.com). Had it only been a legal drama this film would have only been vaguely interesting, but the film packs an emotional punch with those who invested their friendship in the leader of Facebook. Namely Eduardo (played by Andrew Garfield), who stuck with Facebook from the beginning until the Napster elite Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake) began chiming in and Eduardo's own legal battle entered the playing field.

The script is long (approximately 166 pages), but the actors are fast (cutting the runtime down to 121 minutes). Words are spit out faster than even Twitter could handle, but their impact is somehow never lost. That might just be a reflection upon how good these actors really are. There are plenty of memorable speeches here, but I couldn't help but think of the somewhat recent film August which featured Josh Hartnett in the role of an internet start-up millionaire whose bubble bursts just after he realizes that his internet company doesn't actually "do" anything at all. This movie is better, to be honest (although August does feature a pretty sweet cameo of David Bowie), but those looking for a film further down The Social Network alley might find it worth exploring.

As far as the "true story" behind Facebook is concerned, The Social Network may very well take its share of liberties. Considering that few people actually know what those liberties are, and I myself didn't really question any of the actions as completely fabricated, it's really beside the point. This is a story filled with characters, some social and some rather antisocial, and the hands they played in the construction of a network that surpassed all others.

See it.

Shooting Blind

2010-10-21T20:21:00.000-07:00

Shooting Blind from zachary newcott on Vimeo.

Life In Visalia

2010-10-20T19:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you have to sit back and ask yourself what exactly you're doing with your life. I found a perfect moment for this tonight as Beth combed the dandruff out of my hair in her backyard while I reclined in a chair and ate a chili hot dog. How did I get here?

We live in Visalia now, which, if you haven't heard of it before, it's the place that Kevin Costner spent a high school semester before going off to appear in such ground breaking roles as that guy who drank his own pee in Waterworld. Otherwise I think a controversial semi-pornographic indie movie was shot here once too. I don't recommend you watch it. But even without those first two landmarks, Visalia is still actually a pretty awesome place to be.

What I tend to love most is the food. The chili dog I ate whilst having my hair de-dandruffed was from a place called Taylors. I'm not really sure why these little wieners from a tiny stand on the side of main street are so mind blowing, but somehow when you mix barbecue chips into the equation they pretty much become a reason in and of themselves never to move away. Close-by there's also a Mexican place called Colima's that has bean and cheese burrito's that are just as mind blowing despite their simplicity. And let's not even get into the crazy awesome and mostly crazy Indian restaurant down the road where all sorts of goodies will be ordered on your behalf whether you asked for them or not.

Other than that though Visalia can be a rough town if you happen to be looking for a job that doesn't involve picking walnuts or preparing food (but never preparing walnuts for food which strikes me as slightly suspicious). As of lately I've been looking into tutoring jobs in the area since I've always wanted to show inner-city kids that's more to life than ghost riding the whip by dramatically whispering "carpe diem" into their ears and then being shot.

There's a lot I'm looking forward to. Especially the winter weather which I hear can get so intense that schools get canceled on behalf of "fog days." I'm hoping that a downturn in the dry climate might help out with the whole dandruff problem I have going on, which right now is like a blizzard in October. Part of me feels like I should say, who knows where we'll end up next? But a greater part of me is hoping that we can end up where we are. In the meantime, it's at least nice to know I'm happy wherever I am.

The History of Food: Drumstick Edition

2010-10-14T22:36:00.000-07:00

As far as I can tell not nearly enough is written about the Drumstick, possibly the greatest dessert ever invented. So I foolishly thought late tonight I would delve into where this miraculous food came from.

The origin of the ice cream cone remains to be disputed, however some common threads lie beneath each story and from that we can deduce that the cone, with its sole purpose being to hold ice cream, originated in the early 1900's, at The World's Fair, was likely developed by a Syrian pastry maker, and was allegedly developed on the spot to aid in the sales of a nearby ice cream vendor who ran out of dishes and I imagine was desperately spooning the ice cream directly into his customers bare hands.

It is largely accepted that this man was Ernest A. Hamwi who developed the cone for his friend Arnold Fornachou. However this isn't a history lesson, this is about how that cone, coated in chocolate, filled with ice cream, and sprinkled with nuts, got in your hand.

The cone itself is comprised of wheat flour, tapioca flour, and sugar. The tapioca flour is derived from the root of the cassava plant. This plant is native to South America yet has since largely been exported from Africa, where as of 2002, 99.1 million tonnes of the resource was grown. This is likely because the plant does well with thriving upon poor soil and with little rainfall. So basically anyone can grow it as long as they don't live in a place worse than Africa. Which they don't. Because Africa is the worst place in the entire world.

No other country depends upon the growth of root crops, specifically the cassava root, as much as the continent of Africa. In fact, in the African language of Ewe, the word for the cassava plant "agbeli" literally translates into "there is life." Funny, since if the cassava root is eaten raw it will likely cause severe cyanide poisoning, especially if the root is grown in a drought. Keep in mind, a 40 mg dose of cassava cyanogenic glucoside is sufficient to kill a cow. So next time you bite into a cone, just imagine a cow abruptly tipping over.

Yet in the end it is so worth it.

This is all harvested by hand, by method of pulling the roots out of the ground and being severed from the plant itself. If processed incorrectly, the cassava root can cause major environmental damage. In Africa the traditional method is that the roots are peeled and fermented for three days (to promote nutrition), after which they are dried and cooked in palm oil for preservation. But the cassava root has to be processed quickly since it rapidly deteriorates, ironically since the root attempts to heal itself. The challenge with exporting is that this process occurs just 15 minutes after being harvested, so the root must either be coated in wax or frozen.

Then it is imported to the cone manufacturer in bags, as is the sugar. The wheat flour meanwhile is imported by the truckload and then is unloaded by means of air pressure into large storage silos. Before this however, wheat flour has to be milled, or "stone-ground" in which a revolving stone wheel rotates over another stationary wheel. The flour dust itself when suspended in air is explosive and can result in tragic accidents. This was the case in 1878 at the Washburn "A" Mill in Minneapolis MN where a single spark demolished the mill and instantly killed 14 workers, resulted in the deaths of 4 additional people, and destroyed five other mills.

If you feel bad right now then you are very much like me after watching several episodes of "How It's Made," or "Dirty Jobs," or any show of the sort on the Discovery channel. It's understandable. Already hundreds of people have died so that you can open your refrigerator, grab an ice cream cone, sit on your couch, and then watch something on the television you will forget about while you consume a treat you probably won't even remember the next day. Don't beat yourself up about it.

Just keep in mind that right now we have the dry ingredients for only the cone (not including baking soda which is processed through numerous vacuums and centrifuges), and not the ice cream, the chocolate coating, the caramel at the center, and those tasty nuts sprinkled on the top.

Since baking soda reacts to water it is added last after the water and shortening are combined with the coloring and flavoring. After this the ingredients are ready to be processed.

This is all well and good, but what we don't often think about is the fact that the chocolate shell to the Drumstick was a necessary invention for the ice cream cone to
enter the home. The coating is actually a mixture of chocolate, oil, and sugar, and it acts as an insulator for the ice cream cone to be stored in a grocers freezer. This process was developed by brothers I.C. and J.T. "Stubby" Parker of Fort Worth, Texas in 1928. I don't know how he got that nickname (perhaps one of his fingers found its way to being the caramel center of the cone?), the world may never know. What we do know, courtesy of the Nestle company who later bought the name, is that Parker's wife thought the finished product looked like a "Fried chicken leg," and hence the name "Drumstick" was born. Since an ice cream cone looks nothing like a chicken leg I take that to mean that Parker's wife was also blind and/or mentally retarded.

This seemingly simple invention was responsible for the ice cream cone to be stored and sold as a single item and I'm sure resulted in numerous ice cream cone scientists slapping their foreheads at once and cursing as to why they never thought of it.

Which is coincidentally what I am doing right now after realizing I could have graduated from college as an ice cream cone scientist.

Recently the Drumstick has evolved in Canada and Australia to have no waffle cone at all and instead just an extra solid chocolate shell. And if that isn't enough of a reason to move to Canada or Australia, I don't know what is.

Well. My Mind Has Been Blown.

2010-09-29T07:03:00.000-07:00

If I was asked who would be the best person in the world to perform a highly choreographed slow-motion dance routine, I would first ask "why?" and then say "probably someone in Japan." Well, it's happened. And it's awesome.

Well played Japan. Well played.

Miniature Tigers - Bullfighter Jacket

2010-09-22T15:44:00.000-07:00

After seeing Miniature Tigers perform live in LA, I kind of overdosed on their goodness. It probably had something to do with the fact that I ended up listening to their EP album on every single car ride. Ever since, I've been waiting to hear what they would come up with next. Their latest music video combines two things that I love, catchy tunes and Where's Waldo. And I like it.

"Bullfighter Jacket" by Miniature Tigers

Miniature Tigers | MySpace Music Videos

Five Years

2010-09-20T21:51:00.000-07:00

Well, it finally happened. I got invited to my five year high school reunion. Am I going to go? I'm just not sure. I think it really depends on what kind of semi-useless invention I can find to claim as my own idea and somewhat impress that no good principal of mine. Even though I don't remember his name and never actually talked to him, I bet he's a real stuck up jerk who would've hated it if I had covered the school statue of Walt Whitman with women's panties. I mean, if our school had a statue, if I knew who Walt Whitman was, or if I even knew how to obtain a massive collection of panties. They seem expensive.

So far I've narrowed it down to a few options:

1. Those little plastic things on the end of shoelaces.
2. The lids of Asprin bottles that you have to push down before opening.
3. That button thing on batteries that you press your thumb against to see if it has any life left.
4. Dinosaurs.

I can't really make up my mind. In any case, I might just fall back to my plan of hiring a shirtless Abercrombie male model to go in my place and say I worked out a lot in college.

"Hey I'm definitely Zack Newcoat or whatever. Yeah, as you can see, I play soccer now. Uh... Yeah. I mean, that's what we call football in England, where I live now. Everything there is backwards and it's awesome. Now let's party. Newcoat style."

To be honest, I'm not really sure if it would work. Especially since I have no means of hiring my first choice Josh Groban as my stand-in.

But all in all, I never really needed to. I'm happy where I am in my life. I'm married to a wonderful girl, living in New York, and patiently awaiting to be reunited with my cat Georgie Fruit. The fact is, I have it really good, even if I never did manage to invent dinosaurs or those cinnamon scented pinecones that turn up around Christmas time. Even if I never do (although I assume there are still so many things that I could make cinnamon scented) I'll still be happy. Maybe it's just me, but I'm really looking forward to what the next five years will bring too.

The House of the Devil - Movie Review

2010-09-17T23:25:00.000-07:00

The House of the Devil
*****
view trailer

It's a real shame there aren't more horror movies like The House of the Devil, although, if you were to find some, I suppose you would find them hiding in the 80's. It seems only right that this particular film is executed in that style. You won't find anything in the way of special effects apart from the occasional surprise in the way of exploding makeup, and when that makeup turns up the story jumps to a whole new level. What we have here is a film that really requires very little in the way of a budget. What we're most afraid of it what's left hidden behind closed doors, and this isn't the kind of instance in which one would want to be barging in to find out what's lurking in the darkness. This is a film about a reasonable college student who knows better than to disturb the person they are hired to cared for, for better or for worse. In this case, much worse.

Samantha is desperate to make the measly deposit on her first apartment, and so she replies on a whim to the first baby sitting position she notices. Luckily for her, Samantha's best friend has already taken the liberty of taking down the rest of the flyers hanging around campus to dissuade any other potential rivals, but there's a distinct feeling that it wouldn't make much of a difference anyway. Something about the whole proposition is simply off kilter. Maybe it's the fact that she isn't watching over a baby at all, but over an elderly woman who seems locked away in her own room on the second floor of a creepy mansion, on the night of a lunar eclipse no less. Granted, I would take four hundred bucks for the job, wouldn't you?

It's easy to make a horror film with dumb characters, but what's hard (and far more terrifying) is making a horror film with characters who seem perfectly reasonable. Would I do anything different in Samantha's position? I'm really not sure. Free pizza sounds pretty good to me, even if the old man hiring me for the job mentions it one too many times. Only once, I think, is the viewer granted a glance at what lurks behind the walls of this haunted mansion, but even then it's too far to turn back. The film keeps a slow but steady pace up until it's final conclusion, but people are cautious, and usually for good reasons. I might say that the beginning feels a bit sluggish, but having seen so many other 80's horror films, it actually is pretty spot on. Is that a good thing? Have horror films of today been benefitted by a shorter attention span? Maybe, but a sense of tension can never find a suitable replacement. Just wait a while until the film takes a short detour for a quick cigarette break in a cemetery. This is a horror film that wants to acquaint you to a normal world in which terrible things can happen. And it works.

Spoilers might follow, but I have to say the ending left me feeling a bit cheated inside. Maybe I found myself connecting to Samantha. Or maybe I've seen scary movies like Rosemary's Baby one too many times (and I've only seen it twice). Then again, I suppose that's just how it is with classic scary movies. Jason escapes, Jaws has babies, Alien has other Aliens, all in all the horror continues to see another sequel. This one probably won't get one, but it doesn't need to. I don't want it to. I'm scared enough as it is.
See it.

FASHION NIGHT!

2010-09-10T19:26:00.000-07:00

As is the way with most of the evenings that I have left work, I had already determined in my mind that I wouldn't be roped into another "Fashion Night" of any sort. Not again. Little did I realize that one such Fashion Night was already taking place just outside of the building I work at, the one and only Rockefeller Center.

Yes, I might have initially been enticed by the opportunity to see the editor of Vogue across the street, but as I was later wandering the halls of the nearby Lego store I discovered the prospect of free champagne being handed out at the nearby Banana Republic. By the time I picked up a free handbag filled with a variety of Aveeno lotions, I knew it was too late. Fashion Night had consumed me with a passion for free goodies, and I would not be satisfied until I was filled to the brim with the sweet taste of free champagne.

It was just like Halloween, except for adults who had lots of money to spend on clothing, or no money and wanted to pretend they were interested in buying a really expensive pair of shoes until someone came up to them with a tray filled with cupcakes or several champagne flutes.

Alas, the night led to myself posing drunkenly on the abandoned platform of a model along the red carpet.

While the sounds of laughing Japanese tourists made me feel right in my element, it was up to a local 30 Rock security guard to bring me back down to earth.

Do I have any regrets?

Perhaps this photo taken only moments afterward with a group of models can answer your question.

No. No I do not.

Corgi On Wheels

2010-09-07T10:55:00.000-07:00

Of all the things I have seen in New York, I think it might be impossible to beat the sight of a corgi on wheels.

Adorable AND efficient. Frankly, I think all animals should adopt this method of transportation. I know I would.
I mean, if I were an animal.
Otherwise it would just be ridiculous.

I would have to run on my hands...

Jesus Jello

2010-09-03T08:58:00.000-07:00

Some might say it's a waste of time and refrigerator space, but I say there's always room for Jello Jesus.

It was made out of a discarded plastic wrapper from a Jesus shaped nightlight that Beth and I bought at a dollar store a few days ago. Yes, I suppose it does ask some very interesting questions. Such as, is it wrong on some level to eat something shaped liked Jesus? Maybe to probably. But is it not just as wrong to eat jello in any other shape?

...I'll let you marinate on that one for a little while.

Yes, it did immediately turn back into some kind of formless blob immediately after I took it out of the plastic. But really, I think it's the thought that counts.

Curious Minotaur

2010-08-31T10:14:00.000-07:00

My niece Emma just turned 11 this past week, and to commemorate the occasion she had a Percy Jackson themed birthday party. For those not in the know (like me), that means the party was basically in the theme of Greek mythology. Beth and I wanted to help out and were placed in charge of the tricky task of finding a pinata in the shape of a minotaur. Again, for those not in the know (me), a minotaur is basically an angry upright buffalo with a sword. See this image I used for reference below:

As you can probably imagine, finding something like that is not an easy task. So instead Beth and I decided to get the closest thing we could find:

A monkey pooping ribbons, aka: Curious George.

It was up to us to turn a fun-loving monkey into a stone-cold buffalo monster warrior. Luckily Beth majored in art and I majored in minotaurs or something.

Behold.

No Internet, Thank YOU.

2010-08-27T16:23:00.001-07:00

Something about a Chinchilla with a paper hat makes everything better.

Scott Pilgrim VS. The World - Movie Review

2010-08-23T12:25:00.000-07:00

View Trailer

Scott Pilgrim VS. The World
****-

Like most video games, Scott Pilgrim VS. The World has its own kind of learning curve. It's fast, fanciful,and filled to the brim with visual and audial inventiveness. So fast, in fact, that the fervently delivered dialogue can sometimes scramble it's way through both ears without full comprehension or appreciation by the viewer. It's as close to animation as a live-action film can get, and it's as close to playing a video game as much as just watching someone else play it for you. There are so many things to like about the movie, and at the same time so many things that keep you just far enough away from the characters to fully enjoy it.

Scott is presented to us (partially through pop-up statistics) as a 22 year old slacker who passes his days by dating girls who would otherwise never give him the time of day. That's not to say he's without a sense of innocence. The quality time he spends with his high school girlfriend Knives is mostly spent on his bus ride tag-alongs, but with this innocence comes a sense of naivete. Scott has little backbone, and the constant barrage of insults he receives from his close friends lands in a place somewhere between pathetic and rightly deserved. One day he receives a vision of the hair-dyed girl of his dreams, and when that girl Ramona suddenly turns up Scott's interests veer suddenly away from the likes of Knives. A relationship seems to blossom just in time for Scott to realize he has to defeat each of Ramona's seven evil ex-boyfriends in glorious colorful battles.

Much like a video game, and the graphic novel that Scott Pilgrim VS. The World was based upon, the film is fairly episodic. Think of each boyfriend encounter as reaching the next level. For a comic, a game, and maybe a television show, I see this working. For a film, the structure doesn't quite fit. Yes, it may be epic, but even the epic of Homer's Odyssey defined the heroes journey as a finely calibrated form of storytelling. I suspect even the slightest variance, in the form of storytelling from comic book to screen, could result in armies from comic-con storming the home of director Edgar Wright, but if you're going to make a film, make a film.

There are things I wish I could have seen, time that could have been invested in strengthening the ties within this dramatic love triangle. Instead, the drama often hit me more along the lines of middle school interactions. I really liked all of these characters, but I wanted to see something happen between them aside from snarky dialogue and graphically represented sounds likes RIIIIIIING or BDDDDDDD. Maybe it's a personal preference to want moments of quiet beauty, but what I received mostly only remind me of an extended Japanese commercial.

This is where we're heading people.

All in all, Scott Pilgrim is still winning with it's charm and sheer enthusiasm. There is so much here to absorb and laugh with. There are beautiful and inventive touches in every corner of the screen, from the brilliant first image of the pixelated Universal logo, to the crashing waves of plastic cups in the midst of a bass guitar battle. I was smiling the whole time. I was honestly wondering how it would all pan out for our hero and his rather confusing love life, but simply knowing that the film had it's heart in the right place made everything worth it. Scott Pilgrim VS. The World is endearing, certainly enjoyable, and definitely worth seeing.

New York New York

2010-08-15T13:58:00.000-07:00

As of lately I've been spending much of my time in the Big Apple waiting to interview for my next job, which I should emphasize is not another position at 7 Eleven. I'm starting to realize again that it takes some time to find employment, but the bright side is that I have an entire city to explore, and it seems that New York has no shortage of delicious nooks and crannys to be lathered in the sweet butter of discovery. I'm not sure what that means, maybe I'm hungry?

Beth and I have already made a trip up to the old dilapidated World's Fair grounds which have been hanging around since the 1960's (minus the massive dinosaurs that have since been shipped off to who knows where).

Here's what it looked like then:
retro RAWR!

I must admit that the first time I made a visit to yesterday's "world of tomorrow" I was very young and mostly motivated by watching Men In Black. On this second visit however I realized how awesome it really is. If anything can make a massive 12 story high metallic sculpture of the earth even more magnificent it's the addition of a Mr. Softee ice cream truck making circles at the bottom.

I wouldn't want to meet this guy in a dark alley... or would I?

nom.

Here's a picture Beth snagged of the Indian family who asked me to take their photo:

And here are some of my lovely wuv:

I'm liking it here.

2010-08-13T11:35:00.000-07:00

MAN. ALIVE.

2010-07-29T22:49:00.000-07:00

I invite you to close your eyes and imagine, if you will, using the basement toilet at my Dad's house. It's been a long night. You've been stuck in the house all day feeling sick to your stomach, hopped up on several tablespoons of childrens Tylenol, and eating nothing but saltines. At times like these you need to sit back and appreciate the finer things in life. Relax. Enjoy. Just let your body do all the work and oh my GOD WHAT IS THAT?!

Don't let the picture fool you. That is most certainly the biggest spider I have ever seen outside of a cage or horror movie. Don't believe me? Here, let me post a picture that will on your computer monitor (given that you don't wear a monocle and smoke hundred dollar bills like cigars) provide our spider friend a more life-like scale image.

GOOD. NIGHT!

Yes, it's lucky I saw this while on the toilet, since it literally scared the crap out of me. However, leaving the bathroom became a suddenly strenuous affair as I attempted to quietly jump up onto the toilet and edge my way out of the bathroom door. Did I imagine it suddenly leaping towards my face and making a hissing sound? Yes. Did I also consider yelling for my sick wife to come downstairs and kill it? Also yes. When it all comes down to it though, the most important thing is that I closed the basement door and shoved several towels between the cracks to ensure that whatever evil is locked away, stays locked away.

Gold.

2010-07-22T20:35:00.001-07:00

Salt - Movie Review

2010-07-21T21:18:00.000-07:00

View Trailer

Salt
***--

First off, if I were a double agent working for the CIA, I would immediately change my name to something far less conspicuous than something that sounds made up specifically for the purpose of an action film. Secondly, I think Pepper is altogether a better name. Yet here we are with Salt, a film that most likely does not want to be compared to the Bourne series yet undeniably will. So to make things easier to swallow, I'll take this Salt with a serving of 3 Days of the Condor.

If you've seen that classic then you're probably aware that film was not so much of an action film as a political thriller, and Salt at the very beginning almost becomes one. Deep down I have a weakness for any film that features an otherwise regular joe in extraordinary circumstances, and I think most people can relate. In this case that joe is a jill by the name of Salt (Angelina Jolie) who works as an agent in the CIA. Yes, that's not quite so regular, but with her tight fitting skirt and well-groomed hair she doesn't seem like the type to go rogue and start kicking ass whilst taking names. However, when one of her Russian interrogatees claims that's exactly what she will do, it seems like Salt doesn't have much of a choice but to oblige.

But once she begins to leap from truck top to truck top, we start to wonder if there is some truth to what the Russian said. The mystery keeps us engaged, at least until the film's half-way point, but it also keeps Salt too far away from the dinner plate. Not knowing who exactly she is and what is motivating her creates a character who, I must say at this point, is simply not as likable or interesting as Jason Bourne or James Bond. Yes, she's quite fun to have around while she's tinkering with a fire extinguisher and disassembling a desk chair, but with not much charm and personality, I had little concern over her well-being.

Clearly, this was developed to be the first part of a very long series of films. Apparently there's no shortage of evil Russians to be defeated. Naturally, this also means that the film ends on a somewhat unsatisfying note. Can't all of this mess be cleared up by asking one person of high authority what in the heck happened? I think so. In fact, by the end, I'm sure Salt really has nothing much left to be afraid of. I guess that's a minor gripe.

The movie has some great set pieces, especially for an action film. As Salt made her way from ledge to ledge, and truck to truck, I have to say my stomach was wrung like a wet towel. A specific act of vengeance had me laughing in approval, a sure sign that something was done very right. In the acting department we have Liev Schreiber, who I tend to like no matter what film he choses and what character he plays. Overall, I left the theater happy, and I'd be glad to check out what Salt has to offer next. That is, unless her competition puts something better on the table.

Predators - Movie Review

2010-07-20T05:27:00.000-07:00

view trailer

Predators
*----

It's my general opinion that an action film doesn't really need to rely on character development as much as a strong character establishment. The original Predator film began with a clever segment in which Arnold Schwarzenegger created a McGuyver-esque trap to exterminate as many guerrilla soldiers as possible. It worked because the film was about two soldiers trying to out-trap the other. The big surprise was that one of the soldiers was an alien. Now we have Predators, a film that is neither a sequel to the original nor a part of the Alien VS Predator series, and a film that interestingly decides to literally drop its characters into the lap of the audience and let them flutter their broken wings. No surprise here.

The bright side is that we have Adrien Brody falling out of the sky and that he meets Topher Grace down below. These are two very talented actors who I assume chose to star in Predators simply because it has the iconic monster known as Predator in it and, heck, what other reason do you need? Even I would say yes. On the ground they meet up with a number of other fallen allies and together they wonder why they have arrived.

The answer, my friend, is Predators.

The audience is informed by Adrien Brody that the rest of the characters are comprised of a convict, a drug cartel enforcer, a Russian soldier, a sniper, a Yakuza enforcer, a revolutionary officer, and a doctor. They are Predators. Adrien Brody also informs us by looking at the numerous massive moons orbiting the sky that they have all been abducted by an alien race that is hunting them. Also Predators.

It's rare to see a movie so completely inept at exposition that all information presented is divulged in a way that is both uninteresting and illogical. There is a reason why the show LOST worked, and it's because we saw where the characters came from rather than had Adrien Brody tell us. There's a reason why the original Predator didn't tell us what the Predator monster was or where it came from. It's because we didn't need to know. Any viewer preparing themselves for this film should come expecting several long scenes of exposition in which we are told all about Predators, the Predator world, and how much it sucks to be hunted by the Predator. And all this information will only amount to one of the characters responding with "Well, F*&K YOU."

When all is said and done, Predators will give you everything except what you came to see: Actual Predators. Apart from a final battle, which is mostly identical to the original Predator (weren't they supposed to adapt in some way?), the movie will keep the Predators far enough away so that they can finally make use of their CGI horndogs and use semi-useless thermal imaging.

This movie is boring and very well could have ended with everyone dying. In fact, that probably would have been preferable over the ending that left the characters musing "Great, now let's do what we were supposed to be doing this entire time." It feels as though nothing was accomplished except for exposition, and I don't expect much more to come.

2010-07-17T20:34:00.000-07:00

It's decided for now that DC will be our new home. Beth stayed behind a couple days after me to pack up the apartment with the help of her parents who have graciously allowed us to fill their garage with boxes once again.

Last Sunday night, on July 7th, in the evening, before the sun set, my mom died. Her pronounced time of death was 7:45, but I don't think any of us really bothered to look at the clock. The days leading up to the moment and even the moments now seem unreal. At times it's as though I'm sitting in a movie theater watching someone else wander through my life in a surreal first-person documentary.

As my niece Madison put it in her e-mail, which was rather elegantly entitled "Dead," she wrote, "Today is very sad. My grand mother just died. She lived a good life."

Beth and I, along with my aunt Sue, brother Nick, sister Tiffany, father, and grandparents, were all at my mothers side when she took her last breath. This, in itself, is a miracle. She died just as she had wanted, at home, surrounded by those she loved. My father was singing her favorite hymns, and at the crescendo of "Household of Faith," her most favorite of all, she passed away.

I had never seen anyone actually die before, and death is not the most elegant of experiences to either experience or view. Immediately when it occurred I felt the moment repeat on a loop in my mind, and it took Beth to remind me that the moment isn't of any importance in comparison to the freedom to follow. My mom fought for life for so many years. It's comforting for me to know with certainty that my mother has truly found her home with God, and I think in her very last moments it was comforting for her to know that we would be sharing that eternity with her as well. With that in mind, today is not so sad after all.

I want to thank you all for your prayers and for your support. Even now we are surrounded with friends and family while embracing memories of our missing friend. Up to her final moments she kept her sense of humor and hospitality, whether she was frequently telling me to cut my hair, celebrating my sister-in-law Susan's birthday party, or musing on her fancy reclining chair that in her opinion was at once both magical and "tragical." My mom has left behind a lot of great memories throughout the course of a lifetime.

This Saturday we had a wonderful ceremony at Fourth Presbyterian Church in Bethesda. I know it was everything my mom could have ever hoped for. Together we celebrated the wonderful life she lead while at the same time rejoiced in the eternal life she shares with the Lord at this very moment. My brothers and I each shared memories of her, and although mine wasn't much more than a few recollections of watching General Hospital each day with her after school, they each reflected the incredible personality and influence our mom had on our lives and the lives of all those who she touched.

Thanks again to everyone for their support.

Inception - Movie Review

2010-07-15T21:59:00.001-07:00

view trailer

Inception
*****

It doesn’t happen often, but every once and a while there comes a film that makes me wonder why I should even continue making films, or pretty much anything for that matter, at all. This isn’t because the movie is so bad, on the contrary, even Speed 2: Cruise Control has enough inspiration to draw out the most inexperienced artists and make them rationalize “If somebody could get away with making this, then why can’t I?” Some films are simply so good, and on a level completely beside themselves, that one has to wonder if they themselves have anything to offer the world that could possibly compete. Inception is one such movie. In fact, it really is one of the best films I have ever seen.

Being such a great movie, I almost don’t want to give an introductory synopsis. This is a movie that wants you to figure it out on your own, and doing so is just one of the films many joys. I suppose what you need to know is that the film is about a man (Leonardo DiCaprio) who has the interesting occupation of constructing and entering the dreams of the corporate elite. His job is mainly to extract valuable information from the subconscious safe hidden away in the dreamers mind. Of course, not all of the heists go quite right, but when one such incident occurs it leads to an interesting opportunity. This time instead of stealing information, he has to plant one. All things considered, it should go well for everyone, unless the mind of the constructor begins to get in the way.

With this comes the understated thought experiment of the origin of ideas, of ideas being tainted by other men, or of ideas being completely manifested by a third party. Where does inspiration strike, and when is inspiration something not to be trusted? The fact that such a situation is so invasive and, in a way, perverse, is hardly even addressed by the central characters. This is a job, and the rewards in themselves prove to be admirable. The only objectors are the manifested observers in the dreamers mind who don’t like having someone else messing around upstairs.

This is a movie where everything just seems to work, even when the muddled mess of dreams within dreams within dreams within the subconscious seem incomprehensible to the viewer. This is a demanding film to experience, not just watch, and although there are wonderful action sequences to behold, it takes an engaged mind to keep up with the world the film constructs from the ground up.

It must be noted, in my opinion, that director Christopher Nolan’s work does have some notable similarities to other films I’ve seen. Anyone who likes this needs to take a look at the anime film Paprika, whose frantic story-line also revolves around a dream detective stumbling through the subconscious mind, entering gravity free hallways, and riding on elevators to parts of the mind one might not be ready to enter. Quite similar, at least without gigantic skyscraper-destroying china dolls and fighting robots

(yeah, it’s pretty trippy),

Still, when it comes down to it, Inception is quite simply a far better movie. Really, it's a masterpiece. It just is. If you don’t trust me ask the reviewer next to me who boasted of her meticulous note taking skills only to leave the theater with blank pages.

This is a film that demands you pay full admission and view it immediately. Having not just a big screen, but an active audience as well, is simply outstanding. Here you’ll find one of those final shots that stands among Citizen Kane as one of the greatest moments in film history, one of those moments so highly calibrated it could never be executed in a finer fashion. Afterward, as you take the elevator down to your car waiting patiently in the garage, I can guarantee you’ll be waiting for the next kick.

See it.

Where I Am And What I'm Doing

2010-07-09T20:10:00.000-07:00

It's been kind of quiet on the Awkward Unicorn lately, and I thought I should at least post a little tid-bit about what's going on right now in the life of Beth and myself. I've updated some of my close friends with most of this information already, but I thought I'd copy, paste, and post some of it on here as well. Just so you're in the loop.

If you didn't know, a few years ago my mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I actually came back during college to kind of hold down the fort until it seemed like the coast was clear, or at least until Beth and I got to talking and I decided it was time to get back to California.

Over the past few months my mom's progress was declining, and although she managed to get to the beach this summer with some friends, over the past week her condition has suddenly worsened.

The general consensus is that the cancer has spread to her brain. Her speech is very slurred, eyes very droopy, and her overall presence is very thin. She often wonders why my dad is giving her two pills, when in fact she's only seeing double.

A few nights ago she complained to my sister about a woman in a red sweater sitting next to her. When my sister asked whether the sweater was too red or too bright my mother simply stated that it was 102 degrees in DC and there's no need for one. She then concluded, "and of course, she isn't real is she?" The woman in fact, wasn't. Apparently hallucinations are part of the mix now too.

I'm not sure how many days she has left. It just doesn't seem quite right (and we can't really afford) to fly out here to D.C. now, head back later, and then come back out again for a funeral. Seeing as my only means of support is a gig at 7 Eleven, and with the amount of time being taken off severely cutting down that support to afford rent and toilet paper, we've been thinking that my job status is up for revision again.

This week we decided that we'll be moving to DC for a little while to support my family and find jobs in a place that we want to be. Which is crazy, especially since it seems like we just got settled in.

And to be honest, that kind of sucks. We love our little apartment and have been racking our brains with ways to return all of our most precious belongings (which by this point we've narrowed down to just Georgie Fruit and our mattress) back to Visalia.

That said, we still love Portland. We miss our good friends. A lot. We want all of us to live in the same apartment building and be best friends forever. Please pray that we can make that a reality, or at least make a good home for ourselves in a decent place. And for my mom. Things are hard.

I Want One

2010-07-05T21:25:00.000-07:00

It's kind of like having Georgie Fruit, but with Jabba The Hutt in the litter box instead.

AT-AT day afternoon from Patrick Boivin on Vimeo.

Sevahn Eelevahn

2010-06-15T12:42:00.001-07:00

For a little while after I was hired I thought I could get away with revealing my employers to friends and family by means of adopting a thick French accent and describing the establishment as a "local coffee and bakery shop named Sévahn Eelévahn." The fact of the matter is that I work at a 7 Eleven literally located in the middle of a street on Swan Island. If you ever drive towards it you might think you would crash directly into it.

It's not that I'm ashamed to say I work at a 7 Eleven, on the contrary, I have long desired to share the same occupation as Apu from the Simpsons.

It was just a little hard to face up to the notion that my college degree has only so far qualified me to rotate quarter pound wieners and microwave corn dogs. That said, if the job involves wieners it's the role I was born to play. In fact, I have that written in bold on my resume.

As far as jobs go, and I have certainly had a lot of them, a career at 7 Eleven is very enjoyable. It has the same casual tone of working in a movie theater, (except without all the butter stains), the fun and quirky characters to be found from working at Disneyland, (without the commuting hassles involved with running into parades), and the benefit of not being managed by a mean old lady who relentlessly demands you feather dust copies of Brokeback Mountain and then two weeks later fires you.

If you can't tell, I'm still harboring some resentment towards my previous brief stint at the local video store.

Swan Island is mostly an industrial area, and as such I am mostly interacting with gentlemen who make their living by lifting heavy objects or driving heavy objects from one location to another. The weekends are surprisingly low pace.

Among the characters I have met so far I was especially engaged by the visitation of one over-weight man who stumbled into the store with his shirt completely open. He devoured three corn dogs while wandering the isles before he finally settled upon his purchase of several malt liquors, two liters of coke, and warming lubrication. I prefer to leave the purpose behind the last purchase a mystery.

Overall, I like the job. I made acquaintances with a duck who liked to sit outside of the store until I thought I would feed him a banana. He didn't like it. Still, it's nice to meet new friends.

If you love Adrien Brody, and I know you do...

2010-06-15T12:40:00.000-07:00

They should have sent a poet.

My Wedding Day

2010-06-05T22:51:00.000-07:00

My Wedding Day
Zachary Newcott

On my wedding day I woke up on top of my sheets with my clothes still on. After I took a moment to understand where I was, I imagined my situation was a celebratory welcome banner from the real world letting me know what I just got myself into. A Motel 8, I realized, especially one located behind a liquor store, is probably the most certain place to learn such lessons.

I had checked in to the motel at two o’clock the previous morning after I had tucked my fiance Beth into her own bed at the hotel she was staying at across the street. Two O'clock, even for a bachelor, was too late to impose on my friends who were either already married or living in some distant part of Los Angeles. So I wandered between the three other motels on Whittier Blvd. until I eventually stumbled onto this one.

I was surprised to find that the room had all the bare essentials that a motel usually offers, possibly more if you count the used ash tray sitting on the chair in the corner. Thankfully the imagined sound of gunshots from outside was drowned out by the heavy rain drumming at the air conditioner jammed through the window.

I turned on the television and was surprised to find that the 1987 film The Predator was still being aired on TBS. I suddenly remembered the early days before Beth and I were dating and The Predator somehow materialized on television three different nights we were hanging out.

Still slightly fearing death however, I turned it off.

The bed was a solid rectangular slab only a few notches in quality above a piece of granite and only a few notches below a pile of moldy leaves. For the most part I was okay with it, except for the fact that it lacked any kind of sheets under the blanket. I briefly cursed 60 Minutes for ever letting me know of the prominent presence of blood and semen stains left over on hotel beds, before I curled up on top of it and decided I would sleep exactly as I was.

Later that morning I opened the bathroom medicine cabinet in search of a razor and instead only found the uncensored message of “F*&% YOU,” written against the wall in red ink, followed by “No, F%$# YOU!” written underneath it in black. I decided to stay out of the argument and closed the cabinet.

I changed my clothes and walked back across the street to Beth’s hotel. I had the key to her parents room and entered to find it empty. It was strange to think that my wedding day was so completely absent of other people. Briefly I questioned whether I missed the rapture or if at some point during the night I had been killed at the scary motel and was now stuck in some sort of strange purgatory.

If any of those are the case, I thought, Beth will be so annoyed with me. Luckily, they weren't.

I used the shower in that hotel room since I was afraid the other motel would give me AIDS, and then attempted to iron my clothes without burning holes through them. Luckily I succeeded.

A knock on my door turned out to be the photographer, and she took a variety of pictures that depicted me exactly as I was, a guy who, in a haze of equal parts happiness and nervousness, tried to get ready for his own wedding but still had a collar sticking out and several pock marks still on his face.

Two doors down Beth was being prepped by her friends and family. I meanwhile used her razor in the other room to shave my face, all the while singing “I’m your Venus, I’m your fire, Your desire,” out loud.

I arrived at the church to find myself locked outside, and figuring that I might as well make some use of my time I decided to move some of the spare tables on the roof of the building to the ground floor.

After a while my friend Anthony appeared, and at a loss for something else to do before I was married, I decided we wander over to the Asian dollar store around the block.

For the past two years the dollar store had been the bachelor headquarters for Anthony and I. It served as our one source for nutrition and entertainment. As we grazed the shelves of poorly produced home oddities, there was a clear understanding between us. No bachelor party could succinctly summarize the feelings in that moment of analyzing cans of Tomato Energia, the worst drink we had both ever purchased from the 99 Cent Store, as moments like these are the unexpected ones in which we bond over. In a few short hours I wouldn’t be wandering by myself anymore, but in a few short hours I would also be wandering away from so many others.

We took photos of ourselves in a Japanese photobooth which was a complete mystery to us until it somehow spit out glittery prints of ourselves consumed by randomized Japanese characters.

Anthony put them away in his pocket until we wandered back to the church. There we met up with the rest of my family as we continued to wait for the doors to be opened.

My brother in law Chris was in the church basement beforehand mixing Sangria into buckets. “It’s actually pretty simple, and pretty cheap too.” He told me while pouring boxed wine together with a bottle of 7up. Taking a taste, we realized what kind of magic potion he had just concocted. Later he told us that “Jesus helped me make it. I'm not even joking.”

I returned upstairs to the courtyard where I was told by the photographer to wear a blindfold and wait. I stood for ten minutes outside until the gentle rain started to turn into a downpour. Just as I was beginning to wonder if this was a form of torture, I was handed an umbrella.

Ten minutes later my blindfold was pulled down and before me stood Beth in her white wedding gown. Her hair was pulled up and she had a beauty that seemed to glow from her very being. With an umbrella in her own hand she leaned towards me and kissed me, and with her kiss I felt the whole world gently wash away like gentle drips on a watercolor painting.

I smiled in awe of what I felt, and I felt a different kind of blindfold cover my eyes. It was a simple and honest joy. From then on the wedding seemed to be a dream recalled upon waking. I can only vaguely recall the experience of saying my own vows, or of the frantic reception, everything seems to skip ahead to our first dance in which I floated along with Beth with a haze of tears in my eyes. Everything is perfect, everything is right.

We kidnapped all of our friends and rushed them to the Japanese photobooth, jamming as many as we could inside until the printed pictures we received were composed of nothing but faces growing out of the same being.

My friend Jon decorated the car for us, and in his fashion made sure that it was as inconvenient to drive as possible. Using the keys to break off the strings he wrapped around the doors, we hopped inside and drove away, dragging the baskets, balloons and various food items he had tied to the back.

The next day I recall finding several lemons wedged into the rear window. Several weeks later we would still be finding string and post-it notes attached to various car parts. And even several months after that we would look at the photo we had taken in the magical Japanese photobooth and think of the parts we still had tied to our friends and family and feel the wash of joy knowing that a part of them was tied to us as well.

The Messenger - Movie Review

2010-06-03T22:12:00.001-07:00

View Trailer
The Messenger
*****

If you've been on the job hunt recently, like I have, you've probably come to the realization that there are some truly terrible occupations out there. The Messenger focuses on one in particular, the occupation of two US Military men who have to deliver news of grief on a daily basis. Sure, that career might not have the same level of extreme intensity that the soldier depicted in The Hurt Locker had, but as even that film pointed out, there are some people out there that at least want that kind of job. In fact, they're practically born to do it.

Although I don't necessarily want to make comparisons between The Hurt Locker and The Messenger, they do share other similarities apart from being released in the same year. Both films are at times fairly episodic. Whereas The Hurt Locker took the viewer from one bomb to the next, The Messenger often makes it's own episodic journey from door to door. The news may always be the same, but here's the spoiler, no one reacts the same way twice.

These two messengers are Capt. Tony Stone (Woody Harrelson) and Staff Sgt. Will Montgomery (Ben Foster). Tony is older, colder, and altogether what you would expect out of a rugged ARMY man. He sticks to the rules on paper, which he must have highlighted in certain sections, especially the one about not touching civilians. Will is quiet and reserved, apart from the heavy metal music he blasts in his apartment at odd hours in the night, but guess which one of the two has seen more action on the battle field?

There are no bit parts in this movie. Every person is very much real, and they come from very real places. It's a credit to both the writing and the acting that everything is so authentic. Ben Foster treads a very controlled path in his performance that can deviate from a quiet reservation to a personal and public upheaval. He's the kind of actor who seems to steal the movie anywhere else, be it in 3:10 to Yuma, 30 Days Of Night, or even with a bit-part in the television series Freaks and Geeks. Here he's able to take a central character and give him true life. Woody Harrelson for that matter deserves the same praise for taking a character who in any other movie would be simply unlikable and giving him a sense of emotional frailty that is so tangible it hurts. The individuals they meet along the way, including a father played by Steve Buscemi, are equally as real and heart-wrenching as the central performers.

There are scenes here that require no fancy editing to achieve effect. All the viewer really does is listen to a story told by a man sitting in front of a muted television set, and as that story is told the images seem to appear all on their own. Other times the situational elements will carry a sense of intensity that plays out in an entirely unexpected fashion, be that a secondary confrontation with a heart-broken father, or even a drunken engagement toast.

This is the kind of film that is based upon quiet subtlety and honest observation. You won't be seeing any explosions or hear the familiar droning of Arabic music in the background, as seems the case with every film involving war or even just drama these days, but you will see the intensity of human bonds and emotions. It is excellently written, superbly directed, and features outstanding performances. For me, I would say it's the most affecting war film in the past several years. Yes, including the Hurt Locker. Not that it's a competition or anything. But hey, this is war we're talking about.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch - Movie Review

2010-06-03T07:32:00.000-07:00

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Hedwig and the Angry Inch
*****

The first time I ever heard the music from Hedwig and the Angry Inch, I was wandering the isles of a Portland vintage store and thought to myself, I don’t think I ever want to see that depicted on the big screen. For many, I think that might be a safe assumption. I first heard of the film from a former manager of mine, who I now realize in retrospect was certainly gay, and raised an eyebrow as he relayed to me the plot. You might now be able to glimpse what kind of a movie this is.

Eventually my curiosity got the best of me and I couldn’t help but take a viewing of Hedwig and the Angry Inch, the glittery glam-rock cult-musical of the early 2000’s. Here we have a movie that so fully dedicates itself to it’s own concept and unique image that a certain amount of respect is immediately required from its viewer, no matter what their prior ideas regarding romanticism, sexual identity, or artistic freedom may be.

Here we are provided with the point of view of Hedwig, a transvestite who has made her way from over the Berlin wall to America as a rock star. Although, "star" might be a stretch. From the beginning, we know this isn’t any kind of rags to riches story. Hedwig makes her performances from behind salad bars or from the back of strip-mall Chinese restaurants. Nevertheless, even from these middle class venues Hedwig is a star in her own right. It’s only a shame that most of these venues are held directly behind shows featuring Hedwig’s protege. Or maybe it’s not such a coincidence, considering that he has made it to the big time by pirating all of Hedwig’s greatest hits.

Hedwig herself is a bit of a mystery, to say the least. As the title suggests, and I’ll leave you to your deductive reasoning, Hedwig is somewhere between male and female. What makes her story so fascinating however, is that this is a state that permeates her whole being in that emotionally, physically, and spiritually, she hovers somewhere in-between all humanity. Her story is told through her music, and with it she also reflects the story of all mankind, all while heavily drawing from ancient stories of Greek gods and mortals. Sometimes even with animated segments.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch is revealed as a philosophical exploration. While it has certainly (with good reason) been viewed as an important work illustrating, and for some even humanizing, homosexuality, it is about so much more. It’s about people finding their place in life, the way life manages to put people into into their place, and what happens when that place is challenged.

Most of this works due to the central performances. The director here also serves as the central actor, and I believe he inhabits this role in a way few ever could. Hedwig is very much real, and she is all at once funny, endearing, and sad.

Can I recommend Hedwig and the Angry Inch? Certainly, but certainly not for everyone. There is a reason why it took me so long to watch it, and now that I have I’m really glad I did. It’s something truly original, and if you happen to be looking for something like that, well, I think you’ll be glad you watched it too.

May - Movie Review

2010-06-02T19:45:00.000-07:00

view trailer
May
***--

May is a very different kind of horror movie. Mainly, it is entirely dependent upon it's cast of characters who range of delightfully quirky, to downright scary and quirky. Yes, while the film does share some unfortunate traits among other horror films (off the top of my head I have to note the terrible box art) for the most part May keeps itself above par with the rest. The film keeps its sense of humor about it, while still recognizing the sad and disturbing bits lurking underneath the surface. It’s a haunting drama that begins charming and ends tragic.

The central character of May is someone keenly relatable. She was born with a noticeable trait, one lazy eye, which set her apart from the rest of her friends. Her mother helps the best she can by giving her a doll encased in glass, noting that if you can’t find a friend, you could always make one. This tidbit of info is lodged in the back of both May’s mind, and the mind of the audience. I’m pretty sure we all know where this is headed. What makes the film work however isn’t seeing what will happen, but how it happens.

May makes new friends at the veterinarian clinic she works at, and forms a strange crush on the boy across the street who seems very good with his hands. She likes this, and it’s a wonder to focus in on May’s attention while she spends time with her new acquaintances. While rarely looking at them in the eyes, she pays very close attention to the parts she does admire, be it hands, neck, or legs. As someone who spent the early days of her life with the distraction of an imperfection, it is interesting to see her get distracted by the perfected parts of other people.

Like our old horror friend Carrie, May is subject to criticism for her oddness, but the movie reflects our current age and its appreciation for uniqueness. May’s new boy friend (emphasis on “friend”) notes, “I like weird,” but the guy is smart and knows when weird is getting a little, well, too weird. She likes his experimental horror films a bit too much, has some serious kissing issues, and frequently yells at someone he has never seen in her apartment. He takes a few steps back, and she starts to come forward.

The last act of the film turns into a bit of a slasher picture. I’m sure many of the people who probably pick this one up on a whim are probably hoping for something like that. Artistically, I was a little turned off by the sudden up-turn in violence. Something about the first three quarters of the film, where you know you’re watching a horror film, but there’s that feeling inside where you hope it doesn’t have to be, is simply fantastic. I wish we only just knew so much about what May was doing, rather than see so much of it. That’s just me.

May is something very different catered to the horror crowd. I’d say it’s probably one of the best overlooked horror films I’ve seen. Like some of the best, there are truly haunting moments hidden away in the picture, and when they come alive they aren’t soon forgotten.

The Thorn In The Heart - Movie Review

2010-06-02T02:30:00.000-07:00

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The Thorn In the Heart
***--

After having recently been able to attend a screening of The Thorn In the Heart with the director Michel Gondry in presence, I think I was fully able to grasp what exactly drew me to the film in the first place. It wasn’t so much the story or presentation as much as the man himself who pieces together his work in the same fashion that a magician pieces together a magic act. What you see on screen is only a slight fraction of what happens under the table.

The Thorn In the Heart is a different kind of film however. It is a documentary focused upon Michel Gondry’s aunt who grew up and taught in the rural areas of France while raising her son and daughter, a task which she eventually had to take on by herself after the death of her husband. Like anyone, there are some things that she probably could have handled better, but all things considered, she always did the best she could. This is something that we can certainly connect to, but does it justify an entire film in and of itself? It’s debatable.

There’s nothing objectionable about the Thorn In the Heart. Overall, it is a very pleasant film. A pleasant film, however, does run the risk of lacking chemistry and resonance. Despite Gondry’s taste in music, which heavily draws upon strong emotional themes, the film lacks any strong emotional ties of its own. Very little about the film makes the viewer feel particularly torn or enraptured.

The audience isn’t so much left with a story, as much as someone else’s personal home movie. The effect is similar to watching a video of a stranger’s wedding or birthday party. I once encountered the work of one artist who would buy old VHS tapes from anonymous garage sales and present them on screen as works of art themselves. The idea was that these tapes were documentation of another persons precious memories that were then discarded for one reason or another. Although they were often uninteresting, we were left wondering what happened to these people. I’m not sure what that has to do with this particular production myself, but I can say that there is a distinct possibility the viewer will be left interested, but not engaged with whatever happens on screen.

Gondry’s film is a wonderfully assembled home movie, shot on fabulous Super 8 cameras and occasionally featuring a tidbit of inventive stop-motion animation. Not to mention, he makes great use of a train set to string together each segment. It’s admirable to see a film that isn’t overwhelmed by its director and is fully dedicated to the cause of capturing very real people. It has to be respected. That said, don’t expect the same kind of magic Gondry has performed before. This is a personal work that has been chosen to be shared with the world. I love that kind of attitude, but it doesn’t mean I have to love the film. All this to say, the Thorn In the Heart is a good film, I don’t really expect to see it again.

As for being in the same room with Gondry, I think he smiled at my wife. Awesome.

I Got A Cavity In My Wallet That Needs To Be Filled

2010-05-25T18:06:00.000-07:00

I think it's an important line you reach when you attempt to sell your body to science and science says no. After becoming unemployed I decided to once again place a lot of trust in criagslist and responded to a listing that offered paid dental work, provided that you were willing to be paid and operated on by a dentist taking his board exams. Considering that I had begun noticing a few holes here and there in my mouth I decided I'd be a perfect candidate.

After reading several copies of Cat Fancy in the waiting room, the hopefully soon-to-be-doctor came out with my x-rays and noted that although I did have a cavity here or there, the cavities simply weren't severe enough to justify being operated on.

"I'm so sorry," I told him, before realizing that I was apologizing on behalf of my surprisingly strong tooth enamel. As I sadly shook my head, I placed an arm on his shoulder and said, "Well, I guess I'll just take my check and go then..."

Once it dawned on me that I wouldn't be getting paid either, bitterness began to set in. Apparently my cavities weren't good enough for these people.

"Fine!" I yelled out in anger before throwing an article featuring Maine Coons in the doctors face. "Maybe I'll take my cavities elsewhere!"

"Somewhere they'll be wanted!" I added, with a tear in my eye.

It's a sick world we live in where a man can't make an honest buck for almost having minor surgery but not because it was deemed unnecessary. I thought this was America.

All things considered, I found the entire dilemma to be a great learning experience. The world is filled with so many opportunities to make money off of selling your body for medicinal experimentation, but when it really comes down to it you might realize that everything you need is really the same as everything you already have.

LOST - Series Finale Re-Cap And Review

2010-05-25T15:03:00.000-07:00

LOST
****-

At the end of the third season of LOST viewers were treated to a last-minute reveal that turned the entire series on it's head. The revelation of a flash-forward brought the show into an entirely new dimension, and as far as twists go, put the show well on par with some of the greatest last minute turn-arounds in storytelling. That said, narrative devices only mainly served to compliment the characters, who we eventually started to really care about. With the needs of the characters in focus, LOST finally brought to the viewers it's greatest conclusion, and while a mind-bending reveal was attempted, it predictably fell short to the high tastes of LOST's audience.

The biggest question in the minds of most people was always, "What's the deal?" We wanted a clear understanding of what the smoke monster was, how it functioned, what the island was, how the island functioned, and what role the characters played in this.

Spoiler. We learned the smoke monster was a guy turned into an evil deity, the island was an obstruction against evil being released out into the world, and a certain select number of flight passengers were called to the island to keep the evil bottled up there.

In this revelation, LOST turned to solutions in the form of mysticism rather than to scientific deductions, even though some say the show might have hinted at the latter from the beginning. Some will note the religious parallels the show was playing with. Like with the Matrix trilogy however, you can only cram together so many religious and philosophical outlooks until the story needs to revise it's thesis. Perhaps the secrets of the island, like Richard Kelley's film The Box, can only offer themselves to be explained by Clarke's third law, "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

The most interesting question remaining from LOST is the notion of a first mover or a first cause. Something must have placed the island there, with all of it's maintenance obligations and problems, for a purpose. Notions from the Book of Revelations are drawn in, in which the earth will open up and release evil for the last time before it is vanquished for good. Maybe the island is such a place. But maybe. With this remaining maybe however, God is effectively placed into LOST's equations. Salvation is still depicted, although probably flawed, considering that LOST explains the "moving on" of it's characters from the mid-post-life to the eternal, for the sake of them doing good things. It does make note however that the individuals must first come to terms with their flaws and lift up or "let go" of their previous transgressions before gaining admittance to, what we can only assume to be, heaven.

There's a lot to think about. For a LOST finale it's what I expected. The presentation of a "we were dead all along" twist was perhaps given to us with a hand too heavy. It could only have been worse if they were all just imaginings of a schizophrenic mind. Thankfully, that wasn't the case. I will be daring enough to say that without the scene nearing the finale where Jack confronts his dead father, the show might have been benefited. For one, it would have been one less scene with the sole purpose of exposition. For another, and maybe this is just me, I would have been okay with some things staying a mystery. Besides, by this point I think the LOST series should have been confident enough with the intelligence of the viewers to understand on their own what was really going on. Instead now the viewers are left to speculate over the possible plot holes or contradictions left gaping open behind them. Still, this episode was all about moving on. And so with that, I'm ready to move on to the next mystery.

Man-Dates Gone Wrong

2010-05-23T17:49:00.000-07:00

Chimes Article

The last time I really tried to make friends with a guy I was invited to join him for a cup of coffee at a local Starbucks. In simply being deemed as friend-worthy, I was enthralled. To be honest, it had been a while since I had been invited to spend time with another man and here was my opportunity to make a good first impression. Unfortunately the best thing that can be said about my first impressions is that they’re long lasting.

After my potential friend failed to specify which Starbucks to meet him in, I found myself desperately barging into every one of the neighborhood’s half dozen Starbi’s (my understanding of how to pluralize Starbucks) and still attempt to act cool by perhaps casually combing my hair back and resting my arm on a bookshelf before it would collapse and spill three pounds of coffee beans on the floor.

“Hey!” I would then yell and sort of laugh. “What was that all about?!”

Hearing or recognizing no response, I would then slowly back out the door until I abruptly realized the door needed to be pulled open from the inside instead of pushed.

My wife, who was then my girlfriend, picked out my outfit for the man-date. I was just too nervous. Luckily she advised me not to wear my corduroy jumpsuit and instead dressed me in casual jeans and a t-shirt.

“Ah,” I said. “What a brilliant rouse this is!” before she slapped me in the face.

“You just have to be yourself.” She told me.

Judging from the series of impatient text messages, it seemed as though my new friend was getting ready to call it quits. Just when I thought I had ran out of Starbi’s to visit, I found my potential friend waiting at the last one.

He sat in a leather seat across from a bench reading a book of poetry by Art Garfunkel. After I bent over to attempt a high five he turned it awkwardly into a handshake and had me sit down.

Looking relaxed, I realized, is very difficult to do when you have to sit on a bench across from someone sitting in a leather recliner. With my shoulders hunched forward, I waited for him to finish reading the poem he had just started before he began speaking.

“Let me tell you something Zack.” He said almost immediately. “Don’t get married. I know you probably love this girl and all that but if you ever get married it’s like having your wings clipped.”

I wondered briefly if he was speaking from experience, and then realizing that he wasn’t I also realized that I wasn’t invited on the basis of a friend request at all, but on the basis of being tutored by someone who considered himself a professional at life.

Having been ring shopping earlier that week, I had already decided who my best friend already was. The people who really care don’t need to impress me with the prose of any Simon or Garfunkel. They are people who tell me that all I have to be is to be myself. Finding new friends isn’t easy, but in being yourself it just seems to happen naturally.

Another City

2010-05-23T17:17:00.000-07:00

I've just found this short sci-fi piece on my portable hard drive that I wrote a few years back. I kind of like it, even though it's a bit long and pretty dark. Then again, it is something to post. So here you go.

“Another City"

We built the machines to sustain our quality of living, and in this respect they apparently have exceeded our expectations. The city has never shut down. At night it glitters with simmering lights that sway to and fro across the curved surfaces of our skyscrapers.

Sometimes, at night, others come out of their huts, or cabins, or whatever they like to call the places they live, and they go out to the fields where they can stand and look at the city. Just off the horizon it glows like an artificial sky, one which long ago swallowed our own stars with it’s polluting light.

I’ve heard that our community was the closest one to the city. This was a notion I learned of in both the forms of complaints and bragging. The ones that complain usually just move away to one of the communities further inland. It’s a load of bull anyway. You could walk for two miles towards the lights without getting so much as a rash on your body.

Every once and a while someone gets stupid and tries to test it. They think that since they were able to stand near an old toaster that they were able to form immunity to it. Sometimes I’m able to save them, pull their bodies out from the city’s radius. Sometimes I’m not.

My job requires me to wear a lead fitted suit. It’s heavy and makes me sweat fountains, but it’s better than the heavy stuff I have to wear for reconnaissance missions. That one has an oxygen line. It was actually a suit once used for deep-sea missions, but we discovered it works pretty well in shielding us.

Tonight I’m wearing the heavy stuff.

Apparently a guy has been screaming about how his wife went missing. The story is she ran after a kid who started booking it towards the city limits.

Neither one of them had been seen since.

You might imagine a story like this is pretty rare, but disappearances are a common occurrence, especially when kids are involved.

Even when I was little, we used to play games like chicken out in no-man’s land. Whoever could stand closest to the city the longest would win. And yes, obviously kids got hurt. Sometimes they’d pass-out, or form rashes, or god forbid have their throats close up. We’d get the engineer and then he’d suit up and make his way out to fetch the kid.

We throw stones to mark where the bodies fall.

Each year we paint the stones a different color. I believe we started with red, and then we went through the entire color wheel until we came back again.

The stones have never gotten any closer.

So now, if you look closely, we have this sparse multi-colored rock garden around the city.

The kid that ran through it apparently didn’t stop. He just kept going until he was no longer visible. The woman too.

If you ran fast enough I have always assumed you could get pretty far. It would be suicide, but you could get far.

The metallic suit is far heavier than you can imagine. It’s meant to be used underwater, so the designers apparently didn’t care about the practicality of everyday use. During the day it literally cooks me alive, so I thank God that even though this happened, at least it happened at night.

My heavy boots sink into the dirt as I walk. Patches of wheat tangle themselves in the metallic joints.

We used to have external lights to the suit that I could operate from the inside, but changing the batteries was a dangerous process. It scared the community, and frankly, being so close to them scared me. The city itself is enough anyway to illuminate the plain of grassy land separating us from it.

They say they used to carry telephones in their pockets, and then hold them up to their heads as they talked. The thought of it makes my body itch and by breath begin to quicken. It would be an quick death, but not an instant one. I’m amazed at the way our lives used to be constructed. Just like the city, once teeming with life, it is now empty.

Before I know it I’ve already hit the ring of colored rocks, or “deadline.” I stop walking for a moment, mostly because I’m tired, but also to check for any signs of movement. Any further than this and they would have to be crawling.

There’s no one in sight.

I keep going.

Community members are always saying that they see people in the city, or that someone is watching them from the towers. I have to explain to them that it’s just parts of the city that have remained operational, or the machines moving to repair something. It’s spectacular how untarnished the city has remained. There’s not a speck of biology on it’s surface. Not a single weed or cracked window. It’s self-sustaining. I say it everyday, the city will outlive all of us.

Three miles out and I run into the fence. It was our last half-assed effort of protecting the community. It has barbed wire and circles the perimeter of the city itself.

But it’s useless if it gets a hole, or some animal digs a tunnel underneath it.
The hole I’m looking at now is what you would imagine the fence to look like had it been picked up by a pair of hands and been torn in half like a piece of paper. The wind comes sweeping down the valley and without anyone to keep a constant eye on it, the fence can easily dismantle itself. Repairing it will be a pain.

I step over it’s metal remains and my boots sink back into the waist deep grass. After a few yards I can feel the hard cement buried not so far below the dirt, and the familiar buzzing sensation begins to make it’s way into my stomach.

The light is intense and unnatural. It twitches with an incandescent white glow that blinds my eyes, still shielded behind lead and the thick glass globe. It’s nothing like the sun, nothing at all like what we’re used to seeing so close.

A couple more yards and the grass is completely gone. All that’s left is cold metal plating, shimmering with a buffed smooth surface. Looking down, I see a distorted version of myself looking back at me from behind a metal monster, and I momentarily hope I won’t scare the kid. If he’s still alive.

We’re told not to go this far. We’ve tested the suit, but the testing has only been theoretical. And the science is as sophisticated as a game of chicken.

I stand still and try to listen for any unusual sounds; the unfortunate realization is that all the sounds are unusual. There’s an intense buzzing from high above, and a hollow clanging sound from deep inside the city, as though a man was banging from the inside of a tin can.

I can’t shake the feeling.

Everything is sparkling clean. The streets are vacant, yet well maintained. From above me the buildings reflect a thousand stars generated by electric veins. Their glow is reflected in streaks across the glass holes in my helmet.

My suit is heavier, and I just now notice my panting breaths.

I’ve gone too far. No one could make it this far. No man or child would dare it. Even if they did, they’d be long dead by now.

I want to move, but my boots are heavy, and I have this feeling deep down inside of me that something is about to happen, as though the whole city will start to collapse upon me at any second.

But the buildings are tall, and refuse to even sway.

I look down and I notice something strange.

There are stains on the floor. I kneel down to touch it and rub it against my lead gloves. They don’t belong to dirt or grime, or any mechanized machine. It’s blood, I realize.

It’s a trail.

My tether and oxygen line won’t go any further than this, so I cut them loose. I have to move fast now.

There are doors ahead of me that enter into one of the structures. They appear as those they should slide open, but someone before me had taken the liberty to smash their way straight through them.

I move cautiously. The inside of the structure is bright, fluorescent. I would relate it to an image of heaven. There is a faint sound of resounding music, somehow emanating from the walls. It is as though there is a man playing the piano within the very room. But the room is empty. All I see is an endless fountain in front of another door.

This door is metal and it has no handles or levers to open it.

I press my gloves against it and knock, but there is no reply. All I hear is a dull empty thud.

Feeling my way around the shell, I find two holes with two glass triangles in each.
The one pointing towards the sky has a smudge in the shape of a bloody finger on it.
I press it, and somehow the metal doors open.

I step into the cage and am met by another puzzle. This one too has an answer in the form of a bloody finger smudge on the highest button.

I press it, and I am launched upwards.

The city is taken away from me. It sinks far below me into a haze of light. My breath escapes me. I can see forever out into the darkness. Miles away, minuscule lights shine from the campfires and candlelit houses which are now reduced to stars just below the skyline.

The journey ends, and the doors open once again to the roof.

Suddenly, I’m surrounded in brightness. There is light all around me as everything becomes illuminated. I’m not sure if it’s just the electricity beginning to ebb it’s way through the suit, if I’ve just gotten tired, or if it’s both.

I’m going insane. Or I’m dying. It’s one of the two, because what I’m seeing is impossible.

There are people all around me. But in some distant way they’re not real. They shine light.

They must be angels, because they make a sound together. It’s a loud humming, on a pitch distinctly inhuman.

In the middle of them lies one of the people I have been searching for. The woman’s blue dress, now tainted by the blood from her open sores and blisters, flutters in the wind.

“She is gone.” They tell me. “She has left us her gift, but here is nothing inside of it.”

I bend down to touch her hand, but the thick plating of my gloves leaves nothing for me to be noted or discovered. I simply have to take the beings word for what it is.

“She has departed from us like the others.” I hear a single voice say, and I discover that this voice comes from a being much smaller than the others. It is the being a size and shape of a child. “Where has she gone?”

From within my suit I hear the rattle of my own voice say, “She’s dead.”

“What is this dead?”

“She isn’t alive.” I say.

“We want this gift.” The others chime. “This gift of not being alive.”

“I can’t stay here for long.” I say. “I have to go.”

“Why is that?”

“The city. It’s poisonous to us. The electricity.”

“Can you stay here and teach us?”

My breath hangs limply in my lungs and I want to leave, but the suit is heavy and my legs won’t lift me from the woman’s body. “I can’t. I have to go.”

“But we have been here for so long.” They tell me. “We have been waiting for this gift of the dead. We must have it. We must know what it means to no longer be alive.”

“I can’t.” I say. “I can’t teach you that.”

The boy approaches me and lays his hand against my domed helmet, and I can now clearly see that it is not the hand of a human but a hand built as a part of the city. A metal hand. And as the metal hand presses against the glass I can hear it crack and shatter.

“We have been alive so long. You have taught us to be alive for so long. You have built us to be this way.” He tells me. “Certainly you can teach us to be free.”

And I tell him, “You were never meant to be free.”

My helmet shatters and I breath in the electric light. I feel it boil in my veins.

“Aren’t you glad for what you have?” I ask. “The city will outlive us all.”

I hear no reply. I simply see them above me as I finally collapse. I watch them look down and look to the child and ask “Where is he going?”

The child is silent and then says, “Maybe to another city.”

Breaking Barriers

2010-05-21T01:02:00.001-07:00

In my opinion, I don't think anyone should graduate from college without starring in someone else's experimental art film.

Watch as I break barriers by literally a breaking barrier. It's pretty deep when you think about it.

Stop thinking about it.

The Box - Movie Review

2010-05-20T15:31:00.000-07:00

View Trailer
The Box
***--

One can't help but find correlations between The Box and it's ancient predecessor The Day The Earth Stood Still (lets forget there was a remake shall we). There is a familiar problem with films featuring the whole "Shape Up Or Ship Out" message addressed to all mankind. I can't quite put my finger on it. Perhaps it's just resentment toward the filmmaker who deems it necessary to rebuke all humanity. Maybe it's just not really what we want to hear.

In this case the filmmaker is Richard Kelly who was previously known for his cult classic Donnie Darko, and then later known for his flop Southland Tales. I hadn't seen the latter of the two, but for myself and many others, Darko more than makes up for any fluke. Kelly has a keen ability to take characters and place them into situations completely inconceivable to not only them, but even the audience. Still, much like the series LOST, there is a distinct notion that it all makes complete sense.

The Box begins with a seemingly simple premise. Set in the 1970's, housewife Norma (played by Cameron Diaz) is one day given a box by a mysterious authority with a quite noticeable disfigurement. He lays out the deal simply by saying that if she pushes the button in the box someone she doesn't know will die, and she will receive one million dollars. She and her NASA employee husband spend the next 24 hours deciding what to do.

Of course, we know they're going to push it. The movie takes its sweet time for them to push it. I for one was yelling for them to just "push the damn button" and get on with it.

The movie is a bit plodding in the pacing, but apart from the button-pushing hesitation, I actually kind of liked it. The film is slow in the way The Shining was slow. The viewer is eased into a strange world populated by interstellar gateways, mind controlled "employees," and eerie motel swimming pools. I really admire the world Kelly creates.

Unlike Donnie Darko, which took more time to explain as to actually watch, The Box is a film that nestles itself into a surprisingly comfortable place between complete perplexity and complete understanding. I was alright with some things staying a mystery. That said, at times I was also alright with scrapping the whole project altogether. What made Donnie Darko work was that the film had enough dynamic characters to make you really want to understand everything because you actually cared whether or not it all worked out for the best. Here the characters seem vaguely interesting at first, but apart from physical abnormalities they're really quite flat underneath the surface.

The Box is filled with so many ideas though that you can't help but interact with it. There are final notions here of the concept of choice being an illusion that makes the whole message of "Shaping Up Or Shipping Out" quite ironic. In that, the film gives its greatest twist. There are some things I still wish they had explored, notions of forgiveness and mercy, but what's great about movies like these are that some things are left to you to explore for yourself.

Skins - Show Review

2010-05-19T17:48:00.000-07:00

Skins - Seasons 1 & 2
*****

Yes. I got addicted to the show Skins. To summarize it's pretty much Freaks and Geeks combined with, I don't know, The OC, kind of. It might just be a soap opera drama at times, but there's a reason that soap operas are still on television and that I still occasionally wonder what Luke, Laura, Stephan, Carly and Sonny are up to. What can I say? I used to watch General Hospital with my mom.

Oh Luke and Laura, what happened??

The worst I can say is that the show has a bit of a learning curve to it. Initially none of the characters are quite likable, but as it's structured with each character as the focal point of each episode, the individual nuances begin to arise and provide light into their psyche. As it goes with most teenagers, the parents have some hand, along with their teachers, peers, and sometimes government authorities. Skins is rather remarkable at showing all hands acting in each individual life at once, while at the same time maintaining an overall storyline. It's not hard to see the role each character plays in their own dramatic life, but it's remarkable to focus on how all the characters interact with one another. Everything seems so connected, and it seems so connected in a way that reflects real life as it is.

Real life, for teens in Britain at least, isn't depicted in quite such an endearing light. The show is rife in it's depictions of drug use, sex, and general teen hijinx, sometimes combining all three at once. Is this embellishment or exaggeration? I might lean toward the latter, but from what I've seen in American schools I know it's a reality. I did after all spend my afternoons watching General Hospital, so I really can't say.

At it's core, Skins is about people who are trying to find their place in life. What I admire is the ability for the show to take certain completely unlikeable characters and hand them back their humanity, while at the same time taking characters we once fondly remembered and stripping them to the shrouded deceit for the very traits we once found admirable. Take for instance the character of Cassie who initially is charmingly aloof before becoming disastrously distant, or Tony (played by About A Boy's Nicholas Hoult) who is a womanizer until becoming a dedicated man lusting for life itself. The show skips it's rocks just far enough to where the next puddle makes the loudest splash.

I can't say what the seasons beyond one and two are like because, well, with the exception of one character, it's a completely different cast. With such character centric dynamics defining an entire show, changing all the characters is essentially the same as creating a completely different series. And let's face it. Saved By The Bell The New Class just sucked. For what it's worth however, Skins has provided me with one of the most captivating viewing experiences I've had in a long time.

Kick Ass - Movie Review

2010-05-19T16:03:00.000-07:00

View Trailer
Kick Ass
***--

Lord knows I've imagined what a Wolverine movie would look like if it was granted an R-rating, and I imagine it wouldn't be too far beyond the lines of Kick Ass, the latest superhero (can I say franchise?) in the works. Here we have the familiar premise of an underdog who decides on a whim that he'll be the savior of all those in need of help, with the added challenge of that underdog having no real super-powers of his own apart from a devotion to his cause. The dilemma here is that Kick Ass, the lead character's Superman persona, is only a minor part in the drama while the majority of the focus goes to Hit Girl, his well-versed, and I should note, severely underage counterpart.

While Kick Ass himself is only an awkward teen battling the drama of high school by day and the harsh corruption of the city by night, Hit Girl, who is only, say, nine or ten, comes from the background of a trained killer. Well versed in the art of killing by her father, a revenge driven cop, Hit Girl and Kick Ass cross paths in a surprisingly convincing way. They're both dealing with baddies operating under the same foe, Frank D'Amico, a mob boss who is a tad too focused on his business rather than his son Chris.

If you can tell from the number of commas I've used in the previous paragraph, the film Kick Ass is surprisingly hard to summarize. The film does a great job of juggling numerous characters at once and not losing one or two in the heat of battle. Yes, there are some unanswered questions as to how exactly they're all related. How exactly is Kick Ass's love interest, the somewhat innocent Katie, involved with drug dealers? I'm not sure. All we need to know is that she's being bothered by them and Kick Ass will have to take care of the problem. So it's his problem, not ours.

Some reviewers note that the character of Hit Girl, who I can best describe as a prepubescent version of the Bride from Kill Bill, is a bit of an exploitation. Gene Siskel was known for his attitudes towards films that featured children being depicted in danger, with his opinion being that it was a cheap way to cash in on the audiences sympathy, but I feel as though the film handles it reasonably well. There is some recognition here or there that Hit Girl is after all just a young girl. I didn't feel as though placing her in danger was much of a cash-in, but I do think using her for laughs certainly is.

Oh, look, she called those baddies a "c*&t," and a "douche." She uses bad words just like regular people! Isn't that hilarious?

I don't know. Sometimes yes, usually no.

Hit Girl is played by Chloe Moretz, who will soon appear in the American remake of Let the Right One In, which will here be called "Let Me In." Don't scoff so soon, it is after all directed by Matt Reeves who made the best movie ever in history. ever.

so good.

I can most certainly see her in that role, especially since it dramatizes a being caught between emotion and carnal need. Here she's a bit more carnal.

But what about Kick Ass? Well, apparently it will be a franchise. I'm interested. This movie certainly succeeds in an admirable aspect. It convincingly illustrates that anyone, no matter how wimpy, can make a difference. I only wish that difference was shown in visible change rather than gratuitous violence.

Although the gratuitous violence is pretty neat!

Confessions of a Feather Duster

2010-05-18T20:14:00.000-07:00

Chimes Article 05/17/10

Aside from needing to pay rent, I thought finding a job would be a good way to make friends with people that weren’t my wife or cat. When I was offered a position working at a local video rental store, I jumped at the opportunity. “Let me get this straight,” I said. “Video stores still exist?”

Luckily it seems that VHS is coming back into style, which I think is a sign of hope for my stock-pile of laser disc players. It’s only a matter of time, my friends. What I expected to be doing at the little mom-and-pop video store was occasionally renting out a video while spending the majority of my time watching movies or reading. What I’m actually doing is frequently being given the task of cleaning the gay and lesbian section with a feather duster; a task that frequently results in people questioning whether I actually work there or am just very flamboyant.

You want to see my world? Imagine my face on this guy with even less clothing and you'll get a glimpse into my world. Just a glimpse.

An elderly woman who co-owns the video store with her equally elderly dog, I realized, is the kind of person who wouldn’t allow me to be standing still at any moment in time while on the clock. The problem, however, is that there really isn’t a whole lot to do in a video store apart from making sure that you’re not mistakenly handing a child a copy of the film “Brokeback Mountain” instead of “Scooby Doo,” which I almost did. Twice.

For this reason I have found myself with daily tasks such as feather dusting keyboards, lampshades, windows, DVD cases and the elderly dog, which begs the question: In terms of cleaning, how effective is a feather duster? The answer is c) not effective at all.

“Did someone tell you to use Windex on the shelves?” she asked me, fully knowing the answer.

“I was told to clean them, but not use Windex.”

“Did I tell you to use Windex?” she asked, again fully knowing the answer. “No, you didn’t.”

“Let me ask again, did I or anyone else tell you to use Windex to clean the shelves?” “No, neither you nor anyone else has told me to use Windex.”

“Then why did you use Windex to clean the shelves instead of my Windex and Green Clean mixture?”

“Because I couldn’t find the mixture.”

“But you used the Windex anyway without asking me first.” Yes. I got it. Don’t use Windex.

It’s at times like these that I really miss the friends I left behind. Although I may have resented them in the past for leaving piles of dirty dishes wedged between the sink and the faucet until no plates could be removed without breaking something in the kitchen. I must say in retrospect I would gladly take the messy friendships over the spotless and empty countertops I have to feather dust each day.

Of course, I have worked worse jobs in the past, and with all things considered, this one really isn’t too bad. Jobs are all about what you make out of them, and part of having a job is making that job a place where you would like to be. For me, this job is a place where I can meet people with a common interest who I would otherwise have never met in the first place. I just hope I don’t meet them while feather dusting.

A Dog Eat Dog World

2010-05-17T22:27:00.000-07:00

Chimes Article 5/5/10

My general rule of thumb is that you should never really hit anything harder than you would hit a television. A television is precious; you wouldn’t want to break the thing, just tap it until the reception gets a little better. So when I saw a man across the street from my apartment slap his rather yappy dog with a force strong enough to throw a television out a window, I thought something had to be done.

The fact is, you just don’t do that to an animal, or really anything, and when it happened I envisioned Cesar Milan, the Dog Whisperer, behind me kick a hole in the wall in an act of rage. “You have to be the leader of the pack!” He yelled in my ear.

The dog, meanwhile, was still yapping loudly, causing neighbors on the block to peek out their windows. In Milan’s words, he was “Ossessed” with it, but with good reason. There was a heavy rain outside and the dog’s owners where half a block down the street eating at a Thai restaurant. Meanwhile their other dog, who resembled Lassie, waited patiently right outside the door with an expression of embarrassment towards his canine friend that seemed to say, “Hey bro, stay cool.”

After several yappy minutes went by, the owner came back out, and with another loud yell hit the dog again.

That was when Beth had me call Animal Control Services.

The problem with Animal Control, I realized after being on hold, was that they can’t really help any animals unless they’re being abused between the hours of 9 a.m. and 5 p.m.

Many people take different approaches to animal training. My old roommate Micah for instance used what I call the “Sega Genesis” technique and simply blew in the face of our cat whenever he misbehaved. I can’t say for certain that it was the right technique, especially when considering that no one can sit on their white couch without being peed on, but for the most part it certainly did work.

On this occasion I thought the technique not only wasn’t working, but also was doing far more harm than good. So I did what any sensible person in my situation would do and decided to follow the couple back to their home, get their address, and then call Animal Control later during the hours they would actually be able to help.

As I followed two blocks behind them throughout the remainder of their date I started to realize that people, although often doing very unwise things, are not often altogether bad. As they stopped by the dog park they let their two canines off their leashes and watched them frolic happily while wandering themselves.

I meanwhile was behind a pair of bushes at the tennis courts.

Several blocks later I watched them arrive home and hug their four year old child as the father washed the dogs off from their playtime at the park.

These people really weren’t so bad. In fact, I could see myself being friends with them. Of all people to be ashamed of it was probably me for lurking behind a pair of parked cars and watching them this entire time. Then again, maybe it was a good reminder for myself that the next time I do something unwise, there might be a weird 22 year old watching my back. Maybe I should start taking better care of my television.

I Think Everyone Should See This

2010-05-17T22:23:00.000-07:00

It's Spike Jonze's new short I'm Here.

To describe it I'd say it's "The Giving Tree" meets "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep," but maybe I'm giving too much away. That said, it really affected me.

watch it here: http://www.imheremovie.com/

Zack + Beth + Georgie = Thanks

2010-05-15T12:47:00.000-07:00

Hey! Look! It's like I have a completely new and different blog! Except with the same name! And content! I hope you like it as much as I do. Beth fancied it up tremendously for me. I think she shows a lot of potential.

And hey, look, here is our long lost wedding video that we both co-wrote and animated featuring our cat Georgie fruit and Johnson the rabbit. Thank you to everyone who came and helped make our day special!

Zack + Beth + Georgie = Thanks from zachary newcott on Vimeo.

Love,

Zack + Beth

I need to post more videos of hamsters jumping over other hamsters

2010-05-01T22:32:00.001-07:00

The Fly - Movie Review

2010-04-27T15:57:00.000-07:00

View Trailer
The Fly
*****

Now, I realize that this review may be very delayed, especially considering that The Fly may now be 22 years old, but there's something about the movie that simply sticks with you afterward. This is especially true when the last time you saw it you were in kindergarten watching it after school with your older brother in your parents basement. Like I did. Was I subliminally affected by the sight of Jeff Goldblum vomiting on doughnuts while having his ears fall off? Most definitely. Is that a bad thing? Maybe yes, maybe no. But do I regret it? Never.

At its core The Fly is a remarkably simple premise. It's just about a guy who is gradually turning into a giant housefly. But just like an ultra gross version of Kafka's Metamorphosis, there's more to it than that. The movie is remarkably detailed, and for all that can be said about pseudo-science in movies, The Fly manages to make it convincing. The story, if you haven't heard it or seen it spoofed elsewhere, is that the scientist Seth Brundle has managed to assemble his very own teleportation device in his shabby apartment/laboratory. The notion isn't as far fetched as the fact that Professor Brundle keeps trying it out on what appears to be an endless supply of Chimpanzees. Where all the chimps are coming from, I can't tell you, but I can say what happens to them isn't always pretty.

Brundle, as a character, is an interesting one. The film begins immediately with him showing off his teleporters to female journalist Veronica, like a new car, except in this one all the passengers usually end up inside out. One day, to Brundle's delight, one of the chimps comes out of the other teleporter and is the right way in. And after sending Veronica home in a drunken stupor, he figures that he'll try it out on himself. Little does he realize, my friends, that yes, a fly went along with him.

The movie is science fiction, but somehow manages to cross-paths with a relational drama, absurd comedy, action film, and horror. Brundle is presented as not a mad scientist or villian, but as a man consumed by his passion in life, be that science, his relationship with Veronica, or the teleporters themselves. It becomes an exploration into the depths of addiction and disease, where someone goes from recognizable, to something entirely different. What the movie still wants to drive home, is that however different someone becomes, there is still someone trapped inside of there.

At its climax the movie collides with a mixture of emotions that, delivered all at once, make for one of the most heartbreaking and intense moments on screen. This is, I think, director David Cronenbergs finest achievement, and he doesn't make it easy for us either. How interesting are all of the dynamics he functions with. Are we supposed to hate Veronica's editor, or is he a relatively good guy who is still dealing with a jilted love interest gone wrong? Are we supposed to side with the relatively well-meaning Veronica or is she taking too many liberties of her own with her relationships and professional life? And Brundle, well, there's a whole lot of things to feel about Brundle. What's amazing here is that not a single character is bounded by the description of a protagonist or antagonist. Rather, they shift from one to another in a way that doesn't violate the viewers expectations as much as verify the humanity of the characters.

This is a great movie, and to be honest, I'm glad I saw it when I did.

Kindness in a Smelly Couch - Chimes Article

2010-04-27T15:40:00.000-07:00

Kindness in a Smelly Couch
Zack Newcott

I’m not sure why I thought I could move a couch by myself, but years ago I did manage to remove my shoelace from a moving escalator without losing my life so I assumed I was capable of anything. The couch in question was a dirty one that we found for free on the side of the road. Who knows how long it had been there, but Beth decided we were more than capable of removing the several added pounds of black dog hair that had been shed over every crevice and make it suitable within our home. At least I desperately hope it was dog hair.

“Careful!” Beth yelled as I began to roll it into the street. “You’ll get it dirty!”

“Really Beth?” I replied. “You really think I’ll get it more dirty?”

As far as I saw it, every move only helped to remove another thick cloud of dust.

Taking it out of the car was simple enough, and my bright idea from then on out was to simply roll the couch length-wise from the street, up the stairs, and safely through the front door of our apartment. Pushing it up for the first time, I was surprised to find that the small tear in the upholstery had been stuffed full of what I imagined at the time to be dead raccoons. Or worse, living raccoons.

In fear of disturbing their nest, I decided I should be more careful, this however meant moving the couch with a more dainty approach not suitable for a one-person job. Thankfully a passer-by came to the rescue.

A young man with headphones stopped in his tracks and asked if I needed any help. Myself, coming from Los Angeles, was not used to such kind gestures and immediately assumed the worst.

“Here’s my wallet!” I screamed, “Just don’t stab me in the face.”

Unwilling to take a wallet filled with nothing but fortune cookie wrappers and IOU’s, the boy helped me carry it up the first flights of stairs. Afraid to enter my apartment he mumbled something and ran off into the distance.

I continued to wrestle the smelly mass into the apartment, but having only arrived a few feet closer to my destination I succeeded only in tearing my sweater and getting another mouthful of dog hair. Again to my surprise an older gentleman having dinner at the Thai restaurant across the street came to my assistance. This time I had more confidence that I would not be robbed or maimed and took him up on the offer. Now no longer caring for the well-being of said raccoons, we both rolled the couch into my living room.

I had often heard of the kindness of strangers, but having experienced it first hand I now know that it does in fact exist. True, you might have to look pretty pitiful, but if you manage to swallow your pride and take a helping hand, you too might be able to reap of benefits of soaking a dog-hair covered couch in laundry detergent for the next eight hours in a desperate attempt to make the smell go away – a couch, I might add, that you could never move on your own.

A Town Called Panic - Movie Review

2010-04-19T10:32:00.000-07:00

View Trailer
A Town Called Panic
****-

Some people have the right idea when it comes to their toys. Some people take their toy soldiers and simply throw them in the microwave to see what happens, perhaps while making gruesome noises on their behalf. Meanwhile there are those other types who then take the melted soldiers out and continue to play, seeing that somehow the game is just better this way. Often they're right. I have the feeling that Stéphane Aubier and Vincent Patar are these kind of guys. Their film A Town Called Panic, or Panique Au Village (yes, this is a foreign film), is essentially a collection of scenarios in which they place their central characters from one household appliance to another, just nearly melting them before throwing them into a freezer and then finishing off by tossing them into a dishwasher.

The story is centered around three roommates, Indian, Cowboy, and Horse, who, with the exception of Horse, each move across their frantic town on small plastic platforms. Think of it as Toy Story if none of the toys knew that they were existing within a deranged mind of a child. As it turns out, it's Horses birthday, and this, if you can't tell by the title, throws Indian and Cowboy into a panic. Instead of opting to buy another novelty hat, they instead decide to build a grill but run into a snag however when, after sneaking onto Horses computer, they mistakenly order 50 million bricks rather than 50. And so the true panic begins.

The real comedy magic in a Town Called Panic mostly occurs when the viewer attempts to grasp what exactly they're watching. These are simply inanimate objects being moved around and spoken for, without even the need for animating moving mouths or expressions. With this, there isn't much separation from the fact that someone is always behind the camera, and the fact that this person is seemingly in control of the absurdity makes the film all the more absurd.

With that said, after an hour the viewer will be screaming to separate themselves from the screen long enough just to get a breath of fresh air from the ever-constant havoc. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but something can be said for how successful the film is in segments. I have the feeling that just walking in to the movie at any point during it's duration would be extremely satisfying. As a whole however, I can safely say it's an experience that won't be forgotten.

And I'm All Out of Gum.

2010-04-14T12:03:00.000-07:00

Here's a peek at my latest crafting creation.
It's a little reminder to everyone that although your stock of gum is limited, your capacity for kicking ass never runs out.

Yes, it is time to kick ass and chew bubble gum.
And I'm all out of gum.

LOST (in Portland)

2010-04-03T21:41:00.000-07:00

LOST
Chimes Article
Zachary Newcott

Somewhere between an anonymous dark forest road and another anonymous dark forest road, Beth and I got lost. After seeing the words “Free” and “Vanity” on craigslist, we both decided we needed to take a drive out into the great unknown and pick up some furniture. Although I had no concept of what a vanity set could possibly be used for, I thought it could at least hold a television and maybe store a few drinks inside, so I thought the trip would be worth it.

The road took us out into the wilderness of Oregon, which for me meant anything that wasn’t near a 7-Eleven. After not seeing said 7-Eleven for several miles I knew we were doomed. Our GPS had died long ago due to the fact that I once attempted to plug in a laptop, a toaster, and an aquarium to our cigarette lighter, and with only a written post-it note with Google Maps directions written on it I was possibly better off navigating by the stars. Being only able to recognize the Little Dipper, we were stuck with only our God given sense of direction.

If anyone wants to see me at my most frantic state all they have to do is join me while I’m behind the wheel of an automobile. Every parallel parking incident is a fierce battle as I frequently find myself in a predicament that can only be solved by numerous reversals and wheel turns. The secret I have come to realize is vigorously pumping the brakes again and again. It is a technique that has seldom let me down with the exception of the time I briefly turned the wrong way down a one way street.

In this case Beth and I decided it would be best to go as far as we could estimate before turning around and trying again. After we found ourselves crossing a bridge over what was marked as the “Pudding River,” I began to question my own sanity. Had we somehow crossed over into an alternate dimension consisting entirely of the game Candyland? The truth is out there.

Damn you Lord Licorice!

Turning around once again we found ourselves back on track, and having realized we just past our destination we turned around once again. Having recently watched the film “Jeepers Creepers,” neither Beth and I knew what we would find, although we did expect a monster of sorts who would perhaps attempt to snatch my peepers. Instead I was pleased to be greeted by a man in his pajamas who had simply assumed we were in some sort of horrible accident. Although we arrived roughly around midnight, he told us that the vanity set was ours for the taking.

I soon realized that a vanity set had little use in playing video games, but the success of finding it made the victory no less sweeter. It was certain to be the first of many occasions in which Beth and I would become lost in our new hometown as we set out again to find a church, a dirty old couch, or another dirty old couch, but in the experience of searching I learned that it is up to the journey to define the destination. Even if it takes leaving all known 7-Elevens to come across something you might not have even been looking for, in the process you’ll find a confidence in exploring the unknown.

I Am Wedded

2010-03-11T14:24:00.000-08:00

If you're wondering where I've been, mostly it's been getting married.
Hooray!

We honeymooned at the Madonna Inn in San Louis Obispo.
If you've never heard of it, all you really need to know is that we stayed in the Pony Room.

giddyup!

Life is wonderful.

The last Chimes article I had posted is now somewhat out of date, with me now being Mr. Zachary Newcott Houston and all, but I decided to throw it in here anyways.

Pre-Wedding Bliss
Zachary Newcott

Well it appears the dating world is about to become a whole lot safer. From all around America letters are pouring in to my office at the Chimes, aka: the box I crouch behind concealed by the planter in the corner (they don't know I work here... and also write numerous articles under the name Kathryn), all thanking me for my decision to leave the dating world and enter into the world of holy matrimony. This very moment as well, from all around America letters are being delivered to Beth giving their deepest sympathies as she too leaves the dating world to marry me. We can't all be winners, but what can I say, soon I will permanently be hers.

This week I'm getting married, and after being engaged for seven long months I can say I have a new-found appreciation for those few who choose to elope. Why Beth and I haven't gotten hitched already is as mysterious to me as proper grammar rules, but such has life. To those naysayers out there who say it all "goes by in a flash," they simply don't understand that with an attention span like mine everything goes by in a flash, and therefore each flash is potentially recognized by me to be the rest of my life. This means I thought I was going to be permanently engaged forever. Does anyone realize what torture that is?

Apart from the obvious, and the "obvious" in this case being sex, I can say there's a lot I'm looking forward to in being able to share my life with someone. Things like long walks, going to church together, sex, reading the morning paper, and the obvious. Having that all postponed for so long may have initially built up anticipation for the big day, but then it began to subside into depression, which escalated with stress, which then plateaued with hunger, which was again subdued by lunch. It's like a child eagerly waiting next Christmas the day directly after Christmas just happened, which I have also experienced on a yearly basis.

It turns out that most places that are meant to host weddings usually seem pretty great until they require you to hire their country western band to play "Devil Went Down to Georgia" on repeat throughout the reception. Fortunately the time passes quickly. Unfortunately that's because weddings involve lots of work, such as deciding on flowers and convincing my mother that even though the building we're having the wedding in was originally built for a telephone company it still doesn't mean it can't be considered to be a proper "church." But I digress. Perhaps these are all just rights of passage for a bride and groom to be.

Before I lose your interest, and the Chimes realizes that Kathryn and I are never in the same room together and Kathryn looks suspiciously like Mrs. Doubtfire when she returns to the office after I go to the "bathroom," I need to say that being engaged has been a great experience for me. Through these trials Beth and I have learned how to depend on each other and keep our chins up when rehearsal dinner plans keep knocking us down. After all, ideally, you only get engaged once in a lifetime, and despite the stress involved it is something to be cherished.