8.27.2006

V for Vague

m15m, best rendition of the film V for Vendetta. Totally. Like, no contest.

This is easily one of the most disappointing films I've seen this year. Now it's on DVD and shrinking it to the little screen doesn't improve it. It could have been brilliant and great. Instead...eh.

No, it's not just the obvious politics of the thing. Well, yes, it is the obvious politics of the thing. If you want to take digs at Bush, fine, have at him, but when it comes to Art (that's right, with a capital "A") you need to look a few moments past the current moment, because once the moment has passed, your "Art" looks like crap.

The graphic novel understood this. It's worth several readings, because you need to wade through it a few times, and even then you miss stuff. Some of the artwork could have been clearer, especially during those scenes where the picture is the only way to identify who is dying at what time. That aside, the plot is great.

Because what the novel understood was what I said, you make a political point without hammering at a particular political moment. You treat your audience as though they have an IQ somewhat higher than the average pea, that they will get it. The novel was written as an attack on Margaret Thatcher when she was PM of England, yet she's not even mentioned. Few (if any) of her politics are discussed. Rather, the author looked at what frightened him about her time in office, and expanded it to the autocratic extreme.

But look at how things came about! In the novel, England rejects Thatcher and elects a liberal government. That government disavows the mere possession of nuclear weapons and complete chucks 'em away. Thus, without nuclear arms, when a limited WW3 happens, England is untouched (physically). The rest of the world goes to bollocks, however, and England collapses into anarchy. And it is from this anarchy that The Leader and "England Prevails" rises.

Get it? Liberal government, unrealistic position, war, government collapse, anarchy, autocratic dictator. That's the progression in the novel. (Even if, later, Moore would reject this as "melodramatic". He also got assumed Thatcher would get tossed from office. Oops!)

There is no such logic, rhyme, or reason to the movie. There's a dictatorship because the plot needs one. Something about "America's war" and an American plague, but talk about vague and WtF. Then there's the Phil Donahue wannabe.... Oh, wait, that's supposed to be Bill O'Rielly? Naw! Ranting, self-rightous monologues like that were Phil's stock-in-trade.

Then there are the little things, like Gordon's illustrated Koran. "Can I not admire the pictures?" (Or some such nonsense.) No, you can't, because your implication is that all copies of the holy Koran are illustated with loverly artwork, which is load of dingo's kidneys. Why not an illustrated Bible? Why not an illustrated Torah? Why not just a collection of forbidden art? No, that's in there to say, "Hey, Muslims are wrongfully oppressed. Just ignore those who have bombed buildings, flown jets into buildings, blown up trains, blown up subways, shoot people without mercy, and all that other stuff. Everyone has extremists. Just look at the 'Christian' dictator I've invented for this film! He's just like Bush, that evil fundamentalist. Evil! Eeeeeevvvviiillll!!!"

And let's not even start on the entire new back story plot, about the government slaughtering 100,000 citizens to create a climate of fear so a dictatorship can step in and "restore" order. Arf!

V, the movie, works best when it hews closely to the novel. Those moments are brilliant and damn near resonate. V, the movie, becomes totally brain dead when it tries to be "relevant". In so doing, it becomes irrelevant (at best) and stupid (at worst, which is to say, most of the time).

I mean, come on! This is a police state, with cameras everywhere, with "Fingerman" patrolling the streets to mug, rape, and murder who they please. Et cetera. Yet, no one notices thousands upon thousands of Guy Fawkes costumes being ordered and delivered throughout the country (or at least throughout London)? Puh-leez! A willing suspension of disbelief is one thing, but swallowing that one requires artificial gravity that would make the Krell proud.

A question to all who think this film is Deep and Makes A Strong Statement: In the novel, at the end, V blows up 10 Downing Street, home of the PM and dictator, and cries for anarchy. His is a direct assault on the fascist dictator. In the film, he blows up Parliament and cries for democracy. Don't you think that since he's gotten the dictator killed, gutted the autocratic leadership, and set the country up for a revival of democracy, that Parliament -- the very seat and symbol of English democracy -- might have been rather, er, important, a symbol of freedom, a rallying point for a new era? Perhaps it shouldn't have been blown to sh*t and gone.

Just wondering.

Consider that Guy Fawkes was a fanatic who wanted to blow up Parliament because he was a "Catholic extremist" who, with "Puritan extremists", wanted to blow up the nation's Protestant leaders and return England to the bosum of Mother Church in Rome. In the book, Fawkes's politics are left at the door and V dons the costume as a symbol of anarchy. In the film, Fawkes is portrayed as some Robin Hoodish hero of the people. Interesting, don't you think, given the real Fawkes's religious bent. He was, in fact, the religious fanatic that the film attempts to portray Bush The Leader as being.

At the end of the novel, the future is decidedly unknown. The country is sinking into anarchy. V is dead and Evey opts to don the costume so that there will always be a V, an immortal you might say, to make sure no authoritarian rises to power. In the film, there's almost a sense of order as V is everyone and everyone is V. Only the seat of British democracy has been blown to sh*t and gone, there is no rallying point, and we're left with this false sense of euphoria. In other words, it is beautiful pap, a slapped on happy ending that Steven Spielberg would have been proud of.

The film illustrates that even when being "brave" and presenting "an uncompromising vision of the future", Hollywood is, at heart, chicken and presumes that the audience is dumber than a bowl full of (dead) mice.

8.26.2006

And Ubuntu sucks...again!

Look, I really want to like this stuff. I had reach a level of tolerance with OpenOffice sufficient to tempt me to use it all the time. I love the interface, especially when I can kick over to WindowMaker.

But, damn, it's amazing to me that the screensaver can bring my computer to its knees! Once it kicks in, my only recourse is the reset button. I can't get crash out of the x-server. The system is locked tight, Windows NT blue screen of death tight.

So, I've downloaded images for openSUSE and PCLinuxOS. It is time to walk away from Ubuntu. And, damn, it seems so close. Then again, if I "fixed" this I'd next have to figure out why Amarok is silent, yet every other mp3 player works just fine.

G'uh.

UPDATE: Found out this might be the result of a bad patch, though probably not because that crash was the one I already re-installed to correct. So now I'm dual booting into openSUSE v10.1, and I hate it already. I'm sure that somewhere there's a slower operating system, but I don't want to find it. I stand on the edge, ready to just Partition Magic the thing out of existence and give over my entire HDD to The Gatesian Empire (cue heavy breathing).

8.21.2006

Ubuntu returns

Ubuntu Linux v6.06.1 LTS returns to my desktop because, well, I have a resurrected desktop computer. Thus, my laptop gets a vacation and I get to give this flavor of Linux another chance.

Maybe this install will remain connected to the Internet. Ahem.

8.17.2006

"Infernal Affairs" Becomes "The Departed"

I watched Infernal Affairs last night. I understand there are at least two sequels; I'm not sure I want to watch them because I'm afraid they'll undo the afterglow. I'm also afraid that Martin Scorsese, one of the cinematic greats, might do the same with his Americanized version this fall, The Departed.

I dislike the name change to start with. Infernal has that name because of the quote used right from the get go: "The worst of the Eight Hells is Continuous Hell. It has the meaning of Continuous Suffering. Thus the name." (Nirvana Sutra) Verse 19.

And that is precisely what the movie is about, thus the reference to hell in the title is completely appropriate. The setup is relatively simple: Two young men join the Hong Kong police force. One "washes out" because he's actually been recruited to go undercover with the HK gangs (triads). The other is in reality a gang plant in the police force, assigned to work his way up through the hierarchy for the benefit gang sponsor. The plot of the film is driven by both the police force and the gang discovering that they each have a mole. Thus, the police mole is now searching for the gang mole, and vice versa.

But the humanity of the film is driven by the price each mole is paying. Can the gang mole become a "good" man, actually become a cop and fight for the right? And what is the cost on the police mole, because for ten years he has lived without his real identity? These moments make Infernal Affairs an exceptional film, and are no doubt what drew Scorsese to the subject.

What I love about watching most foreign films is that they aren't made to American expectations. Now, some countries become predictable in their own right. Take French films. The good guy always dies, there's never a happy ending (Luc Besson's work being, for the most part, notable exceptions). The French relish in "tragic" ending, even if they have to contrive one.

But Asian cinema is another matter altogether. Am I giving anything away if I reveal the end of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon? If so, your bad because the film's been out for years. Damn near everyone dies at the end, but what really dies are relationships that never quite happened. The film is choked with unrequited love, and just when you think that love is about to be returned...gak, someone dies.

Maybe that's the Asian film tick. Person A loves person B, but B doesn't not love A in return. And just about the time that B realizes he/she loves A, A or B or both die. Damn, sounds like my life (except for the dying part). Fun?

Well, yeah, because they do it with such flair. And somehow it always catches me off guard, though it happens in Crouching Tiger, Hero, and House of Flying Daggers.

It will be interesting to see if Scorsese holds the course.

Jimmuh Cahtuh, flaming tard at large

In case you hadn't noticed, I have no (as in zero, none, nada) respect for Jimmy Carter. This has long been the case, beginning in 1977 when he took the Oath of Office for the presidency. I think he made my skin actually crawl during his campaign, even more so when he begged for re-election in 1980. It was in 1980 that I lost all hope for the man, when he conceded the race to Reagan, several hours before the polls in California closed. I remember that moment vividly because my father and I were getting off work (5ish) and on our way to vote when Carter's concession was announced on the radio. To say that my dad, a lifelong Democrat, was pissed is a vivid understatement.

Since then, Cahtuh has done nothing to redeem himself in my eyes. Oh, there's that whole "habitat for humanity" thing, but I believe he does that in some quest to salvage his soul, personal aggrandizement, rather than the altruistic urge he advertises. Where he completely drives me up a fig tree is when he pontificates on the Middle East. And I know exactly what I mean by "pontificate" and it is precisely applicable to his gaping pie hole.

(See, I really don't like Massuh Cahtuh, no not at all.)

His recent interview with Spiegel is a case in point. Aside from being his usual pious yet pompous nonsense, he gets almost everything precisely wrong. (In fact, he's so good at that you can generally take anything he says, turn it 180 degrees about, and find the truth.)

Despite the obsequious nature of most of the interviewer's questions, Cahtuh couldn't bring himself to answer the questions given. Instead, he launched in self-praise about the treaty he brokered, etc. He slimes that he got a treaty between Egypt and Israel despite the election of Begin. Thus, in a single phrase he implicates that Israel has always been the problem, the force against peace, in the Middle East, and negates the fact that, hey, 'tard, Begin won that Peace Prize right alongside Sadat!

God forgive me, but I really dislike this man. Can't he just learn to stfu?

8.16.2006

James Newton Howard, under-appreciated?

Really, I'm beginning to think so. I've been ripping my CD collection into VBR MP3's. I've finished soundtracks, so I can easily see how many of his I have, and when I drift through the tracks I get sorta weepy.

James Newton Howard is a composer that when he is on, he's evocative. Even when he's composing for third-rate movies, like Jackson's King Kong. You listen to the finale bits, Beauty Killed the Beast IV and V, and the Enya crap aside...wow. The submarine piece in his score for Atlantis...wow.

This has been a back-burner question for me because I keep wondering who will come along to take the place of John Williams, John Barry, and Jerry Goldsmith. Sure, they're not all dead, but sometimes I wonder. Have you listened to Williams' bits for Munich and War of the Worlds? The occasional moment, yes, but that makes him less than Howard because Howard's moments are getting longer.

Maybe I miss Goldsmith. That there was a composing god if ever there was one. Remember this and this and this? Wow!

Has Barry written anything worth a hoot since Prances with Puppies? I think not.

And I've already cried over Williams.

So that leaves...who? Howard is doing well. There's also Howard Shore, who can compose some really great creepy shit, though I think hit LOTR crap is over-rated (well, then again, LOTR was over-rated, so it fits). I'm excited by Michael Giacchino. His score for The Incredibles was...incredible! A crime was committed the day it didn't at least get an Oscar nomination. There's also Marco Beltrami. Even when he's scoring for crap he's fun (because, well, it's fun crap), and his Hellboy score wasn't crap at all (because Hellboy wasn't crap, it was great).

One day, one of these fellows -- or someone else -- will do something amazing. And they'll we'll all go, "Hey, remember when Williams was this good? Was he ever this good?"

8.15.2006

The Collapse of Judgment: by Hugh Hewitt

It starts with a simple question:
If you could save the victims of one of the following four events, which group would you save?

1. The victims of Fidel Castro's 'revolution?'

2. The victims of Hezbollah's ambushes, rockets and missiles over the past three weeks?

3. The victims of the Seattle attack on the Jewish federation?

4. The victims of Mel Gibson's repulsive outburst of anti-Semitic venom?
...and goes from there. It's from August 3rd, but excellence knows no time limit.

The height of rudeness

I read this article at MSNBC about a culture of rudeness, and all I can say is: Amen, brother!

I am so sick unto death by the general rudeness in the world today, and I think he's pegged at least most of the reason. It's not for snobby reasons that I don't watch TV (my TV is a display for movies that I buy or rent), it's because I'm tired of the celebrity-go-round, the "reality" TV, the sheer weight of mind-numbing crap. I'd rather watch endless reruns of "She's the Sheriff" than most anything on the air today.

I think I was forced to this conclusion, about celebrity rudeness and "news" coverage, by Paris Hilton. She is obviously Satan. I don't mean "daughter of Satan", I mean she is the anti-Christ herself. She became a "celebrity" simply by inheriting a shitload of money. Period. That's it. She's never done a worthwhile thing in her life, other than be a participant in an Internet-distributed porn film. She slinks, she purrs, she insists on being #1, and she's...what? An heiress. And the public ate (!!!) her up.

Sad.

Like the author, I remember a time when you aspired to be rich and famous because that meant you would be cultured and refined, someone that others would naturally look up to. Did those celebrities and millionaires have hidden flaws? Absolutely. Were they less than perfect? Well, duh, they were human! But it is precisely the point that their flaws were kept to themselves, hidden, rather than being paraded about as though the flaw was the thing, as though it was more important that they farted than what they said.

There's a saying that goes something like: A man who is rude to the waitress is not a nice man. I try to follow that rule. I'm polite to the help, I over-tip the waitress, etc. I ride like a maniac, in firm belief that 80mph is where life begins, but other than that I'm a rather calm guy. All 6' 4" of me. Admittedly, that means I can afford to be calm.

Still, my point remains. Let's all slow down and relax, sip the (decaf) coffee, smell the (fake) flowers, enjoy the (scorching) sun, and wave at the (bastard) who cut us off. And use all of your fingers!

8.14.2006

Okay, so I enter post title here

All right, so this is Live Writer (Beta), the latest from Microsoft. So theoretically, I type this over here on my desktop, then...what? Ah, click publish....

Update: Wow, it works.

8.11.2006

Remembering the Battle of Thermopylae

According to the history text, today marks the anniversary of the Battle of Thermopylae, 480 B.C. The battle has been the subject of movies, some books, and even a new film that's in production. Most focus on the 300 Spartans of King Leonidas.

Bob's History in a Nutshell: King Xerxes of Persia decided he wanted to own the world. He assembled a vast army, numbering in the millions, and got to work. Here a conquest, there a conquest, soon he was a royal (ahem) pain in the ass headed for Greece. At that time, Greece was a collection of squabbling city-states. Individually they were going to be easy pickings. But some Greeks thought this would be a bad idea. In order to let the squabblers stop squabbling, a few select opted to face Xerxes at the pass of Thermopylae, a narrow strip of land that would nullify the Persians' superior numbers. This force was led by Leonidas and his 300 Spartans.

They -- and those that fought with them -- died to a man.

But buy time they did, and Xerxes got his royal ass handed to him at the Battle of Salamis and the rest of the Persians met a similar fate at the Battle of Plataea. Thus Greece remained free...to continue their squabbles. Eventually, though, the Greek state was born and many consider this the birthplace of democracy, so imagine our world today if Xerxes had been successful.

What the better histories point out is that key to the victory wasn't just Leonidas and his 300, but the contribution of the Thespaians (numbering some 700). While other Greek allies left the final fight to the Spartans, these Thespaians stayed. This can't be stressed enough, and must be understood to grasp how important this was. Not in terms of numbers, but in terms of courage. Maybe Steven Pressfield writes it best in Gates of Fire, as Polynikes, one of the Spartans, steps out to address those who are about to die:
"It is no hard thing for a man raised under the laws of Lykurgus to offer up his life for his country. For me and for these Spartans, all of whom have living sons, and who have known since boyhood that this was the end they were called to do, it is an act of completion before the gods."

He turned solemnly toward the Thespaians and the freed squires and helots.

"But for you, brothers and friends...for you who will this day see all extinguished forever..."

The runner's voice cracked and broke. He choked and blew snot into his hand in lieu of the tears to whose issue his will refused to permit. For long moments he could not summon speech. He motioned for his shield; it was passed to him. He displayed it aloft.

"This aspis was my father's and his father's before him. I have sworn before God to die before another man took this from my hand."

He crossed to the ranks of the Thespaians, to a man, an obscure warrior among them. Into the fellow's grasp he placed the shield.
I eat this stuff up. That simple display of honor and respect. You see, as Polynikes says, the Spartans were trained to die for their country; the Thespaians were not. Yet their they were willing to stand, to fight for what they believed was right, to die with the Spartans rather than retreat with the others.

The Thespaians were, in other words, the planet's first true citizen-soldiers.

And so I remember Thermopyle, and when I do so I remember the many members of the US reserve forces fighting in Iraq, Afghanistan, and all around the world. Fuck the draft, let the real warriors step up. God bless 'em all.

8.09.2006

Proportionate response my left cheek

From a video clip sent to me by my USAF daughter:
MidEast guy: You better remember, we blew up two of your buildings.

Carlos Mencia: Oooo, and we blew up two of your "countries". You wanna play this game, bitch?!?
I keep thinking of that clip whenever I read the news coming out of the Middle East, specifically Israel's response to Hezbollah (Hizbollah? Herbollah? Whatever!). Let's see if I can make my interpretation of what's going very, very clear.

Say you live in an apartment complex. Not a great one, but clean, with a roof, most of the comforts of home. Next door is a stellar set of condos. Very nice, very state of the art. Some of the basement tenants in your apartment building don't like the people living in the condos, so they start shooting bottle rockets at them. Every now and again, a kid gets hurt, and once in a while, someone in the condos is actually killed. (These are very serious bottle rockets.)

Naturally, this pisses off the condo dwellers. They get even more frustrated because all of the other neighboring apartment buildings actually root for the basement-based rocket launchers. The condo people turn to the police, who say that the condo people must have greater tolerance of those in that neighboring basement.

The people who live above the basement, or even in apartments next to the guys shooting the rockets, try and tell the guys to stop, but are ignored. They do nothing more than say, "Hey, stop", while watching the fireworks. Afterall, they don't like the condo dudes either.

So one day the condo lobs a few mortar rounds into the apartment to get at those bottle rocket guys. Now your nice apartment building is being turned into a mess, but instead and leaping down the throat of the provocatuers, (i.e., bottle rocket boys), you scream at the condo people, "Hey! Disproporationate response, bastard!"

Of course, I live across town, in my own house, and I say, "Go, condo dudes, go!"

Hez (Hiz? Her? Eh!) was launching rockets into Israel on a near-continuous basis. Then they snatch a couple of soldiers just -- apparently -- for decoration. And the world is shocked -- shocked, I say -- because Israel didn't sit there like a Frenchman and fume. Israel invaded Lebanon before, then unilaterally withdrew. Israel unilaterally withdrew from Gaza. Result? Rocket and mortar fire from both areas into Israel, with "governments" in both areas throwing up their hands and going, "Oy, what can we do?"

Well, apparently Israel feels they can do better. "Disproportionate"? No, it's about time. The MidEast will be peaceful when one side of the other is defeated on the battlefield and opts for surrender rather than annihilation. A "peace process" or "road map to peace" will always bring us back to this simple fact. A "peace process" or "road map" is precisely what Hez/Hiz/Her, and their ilk, want, because it gives them a free hand.

So I'm pulling for those guys with the Star of David. And if this brings about a war to finally settle the matter, then so be it. Israel is a democracy surrounded by autocratic thugs. Why is there even a question as to which side we should support?

Oh, wait, I remember. Because they -- and we -- are capitalist oppressors of freedom loving socialist people around the world. Riiiiight. Must keep that in mind.