Birds Without Wings

Since I'm on break, I've been reading far more than usual.  In three days, I've read about 250 pages (once upon a time before college, that was normal for me) of Louis de Bernieres' wonderful book, Birds without Wings.  I haven't finished yet, but I think it's safe to say I love it.

It takes place in a small village in Anatolia before the founding of the Turkish Republic, so the characters  are Greek and Turkish and Christian and Muslim and are all good friends despite calling the others infidels.  It also takes into account the political situation, so interspersed with the stories of this small village, he also tells the (condensed) history of Ataturk.

m.

Book.

Light, literally and metaphorically. And lots of puns.

About three months ago, the internet blew up.

Okay, so that's not quite true.  I'm still on it.  Case in point.
What I mean when I say "the internet blew up" is really "my friends made a really, really big deal about the soundtrack to a new movie coming out."
Movie? 

Music?  

 

Now, I'm all for soundtracks that fit the movie.  I don't want to watch anything of Austen's with a punk-rock score, and, let's be honest, an organ just doesn't fit with anything in Iron Man.
However, we're talking about a band called Daft Punk.  I like Simon & Garfunkel.  The Beatles.  Butch Walker.  Rufus Wainwright. 
So when all of my friends (it seemed) went completely mad for this new soundtrack, practically foaming at the mouth, I didn't really pay attention.  Well, until the third time or so I heard about it, and then it just became irritating.

I was wrong.
So very wrong.




Overall, I didn't much care for Tron.  I haven't seen the original, so there were some things that didn't make any sense (starting with the title).  And there were some other things, too.  From my understanding, everything in the Grid is a Program (except for the Users--which, incidentally, doesn't make Clu's genocide a genocide.  A Program, at least the way I think about it, isn't a sentient being).
A Program is code.  Code is binary--a series of ones and zeros.  Near the end of the movie, one of the Programs falls into a sea, and (from my understanding--again, not having seen the original) drowns.
One: how is it binary is affected by water?  And two: if it is, why have a sea?
I suppose most of my complaints have to do with the fact that everything in the Grid is binary.  That kind of ruins emotional attachment.  I'm not one to hug my computer.

Anyway.  The movie earned a resounding "meh" from me, but I feel in love with the music.  I don't like electronic sounding music, but Daft Punk and their 85-piece orchestra was sheer brilliance.
It's very consistent in basic form, but then it gets layered, almost like building blocks.  However, they also manage to keep it fairly minimalistic, in keeping with the visual simplicity of the movie.  In addition, the music fits into the film nearly seamlessly--one of the best I've seen/heard, if not the best.
It stands well on its own as well (listen here, and start with track four to hear what they've done with the original).

Final score:
The movie barely squeaked by in earning its $9.25.  I would gladly pay that for the soundtrack, though, and may do just that.
But the extra $3.00 for 3D is so very, very painfully not worth it.  [Did you hear that, Disney?  STOP THE 3D INSANITY!]

m.

And, just for the record, Cillian Murphy appears in one scene in the movie and is uncredited (according to IMDB).  I caught it, and knew who he was.

It's about time....

I talked about a book.

In particular, Captain Corelli's Mandolin. I must admit, it's the first book I've read by Louis de Berniéres, but it certainly won't be the last.

Berniéres has a singular ability to convey exactly what he means in a relatively short number of words. He is succinct in a way few people, and even fewer authors, are.

Captain Corelli's Mandolin is about a great deal of things. Love, and war, and music, and betrayal are the most general themes. Most books containing those four elements would turn into a pathetic attempt at all four and failing on every count. But for some number of failures, there must be a success--and Berniéres is just that.

By objectively observing the characters he comes into contact with, Berniéres paints a unique portrait of not only the people of the island but of both Greeks and Greece. We come to understand the country, not as a place with lots of old buildings, but as a place that is as just as alive as any of the people who inhabit it. Berniéres makes Greece breathe, and become a legitimate character in the story.

What also makes it such a striking book, in my opinion, is that since we see everyone objectively as they tell their parts of the story and through other's eyes during their bits, we begin to understand them as if they were a part of our daily lives. Because of this, it becomes impossible to pigeon-hole any of them. We are presented with their thoughts, and other's opinions about them, and sometimes the reasoning for them, and their spoken words, and their actions, and if we're very lucky, sometimes their backstory, and with all of this information and the politics, Berniéres leaves it up to the reader to decide who and what everyone is.

m.

Awesome cover courtesy of amazon.com.

Dear Sir: you would be so proud.

"Sir" here refers both to a man of distinction I would like to be respectful towards, and also Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

He would be so proud of what's been done. And no, there should be NO irony read in that statement.

Steven Moffat (of Doctor Who) and Mark Gatiss developed a show for BBC One entitled Sherlock.

Unlike most newer Holmes stories (Young Sherlock Holmes and Downey's Holmes, for example), Sherlock is set in 2010. Surprisingly, there isn't much that needs to be updated.

[Side Note: I do now have a minor issue. For my entire life, I've referred to the man by "Holmes," but now "Sherlock" seems to be how it's done, and I'm at a loss. So please, preemptively forgive my switching between the two, since I know I'm going to.]

Sherlock uses everything that's at his disposal, which now includes the internet (he has a bloody website), GPS, and a BlackBerry (which he never uses to call, only to text. Yes, Sherlock Holmes texts now. Although...even though he has a phone of his own, it seems he uses Watson's iPhone to do most of his texting). But he's still got his brain and over-inflated ego and relative lack of social skills.

Afghanistan is still relatively Afghanistan (history...repeating...), and Watson keeps a blog as opposed to a journal. The violin is still around, as is the fireplace (for some reason, it is vital that 221B Baker Street have a fireplace); Mrs. Hudson's not the housekeeper but the landlady, thank you very much; the pipe has been replaced with nicotine patches; Lestrade is now "Detective Inspector"; and 221 B Baker Street has, of course, not moved.

I am quite impressed with the cast they've gotten. Martin Freeman (Arthur Dent in Hitchhiker's Guide, and soon to be Bilbo in The Hobbit) is quietly brilliant as Watson. I must admit, it took me at least half an hour to be convinced that they cast the right man--he's just so damn normal. He is awed by Holmes, but still gets annoyed by him, and isn't afraid to call him out on some of the shit that he pulls. Freeman is, in essence, exactly what a guy would be who ended up living with the mastermind. There's an utter simplicity and honesty to his performance--zero overacting and amazing acting make him appear as if he's not acting at all. And then I remembered that often, the hardest parts to play are the most simple.

According to Moffat, Freeman "finds a sort of poetry in the ordinary man. I love the fastidious realism of everything he does."

Sadly, the first season only has three 90-minute episodes, courtesy of Steven Moffat, Stephen Thompson, and Steve Gatiss. Although it's updated, what they're interested in is telling stories the way Doyle did--fast as a handgun and irreverent as drawing mustaches on political posters. And of course, using his characters. I think Moffat said it well:

"Conan Doyle's stories were never about frock coats and gas light; they're about brilliant detection, dreadful villains and blood-curdling crimes--and frankly, to hell with crinoline. Other detectives have cases, Sherlock Holmes has adventures, and that's what matters."

However, the bulk of my praise must go to one place. Yes, the supporting actors are spot-on and the writing couldn't be much better, but if you don't have the man, you don't have anything:

Benedict Cumberbatch (I dare you to try to say it out loud four times without laughing, poor man) was born to play Sherlock Holmes, and I don't say that lightly.

Robert Downey, Jr. was an impressive Holmes; I enjoyed the movie well enough, and none of my complaints had to do with him. Rupert Everett, Jeremy Brett, and Matt Frewer were all good, too.

But you know how you can just look at Basil Rahbone and know he was born to play Sherlock Holmes? Cumberbatch is just like that.

Yes, he was good in Atonement and Amazing Grace, he's done plenty of Shakespeare for good companies, he's played Vincent van Gogh and Stephen Hawking.

But his Sherlock...his Sherlock is incandescent.

He is elegant and effortless, spouting minutes worth of observation at a speed that would impress the cast of West Wing.

All at once, you want to hate him, break his BlackBerry, punch him in the face, love him, call him a genius and an idiot, be him, and, of course, have the chance to best him, even though you never will.

m.

title image courtesy of http://tortsh-coed.livejournal.com/tag/bbc%20sherlock

Sherlock texting: http://aparejodefortuna.wordpress.com/

Moffat on Freeman from the DVD commentary of "A Study in Pink," but I lifted it from the wikipedia page.

Moffat on his general dislike of crinoline from http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00t4pgh

"Really. There's a huge amount of running involved."

I want to be clear up front: I am a dichotomy, and some days I can even be a paradox.

That being said:

Doctor Who.

Now, I'm not talking about the old Doctor from the 70's who could be restrained with corregated cardboard and duct tape.

I'm talking about the new, smart-assed, slightly ego-centric Doctor who talks just as fast as Lorelai or Rory Gilmore.

I'm talking about the man who has relationship issues with everyone he meets, is far too clever for his own good, and, in his newest form, happens to have a spectacular head writer and be one of the best looking (in the quirky sense) men I've ever seen.

Molly, one of my best/oldest friends, introduced me to it a couple of years ago, and that was the end of me being able to pretend I wasn't a complete geek.

Matt Smith (newest incarnation), although he wasn't my first Doctor (that distinction falls to David Tennant), is my favorite--similar to having a favorite Bond. He really, really knows what he's doing.

In his performance, there's a spectacular mix of old and new (Smith's only in his mid twenties, but the Doctor's over 900); his dialogue is sharp and witty and slightly distracted and usually deadpan, his monologues are elegant, and he both looks like he could be your older brother (the kind you got along with) and the oncoming storm.

Steven Moffat, the new head writer, is phenomenal, too. He won a Hugo for a previous episode ("Blink," which will pretty much make you live in fear of angel statues), and his new episodes are just as good.

Although he didn't write it, I think my favorite episode from the latest season (aired summer 2010) is the one where the Doctor and Amy (his companion) meet Vincent van Gogh.

Yes, you read that right.

They did a great job of getting his personality to come through, part (certifiably) insane and part artist. And completely human.

This is van Gogh, explaining himself:

"It seems to me there is so much more to the world than the average eye is allowed to see. It believe if you look hard, there are more wonders in this universe than you could eve have dreamed of. It's colour! Colour that holds the key! I can hear the colours; listen to them. Every time I step outside, I feel nature is shouting at me. Come on! Come and get me! Come on! Capture my mystery!"

And the Doctor's response...

"Maybe you've had enough coffee now, how about some nice, calming tea? Let's get you a cup of chamomile or something, shall we?"

m.

Original classic Matt Smith/Doctor shot (aka image 1) found at http://www.toplessrobot.com/2010/02/

the Doctor and Amy take a coffee and...script...break: http://www.comicmix.com/news/2010/04/17/doctor-who-the-eleventh-hour-open-thread/

Doctor and semi-non-threatening Dalek image courtesy of http://www.timeoutsydney.com.au/timein/meet-the-new-doctor-who--matt-smith.aspx (which also has an interview with the new Doctor)

The gallery's newest exhibit: Doctor, in towel, holding toothbrush on loan from http://blastr.com/2010/06/bbc-says-matt-smith-was-not-naked-on-doctor-who.php

And let's please everyone remember: Bow ties are cool, fezzes are not.

New

You know what I love?

Set schedules.

Like when a professor tells you a class is going to be at this time, in this classroom, and then--egads!--it is.

However, seeing as though I can't find said set schedule online, I'll have to find something else to share today.

Glee.

Yes, I am one of those people. Come on, don't you just want to break out into song at inopportune/perfect moments in your life.

That's okay. I know you want to, you just don't want to admit it.

Glee is one of the two tv shows that I specifically take time out of my life to watch (the other is Big Bang Theory).

"Grilled Cheesus" was the title of last night's episode (last night for me, at least. I have to watch them the day after they come out, being in Turkey and all), which caused me to panic a bit. I'm a Christian, and while I will readily admit that God works in strange ways sometimes (like: "Really? Really? I trust You, God, but I don't think that would even fly on a soap opera"), I don't think He spends too much time trying to talk to us through sandwiches.

Which is more or less exactly what Emma said on the show.

All in all, I thought they handled it extremely well. I liked that they represented both sides (and subsets) of the argument, and that they didn't make any of the opinions just...stupid. I've seen that before, and it always makes me mad, even if they're against God. People who don't believe in Him aren't stupid, for the most part, and they have better arguments than "he wouldn't have let my cat die when I was 5."

Grow up, people who write dialogue like that. You shouldn't be writing theological arguments when you can't even write.

Okay. Done grandstanding.

We return you to your originally scheduled program, sans dancing.

What I love so much about the show is how they never cut anybody any slack. Every character has their good and bad parts.

Hey! That's just like real life!

There are plenty of parts that are over the top, but when you get rid of some of it, there are plenty of bits that sound like sound bites from a high schooler's life.

The other thing I really love about it is how they know that they're over the top, and they have fun with it. They don't try to delude themselves into thinking that it's a highbrow drama with lots of morals and life lessons.

For pete's sake, they did a Lady Gaga episode. I hold it's impossible to take yourself completely seriously when you're dressed in giant bubbles, or have Beanie Babies stapled to your jumper.

They also had an episode directed by Joss Whedon (who is king of American scifi). With Neil Patrick Harris. It's about time the guy got some props for his voice.

m.

And: Chris Colfer, who plays Kurt, did the most fantastic rendition of "I Want to Hold Your Hand." I never thought that song could be done in ballad form.

Boy, was I wrong.

"Wheels" image courtesy of http://nymag.com

Lady Gaga episode still courtesy of http://bolahenksokak.blogspot.com/

Neil Patrick Harris & Matthew Morrison's rendition of "Dream On" poster-worthy image courtesy of http://www.nydailynews.com/

Final image courtesy of http://mjsbigblog.com/

Introducing...

One of my two obsessions.

Meet Butch Walker.

You probably haven't heard of him, which is perfectly all right. (Unless you read Rolling Stone in 2005, when they named him best producer of the year.)

At least until now.

Now I'm here to tell you how bloody wonderful this musician is.

He's also a producer. You've probably heard of some of the artists...Pink, Bowling for Soup, Weezer, The Academy Is....

But as good as they are, they cannot touch Mr. Walker.

(This is where I would put in a link to youtube, but Turkey blocks it. You won't regret it, though, in the least.)

The man can do just about anything, but, more impressively, his lyrics are on par with Paul Simon and Bob Dylan (and, unlike Dylan, you can actually understand what he's saying).

What makes his lyrics so poetic is that there's so damn real. A number of his songs are about the small things in life, usually pertaining to relationships, usually broken ones. But they're all true. A thing doesn't have to be real to be true.

He's 40 (or 41...or 42), so the end of a relationship isn't the end of his world. That's not to say there isn't any emotion in it, but I have yet to hear a "you-broke-up-with-me-I'm-going-to-go-kill-myself" song. And I don't think he's going to write one (thank goodness).

Within all of his songs, there's something small and very specific he focuses on, which makes them much more potent than a "sad" or "happy" song. For instance:

"Here comes the last time I'll kiss you/The first night sleeping alone"

("Here Comes The...")

"You can't trust a man from a species who captures things just to let them go. [....] There's never a pill strong enough to make me feel the way all your fingers could."

("Passed Your Place, Saw Your Car, Thought of You")

"As I drove into a city painted on the desert/With everything ten miles high/Hard to believe that nobody will see/What I see through my bloodshot eyes./Now I don't mean to sound so young and naive/But think we've found something good/And now I can feel me leaving who I used to be/As we're driving into Hollywood."

("So At Last")

Or his advice to his son in "Be Good Until Then": "Always wash your hands when you wanna eat/Always keep 'em dirty enough to see where you've been."

And if that's not enough to convince you, he did a cover of Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me."

Don't judge.

It's better than the original, and he does it with a bloody mandolin.

Yes, you read that right.

I like reading interviews with my favorite people (like Nathan Fillion. Nathan Fillion is funny. He should have his own show. Wait...)

Butch Walker is no exception. I read what he has to say, about being an artist, or a producer, and I think, "that's the kind of person I want to get to know." He's honest. He's not afraid to be honest, or to be himself, and yet at the same time, he's not afraid to reinvent himself.

Sure, there are parts of his personality that are less than perfect (the other common thing to cross my mind when reading/listening is "what an ass"), but that seems to be the case with most of humanity.

I thinks he sums himself up the best, though, so I'll let him do that.

"I like the fact that I'm still an artist and I'm not crushed by frustration. I don't have to agree with those who are overcompensating with their longwinded [nature], talking about how much money they make or about how much shit they have. No matter what, there are plenty of people that will never know that I'm an artist and will never know that I [make] records, and that's fine. 'cause you know what? I have a great life doing this. I'm not bothered by people, I got great fans, and as long as I get to keep being grateful for that, it's my proudest accomplishment. As far as biggest regret goes--every time I'm ever asked that question, I completely draw a blank. I never go 'Oh god I regret this' or 'Oh god I regret that.' I never remember--whenever I'm in an interview--what I regret."

m.

First image courtesy of http://butchwalker.com

Second image courtesy of Veronica Zelina

Third and fourth and fifth images courtesy of Lucia Holm

Lyrics courtesy of and copyrighted by Butch Walker

Interview conduced by Evan Sawdey; http://www.popmatters.com/pm/feature/116257-the-gospel-according-to-butch-part-3-the-artist/

Plus, the "a thing need not be real to be true" is homage to my other obsession, Neil Gaiman. But more about him later, I'm sure.