Monday, December 30, 2013

Eydie Gorme.


I wasn't able to post a proper tribute in August when Eydie Gorme died because of all the craziness with school starting, but I really wanted to do something to remember her special kind of brilliance.

She was exhilarating: beautiful, talented, hilarious, and wonderful.

Eydie was quite immense and brilliant as a solo, but, for me, there is nothing better than watching a Steve + Eydie duet or a Steve + Eydie bantering session. So much greatness.

Because yesterday would have been Steve + Eydie's 56th wedding anniversary, I decided to make a video to remember and celebrate their loveliness.







Sunday, December 22, 2013

Alfred Hitchcock: Everything at Once

Here is a little video that I made for my mother, but I thought I would share because I LOVE IT. It is Sir Alfred set to Lenka. Every line coincides with the clip you are watching ("As right as a wrong." heh heh).

Note: Because I made it for my mother and therefore didn't really worry about "refining" it necessarily, there are a few parts where the timing is off, etc.

NO WORRIES, BECAUSE THERE IS BASICALLY EVERY FAVORITE DEATH SCENE EVER!



Reel Injun (2009): The real-life impact of false images


Reel Injun (2009) is an intriguing documentary (available for streaming on Netflix) from Cree filmmaker Neil Diamond. It deals with the way Native Americans and First Nations have been portrayed in Hollywood films from silents to today.

The documentary covers the variety of false images that have been presented about Native Americans and First Nations in film (and also the recent insurgence of films from indigenous perspectives). The documentary accomplishes this through film footage, archival footage, and interviews with many people from inside the community (filmmakers, historians, and activists like Russell Means, John Trudell, Charlie Hill, and Sacheen Littlefeather) and outside (Jim Jarmusch and Clint Eastwood).

The film argues that false images create false perceptions--perceptions that are harmful in real life. 

Although in the film lovers community we would probably immediately agree that film totally has power (why else are we all addicted and held at its mercy?!), there are many others who argue that movies and television are simply entertainment and don't seriously impact a person's worldview or behaviour.

Reel Injun and I would both completely disagree with that!

This documentary quite impacted me, because it reminded me of some memories I had rather forgotten (I am an elderly 19).

As a really young child, I loved westerns. Some of my earliest entertainment memories are westerns. I watched them on TV: Bonanza was my absolute favorite show at the age of five. I loved western movies: Roy Rogers was my favorite person ever! I devoured westerns (my oldest brother was also a fan, so that contributed).

See, my parents were pretty strict about movies in one sense (the modern films I was allowed to watch was closely monitored), but also very open (I could watch anything I wanted made from 1935-1950). My mother was concerned about violence, language, and sex, but otherwise--I could watch anything I wanted. This meant that at a young age, I watched a lot of really great classic films (pretentious movie reviews from an 11-year-old, anyway?).

It also meant that I watched millions of westerns.

These are the westerns from the '30s and '40s. The westerns that are discussed in Reel Injun. They almost universally portrayed Native Americans as faceless, nameless hordes of savages (played by white men in red face). At a young age, I was impacted by these films.

Watching the documentary really reminded me. As a 4, 5, 6, and 7 year-old, I was honestly terrified of "Indians." I held them in the same fear and fascination that I treated sharks. I would have nightmares; I was convinced they were living in my woods (therefore, I was scared to go into them alone).

This perception I had came directly from the movies I watched.

Because I was homeschooled, I got to learn a lot of things before I might have in the public school system. If my mother was teaching a history lesson to my older siblings, it was a very likely that I would get to hear it too. So, even at that young age, I was told true stories about Native Americans. I got to learn about colonization, and the Trails of Tears, and other actual events. Even then, I knew about the true story of Pocahontas and not that Disney nonsense (I wasn't allowed to watch it anyway).

But, the information I received about real humans and real cultures did nothing to combat my fear.

Images are that powerful.

Fortunately, as I got a bit older, I was able to clearly identify the real people versus the false images.

But, that isn't always the case for everyone. Not everyone learns that their perception or worldview is wrong. That can be incredibly difficult for people to even recognize.

And, that's not to say that everyone is going to react like a terrified 6-year-old. For many people, it may manifest in a vague dislike or uneasiness. Or maybe it manifests by treating Native Americans and First Nations as a group of "others," instead of distinct human beings. There can even be a seemingly positive "fascination" that still distorts or disrespects or dehumanizes people and cultures.

These are things that result from false representation.

And, it was interesting. I was thinking how I wish I had told my parents about my feelings. It's strange that I didn't. My other big fear at that time was my house burning down. Every night, before I went to bed, I was so worried that my house was going to burn down. I told my parents--and they acted on it. I was always reassured, we had "fire drills," the fire alarm in my room was tested often, I was taken to visit the fire department.

But, I never told my parents how terrified I was of the"Indians" I saw in movies. And, really, what could they have shown me to change my mind? I had been taught true things; it was the films that impacted me though.

And, because of the continued false portrayal or lack-of-portrayal of Native Americans in Hollywood films--there was no pile of movies I could have been shown to counteract the impact of those other movies.

That is why representation--true, not necessarily always positive, but true representation--is so vital for all peoples and cultures.

I know this is sounding rather melodramatic, especially coming from someone who honestly hasn't experienced a lack of representation in films.

But, take it from a terrified-for-no-reason five-year-old, films have a power to impact for good and bad.

I would never advocate for censorship or that movies should only be used to portray positive, happy stories. But, films should seek truth and understanding even in unreality. 

 





P.S. I know this is a bit of serious post from me (and those aren't usually the best written or most articulate coming from me), but it was something that was impacting me--and I hope I don't sound too awful or crazy. Thanks so much for reading! :-)

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Peter O'Toole.


2 August 1932 – 14 December 2013

 "Well, it was pitch dark and there he was. Tall, blue eyes, slim, quite good-looking."
-Audrey Hepburn in How to Steal a Million


There is nothing to say about Peter O'Toole that hasn't already been said. And, that's because he really was everything. An insanely brilliant, fascinating, and charismatic actor and man--he always had all the attention.

His performances are pure enjoyment. Even in the darkest, heaviest of roles or films, it always seemed as if he just lightly floated through. 

This is not to say that his performances lacked gravitas or seriousness. He could create the most beautiful, strong moments out of nearly anything. His small role in Ratatouille proves that.

Never a dull person; although, some his anecdotes I really shouldn't laugh at, because they aren't the healthiest of examples. But, he always made life seem like the craziest, greatest, most exciting thing to do. (Also, riding into a talk show on a camel. WHO ARE YOU, SIR?!)

Simply said, Peter O'Toole was a clever, enigmatic, mesmerizing man. He will be missed.

In summation, "'I can make the best French toast,' [Peter] stated. Minutes later the stove exploded into flames."

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Happy 50th Anniversary of the day when the noble doctor with the twitchy little smirk became a victim of blind justice and had to start running after a one-armed man

On September 17th, 1963, the very first episode of The Fugitive aired. And the world was never the same. (No hyperbole.)


Honestly, I can't even describe the depth of my love for this perfect show (check The Fugitive tag for more complete posts). It has brilliant writing and acting. The moody and dark cinematography makes it the perfect film noir television show. The characters are fascinating, layered, and unique. The struggle between Gerard and Kimble and Kimble and the One-Armed Man is basically operatic.

AND THE TWITCHY LITTLE SMIRK IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING TO EVER BE GIFTED TO MERE MORTALS.


In short (I have a huge test tomorrow and can't write a proper post), everyone needs to watch this show. If not for the reasons listed above, than for Dr. Richard Kimble. 

David Janssen makes Dr. Richard Kimble dynamic, quietly powerful, assured, conflicted, anguished, hopeful, empathetic. It's not the normal "noble doctor" shtick. He is noble, but he has to choose to be that way; constantly. And, the audience knows he's gonna do the right thing (of course he is), but we're also never quite sure.  It's a character you immediately identify with, but never fully understand. 

I'm fangirling nonsensically, but there is just so much greatness.

Many of the episodes are available on YouTube. Start at the beginning. Not because the show is serialized (it's not), but because the characters grow and change subtly. Richard Kimble, ever the weary man on the run becomes more weary as time goes on. He has to make a constant decision to keep living and running-- to keep his humanity.

And, honestly, that's the tagline for the show: "Oh, the humanity!"

Well, I'll stop now. I must study. But, please, watch The Fugitive. YOU WILL NEVER REGRET IT.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

SPECIAL ALERT: Kate finds meaning of life in classic western

Kate's not typically a western fan, but that all changed the day she watched Shane. She didn't think Alan Ladd or Jean Arthur were very good. But, young Brandon DeWilde -- he was a revelation. He made Kate understand her complicated feelings about change, moving on, growing up, and the circle of life.


By the way, I'm hoping it's just a misprint, but Kate posted some confusingly and obviously WRONG statements about my affections for Tyrone Power.

NEWS FLASH: Kate is Tyrone Power's "biggest fan!"

I don't even have the words to go with this. I think the quoted material speaks for itself:


And, just to clear up any confusion, Kate's slanderous report on my feelings toward an actor who will not be named (it is the policy of ClassicForever to not print the names of horribly annoying actors) is absolutely ridiculous.

UPDATE: KATE CHANGED HER MIND ABOUT DIRK BOGARDE TOO

Well, well. This is unexpected. I guess it just shows that you never know who you can trust. You can never know how loyal and reliable a person is-- never.

Kate certainly isn't, if her shocking late-hour betrayal of Dirk Bogarde means anything.



Also, the editors of ClassicForever wish our readers to know about the grossly negligible falsehoods printed by Ms. Gabrielle on the subject of our support for Bobby Darin (our quote/unquote "fangirlism"). We have requested a printed retraction and apology.

PRESS RELEASE: KATE HAS A CHANGE OF HEART WHEN IT COMES TO LAURENCE HARVEY

Well, it appears that all of us make mistakes, but it takes the BEST of us to admit those mistakes.

Renowned blogger Kate Gabrielle (and renowned denouncer of Laurence Harvey) has decided to do just that. And she has chosen ClassicForever as the exclusive vehicle for her announcement:


Well, Kate, we at ClassicForever certainly stand with you on these clear, beautiful statements. We appreciate your change of heart and the courage it took to admit you were wrong.

Monday, September 2, 2013

'Ello! I'm Michael Caine. Not many people know that.

I jest. I'm not really Michael Caine.

But, wouldn't that seriously be the greatest reveal ever (if I hadn't already revealed myself in multiple odd video posts). There's always this thing on the internet that the teenage girls are actually creepy old men. But, this time, the teenage girl was actually just Michael Caine acting like a teenage girl.


Or what if I was actually Bruce Dern. Can I be Bruce Dern, please?  I want to be the master of crazy eyes AND be able to sing like Neil Young all at the same time.

ANYWAY.

I actually just popped in to tell you all that I am officially a college student -- once again. After taking a year off after high school/two years of college (I live a complicated life), I am now a junior Cross-Cultural Studies + Psychology (adding that as a major next semester) student at Northwest University.

YAAAAAAY.

Anyway. I am living in the dorms and seriously adult-like. (This is if you ignore the fact that I just had to pause the writing of this blog post to clean up all the sparkling water I just spilled on myself.)

And, I'm totally repping the classics. That's right. I have replica Come September, Notorious, and Tokyo Drifter posters on my wall. AND DR. RICHARD KIMBLE'S WANTED POSTER. What?! Yes. (And like 500 other photos and posters of my favorite classic things/people, because I literally cannot control myself.)

And my roommate and I are totally crazy-cool college kids. In fact, we have a nightly routine -- where at 10:15, we grumble about the loud people outside our window and always want to go yell at them and tell them it's quiet hours.

Instead, we have taken the passive-aggressive approach and written this on our window: "If you want to read poetry, go to the library. We deal in sleep here."

Please take note of the fact that I'm pretty sure that's a Remington Steele quote and therefore we have just proven our crazy-cool college kidness.

Also, last night, there was a tea and British period drama night organized by yours truly, Bruce Dern. There were quite a few of us and we watched Young Victoria. Pretty wild party.

The food here is mostly terrible, I've been living off of mashed potatoes and salad bar. But, Thursdays are make your own stir fry day, so that's exciting. And, I have a rice maker -- so THAT'S exciting. And a fridge: well-stocked with cheese and tofu.

Yup, nearly two weeks in -- and all is well. (Well, meaning that I haven't died. I do have to write like 8 papers and take 5 tests before Wednesday, so.)

I'll be keeping up here as best as I can. (I'm heartbroken at missing Sir Alfred's birthday -- I was camping.) The Fugitive's 50th Anniversary is coming up this month -- PARTY! And, I have several must-watch movies that I will hopefully review. I'm watching Suzuki's Youth of the Beast tonight, because I apparently have never watched it (shock and horror!). After that, I am absolutely watching Darling, BECAUSE I PROMISED KATE LIKE FIVE YEARS AGO AND IT'S A BRITISH MOVIE FROM THE SIXTIES WITH THREE ACTORS THAT I LOVE AND I DON'T KNOW WHY I HAVEN'T WATCHED IT YET.

Speaking of five years ago, I can't believe I've been blogging here for almost five years. You guys have had the great, GREAT privilege of experiencing almost all my teenage years with me. Basically, this means that you should never read any posts in the back-log. I never delete a post, but I really should consider it. Some of my views of the world are hysterical/frightening. Of course, my opinions are constantly in flux. Mainly, I'm just saying don't get mad at old posts. Just count my latest post as my final word on an issue (until the next post).

Now, I'm getting all sentimental about my teenage years. BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES: ALTERNATE VERSION WHERE DANA ANDREWS WINS ALL THE AWARDS BECAUSE HE DESERVES THEM AND FREDRIC MARCH ALREADY HAS AN OSCAR.

Be seeing you.




Monday, August 12, 2013

Real Talk with The Millie: Just Say No to Psychopaths



Okay, females of basically the same age as me: we need to have a chat about not falling in love with psychopaths.

Everyone else: you may not think this is a serious, wide-spread problem -- but it totally is.

As we speak, females of basically the same age as me are falling in love with dangerously crazy and/or evil fictional characters.

This issue has been on my mind for some time, but it was brought to the forefront tonight as I was watching a clip from The Phantom of the Opera (the "dreaded" 2004 version) on YouTube (don't ask me how I got there; I couldn't possibly tell you -- YouTube sucked me into its endless, mind-smushing evilness). Basically every comment was a variation on the theme of hating Raoul and loving the Phantom and thinking that Christine was an idiot to choose the former over the latter. These comments ranged from "GERARD IS HOT!!!!!" to lengthy, eloquent treatises on The Phantom's "beautiful love for Christine."

Now, I am perfectly willing to admit that my emotional connection to Christine + Raoul in any given production usually depends on the attractiveness of the Raoul, but I also understand that the Phantom is a psychopathic stalker serial killer. Yes, the Phantom had a horrific life. And yes, he twirls his cape brilliantly -- but he's also a psychopathic stalker serial killer.

The key here is to be more like me: shallow, but not delusional. 

The real problem is the rationalization. You cannot rationalize killing innocent people by saying that he didn't start doing it until after Christine annoyed him (direct paraphrase). This kind of rationalization leads to bigger problems in life.

Example: my good friend and David Tennant movie watching pal, Grace. She loves every attractive, evil character ever created. It's not a joke. If she's watching something and there is an evil guy -- she will love him.

We spent a weekend watching BBC Robin Hood a couple of years ago and she was so infatuated with Guy of Gisbourne that she tried to pretend he was "misunderstood" (spoiler alert: Guy leaves his own child to die in the woods, angrily kills his "one true love," etc, etc end spoiler alert).

Oh, the things she tried to rationalize.

I mean, yeah, that's Richard Armitage -- that makes sense. IT'S RICHARD ARMITAGE.

But, no. She loves every evil character ever (too many to name).

My concern for her is real. I have developed a checklist for her new relationships (although, I keep forgetting to give it to her; which rather defeats the purpose).

The top question: Is he a serial killer? Circle one: Yes    No

You wouldn't laugh, if you knew the seriousness of this dilemma.

And, it's not just Grace who has been afflicted. No, this is an epidemic.

It starts with thinking that the Phantom is adorable and ends with everything getting all Bonnie and Clyded up.

SO, FEMALES OF BASICALLY THE SAME AGE AS ME: STOP FALLING IN LOVE WITH FICTIONAL PSYCHOPATHS. You don't want to end up in a bullet-riddled car in the 1930s, do you?! (Dressed very stylishly though, I must admit.)

Repeat to yourself: shallow, but not delusional.

I feel better now, having been able to impart some of my wisdom to others!

Have a lovely evening.

P.S. Your ability to take this post seriously will directly hinge on your ability to forget that every other post in this blog is in celebration of evil, deranged, "morally unstable" characters. Forget about my love for evil smiles and dastardly quips. Forget about The Phantom Asthmatic. Forget about Bradford Dillman, Ralph Meeker, and Uncle Charlie. Forget all these things and think only of the great wisdom I share.

Okay, thanks, bye.


Thursday, August 8, 2013

Karen Black.


1 July 1939 – 8 August 2013  

I mostly love Karen Black from completely random things that no one else cares about, but she was always absurdly great. She had the most fascinating face and the most brilliantly charismatic presence. One simply could not look away when she was on screen.

Rest in peace.


Wednesday, July 31, 2013

The Wolverine (2013): Yes. I went to see another big budget action movie. But, Hugh Jackman, okay.



Guys. I promise you; I never go to see so many "blockbuster action movies" as I have this summer. I just have for some reason. And, I definitely need to tell you my opinion -- so you know what your options are.

Much is made of the fact that these types of movies sell on the spectacle and action versus the characters or people involved. But, every movie I have gone to see is because of a specific actor: Amy Adams in Man of Steel, Idris Elba in Pacific Rim, and now Hugh Jackman in The Wolverine.

Actually, scientific studies have shown that 100% of everyone and their mothers (especially their mothers) love Hugh Jackman. To NOT love Hugh Jackman is actually a rare mutation that negatively affects your ability to recognize coolness.

^Someone else pointed out that he's dressed as Johnny Cash; and I really have to agree. 

Anyway. I actually went to see this on Thursday night, but I have been far too busy having impromptu Remington Steele marathons with friends with life to write a review until now. 

My short review: go see it. 

It was so much fun. And that was actually rather surprising, because Wolverine is one of the more tragic superheroes (going only movie knowledge here; I've never read any comics). Everyone Wolverine loves dies -- and, probably, he had to kill them himself. So, really. He can be a little surly and depressed. That's why, for a movie that starts with the bombing of Nagasaki, I was pleasantly surprised by the pleasantness of it.

Yes, there was death and betrayal and sadness and guilt and anger, but at least whole cities weren't destroyed capriciously in some climatic battle.

I loved watching a mostly self-contained movie that dealt with "doable problems," instead of an entire apocalypse (but I still totally heart the brilliance and perfection of Pacific Rim).

And, of course, Hugh Jackman was perfect. Honestly. How is he who he is? (My youngest brother once suggested a reality TV show where Hugh Jackman, Bear Grylls, and Liam Neeson teach people how to be likable -- APPOINTMENT TELEVISION, RIGHT THERE!)

I do have to add a slight disclaimer that I didn't hate the Wolverine: Origins movie. I mean, I didn't love it either; it's not something I want to own on DVD (my standard measurement for a film's greatness). But, I did find it entertaining (even though it was trying to tell 18 distinct stories at once). Well, I mean, until the twisty-twisty at the end that made me want to claw my own heart out -- and then it was okay -- AND THEN IT WASN'T OKAY. But, that is a story for another time. 

I still don't quite understand the universal hatred for the movie. I mean, I understand. But, also, look at his hair:

^How could you hate a movie with hair like that? (Also, I just spent a ridiculous amount of time looking for a photo of his hair and had to settle for this. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU, INTERNET?!)

But, as I said, that is a story for another time.

The Wolverine: Road to Japan was thoroughly entertaining. The fight scenes were actually engaging (aka more than just knocking a bunch of skyscrapers over [I still love you, Man of Steel]). Well, the climatic battle was perhaps a little unnecessary, misplaced, and stupid -- but at least whole cities weren't destroyed.

AND THERE WERE FOUR FEMALE CHARACTERS WHO HAD NAMES AND PURPOSE AND PERSONALITIES AND DISTINCT IDENTITIES. 

That is both rare and beautiful in an average superhero movie.

And best of all: NOT EVERYONE DIED. 

That's right. You heard it here first, not everyone in the movie dies. This is a blessed relief.

Slight downside: I figured the twisty-twists very early in the movie. But, that is mostly likely because I have watched too many movies in my life (I'm not easily surprised by plot twists that don't involve Scottish frog people). Other people did not guess and might have been annoyed when I finally couldn't contain myself and whispered the twisty-twist reveal moments before it occurred. However, the knowledge did not affect my ability to completely enjoy watching it happen. So, yeah.

Also, slight spoiler, but it was in the trailer:

Jean + Logan is such a tragic romance that doesn't make any sense (going by the movies), but they always look so sad that I believe in the tragedy. THE PAIN. It's real and it hurts. 

In conclusion, I am rather tired and have little left to say that will resemble anything near reality or lucidness. So, go watch The Wolverine: Road to Japan and perhaps be a little surly, but please don't kill anyone you love. 







P.S. If you guys knew that I actually didn't COMPLETELY hate X3, you would really not trust my review. It was definitely ridiculous and I began to laugh hysterically as literally everyone died, but still, Hugh Jackman.

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Quotables: Joel McCrea


“People say I’m a one-note actor, but the way I figure it, those other guys are just looking for that one right note."

 

Sunday, July 14, 2013

10 Things You Might Not Know About Me

My, my, my. How the turn tables.

Anyway, the lovely Kate has tagged me to tell you all ten random facts about me. You should go read her post because it is the exactly perfect amount of fascinating, whimsical, brilliant, and hilarious. And there is an adorable photo of her. So, really. WHY ARE YOU STILL READING MY POST?

Without further ado:


1. I have a bad habit of falling madly in love with random actors (usually dead), and then watching them every night non-stop for three weeks. I'm talking about watching random movies and/or television until the sun rises, because I have a horribly addictive personality. You can usually tell who my Love of the Moment is because I will post posts about them at 3 in the morning.

2. The height of my hair typically determines my mood.

^This was me a couple of days ago in a very good mood (despite my dramatic face; which I can't help, because I always get dramatic on webcams)!

3. I name/personify inanimate objects. All of my electronics have names. My first laptop was named Arnold (from The Magic School Bus); he committed suicide (jumped off a desk and dumped mango tea in his motherboard). My next one was named Jamie-boy (Tyrone Power in The Black Swan); he was only around for a few days, because he was defective. My third one was named Oscar (after Oscar Levant); he was faithful and dedicated for three years. He was so wonderful. He continued to work, despite the fact that the screen was only connected to the rest of the computer by a thin cord. I even ordered my new laptop on him, and he continued to persevere. I feel so guilty -- I can't get rid of him. I now have my new laptop, Bradford (after Bradford Dillman). Every time I use Bradford (like right now), all I can hear is Oscar singing this.



Okay, I need to move on before I break down crying.

4. The other day, I was pulling into a gas station at probably 6:30am. There was a car pulling out at the same time, and I noticed that there was a bright red ball attached to the front grill. Because of my aforementioned extreme ability to personify, I immediately thought the car was a clown car and laughed to myself. I glanced up at its driver -- AND IT WAS AN ACTUAL CLOWN IN FULL TERRIFYING MAKEUP (we're talking like James Bond dressed as a clown terrifying) AND IT WAS GLARING AT ME.

I haven't felt safe since. 

5. Historical one-liners (even the-not-historically-verified-ones), and the context behind historical one-liners, actually make me sit quietly while weeping on the inside.

Quotes like, "Lafayette, we are here," spoken by an American officer upon arriving in France during WWI (I really love the Marquis de Lafayette, okay.)

Or, "You can have his body, but his heart belongs in Africa," said by Dr. Livingstone's attendants after he died and the British government wanted to make a big deal of burying him in Britain. The two men, Chuma and Susi, cut out his heart and buried it in the village where he lived, before carrying his body halfway across Africa.

Or William Tecumseh Sherman's immortal words, "General Grant is a great general. I know him well. He stood by me when I was crazy, and I stood by him when he was drunk; and now, sir, we stand by each other always."

It's too much.

6.  I often get emails from people comparing my stream-of-consciousness writing to James Joyce's Ulysses.

7. I prefer to say that I am sardonic, instead of sarcastic. Mainly, because sardonic is a cooler word and makes me sound more intelligent.

8. In an actually difficult decision (because I am rather selfish and love cheap things), I recently decided to no longer buy new clothes -- unless, I know that they were created in a completely ethical manner. From now on, I'm going to buy ethically-made clothes or used clothes. I can (and did) speak out against the injustice and inhumanity facing workers around the world. But, before making the decision, I always felt like the abolitionists who spoke out against slavery, but easily and comfortably benefited from the work of slaves.

9. My "dream guy" is tall with dark hair, green eyes, and a Scottish accent. He also is independently, but ethically wealthy and he wants to live in West Africa and work with children. It's going to be beautiful.

10. In awkward situations, I usually say random movie quotes. 99% of the time, in a softly-lilting voice, I say, "Last night, I dreamt I went to Manderly again. " This is very successful, as you can imagine.

There you have it. Literally, this is all you need to know to know me. (Also: I love David Janssen.)

I tag Sarah, Nicola, Hamlette, and DKoren. But, anyone else who would like to participate is more than welcome. If you do, leave a comment with the link. I'd love to read it. 


Friday, July 12, 2013

Pacific Rim (2013): Idris Elba walks around calmly yelling at everything. IT IS BEAUTIFUL.




Okay, guys. Have I ever steered you wrong about any movie ever?

No.

(No one who has watched Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine has ever regretted it.)

So, PLEASE, listen to me and go see Pacific Rim. Preferably, this weekend, because if Grown-Ups 2 (I refuse to bold it) beats it at the box office -- I will go somewhere where I can be alone and I will cry like I'm burning up a sun just to say goodbye.

Pacific Rim is not the most ground-breaking or original or "classic cinema" film. But, it is awesome and perfect and lovely. Del Toro has repeatedly said that he was paying homage to the brilliant classic movie monsters (Godzilla, Gamera, etc, etc). AND THIS SO WORKS.

It's not just a copy of anything either -- it's new and interesting.

And, it's also SUPER-FUN.

And, guys, the emotional core of the film is not some stupid relationship (although, there are a couple of meaningful connections with varying degrees of well-done) and it's not some stupid "yay humanity!" (whatever) and it's not some stupid finding meaning in life (ha!). No, the emotional core of Pacific Rim is Idris Elba (alias Stacker Pentecost. Yeah.) walking around yelling at everything -- calmly.

It is truly wonderful.

 
 {source}

This is the main reason why you need to see it. I could tell you about the intricate visualizations and peachy-keen details, and you would get it -- and you would feel fulfilled in life.

BUT, I CANNOT DESCRIBE THE WONDERFULNESS OF IDRIS ELBA YELLING AT PEOPLE.

AND CANCELLING THE APOCALYPSE. 

AND EVERYTHING HURTS. KILL ME. IT'S TOO BEAUTIFUL.

Oh, I went a little of the rails there -- but really.


And all jesting aside (I wasn't actually jesting, but I'm going to pretend I was), Idris Elba is the emotional core of the film. His relationships with the other characters (one in particular) is great. And his deep stares are actually transfixing.

He said this in an interview: "With Stacker, you know, I wasn't allowed to move anything but my eyes and my eyebrows and my mustache."

It's true. THROW SOME OSCARS AT HIM, PLEASE.



Also, does Idris only take on characters with cool names? Like is that a stipulation in his contract?

I mean, I guess when your real name is Idrissa Akuna Elba, you just don't want to play characters with unworthy names. 

I also should probably mention the other actors. They were all pretty good. Some were great, but the rest played their characters well. 

Charlie Day and Burns Gorman (who I always assume is a spy, but he actually wasn't a kaiju in human disguise. ooops. SPOILER ALERT!) were quite fun.

Also, I'm pretty sure that the director is messing with us by giving different end credits to all the blonde guys in the movie. Because, they are clearly all played by the same guy. I mean, sometimes, he has an Australian accent; sometimes, he's pretending to be his own brother. But, they're all played by the same guy! I could see no difference. It must be an in-joke about cloning. Or it's a set-up for a sequel. Or this entire movie was just a dream. 

In conclusion, please go watch Idris Elba yell at people and please do not force me to burn up a sun just to say goodbye.

Goodbye!

^In an unexpected twist, that no one saw coming, Idris Elba is 3 feet taller than anyone else in the movie.








P.S. It was impossible to find ANYONE to go see this movie with me. HONESTLY. I couldn't even get my 13-year-old brother to go with me.

That's right. We now live in a world where 13-year-old boys don't want to go see monster movies.

Anyway. I finally managed to get him to go with me by paying for his ticket -- BECAUSE HE WAS BORED. Seriously.

And, he loved it. So consider that a ringing endorsement.

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Some interesting developments

So, guys. I fulfilled one of my life-long dreams today.

It was a beautiful moment.

Something to write home about.

One to tell the grandchildren (that I am never under any circumstances going to have).

Yes, that's right.

I GOT TO DO MY VERY OWN ROCKFORD TURN.

I'm so happy. :')

And, if you don't know what  a Rockford turn is (I FEEL SO SORRY FOR YOU), watch this:



You see what I'm saying? It was glorious. I may have been driving my beat up 1993 Subaru Impreza named Simon Templar and not Jim Rockford's '70s Firebird, but that does not make it any less glorious!

Another interesting development today is that my ginormous 550 DVD carrying case arrived in the mail. I'm taking all of my DVDs to college with me, I don't care. They are my children. Also, this thing is so large -- it's basically on rollers.

ANYWAY. Today, I am also thinking about Pacific Rim. And how I am definitely going to see it this weekend. Now, honestly, I hate robot movies and this does not look particularly inspired. BUT, HONESTLY, IT HAS IDRIS ELBA PLAYING A CHARACTER NAMED STACKER PENTECOST.

What. STACKER PENTECOST.

Seriously.

And, he's cancelling the apocalypse. So.



Finally, the most interesting development. Today, I was driving along (in the wrong direction, hence the glorious Rockford turn), and I suddenly realized -- I write on my blog in the exact same way that Laraine Newman played teenagers on SNL. I find this disconcerting, embarrassing, and secretly amazing.

Such a stereotype, and I don't care!

Bye!


Longstreet: WHAT. THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER.


So, you how I was all excited about Mr. Novak, the idealist English teacher? Well, if there is one thing I love more than idealist English teachers -- it's cool TV detectives (also: 1960s loners and friendly criminals of the old west, but these don't fit into what I'm saying).

LONGSTREET IS SO COOL.

Oh my gosh.

He's blind, and has an awesome guide dog named Pax (as in peace). And, he does martial arts with Bruce stinkin' Lee. And, he's really cool. And, his sunglasses are brilliant. And, he's all quippy and awesome, but has great depth.

I LOVE HIM.

Although, unfortunately, I had to watch the pilot. And, honestly, most of the time I hate pilot movies (exception: Wild, Wild West = best pilot ever). I may be a terrible person, but I really don't care for back-stories (or good writing or emotional depth). ESPECIALLY, WHEN THE BACK-STORY IS TRAGIC. Ingrid, I hardly knew ye!

But, the best and most unexpected part of the pilot? Bradford Dillman. With a hilarious mustache and a brilliant Southern accent.

I didn't know he was gonna be in it, until I saw the credit. AND IT SAID BRADFORD DILLMAN and I literally squeaked out a strange-sounding "YAY."

I don't have any screenshots, because I was watching on my Kindle -- and I was too lazy to go take screenshots later.

He plays James Franciscus' boss, Duke (still laughing on the inside, I am). But, sadly, he only plays it in the pilot and not the whole short-lived series -- which is total nonsense, because Bradford Dillman is literally the greatest at everything ever. SHEESH. (I really hope Bradford Dillman does not ever Google himself, because you just know this blog that mentions him every other post and has flooded the internet with Dillman acting screenshots is coming up somewhere.)

ANYWAY. Enough of the obviously perfect Mr. Dillman. The show is not about him.

It's about James Franciscus being lovely and cool at everything.


Aww, yess.

Also, most of the series (possibly all, I haven't checked) is on YouTube, so yay!

And, go watch it.

It's cool.


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