Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls
The main villain is brilliantly played by Cate Blanchett, who has no trouble embodying the role of a cold blooded Soviet agent with a heavy Russian accent. Her Russian was good, but her comrades' Russian was even better (I have no doubt they were played by the native speakers).
Harrison Ford is still charming as Indi. His character is older, but just as witty and intelligent as the younger Jones. Ford never loses his cool or his fear of snakes.
My daughter and I give it two thumbs up, and she adds: "those Russians really like shooting".
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Pink Martini - "Hey Eugene"
Each song on the album is performed in a different fashion, ranging from sultry samba tunes to more somber classical elements. The lead singer, China Forbes, never ceases to amaze with her dazzling vocal chords and ability to sing flawlessly in English, French, Spanish, Arabic, Japanese and other languages.
As with every other Pink Martini CD, I have my favorite song - the hypnotic Japanese-language track "Taya Tan."
Monday, May 12, 2008
The Sex and the City - a film review
Although the film was not as tightly wound as the original TV series, it touched on more than just sex in the city. Dealing with the many facets of love, the film exposed human emotions in a rather raw manner, showing that love is only peachy when you are Charlotte.
Charlotte is presented as the emblem of happiness throughout the film. In fact, she is so happy, she gets scared that something bad will happen to her because she witnesses too many bad things happening to her girlfriends. While starting on an upbeat note, the film dives deep into the mire of sadness and misery which Carrie, Samantha and Miranda have to face in a way that is entirely their own. Each of them deals with a set of trials and tribulations that is unique to her character and handles it in her own distinctive manner.
One of the themes explored by the film is a way in which women react to unexpected and unforeseen events. Deep shock is the common denominator, which leads all three to getting angry, hurt, and scared. They act out fast, without thinking straight, only to feel numb and dumb later.
The film also deals with selfishness and pride, which make the characters’ relationships fall apart in a most heart-wrenching way. Each woman has many redeeming qualities that outweigh her self-gratification scheme, yet each makes the man in her life suffer because of it. The catalyst to the happy ending is love, mingled with the ability to apologize and forgive. In the end, redemption rules the day and misery turns sweet (albeit in a slightly bitter way).
Despite the sad notes, this film was an enjoyable experience for an old fan like me. The intimate secrets of female bonding, fabulous fashion and grown-up sexuality are all there to make it fresh and entertaining.
I have chosen the following character quotes to sum it all up:
Samantha Jones: The good ones screw you, the bad ones screw you, and the rest don't know how to screw you.
Charlotte York: Because! Nobody gets everything they want!
Miranda Hobbes: The only two choices for women: witch and sexy kitten.
Carrie Bradshaw: It wasn't logic, it was love.
As always, I agree with Carrie - when it comes to love, logic and reason fail. And when it comes to reason and logic, love may not be enough. I would never marry anyone whom I loved madly because madly is psychotic and "in love" is temporary.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Rilke - "Letters to a Young Poet"
Reiner Maria Rilke's "Letters to a Young Poet" are beautifully written. I found the book ispirational and wanted to share an excerpt here:
"Letter Four
Worpswede, near Bremen
July 16, 1903
...
Don't be confused by surfaces; in the depths everything becomes law. And those who live the mystery falsely and badly (and they are very many) lose it only for themselves and nevertheless pass it on like a sealed letter, without knowing it. And don't be puzzled by how many names there are and how complex each life seems. Perhaps above them all there is a great motherhood, in the form of a communal yearning. The beauty of the girl, a being who (as you so beautifully say) "has not yet achieved anything," is motherhood that has a presentiment of itself and begins to prepare, becomes anxious, yearns. And the mother's beauty is motherhood that serves, and in the old woman there is a great remembering. And in the man too there is motherhood, it seems to me, physical and mental; his engendering is also a kind of birthing, and it is birthing when he creates out of his innermost fullness. And perhaps the sexes are more akin than people think, and the great renewal of the world will perhaps consist in one phenomenon: that man and woman, freed from all mistaken feelings and aversions, will seek each other not as opposites but as brother and sister, as neighbors, and will unite as human beings, in order to bear in common, simply, earnestly, and patiently, the heavy sex that has been laid upon them.
But everything that may someday be possible for many people, the solitary man can now, already, prepare and build with his own hands, which make fewer mistakes. Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. for those who are near you are far away, you write, and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast. And if what is near you is far away, then your vastness is already among the stars and is very great; be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust. Avoid providing material for the drama that is always stretched tight between parents and children; it uses up much of the children's strength and wastes the love of the elders, which acts and warms even if it doesn't comprehend. Don't ask for any advice from them and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like and inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.
It is good that you will soon be entering a profession that will make you independent and will put you completely on your own, in every sense. Wait patiently to see whether your innermost life feels hemmed in by the form this profession imposes. I myself consider it a very difficult and very exacting one, since it is burdened with enormous conventions and leaves very little room for a personal interpretation of its duties. but your solitude will be a support and a home for you, even in the midst of very unfamiliar circumstances, and from it you will find all your paths. All my good wishes are ready to accompany you, and my faith is with you.
Yours,
Rainer Maria Rilke"
"Letter Four
Worpswede, near Bremen
July 16, 1903
...
Don't be confused by surfaces; in the depths everything becomes law. And those who live the mystery falsely and badly (and they are very many) lose it only for themselves and nevertheless pass it on like a sealed letter, without knowing it. And don't be puzzled by how many names there are and how complex each life seems. Perhaps above them all there is a great motherhood, in the form of a communal yearning. The beauty of the girl, a being who (as you so beautifully say) "has not yet achieved anything," is motherhood that has a presentiment of itself and begins to prepare, becomes anxious, yearns. And the mother's beauty is motherhood that serves, and in the old woman there is a great remembering. And in the man too there is motherhood, it seems to me, physical and mental; his engendering is also a kind of birthing, and it is birthing when he creates out of his innermost fullness. And perhaps the sexes are more akin than people think, and the great renewal of the world will perhaps consist in one phenomenon: that man and woman, freed from all mistaken feelings and aversions, will seek each other not as opposites but as brother and sister, as neighbors, and will unite as human beings, in order to bear in common, simply, earnestly, and patiently, the heavy sex that has been laid upon them.
But everything that may someday be possible for many people, the solitary man can now, already, prepare and build with his own hands, which make fewer mistakes. Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. for those who are near you are far away, you write, and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast. And if what is near you is far away, then your vastness is already among the stars and is very great; be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust. Avoid providing material for the drama that is always stretched tight between parents and children; it uses up much of the children's strength and wastes the love of the elders, which acts and warms even if it doesn't comprehend. Don't ask for any advice from them and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like and inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.
It is good that you will soon be entering a profession that will make you independent and will put you completely on your own, in every sense. Wait patiently to see whether your innermost life feels hemmed in by the form this profession imposes. I myself consider it a very difficult and very exacting one, since it is burdened with enormous conventions and leaves very little room for a personal interpretation of its duties. but your solitude will be a support and a home for you, even in the midst of very unfamiliar circumstances, and from it you will find all your paths. All my good wishes are ready to accompany you, and my faith is with you.
Yours,
Rainer Maria Rilke"
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Kill Bill Part I
Like Tarantino's previous films, Kill Bill -- Vol. 1 borrows many references and tricks from Japanese cinema. Entertaining but violent, this film contains little plot and even less character development. For lovers of eye candy in the form of sparkling villains, stunning landscapes, perfectly groomed Asians, and colorful animation, there is plenty to enjoy.
When the dialogue begins to seriously lack in cleverness, the messy anime sequences distract from excessive blood flow and severed limb counts. That said, the film is well worth watching for the sake of seeing the Bride equipped with the solemn defense of noble revenge.
Uma Thurman is perfectly cast in the role of the Bride. She looks equally beautiful lying in a coma, being beaten, or fighting samurai in her skin tight “Bruce Lee” motorcycle suit. With a slick sword in hand, her bright suit looks orange from the blood of two dozen Japanese heads. Surrounded by darkness, lit only by an amber light from the restaurant windows, she faces Lucy Liu inside a Japanese garden.
Uma Thurman is perfectly cast in the role of the Bride. She looks equally beautiful lying in a coma, being beaten, or fighting samurai in her skin tight “Bruce Lee” motorcycle suit. With a slick sword in hand, her bright suit looks orange from the blood of two dozen Japanese heads. Surrounded by darkness, lit only by an amber light from the restaurant windows, she faces Lucy Liu inside a Japanese garden.
Liu looks best in a perfectly white kimono and socks, stands on a perfectly white snow, with white snowflakes falling against her very white face, accented only by black eyes and black hair.
Tarantino's careful attention to stylistic detail results in an overall aesthetically pleasing spectacle. Out of the kaleidoscope of colors, the subtle midnight hues of samurai action stand out the most. Though picture perfect, this homage to the Asian action genre falls short of a cinematographic masterpiece.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
The Siren
I am sure you often heard of her
In stories that were told
Of bird deprived of womanhood
Too treacherous and cold
But not of maiden young and sweet
With tender heart of gold
She's always been misunderstood
For being proud and bold
But now that she is older
Her story shall be told:
She stopped to sing awhile ago
And waited long in silence
For one brave man to sail to her
And dare approach her island
But no such sailor came along
She lives alone at sea
She used to wait, she used to pray
And then she let it be
The time has come, I choose to sing
I'll sing and you will see
The Siren's myth all known to you
Will be revised by me
From high above the sea she sang
Of wisdom and of truth
But men who came ashore remained
To taste forbidden youth
They were enchanted, I agree
I don't deny her charms
But you should know she never held
A sailor in her arms
She did not slay or kill a soul
She always sang alone
Men loved her face and liked her song
But never sang along
Ignoring meaning of her words
They listened at her feet
They did not learn until too late
That they could not compete
With her own dream of one
Who'd know and understand her song
Who'd sing along and dance with her
To whom she would belong
He never came, her one true love
And others did not dare
To measure up to her sweet dream
Of one beyond compare
Odysseus never even tried
He sailed away instead
To mast of ship so roughly tied
She did not want him dead
If he had given her a chance
And rested at her shore
He would have spared her loneliness
And gained keys to her door
She would have kept her word to him
And taught him all she knew
Then he'd be free to go his way
To sail the world anew
As far as other sailors go
I must admit to you
She never loved any of them
And made sure that they knew
Completely on their own accord
Men chose to take their life
She cared little, truth be told
And tossed each corpse aside
Eventually a pile formed
Attracting hungry birds
To feast on sailors corpses' bones
They came ashore in flocks
They spread the news around the world
Of sailors and the song
And that, my friends, precisely is
How Siren's myth was born
In stories that were told
Of bird deprived of womanhood
Too treacherous and cold
But not of maiden young and sweet
With tender heart of gold
She's always been misunderstood
For being proud and bold
But now that she is older
Her story shall be told:
She stopped to sing awhile ago
And waited long in silence
For one brave man to sail to her
And dare approach her island
But no such sailor came along
She lives alone at sea
She used to wait, she used to pray
And then she let it be
The time has come, I choose to sing
I'll sing and you will see
The Siren's myth all known to you
Will be revised by me
From high above the sea she sang
Of wisdom and of truth
But men who came ashore remained
To taste forbidden youth
They were enchanted, I agree
I don't deny her charms
But you should know she never held
A sailor in her arms
She did not slay or kill a soul
She always sang alone
Men loved her face and liked her song
But never sang along
Ignoring meaning of her words
They listened at her feet
They did not learn until too late
That they could not compete
With her own dream of one
Who'd know and understand her song
Who'd sing along and dance with her
To whom she would belong
He never came, her one true love
And others did not dare
To measure up to her sweet dream
Of one beyond compare
Odysseus never even tried
He sailed away instead
To mast of ship so roughly tied
She did not want him dead
If he had given her a chance
And rested at her shore
He would have spared her loneliness
And gained keys to her door
She would have kept her word to him
And taught him all she knew
Then he'd be free to go his way
To sail the world anew
As far as other sailors go
I must admit to you
She never loved any of them
And made sure that they knew
Completely on their own accord
Men chose to take their life
She cared little, truth be told
And tossed each corpse aside
Eventually a pile formed
Attracting hungry birds
To feast on sailors corpses' bones
They came ashore in flocks
They spread the news around the world
Of sailors and the song
And that, my friends, precisely is
How Siren's myth was born
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