The movie Closer gave me the shivers. To see that high level of human cruelty against the backdrop of an unyielding, dark, bitter look at the human condition is enough to make anyone wish to live the life of a hermit. Four people spoke throughout the movie, involved in the most convoluted and damaging “love square” that you can possibly imagine. The sex talk was explicit, the revenge complex, and at the end, the lives ruined. Worst of all, the viewer sees no motivation for these characters’ actions, giving us the impression that anyone can snap and become that heartless. Apparently, this is adopted from the stage version of a play by the same name; The New Yorker declared that the “acid was diluted” in the move to cinema; I shudder to think how intensely disturbing the stage version was. It isn’t that I always want the movies I watch to end with sunshine and butterflies, it’s just that I want the movies that provoke thought or disturb preconceptions to have a point - Closer simply disturbed at continually more deep levels, and then left us. If only we had had a couple of moments of the couples enjoying themselves together … some bits of true laughter, things would have been tolerable. But, there is no note of hope, and no twist to get us thinking, just the assertion that the human capacity for simply being mean is limitless.
I, Robot, however, did leave the audience with something to think about. Now, I have not read the book by the same name, and have heard that this movie does a terrible job of adapting it. Frankly, though, I do not think a book comparison is necessary: the movie sends its own message on its own terms. It makes us consider the consequences of creating beings that interact with us - when do we consider them “human”? Stylistically, the movie paints a believable picture of the future, and Will Smith gets to use his “oh hell no” line, which I do not think gets old. Besides, he’s really ripped and walks around in tight shirts - he somehow fits with the style of the movie. While the film does take itself pretty seriously, there are plenty of funny moments, and the dialog between the stiff robot scientist and Smith are welcome bits of humor. Incidentally, I would take this as an action flick tied together with decent dialog and a plot that works for these purposes: the movie gets us thinking a little, makes us laugh, and there are some fun explosions, car chases, and tense action scenes. So, considering its limited goals in entertaining a pretty narrow portion of our minds, “I, Robot” was good fun.
Finally, Spanglish was interesting. The first thing I wondered after the movie was “what should I take away from this?” I knew that it was trying to say something, and I felt that the Spanish maid in the movie did change the family she worked for, but I did not know how. I did not know if they were better off, or if the seed of the possibility of them being better off was planted, or if the family who hired her was screwed and the maid’s daughter (who was narrating) was the person on which we should focus. The acting was good, I believed every bit, and felt an emotional reaction when fights and tears flitted onscreen. Adam Sandler, as many have commented, did an admirable job of breaking his stereotypical role and showing us that he can “do drama.” Unfortunately, this movie is a case of good actors being handed utter crap for a script. If we could resolve the issue of the mother, the movie might have a chance of saying something; but as it stands, I could not really take anything out of it. Thankfully, there were some good funny parts, which kept the cheating theme from taking control and sucking all the joy from the movie (as was the case in Closer).
I’ve seen other movies lately (Young Frankenstein, Napoleon Dynamite) which were funny and light and simply do not need reviews. If you need a movie to see, see these. Also, if you liked The Bourne Identity, go rent the Bourne Supremacy - that was a fun movie; everytime Bourne was outside the “bad guys” window talking to them while watching them (and letting them know with a clever dialog twist), I let out a triumphant whoop of entertainment joy and said I could leave the movie at that point; I was happy with how cool that was. Bourne is fun.
How long have I been waiting to attend this concert? George Winston at Orchestra Hall. No mics, no CD scratches, no speakers between us and the music … simply a wooden soundboard vibrating and filling a holiday concert hall. Years. Mykala and I went the Monday before Christmas, parked in the cold parking garage and proceeded to the elevator to get to the skyway. There was a small group waiting, and one member of it hit the down button. The doors opened, but the group simply stared. I advanced a bit, looked in the empty elevator doors, and hesitated, not wanting to violate the laws of common courtesy. Then, with a lazy “ding” the doors slid shut again. I scratched my head and turned around to a Mykala who was beside herself laughing. It must have been an odd sight, to see the door open, and me peer in, only to become confused as the doors shut again. Eventually, though, we made it into the concert hall and took our seats in the 24th row.
George Winston talks not with the voice I expected. His voice matches more his beard and Montana upbringing than it does his melodic and smooth piano playing; I guess that makes more sense, he isn’t some French “artiste” consumed with his “art.” In fact, he is a very modest man, admitting without hesitation that some of the pieces (especially one called “Hold Your Hand”) he is still learning. He announced all of his songs simply from the stage; his Hawaiian Slack Key guitar numbers, one on harmonica from the movie Cold Mountain, and many piano songs. And it was when he simply stated what his second selection would be (a mixture of “Colors” from Autumn and “Tamarack Pines” from Forest) that I knew how amazing listening would be. I learned many parts of that song Colors, and I always thought, “wouldn’t it be wonderful to see his hands to get a better, smoother grasp of this song?” I had my opportunity. Nevertheless, I simply could not follow some of the songs - one called “Car Chase” just blew me away with its speed, technical requirements, and unbelievably complex swing/jazz ryhthms. In addition to the amazing music (Carol of the Bells blended with “Clouds” from Plains was particularly captivating), I finally got that priceless opportunity to see how this man plays. See, he strikes piano keys not as if they were electronic keys with two options (“on” or “off”), but with the understanding that piano keys are mechnical … he plays them with the same sensitivity people pluck guitar strings. Gaining this understanding, that piano keys respond best not when hit but when played, could very well help me take many of my songs and make them more musical.
Most memorable, however, was how live music can move you. No electronic amplification to get in the way, one feels a very visceral connection to what is occurring onstage. For many parts of the evening, I simply closed my eyes and really listened to what I could hear - it was not something I will forget soon.
You will notice that comments are disabled on this post, which is no accident. I write the following not as a request for sympathy (you will also see that this is buried beneath a couple of other posts), but due to the realization that writing about this, getting it out onto a medium, will relieve some of the stress that it has been causing in my mind. Two people I love very much are in trouble. First, my grandfather has cancer. He is the last grandparent I have left. The operation that is coming up will be the second time he has ever been in a hospital (the other time was for some minor elbow surgery). Unfortunately, the surgeon said that this is the oldest person he will ever attempt this surgery on. This type of colon cancer is aggressive, and the surgery chosen frequently ends with the person not ever having control of their bladder again. My aunt types medical transcripts, and has typed this type of surgery before; she said these usually end “not very well.” He has a 50% chance of living. Yesterday, the 24th, Christmas Eve Day, was his birthday, and the celebration was bittersweet … we may be missing him this time next year.
My mom has an irregular lump. I will spare you the details (and years later when I read this I will not be interested in them, either) but there is a 80% chance that it is not cancer. She will be having surgery to remove this before the end of the year. I have not let myself even consider the possibility that it is cancer. I simply can not imagine my mom having cancer; her having that disease is like me trying to drive a square peg through a round hole in my mind. All we have been doing is valuing our time together as of late, it has been a very close holiday, and we had a wonderful shopping trip. I actually succeeded in picking out a couple of articles of clothing (a cotton dressy blazer from Gap and purple shirt to go under it from Banana Republic) for my 4’11.75” 87lb mother - no mean feat, I might add.
It is strange yet heartening how the worst situations bring out the best in people. Our holidays might have been full of intense and petty arguments over inconsequential nothings had things not been thrown into a harsh and sharp perspective by the bright light of mortality. To look on the bright side yields this: “We enjoyed the holidays because we came to know how precious what we have is.” We all have been given gifts, we simply need to realize it.
Going to the Union Gospel Mission was a good thing. For once I had the chance to volunteer without counting it for hours for any clubs or organization. I never really feel like it is volunteering if I am doing it to fulfill hours. We helped pack bags (great duffels donated by Land’s End) with personal care items for the mission’s annual Christmas outreach. I did, for the record, get my hand slammed into a car door. However, it did not even bleed, and it still plays piano fine, so things are well. Later on, it will probably go something like this: “Remember when we went to the Union Gospel Mission?” “Oh yeah, you got your hand slammed into a door.” laughter
My second-to-the-final Christmas gift purchase is cruising here now, even though it overshot Minnesota by going from west of here to east of here. Not sure how this happened.
I did (thank you for asking) get a chance to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas. Here is a screenshot from the Christmas goodness.
It (and by ‘it,’ I mean the temperature) will get down to -40 degrees Fahrenheit (with windchill) tonight, although our chances for a white Christmas are looking slim. Furthermore, many of you are stuck taking finals this coming week. I find this to be a ridiculous situation and condemn all universities guilty of this policy to two new frats/sororities apiece.
Now, we certainly own this videotape, and have watched it numerous times, but there is something about watching A Charlie Brown Christmas on network TV, with commercials. It makes you feel connected to everyone else watching, the same way watching the Superbowl, listening to the radio, or going to a movie does. Below is the email I sent to my sister, informing her of this upcoming annual show of greatness.
KATY A CHARLIEBROWNCHRISTMASISONTOMORROWNIGHT. WATCHTHISSHOWANDYOUWILLFINDHAPPINESS.
http://abc.go.com/specials/cbrown_christmas.html
SINCERELY, ALEXMICEK
(WITH A LITTLEHELPFROMLARGENT)
Anyhow, I was walking around my room and broke my alarm clock. Thankfully, it still rings in the morning, but I hate stepping on my things and by doing so, breaking them.
When I grow up, I will make alarm clocks that I do not mind waking up to. And you know, that will be any alarm clock out there, because I hope to build a life I will love to wake up to.
Thanks in part to everyone’s well-wishes on my last round of tests, things went quite well. For your thoughts and encouragement, I thank you all. Unfortunately, this week is rather full as I use my super student powers to slay the last of my evil class work. Yes, armed with a graphite pencil and rubber eraser, I will decapitate bubble tests, disembowel essays, and shred physics problems. Nothing will stand in between me and my victory on Friday afternoon. No problem will stump, no answer will be second-guessed, and no food will be uneaten. Yes, this is the week of epic struggle, unending anguish, and great reward. Our voices will echo from the tops of the tallest tower, “freedom is ours, FREEDOMISOURS!” And we will run, as one, from the campus, bearing gifts for our eagerly waiting families.
New iPod? - About 60% the size of the iPod mini, confirmed rumors say this new flash iPod will be out in January. Price? Estimated at 99 dollars - this could be Apple genius.
Nerd Affective Something Disorder - Funny read. “However, if your friend is anxiously rubbing their forehead and/or climbing out of their skin when you move that icon 12 PIXELSTOTHERIGHT, there’s NADD in the house.”
Unfortunately for Matt, I have been constantly using the term “street cred” while talking to him. Thus, in the hopes that he is reading and in my continuing desire to annoy him, I will use the phrase once more. Today in the gym, my ab workout receieved street creds. (Notice the plural for variety, Matt!) This was a good thing, because sometimes it’s sort of an uncomfortable exercise to do. Anyhow.
This past Sunday was the Gala, which featured food and dancing lessons. I learned a little more about dancing, and while I did not double my dancing knowledge, I certainly expanded it. I did my first real tango (I use the word tango loosely), and wished there had been more swing dancing time available. I’d like to get to the point where I am not thinking about the steps and can have fun. Wabasha Caves dancing, I think.
We decided to put on our prom faces for this picture, complete with awkward pose and fake grins/grimaces. I think it turned out quite well. Crest tells me I should whiten my teeth for the holidays, and I am starting to try to stop looking at my teeth. Must … triumph over … advertising …
That random picture above was recently sent to me by Nils and is part of the group at the Taste of Minnesota this past summer. We all certainly look happy and summery and significantly less bundled up than we are now. Good memories, hope to make some more this coming summer as well. In the meantime, though, it certainly will be fun to go back to Woodbury for the holidays and enjoy some slow time. I finally feel at home here at St. Thomas, but a change of scenery never hurt anybody. I would imagine you all are feeling the same, with homework soaking up everyone’s time.
You will be finding more and more updates here as I head into the break and try to break last year’s post count of 140. I was on track for 200 easy, but got delayed by school. I guess I will go for 145 posts this year, and 200 some next year. Not a New Year’s resolution or anything, but it should make your tumbledry experience better.
To those of you still reading, wish me luck tomorrow on my Biology lab and Art History exam. While my sentence structure might indicate that the two tests are combined in some sort of bizarre team-taught environment in which we learn about the biology of art, that is not that case. They are simply two tests I really do not want to take; thankfully they should fall on the low end of the difficulty scale.
