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As a child of the 80s, I grew up worshiping Star Wars. Obsessions with lightsabers, Wookies, and the ability to choke someone with your mind were quite common for boys of my age (for some reason, girls didn’t like Star Wars: maybe My Little Pony was really good back then). I’m probably the perfect Star Wars age. My brothers don’t share the same obsession I do, so it’s definitely a generational thing. After all, when we were talking about a getting a cat I was the only one who wanted to name him Chewbacca.
When I was a kid, Star Wars was everywhere. Besides the obvious action figures, I had lunchboxes, coloring books, audio books (in record form), Shrink-A-Doodles, Underoos, Lite-Brite–you name it, George Lucas found a way to market it with a Star Wars twist. I grew up wishing to be a Jedi and to strike my father down with a lightsaber. I played Star Wars. I slept in Star Wars sheets. I dreamt Star Wars. I even liked Princess Leia.
One year for Christmas someone gave us the Star Wars movies (in VHS form). From that point forward, I watched the trilogy at least once a month. The . . . . .
When life gets too busy or I have nothing to complain about, I just reach back and find something I wrote earlier but never posted (usually because it was uninteresting or poorly written…or maybe even both). This is one of those stories.
I watched “District 9” last night. I didn’t see it in the theater because I knew the movie was shot on handheld cameras and I figured there was a really good chance of me getting sick (at least at home, I can turn it off when I get queasy). I’ve been thinking about the movie since I saw it, so that must mean I thought it was pretty good. What I find most remarkable about the movie is that the movie was made for a meager $30 million (how jaded we’ve become where $30M is considered meager; in 1975, “Jaws” cost an outlandish $7M to make). “District 9” was a phenomenal-looking move. The special effects were outstanding–and a completely crucial part of the film. The majority of shots in the movie contained CGI effects–complicated ones at that. The alien creatures looked real and life like. In fact, I wasn’t even sure they were CG until I looked it . . . . .
The other day I walked passed a booth of volunteers trying to get people to register to vote. A chik jumped in front of me and asked with her biggest smile, “Are you registered to vote?”
“Of course I am,” I said politely. While I saw no need to be rude, this was a conversation I really didn’t want to participate in. With finals to worry about, 90 percent of my brainpower was focused on something else and I didn’t even realize I was talking to her.
“That’s wonderful,” she replied. “Would you like to volunteer your time?”
And without realizing what I was doing, I blurted out a laugh. I feel a little bad because I respect what she was doing…but volunteer work is just something I don’t believe in. Kinda like charity and the Easter Bunny.
The “Terminator” movie recently came out. I have little interest in seeing it in the theaters because of my “no sequel” policy. The Wife, on the other hand, is dying to see it. Even though she’s never seen a Terminator movie before, she’s driven to view this incarnation because she finds Christian Bale dreamy. Seems like faulty logic to me. I think . . . . .
Recently I walked out of a Jon Cena movie…but not for the reasons you’d think. It only took about five minutes of the “12 Rounds” to make me sick (also not for reasons you’d think). The movie is part of a growing phenomenon in cinematography that I think is ruining movies. I can live with WWE superstars make movies; I can’t stand movies shot on hand cameras.
I don’t understand why more and more movies are shot this way. Instead of using a perfectly balance tripod, a great deal of movies today are shot by handheld cameras. I think directors do it to create a ‘gritty’ feel that puts the audience into the action (in reality, it puts me in the bathroom). This is a style that I’m not comfortable with. The quick pans and extreme close-ups make me queasier than an overeater at an all-you-can-eat buffet of week-old fish. I can’t stand it. Quick zoom. Quick cut. Extreme close-up. Pan left. Pan right. Hurl in the aisle–I’m telling you, it ain’t for me.
I’m not sure I get the appeal of it. Admittedly, I didn’t grow up watching music videos and I’m not a fan of rapid cuts–but I . . . . .
It’s ‘nog season! Eggnog-flavored ice cream. Eggnog-flavored shakes. Eggnog-flavored cookies. Eggnog-flavored…uh, milk. I love it! After the presents, paid holidays, food, football, time spent with loved ones, football, and Christmas lights, eggnog is my favorite part of the holiday season. Why is ‘nog limited to only four weeks of the year? I could very easily drink eggnog everyday of the week, year-round. So sweet. So thick. Mmmnn…need more eggnog. Why must the world deprive us of this wonderful flavor 11 months of the year? It’s just not fair.
After watching “Crystal Skull” this week and realizing I was too hard on it the first time around, it got me wondering if there have been other misevaluated movies I’ve seen. I couldn’t tell you the last time I walked out of a movie theater thinking “wow.” It might’ve been “Thank You For Smoking” but it’s been so long, who knows?
Up until my early-mid-20s, I liked pretty much everything I saw in theaters (I somehow remember enjoying “Red Planet” for cripes’ sake). I never thought of myself as an artsy guy. I don’t look for symbolism or meaning in movies–I like popcorn flicks…even though I never buy popcorn. The point is, . . . . .
As someone who works in the entertainment business, I find it amusing how many fans care more about our media than us–the folks who produce it. When we canceled a program a few months back we were bombard by emails and phone calls from angry viewers who were horrified their show was no longer on the air. You should see some of the letters we received–folks were talking like they lost their only reason to live. The ironic part is no one who works at our station ever bothered even watching the show.
Employees of the station act like we’re performing some service to the community and publicly emphasizes our quality and importance. But everyone–from the cameramen on the floor to the directors in the booth to the talent we have on screen–we all know it’s kind of a joke. To all of us, it’s just a paycheck; to some viewers, it’s a daily ritual.
I know this expands far beyond my little podunk television station. I listen to podcasts and radio shows were the host clearly doesn’t know as much about their show as I do. I can think of one podcast in particular. It’s only about 20 minutes . . . . .
I finally got around to seeing “The Dark Knight” this weekend and I noticed there was quite a lot of the dialogue I didn’t pick up. My initial fear is that I spent way too much time with headphones plugged into my ears and was now paying the price with a hearing loss (but I only listen to talk radio podcasts with the volume extremely low!). Immediately after the movie, The Girlfriend said how much she loved the movie. “The only thing I didn’t like was the score: it was too loud and it drummed out a lot of the dialogue.”
Thank goodness! I didn’t wanna say nothing at first because it would like admitting I’m starting to go deaf. But when she confirmed the same problem I had, it meant either we were losing our hearing or there was something seriously off with the audio ratios of the movie. Either way, I’m happy. If I’m gonna go deaf with someone, it might as well be the person I’m going to marry.
I was at the Wal-Mart recently when I heard a six-year old kid say to his mom “Can we buy it? It’s only $300.”
What kinda world is . . . . .
The Girlfriend informed me there’s a . . . . .
I was driving past a Jiffy Lube a saw a banner that caught my eye: Gift Cards Available. Who’d give someone a Jiffy Lube gift card as a present? I know gift cards are big-time money makers, but isn’t that grasping at straws. Imagine waking up, the morning of your one-year wedding anniversary and find your beau bought you a Jiffy Lube gift card. What better way to say ‘I love you’ than a complementary oil change. How many birthday boys out there are secretly hoping to get a gift card to Jiffy Lube? I can’t think of a single possible scenario where a Jiffy Lube gift card is considered an acceptable gift. I would love to meet the genius who thought that was a good idea.
I hate sequels. That’s it–I’m done with them. I don’t care if there is another “Back to the Future,” “Indiana Jones,” “Die Hard,” or even “Simpsons Movie.” I’m done. After “Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” I have decided to stop being part of the problem and start being part of the solution.
Hollywood churns out sequels because the movie has a built-in audience. There are a large number of people bound to see . . . . .
I’m watching girls fast pitch softball on TV and finding myself getting really into it. Why not? The girls are kinda cute. They can play ball. And I’m seeing it all while watching baseball (or a game like baseball). What’s not to like?
. . . . .
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