Outside Food

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest

Arr, mateys.

It would have been nice to launch back into reviewing again with a scoop on Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, the peculiarly dirty-faced sequel to one of my favourite movies. Alas, I won't be able to do a write up until after all the other reviews have come out, unless I get computer and internet access this weekend.

But I do hear (sitting through the credits so you don't have to) that if you can make it through the long list of animators, visual FX artists, CG programmers, and accountants, and cinema staff trying to clean you out of your seat along with the empty popcorn tubs and flattened Swedish Fish boxes, there is a little coda at the very end.

And congratulations are due to the filmmakers for pulling off a nice red herring.

I mean that figuratively. Mostly.

Outside Food: Well, I should think some nice cold Jamaican Ginger Beer and plenty of Swedish Fish. And a whole lotta rum.

The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada

Crossposted from 10,000 Drawings.

In the meantime...

Visit the webcomic. Sometimes there are even movie reviews (gasp).

10,000 drawings at 10kd.outsidefood.com

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

All For Love

Star Wars: Episode III, Revenge of the Sith
Written and directed by: George Lucas
Runtime: 140 minutes
Release date: May 19, 2005
MPAA says: Rated PG-13 for sci-fi violence and some intense images.
Never, ever use the Dark Side as your stylist: Hayden Christensen as Anakin Skywalker (needs better shampoo, or at least a comb); Natalie Portman as Padme (maintains a careful balance by mock-brushing her tangle of curls); Ewan MacGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobi (hair and beard you'll want to run your fingers through); Samuel L. Jackson as Mace Windu (solves hair problem by having none); Frank Oz as the voice of Yoda (clearly having trouble with scalp condition brought on by his ill-considered development of a clone army); Ian McDiarmid as Palpatine (doing quite nicely with that deceptive short haircut until exposure to the Dark Side plays havoc with his head); Christopher Lee as Count Dooku (it was hard to tell, what with the dramatic lighting on those cruisers); Peter Mayhew as Chewbacca (his virtue is apparent from his head-to-toe glossy pelt); Jimmy Smits as Senator Organa (he, too, must be virtuous, though only from the neck up); Anthony Daniels & Kenny Baker as C3PO and R2D2 (never having had hair, clearly they are unaffected by the clashing currents of the Force); Temuera Morrison (suffering from helmet-head a thousand times over); and Scorpius as Peter Cushing.

Revenge blah blah of the blah blah
Finally forced myself to get through my apprehensions and get to Star Wars episode III, Revenge of the Sith, Saturday night. I had to wait a while before writing commentary, for my conflicting opinions to settle into a single miasma. It's hard to be disappointed in an experience crammed with such nonstop action, but Star Wars is also a story, a legitimate modern heir of Gilgamesh and all the other great epics, not just an adrenalin rush. There are lots and lots of lightsaber fights and gee-whiz-bang special effects and glowing crop circles (gee! whiz!). Lots of self-referential dialogue (lame, but concentrated toward the beginning). And a young actor who can't act his way out of a theatre with the lights on and the exit signs clearly marked in red neon, his deficiencies brought into sharp relief by the actors around him who are marginally or many orders of magnitude better at the craft. Unlike most of the epics before it, Star Wars is weighed or buoyed by the fixed set of actors interpreting the story. One or the other can occasionally stumble and the epic carry on. (To use a newly born analogy, like Afleet Alex tripping but hauling himself to the win at Preakness.) The problem comes when both stumble together.

Jimmy Smits is pretty good and warmly paternal, and even heroic. Natalie Portman is pretty and manages to get by, ably supported by masses of curls. Ewan MacGregor is prettiest when he's ruffled. When allowed to show the torn edge of emotion instead of being absent-mindedly goofy, he will, indeed, rip your heart out (which is all right, since you probably won't be using it much during the love scenes, and you'll want it out of your throat during the gee-whiz stuff). Hayden Christensen, with his startling inability to act (or even move, unless there is a lightsaber in his hand), sucks the humanity out of the movie every time he is on screen. And succumbing to the Dark Side is really really bad for your hair.

You got your politics in my peanut butter
Some people who apparently don't enjoy popcorn have lately been criticising George Lucas for infusing political commentary into his art. He rightly took them to task to explain that, well, you know, that's the point of art, all that business of commenting on the world and the human condition. If themes in the age-old story of Positive versus Negative, Good versus Evil, Selflessness versus Selfishness, appear to have current relevance, that would be because these themes, however deftly or sloppily handled, are age-old. Life imitates art, over and over, and we humans just can't help ourselves. In a benevolent universe where the Force (Jedi or market) was used only for good, movie tickets wouldn't cost $10, now, would they?

The story
Anakin loves Padme. Padme loves Anakin. They love each other, and even though they seem a little bit uncomfortable touching each other, Padme is delicately and form-flatteringly pregnant. Jedi aren't supposed to get all emotional about love affairs. Apparently Senators aren't supposed to get shacked up or knocked up. A truly nasty droid voiced by Jay Laga'aia (Draco of Xena, among other roles, sounding a little James Earl Jones-y) threatens the stability of the Republic with fleets of cutesy but deadly smaller droids. Senator Palpatine accuses the Jedi Council of not being quite so selfless after all and plotting their own power grab. Anakin has nightmares Padme will die in childbirth. Everything he does from here onward is motivated by his desire to save her life, since apparently the technology that can replace a severed hand with a fully functional cybernetic one is completely inadequate or indifferent to easing complications of childbirth. Lip service is paid to Anakin's ambitions toward power and their possible influence on his career choices. Time that could have been spent on character development is relinquished to scenes of spectacular lightsaber fights, space battles, and planetscapes. The Sith Lord misses a really obvious opening in Mace Windu's lightsaber fighting, and I wish I had my epee, then I realise I'm drifting toward the Dark Side and resist for the sake of my hair. The outcome of the climactic battle is obvious, but it doesn't really matter; Ewan MacGregor makes this part of the movie, at least, more than worthwhile.

To See or Not to See
There are those who will go to see this no matter what any reviewer's opinion. I would have been happier not trying to blend the intimidating Darth Vader of my childhood memories, one of the history of film's greatest villains, with this Young Skywalker (he's called this so often, so much more often than Luke ever was, I figure it must be his first name, as there's no Old Skywalker or Middle-Aged Skywalker around). Young S. is doomed more by the flimsy story than by the actual dialogue. A better-crafted character arc would have offset the actor's immature abilities. A better actor would have brought vast layers to the words and plot... in fact, many of the other actors do, uttering the most astonishing statements with gravitas and imbuing their plots and counterplots with logic through sheer verbal force. What Mark Hamill could get away with as bright-eyed, life-affirming Luke, Hayden Christensen cannot as a man on a swift, soul-consuming descent. The great modern mythology becomes, through much of this movie (and much of the previous two, I'd argue), just another special-effects spectacular.

Of course, I couldn't not see this movie and leave myself ignorant of the end of the story. I mean, the middle. Whatever.

As for the rest of you—those of you who didn't grow up with Star Wars, whose parents didn't take you to the first movie on your birthday, who didn't spend the summer running up and down the street dressed as Han Solo (because, tough as Leia was, who really wanted to wear that earmuff hair?), those of you who weren't left flabbergasted by Empire Strikes Back because you didn't know a movie could end on a cliffhanger, who didn't skip school to see Return of the Jedi, and those of you who aren't in the current generation of kids and teenagers entranced by epic science-fictiony fantasy—well, you're going to have to go see it, anyway. And you'll have to see it at a theatre. No matter what its flaws, it's still a Movie, made large and broad and deep, not a television-size story stretched out for a theatre screen. It just doesn't make sense to wait to watch it on DVD. Treat yourself to a ticket. Flawed as it is, it's still what the movies are all about.

Final Advice (to the character, not the reader): Get with it, Vader. You only have about twenty years to become James Earl Jones and David Prowse. We'll meet you in orbit over Tatooine.

Outside Food: Black-and-white cookies and Pepsi, for the Dark Side. No, just kidding. I had Sobe all-natural, herb-laden, fruity healthy drink, like a good Jedi.

Previews: Yes, there were. Yes, yes, I'll write it all up. Really, this time. Really...

Comments: I still haven't done the reinstallation to fix the comments section, but at least this means all those spammers who keep trying to hit the site aren't sticking. If you'd like to comment or if you have any suggestions for Dark Side hair-care products, you can drop me a line at critic at outsidefood.com.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (2005)

What a wonderful world

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Douglas Adams' intergalactic opus is science fiction the way Lewis Carroll's Alice books are children's stories. This new movie version of Hitchhiker's fails on many levels, misses a fairly huge point in favour of making an easier, more banal one; but overall, with the help of a handful of perfectly-cast actors, the movie is an almost entirely harmless way to spend a pleasant afternoon playing hooky from work.

Too many jokes in this movie, adapted from a book known for its elaborate word play and intricate set-ups, go along these lines:

First Man: Last night I shot an elephant in my pajamas.
Second Man: Oh yeah?
First Man: Yeah.

And that's it. For those who know the punchline, it's frustrating. For those who don't, it's simply another long, talky, pointless scene, and you wonder why those teenagers in the next row start guffawing helplessly as soon as the First Man speaks—probably because they know from the book there should be a joke coming, and probably because they've had about three pints of beer. I'd only had one, and it wasn't enough.

In return, we are given many visual jokes instead, some of which are highly effective, such as the extra body parts on Zaphod Beeblebrox (Sam Rockwell, and get your mind out of the gutter). Quite a few of the visual jokes are leaden groaners. There were probably also a few groaners in the book, which I'm in denial about. If the film producers had wanted to go for visual humour instead of combining it with the original's snarky dialogue, the final product would be almost justifiable. But there's no real logic to setting up a joke then not following through.

That aforementioned banal point
...has to do with the difference between ending a version of Hitchhiker's with Louis Armstrong singing "What a wonderful world," and a pod of dolphins warbling "So long and thanks for all the fish." But more on that later, and on the biggest puzzler: Why did computer graphics look better twenty-five years ago?

Just what is The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and why shouldn't I panic?

Full review in the works.

By the way: "How that elephant got in my pajamas, I'll never know." Rimshot.

Awards Night

It's Oscars Night And I Just Don't Care

Why does Renee Zellwegger look like she's been lying facedown in a tub of Botox?

Oh, I'm sorry, I mean: Look at all the expensive dresses! Look at all the jewels! Isn't Virginia Madsen convincing as she claims her twisty blue dress is comfortable? Isn't Leonardo's suit... grey?

I will sit through the Oscars (trademark, blah blah) and dutifully report, but I'm not sure I'll manage to make it exciting, since... See title up above. As each winner is announced, I'll update the page, so refresh your browser window every now and then to see changes if you are reading this Sunday night as the awards are in progress.
]]> 8:59 pm: Chris Rock must stop with the "black" jokes or I will stop liking him.-->
8:18 pm: Good gracious. The ceremony doesn't even begin for 12 minutes and I'm already bored. And hungry. And depressed. And wondering why all the women have the same dress that hobbles their knees then flares out around their ankles like a mermaid's tail. Is that flattering? In my alternate-universe life in which I realised my dreams of becoming a filmmaker and am attending this ceremony and am probably far too inebriated to be bored, I am wearing a tux.

8:24 pm: First commercial break, for face cream and low-carb beer. Do you feel fat and wrinkly yet? Thank goodness Colin Mochrie is in the third commercial, dressed in a pink tutu as the snack fairy. I feel glamourous already.

8:30 pm: 77th Annual Academy Awards begin. Will Chris Rock manage to inject some sort of energy into this hoary, geriatric event? Or will hosting this event with its inevitable worn-out routines and tattered trappings, and the inevitable cleaning-up of his rough-edged comedy style, taint him with the same sort of curse that turned Captain Kirk and Bones into cranky, little old men? I'll let you know if he starts developing wrinkles or turning grey or speaking with a quaint old southern doctor accent.

8:33 pm: Nice cut from Howard Hughes' 1930s aviation movie to THE AVIATOR, from Orlando Bloom's Legolas to Errol Flynn's Robin Hood. Not so nice shot of all the actors straining their necks, craning to watch the montage on the overhead screens. Enter our host: "Welcome to the 77th and LAST Academy Awards." I never liked Chris Rock before this, but now I love him.

8:37 pm: Chris Rock proceeds to insult most of the actors in the hall, dividing the "real stars" (Eastwood, say) from everyone else. And they smile and laugh. My my.

8:40 pm: Chris Rock is still doing a straight standup routine, segueing from F911 to a Bush critique to Passion of the Gibson. I'm starting to enjoy myself. It might be because all I've had for Inside Food tonight is garlic croutons and a handful of wasabi peas.

8:42 pm: No, I'm not going to recap every couple of minutes of the ceremony. That would be not so much crazy, as suicidal. I'll get back to you when something really happens.

8:43 pm: I lied, I'm back. Here is Halle Berry presenting for Achievement in Art Direction. Mother thinks her dress looks like one of the straps was accidentally ripped off in a freak limo accident.

Nominees:

THE AVIATOR - Art Direction: Dante Ferretti; Set Decoration: Francesca Lo Schiavo
FINDING NEVERLAND - Art Direction: Gemma Jackson; Set Decoration: Trisha Edwards
LEMONY SNICKET'S A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS - Art Direction: Rick Heinrichs; Set Decoration: Cheryl A. Carasik
THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA - Art Direction: Anthony Pratt; Set Decoration: Celia Bobak
A VERY LONG ENGAGEMENT - Art Direction: Aline Bonetto

I'm rooting for NEVERLAND, for its whimsy. I imagine PHANTOM is the most spectacular choice, though. The Oscar goes to THE AVIATOR, because of... oh, I dunno... the blue greenpeas? Dante Ferretti and Francesca Lo Schiavo make their speech short and sweet. No cringing!

8:47 pm: Renee Zellwegger wobbles out awkwardly in her mermaid dress. Did she botox her knees?

Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role

Alan Alda in THE AVIATOR
Thomas Haden Church in SIDEWAYS
Jamie Foxx in COLLATERAL
Morgan Freeman in MILLION DOLLAR BABY
Clive Owen in CLOSER

I liked Alan Alda. But then, I didn't see the other movies. Bad Outside Food Critic. No cookie. No crouton, either. Morgan Freeman is the likeliest choice, with his history of nominations. I'm not entirely sure why Jamie Foxx was nominated. The Oscar goes to: Morgan Freeman. His speech is short and sweet. And short. The Star Trek theme ushers him off the stage, and I am confused, but bemused.

8:52 pm: Pepsi commercial in which Tony Curtis, a thousand chained rebellious slaves, and a Roman soldier all claim to be Spartacus in order to get Kirk Douglass' soda. Bet you didn't know Spartacus led a zombie army.

8:54 pm: Robin Williams pulled out of the excelsior to announce Best Animated in a bright fuschia shirt. He's looking slim and trim and extraordinarily sane.

The tux cut for men this year appears to be a cinched-in waist; I feel the 1930s creeping up behind me.

Animated Feature Film of the Year:

THE INCREDIBLES Brad Bird
SHARK TALE Bill Damaschka
SHREK 2 Andrew Adamson

The winner is THE INCREDIBLES, which has not yet been boycotted for supporting transgender bartenders or wearing square pants.

8:59 pm: Cate Blanchett stands in the audience for some reason to announce the nominees for makeup.

Achievement in Makeup

LEMONY SNICKET'S A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS Valli O'Reilly and Bill Corso
THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST Keith Vanderlaan and Christien Tinsley
THE SEA INSIDE Jo Allen and Manuel García

The Oscar goes to LEMONY SNICKET, which does deserve it. Weirdly, they get their Oscars near their seats, where a microphone is set up for their speech. What, are they up in the back of the balcony and couldn't be allowed down near the stage?

9:02 pm: Drew Barrymore, not in a mermaid dress, introduces the performance of the first song nomination. She looks sparkly and beautiful, but also a bit like Captain Janeway from Voyager. Beyoncé sings "Look To Your Path (Vois Sur Ton Chemin)" in a yellow, green, and orange dress that looks like your great-aunt's lawn furniture, bobbly earrings last seen in a 60s bead curtain doorway, and a warbly voice. The full list of nominees in this category, who will no doubt be spread throughout the ceremony to provide entertainment, is:

Achievement in Music written for Motion Pictures (Original Song)

"Accidentally In Love" from SHREK 2 Music by Adam Duritz, Charles Gillingham, Jim Bogios, David Immergluck, Matthew Mallery and David Bryson; Lyric by Adam Duritz and Daniel Vickrey
"Al Otro Lado Del Río" from THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES Music and Lyric by Jorge Drexler
"Believe" from THE POLAR EXPRESS Music and Lyric by Glen Ballard and Alan Silvestri
"Learn To Be Lonely" from THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber; Lyric by Charles Hart
"Look To Your Path (Vois Sur Ton Chemin)" from THE CHORUS (CHORISTES) Music by Bruno Coulais; Lyric by Christophe Barratier

9:06 pm: There is a commercial break, and some of the adverts attempt to be clever, and I just don't care anymore. I see that this event is supposed to last another 2-1/2 hours. I might need some rum.

9:12 pm: Chris Rock interviews ordinary people at the movies on which films they've seen. Aren't black people funny? They don't watch the same movies you and I do. Martin Lawrence ends the segment with a big bug-eyed expression. Ha ha. Where's the rum? Fortunately we move quickly to Scarlett Johanssen discussing the the Scientific and Technical Awards that nobody cares about but should. Merit for Engineering and Development of a Camera crane apparently used on TROY or ALEXANDER or some other movie with men in skirts, is given to David Samuelson and two French men whose names I miss, another award for a crane used in LEMONY SNICKET award given to Horst Burbulla. Lifetime Achievement to Tak Miyagashima, whose speech excerpt is charming and funny. I wish I had been there to hear the whole thing. Scarlett implores us to applaud, but we are really applauding the next presenter, Pierce Brosnan, who has scratchy-throat. He presents Costume Design with an animated character from THE INCREDIBLES.

Achievement in Costume Design

THE AVIATOR Sandy Powell
FINDING NEVERLAND Alexandra Byrne
LEMONY SNICKET'S A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS Colleen Atwood
RAY Sharen Davis
TROY Bob Ringwood (let's hear it for a thousand yards of blue batik!)

Sandy Powell wins for THE AVIATOR. I suppose recreating Ava Gardner's hat without making the actress fall over was deserving of the award alone.

9:19 pm: Tim Robbins presents, with no ado at all, and also looking incredibly slim (or is it just me? maybe I need new glasses):

Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role

Cate Blanchett in THE AVIATOR
Laura Linney in KINSEY
Virginia Madsen in SIDEWAYS
Sophie Okonedo in HOTEL RWANDA
Natalie Portman in CLOSER

I'd love it if Sophie Okonedo won for her heartwrenching performance through every part of the spectrum of human emotion, but I doubt she has a chance against Cate Blanchett, the frontrunner for channelling the legendary Kate Hepburn. The winner is: Cate Blanchett. No one is surprised. We all admire her collarbone.

They promise us Orlando Bloom after the commercial break. I still need rum.

9:25 pm: Nostalgia-fest time. Clips of Johnny Carson hosting the Oscars, including a bit with Miss Piggy, the ultimate Hollywood star, and commentary from Whoopi Goldberg, off somewhere sitting in a comfy chair. Surprisingly not followed by the "People who died who you didn't realise were still alive" montage, which will make me cry.

Leonardo DiCaprio, who is about 11 years old tonight, presents Documentary Feature

BORN INTO BROTHELS (THINKFilm) Ross Kauffman and Zana Brisk; A Red Light Films, Inc. Production
THE STORY OF THE WEEPING CAMEL (THINKFilm) Luigi Falorni and Byambasuren Davaa; A Hochschule f�r Fernsehen und Film München Production
SUPER SIZE ME (Roadside Attractions/Samuel Goldwyn Films) Morgan Spurlock; A Kathbur Productions/The Con Production (my personal favourite)
TUPAC: RESURRECTION (Paramount) Lauren Lazin and Karolyn Ali; An MTV - Amaru Entertainment, Inc. Production
TWIST OF FAITH Kirby Dick and Eddie Schmidt; A Chain Camera Pictures Production

My personal favourite is SUPER SIZE ME, but the Academy might go for something a bit heavier, if you'll pardon the expression. BORN INTO BROTHELS seems the most likely, and, yes, it wins. I should maybe try to see it. Zana Brisk's yellow dress hurts my eyes, as does her peculiar cleavage.

Kirsten Dunst and Orlando Bloom present together, and young women throughout the world yell at her to get away from him.

Achievement in Film Editing

THE AVIATOR Thelma Schoonmaker
COLLATERAL Jim Miller and Paul Rubell
FINDING NEVERLAND Matt Chesse
MILLION DOLLAR BABY Joel Cox
RAY Paul Hirsch

THE AVIATOR was, actually, poorly edited. There may be an impetus to let it sweep everything but best picture, but it truly was poorly edited. And, in fact, it wins, in spite of sloppy, obvious continuity flaws. "Long movie" and "visual effects" and "things moving fast" doesn't automatically equal "well edited."

Mike Myers is next (did the announcer just call him "adorable"?). He introduces Counting Crows singing a song from SHREK 2, "Accidentally in Love." Strum strum. La la. Lead singer Adam Duritz wins for Best Hairstyle of the evening.

9:37 pm: We break for commercials again to the strains of "Beyond the Sea." Now I seem to be craving rum poured over ice cream. This might indicate a vitamin deficiency, no doubt brought on by lack of movie-going—since I get most of my nutrition from my outside food selections.

9:43 pm: Adam Sandler and Catherine Zeta-Jones are out next—well, Adam Sandler, anyway. Oh, I see, Chris Rock comes out to take her place and read her lines. It is a bit. A funny bit. Oh, ha ha. I think we are supposed to understand the actors know how lame their bit is. I think. I hope.

Best Screenplay Adapted from Another Source:

BEFORE SUNSET Screenplay by Richard Linklater & Julie Delpy & Ethan Hawke; Story by Richard Linklater & Kim Krizan
FINDING NEVERLAND Screenplay by David Magee
MILLION DOLLAR BABY Screenplay by Paul Haggis
THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES Screenplay by José Rivera
SIDEWAYS Screenplay by Alexander Payne & Jim Taylor

The Oscar goes to... (SIDEWAYS?) Yes, SIDEWAYS. I win. Take a shot of champagne.

Zhiyi Zhang (HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS) and Jake Gyllenhaal are the next presenters. The actress is lovely but her accent is impenetrable. Her dress, however, is see-through.

Achievement in Visual Effects:

HARRY POTTER AND THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN Roger Guyett, Tim Burke, John Richardson and Bill George
I, ROBOT John Nelson, Andrew R. Jones, Erik Nash and Joe Letteri
SPIDER-MAN 2 John Dykstra, Scott Stokdyk, Anthony LaMolinara and John Frazier

John Dykstra, et al win for SPIDER-MAN 2. Dykstra... didn't he do Battlestar Galactica—the real one, with the quilted uniforms and the guys with shaggy hair over their ears and the plastic models? And he did Star Wars, of course. Well, yeah.

The head of the Academy comes out to make the Patriotic Speech, and to push showing movies to the troops. Al Pacino comes scruffily out to present the lifetime achievement hoohaw honourary Oscar blah blah award to Sidney Lumet (DOG DAY AFTERNOON, THE PAWNBROKER, 12 ANGRY MEN, LONG DAY'S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT, SERPICO, etc.). We get to see him as a boy actor, and that is just adorable. We also see a clip of Christopher Walken looking younger than Leo DiCaprio in THE ANDERSON TAPES. Sidney Lumet comes out and is given time to chitchat. Mother tells me he is (or possibly was) married to Lena Horne's daughter, she thinks, maybe. I just don't know these things. I hear Lumet mention Jean Vigeau (whose name I do not know how to spell) and my mind is scrambled for several minutes with visions of Viggo Mortensen (whose name I know how to spell).

After a commercial break during which I cannot find the rum and must settle for a berry-adulterated Sprite, Emmy Rossum struggles out in her red mermaid dress and introduces the song from the PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, "Learn to be Lonely," with Andrew Lloyd Webber accompanying Beyoncé on the piano. She is wearing an entirely different chandelier this time, and black goop on her eyelids. Later, the Phantom will send her necklace crashing into the audience.

"Comedy Superstar" Jeremy Irons is introduced by Chris Rock. He, like Cate Blanchett, is doing his presentation from the audience. I dig his weird collar-less tux and tie-less shirt... thing.

Live Action Short Film

EVERYTHING IN THIS COUNTRY MUST Gary McKendry; A Six Mile LLC Production
LITTLE TERRORIST Ashvin Kumar; An Alipur Films Production
7:35 IN THE MORNING Nacho Vigalondo; An Ibarretxe & Co. Production
TWO CARS, ONE NIGHT Taika Waititi and Ainsley Gardiner; A Defender Films Limited Production
WASP Andrea Arnold; A Cowboy Films Production

WASP wins, and we get a look at how long Jeremy Irons' overcoat is as he hands the statuette to Andrea Arnold at her seat, who calls her award "the dog's bollocks."

Laura Linney's presentation is wiped out by a Coastal Flood Warning here. Red screen, ALERT ALERT ALERT. This is not a test. You may panic freely. I IM Research Assistant Robin to get an update on the awards ceremony, rather than moving to high ground.

She reports:

Best Animated Short Film

BIRTHDAY BOY Sejong Park and Andrew Gregory; An Australian Film, TV and Radio School Production
GOPHER BROKE Jeff Fowler and Tim Miller; A Blur Studio Production
GUARD DOG Bill Plympton; A Bill Plympton Production
LORENZO Mike Gabriel and Baker Bloodworth; A Walt Disney Pictures Production
RYAN Chris Landreth; A Copper Heart Entertainment & National Film Board of Canada Production

The winner is Chris Landreth for RYAN. An Award for Research Assistant Robin, who reports: Chrissy boy is still talking ... lessee ... presenter coming out is Kate Winslet. Thank you, Robin!

Cinematography, presented by Kate Winslet, appears on the screen after the warning fades.

Achievement in Cinematography:

THE AVIATOR Robert Richardson
HOUSE OF FLYING DAGGERS Zhao Xiaoding
THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST Caleb Deschanel (a sop to the movie's fans? the cinematography was bargain basement)
THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA John Mathieson
A VERY LONG ENGAGEMENT Bruno Delbonnel

Robert Richardson wins for THE AVIATOR. Okay, now I can worry about the coastal floods in peace without having to be irritated by THE PASSION winning.

10:20 pm: Penelope Cruz and Salma Hayek come on stage after a funny Price Waterhouse bit, demonstrating cleavage that should win for best special effects.

Achievement in Sound Mixing

THE AVIATOR Tom Fleischman and Petur Hliddal
THE INCREDIBLES Randy Thom, Gary A. Rizzo and Doc Kane
THE POLAR EXPRESS Randy Thom, Tom Johnson, Dennis Sands and William B. Kaplan
RAY Scott Millan, Greg Orloff, Bob Beemer and Steve Cantamessa
SPIDER-MAN 2 Kevin O'Connell, Greg P. Russell, Jeffrey J. Haboush and Joseph Geisinger

Achievement in Sound Editing

THE INCREDIBLES Michael Silvers and Randy Thom
THE POLAR EXPRESS Randy Thom and Dennis Leonard
SPIDER-MAN 2 Paul N.J. Ottosson

No, seriously, there's something funny going on with Salma Hayek's decolletage. Penelope's shoulders are down around where they would be in a renaissance artist's idea of an ideal slope-shouldered woman, except, really, they would want her to eat something to be considered attractive. Anyway, the winners for Sound Mixing are for RAY, which is nice—now it has won something and everyone can feel comfortable with themselves. The winners for Sound Editing are the team from THE INCREDIBLES, one of whom is wearing a black tshirt under a tux jacket. He is an artist, you know. The "get off the stage" music starts up a perky, zippy beat before the second fellow gets two words out.

Salma Hayek introduces the song "El Otro Lado del Río" from MOTORCYCLE DIARIES and we have to see her chest again, which is frightening so late at night. I believe she reports that this is the first song in Spanish to be nominated. I'm not sure. I was looking for the seams around her breasts. I was also looking for Penelope Cruz, who seems to have merged into Salma and vanished. A sweaty Antonio Banderas sings for us. We don't even like him, but we swoon anyway, because he has a pretty smile. And rolls his Rs. And has really long legs. Oh my.

10:33 pm: A commercial sings "I'm on the top of the woooorld looking down on creation and the only explanation I can fiiiind..." and I have a sudden and disturbing flashback to being a tiny child. I think there are hippies around me.

Natalie Portman is sort of topless.

Documentary Short Subject

AUTISM IS A WORLD Gerardine Wurzburg; A State of the Art Production
THE CHILDREN OF LENINGRADSKY Hanna Polak and Andrzej Celinski; A Hanna Polak Production
HARDWOOD Hubert Davis and Erin Faith Young; A Hardwood Pictures and National Film Board of Canada Production
MIGHTY TIMES: THE CHILDREN'S MARCH Robert Hudson and Bobby Houston; A Tell the Truth Pictures Production
SISTER ROSE'S PASSION Oren Jacoby and Steve Kalafer; A New Jersey Studios Production

THE CHILDREN'S MARCH wins. I think Natalie Portman thinks she looks Classical. Rather than elongated. And naked. Robin chastises me: "ehh, if you're young and beautiful, you should flaunt it while you can." Oh, all right. Some day she'll gain a pound and her career will be over. Robert Hudson and Bobby Houston accept—one of them speaks... slowly... and is going to get musicked off, I just know it. The other stands elegantly and watches, thinking "I won't get to speak." And he doesn't.

Cut to Johnny Depp in the audience in a blue tux. He looks weird, and I heart him anyway. John Travolta presents for Original Score.

Achievement in Music written for Motion Pictures (Original Score)

FINDING NEVERLAND Jan A.P. Kaczmarek
HARRY POTTER AND THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN John Williams
LEMONY SNICKET'S A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS Thomas Newman
THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST John Debney
THE VILLAGE James Newton Howard

John A. P. Kaczmarek wins for FINDING NEVERLAND, and I can't hear his speech because Mother is ranting about misrepresentation of the AARP in a smear campaign. I should point out to her that I can set up a rocking chair and a swinging overhead lamp in the basement without any trouble.

Martin Scorsese comes out to announce something I also can't hear through the ranting on the other end of the couch. Ah: the Herscholt Award goes to Roger Mayer for humanitarian efforts. Roger Mayer is in charge of the Motion Picture and Television Fund, which helps the indigent and with film preservation. Unfortunately they helped preserve the print of "Gone With the Wind." Don't get me started. I can put up with that movie surviving, if it means a rescue of other films as well. We see the stock footage of film cannisters full of rust-coloured dust. We see all Mayer's family. Mayer talks about film foundations and preservation, and no one dares music him off. I begin thinking weepy thoughts about Roddy McDowall, reminded of the work he did in film preservation.

Annette Bening tells us about music, "film's handmaiden." She introduces YoYo Ma, who will be playing Sarabande over clips of all the people who died last year, and I will be even weepier.

Peter Ustinov—the best scene-chewing Nero ever—Fay Wray, Jerry Orbach, Howard Keel, Janet Leigh, Ossie Davis, Christopher Reeve, Paul Winfield, Virginia Mayo, Tony Randall, Brando, writers, directors, inventors, composers, animators, Rodney Dangerfield, and some guy called Ronald Reagan... who was never really much of an actor, but there you have it.

10:54 pm: Commerical break. About a half hour to go, and I think the ceremony may run on schedule. I am missing Monk for this, I'll have you know.

Next up, Sean Combs, because he is hip, to introduce the song from "a very hip and creative film," POLAR EXPRESS, so you can hook into your inner child and "Believe" (the title of the song). Beyoncé has progressed to a mermaid dress made out of an entire chandelier, and sings a duet with Josh Groban. Cut outs of train engines in the background puff smoke into the lighting. I beLIEVE! No, not really.

Prince is up next, and he is not wearing a tux at all. He is dressed as Prince. He will announce the award for original song.

Achievement in Music written for Motion Pictures (Original Song)

"Accidentally In Love" from SHREK 2 (DreamWorks) Music by Adam Duritz, Charles Gillingham, Jim Bogios, David Immergluck, Matthew Mallery and David Bryson; Lyric by Adam Duritz and Daniel Vickrey
"Al Otro Lado Del Río" from THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES Music and Lyric by Jorge Drexler
"Believe" from THE POLAR EXPRESS (Warner Bros.) Music and Lyric by Glen Ballard and Alan Silvestri
"Learn To Be Lonely" from THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (Warner Bros.) Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber; Lyric by Charles Hart
"Look To Your Path (Vois Sur Ton Chemin)" from THE CHORUS (Miramax) Music by Bruno Coulais; Lyric by Christophe Barratier

Jorge Drexler wins for "Al Otro Lado Del Río" from THE MOTORCYCLE DIAIRES, and he sings in a pretty little voice. Seriously, a beautiful, unaccompanied voice. Gracias, ciao, he says, and leaves the stage. Purty.

Sean Penn appears to have crawled out from the back of a bar, where he lost his tie. He stumbles through a little introduction then announces Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role. The regular world knows this as:

Best Actress

Annette Bening in BEING JULIA (Successful Susan saw this and highly recommended it)
Catalina Sandino Moreno in MARIA FULL OF GRACE
Imelda Staunton in VERA DRAKE
Hilary Swank in MILLION DOLLAR BABY
Kate Winslet in ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND

Imelda Staunton's VERA DRAKE was an amazing performance—small and quiet and pitch perfect, in an imperfect movie. Kate Winslet's was too early in the year. Will it be Annette Bening? Hilary Swank? It is Hilary Swank—the easy choice. Her backless dress shows every bone in her back... I don't see an ounce of muscle left on her. Her face is gaunt. Let me in the ring with her, I could snap her like a twig. They begin to threaten her with the music. A toot, then a threatening rumble. She won't leave. They begin playing the Magnificent 7 theme, and she has to be dragged off by horses. No, not really. But wouldn't you like to see that happen at the Oscars some day?

"Our next presenter is the first woman ever to breastfeed an apple," says Chris Rock, introducing Gwyneth Paltrow, who has a lot of 70s-ish MacMillan and Wife hair tonight.

Foreign Language Film of the Year

AS IT IS IN HEAVEN Sweden; A GF Studios Production
THE CHORUS France; A Galatée Films/Pathé Renn/France 2 Cinema/Novo Arturo Films/Vega Film AG Production
DOWNFALL Germany; A Constantin Film Production
THE SEA INSIDE Spain; A Sogecine and Himenóptero Production
YESTERDAY South Africa; A Videovision Entertainment Production

The Oscar goes to THE SEA INSIDE, and the winners scurry to the stage.

Samuel L Jackson is earing a non-tuxedo, too. Some sort of shirt with a roll collar and a... thing up the front... with a... sparkly thing at the neck. Anyway.

Original Screenplay

THE AVIATOR Written by John Logan
ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND Screenplay by Charlie Kaufman; Story by Charlie Kaufman & Michel Gondry & Pierre Bismuth
HOTEL RWANDA Written by Keir Pearson & Terry George
THE INCREDIBLES Written by Brad Bird
VERA DRAKE Written by Mike Leigh

No surprise that this goes to ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND. Yeah, yeah. Charlie Kaufman notes the countdown warning him of how much time he has... 28 seconds... 27 seconds... "Intimidating... I wanna get off the stage." He's charming, actually.

11:21 pm: Nine minutes and three awards left. It will run long, but, hopefully, not too long.

Charlize Theron is the next presenter. Her mermaid dress has bunches of grey taffeta all over it and really flares out too much to be a mermaid dress. Maybe a whale dress. This next award ought to in a beneficent universe go to Don Cheadle for the most significant performance of the year.

Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role

Don Cheadle in HOTEL RWANDA
Johnny Depp in FINDING NEVERLAND
Leonardo DiCaprio in THE AVIATOR
Clint Eastwood in MILLION DOLLAR BABY
Jamie Foxx in RAY

Researcher Robin thinks it is between Cheadle and Foxx, and not Eastwood at all, since he will be recognised some other way. She says, "Imagine - from In Living Color to this." The winner is Jamie Foxx, in his blue pinstripe suit. Whaddayaknow. Foxx is making a speech I either heard before... or I am having a really remarkable case of precognition. Oh, right... he said that on the red carpet on his way in. So much for going out and betting all my savings on the horses tomorrow. Foxx gets briefly and stagily teary eyed, and they don't dare music off someone talking about his deceased grandma.

It is petty of me, but I remain weirdly bothered that Foxx doesn't match Ray Charles' distinctively gravelly speaking voice in the movie. The little details...

Ugh. I mean, oh, look, Julia Roberts. She slogs onto stage, unable to walk properly even though her mermaid dress is barely a mermaid dress at all. It must be way too tight around the hips.

Achievement in Directing

THE AVIATOR Martin Scorsese
MILLION DOLLAR BABY Clint Eastwood
RAY Taylor Hackford
SIDEWAYS Alexander Payne
VERA DRAKE Mike Leigh

So, I am thinking, Eastwood for director, AVIATOR for best picture. The Oscar goes to... yes, Eastwood. His 96-year-old mom is in the audience. Wow. Let's have a round of applause for Clint Eastwood's mom! Says Eastwood, "I watched Sidney Lumet out there, who's 80, and I figured, I'm just a kid."

Hoffman and Streisand will announce Best Actor. I'm not sure anymore what anyone is wearing. It's a sort of grey silk blur.

Best Motion Picture of the Year

THE AVIATOR
FINDING NEVERLAND Richard N. Gladstein and Nellie Bellflower, Producers
MILLION DOLLAR BABY
RAY
SIDEWAYS Michael London, Producer

There's a surprise: the Oscar goes to the boxing flick, MILLION DOLLAR BABY. Scorsese was robbed! Eastwood looks a little botoxed, but it's late, what do I know. 11:38 pm—not too far over time. The music starts, and Clint Eastwood says to his fellow winner, "keep talking." The music creeps back to a respectful distance. Don't mess with Eastwood.

Goodnight! That's all! It's over! Go party! Unless you're an ordinary person who has to get up in the morning! Bye! Thank you, Robin! Cue Music!

(Special thanks again this year to Robin the Indefatigable for research assistance tonight and to come, and to Kris for Zhiyi Zhang. There's only so much a Critic can keep track of on her own without benefit of rum and ice cream)

Site attacked (as usual)

Something in the rash of spam comments that have been loaded onto the site has ended up making several reviews completely inaccessible.

I honestly don't know why these same-old-same-old spammers bother trashing a little, low-traffic site like this, unless they get some sort of schoolyard-bully pleasure out of adding hours of extra work to someone's labour of love. Any of you spammers care to comment on this? (My prediction: a bunch of nonsense comments with links to poker websites.)

I hope to restore the missing reviews and repair the site soon.

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Double Feature Picture Show

Some couples simply belong together. In the case of movies, watching a complementary pair of films is a texture experience. It's all about how one movie leads into the other, how the first affects the perception of the second, how the second informs understanding of the first—and, how the viewer feels from the cumulative effect.

]]> You got your Willy Wonka in my Apocalypse!

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004) / The Crocodile Hunter: Collision Course (2002)
Drink a bottle of Campari during Life Aquatic to adjust your mental capacity for the Crocodile movie. Life Aquatic knows it's clever; Crocodile Hunter knows its mental health is questionable. Both are thoroughly enjoyable. Goldfish and Animal crackers will help mute the munchies.

Harold and Maude (1971) / Better Off Dead (1985)
Classics of two different generations, on the same themes of love, death, despair, and dealing with parents. Serve these films with french fries, french toast, and Perrier.

Apocalypse Now (1979) / Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971 Gene Wilder version)
This recommendation comes from dorm friend Larry the Really Smart Guy, who says they are structurally identical. Chocolate or any sort of candy for Willy Wonka. I'm not sure what to serve with napalm; you might try ordering out.

Time Bandits (1981) / Brazil (1985)
Pairing two movies by the same director (Terry Gilliam) may be a no-brainer, but these two in particular work well in chorus. Usually I recommend watching the "heavier" film first and the second one for relaxation or wee-hours silliness, but in this case I suggest letting the wild whimsy of Time Bandits soften you up for the mind-trip through Brazil.

Silverado (1985) / Little Big Man (1970)
Substitute Dances With Wolves in place of Little Big Man for an evening of dancing with Kevin Costner. Silverado is the movie that won me over to the Western genre, with young Kevin Costner in young-Keanu Reeves mode. It's a sometimes-serious, sometimes-hilarious flick, good for folks who find Blazing Saddles too much wild, wild unreality. Little Big Man is a lot of movie, alternately slapstick and poignant, the tall-tale life of a pioneer boy (eventually Dustin Hoffman) raised by Sioux. As an ancient man he looks back over his long life, including his encounters with Custer and Faye Dunaway. Pork and beans and hash and pemmican, with an order of sarsaparilla for your horse.

Warlock (1989) / Timeline (2003) or
The Navigator (1988; Australia/NZ) / Warlock
Warlock is a beloved guilty pleasure; I watch it when I'm feeling down and it never fails to take me away from whatever I'm escaping. It is so deliciously awful it may be my favourite bad film of all time; it doesn't eclipse Plan 9 From Outer Space's sheer incompetence, but it is a near-perfect B. The movie features Richard E. Grant, spectacularly slumming; Julian Sands, exuding the usual evil beauty; and time travel, one of my two favouritest scientifantasy themes (the other one being "last man on earth"). Timeline almost reaches the same froth of pure brain candy, so makes a good match. Or, if you'd like to start out your time-travelling jaunt with a thoughtful movie instead, track down the lovely and touching The Navigator, a 1988 Australian/NZ film about a group of 14th-century miners who try to dig their way to a nearby cathedral in search of a cure for the plague but end up in the 20th century instead. Recommended cuisine: anything extra salty.

Becket (1964) / Lion In Winter (1968)
This one is for you history buffs with time on your hands—these are two long movies. If you survive Becket (Peter O'Toole and the prince of players, Richard Burton, who set the screen on fire when they have at each other or when O'Toole's Henry II takes his exasperating family to task), reward yourself with the sharp-tongued wit of Lion (Peter O'Toole as Henry II again, and Katharine Hepburn and Anthony Hopkins and the most excellent John Castle and Timothy Dalton and now I have to mention Nigel Terry and Jane Merrow too). Serve these films up with a mediaeval banquet, but you might want to hide the knives.

Lady Jane (1986) / Princess Bride (1987)
Cary Elwes, I still adore you, even if you dyed your floofy hair black for the recent unfortunate adaptation of Ella Enchanted. This double-feature pairing of two princesses and the same dashing princely blond couldn't be more different from each other—one a heady costume epic and the other a sarcastic romp. I'm not actually a huge fan of The Princess Bride, but a marathon viewing of the two movies together, what with all that Cary Elwes, I couldn't resist. Bring Twinkies—blond on the outside, fluff on the inside. (Oh, I'm only kidding, Cary Elwes.)

Looking for Richard (1986) / Henry V (1989)
Henry V, young and energetic and romantic, is still the best of the Kenneth Branagh films. The post-battle tracking shot alone is worth the price of admission (or DVD rental). Looking for Richard is postmodern and deft, infused with New York cynicism, and has what is possibly sly-eyed Kevin Spacey's best performance ever. It's half documentary (can Americans do justice to the Bard? Does the average American on the street even know who the Bard is?) and half the play itself (Richard III), filmed largely in Manhattan's Cathedral of St. John the Divine (the world's largest Gothic cathedral). The only wrong note in Richard is Winona Ryder's flimsy Lady Anne. The only wrong note in Henry V is . . . is there a wrong note in Henry V? Bagels and ale all around.

Looking for Neverland (2004) / Shadowland (1993)
Authors (J. M. Barrie via Johnny Depp and C. S. Lewis courtesy of Anthony Hopkins) and their fragile muses. And their initials. Don't confuse the latter film with the 1985 BBC-TV version Shadowlands starring Joss Ackland and Claire Bloom (which I haven't seen). Both these stories are quite bittersweet, so sweeten them up with peanut butter cookies (Peter Pan brand peanut butter) and Turkish delights.

Shadow of the Vampire (2000) / Young Frankenstein (1974)
Nosferatu, meet Frankenstein. Sly gruesome humour, meet classic send-up. Don't adjust your dial—both these movies are in black & white. On the menu: Garlic pasta eaten with a pitchfork.

Image from The Crocodile Hunter: Collision Course © 2002 Metro Goldwyn Mayer. All Rights Reserved.

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

Tally Me Bananas

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
Starring the crew of the Belafonte (et al.): Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Cate Blanchett, Anjelica Huston, Willem Dafoe, Jeff Goldblum, Michael Gambon, Bud Cort, Noah Taylor, Seu Jorge channelling David Bowie, Robyn Cohen, Waris Ahluwalia, Niels Koizumi, sound mixer Pawel Wdowczak as the sound mixer, Matthew Gray Gubler and assorted unpaid interns, the Walrus, the gardening Octopus, Flipper, a scene-stealing Orca, and Leica as Cody the three-legged dog.
Directed by: Wes Anderson
Written by: Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach
MPAA says: Rated R for language, some drug use, violence, and partial nudity. Only "some" drug use? They must have seen a different version.
Running time: 118 minutes
Release date: December 10, 2004
Seen at: National Amusements City Center 15, my second home. The concessions staff have successfully recovered from their New Year's Eve fog.

You had me at "Belafonte"
The sublime and the ridiculous meet and do a two-hour tango in this understated, nearly flawless film. Its deadpan humour and quiet slow-burns will not be for everyone, but I was in hysterics. Because, let's face it, the aphorism is true: the root of true comedy is pain. Life Aquatic is populated with improbable characters that one can absolutely believe are real, as their experiences deepen them from their lives of painful superficiality, and drag them from the phony world to reality and back again to a sense of luminous wonder.

]]> Rushmore so puerile and unfunnily smug, I kept my distance from 2001's The Royal Tenenbaums in spite of its good press (mostly because the good-press-givers also tended to praise Rushmore as if it were something more than an adolescent boy's view of the world pretending to be worldly wisdom). Now you know another one of my deep dark cinematic secrets. Ooo.

Work all night on a drink of rum
Bill Murray gives us Steve Zissou, captain of the Belafonte, a stoned, surreal version of Jacques Cousteau, barely competent and stuck in the past, with antiquated equipment and an antiquated outlook on reality. His documentaries—low on production values but high on chutzpah—are failing to win the acclaim he once garnered, particularly when the documentary reporting on the mysterious death of his longtime partner Esteban (eaten by a giant spotted shark) is dismissed as possibly fake (eaten by a giant spotted shark?).

Zissou is a man too crazy or jaded to be afraid when a fishy situation turns hairy. He occasionally sees the world above water in the same multicolour, glow-in-the-dark haze the underwater world has, which has not done his marriage any good. That, and his constant attempts at womanising. One such attempt appears to have resulted in a son, as Ned (Owen Wilson) arrives on the Belafonte to meet his long-lost father. Zissou isn't entirely certain he wants to be a father, but he issues Ned the requisite red knit cap and blue speedos and welcomes him to the team. With a precariously low budget and a precariously maintained ship, accompanied by their cynical dolphin recon team, they embark on a mission of revenge. They will find the shark that ate Esteban, and/or die trying. And, Zissou promises, he will not blow up a unique zoological specimen with the huge amount of dynamite he will be taking along, no, not at all.

Beautiful bunch of ripe banana
There's not a bad performance in this eccentric bunch, including that from the frequently topless script girl played by Robyn Cohen (Owen Wilson is topless a bit too often, and it's not quite as bizarrely funny). Willem Dafoe's pom-pommed second-in-command Klaus reaches excruciating heights of insecurity. Anjelica Huston as Zissou's brainy wife Eleanor is severe and beautiful, but you suspect there's more than a little insanity packed away under the ivory-covered exterior. Seu Jorge spends his time on watch covering David Bowie songs in Portuguese and not paying particular attention to imminent dangers. Which is a bit better than Ned, who spends his time on watch in bed. Cate Blanchett is the spunky lady reporter covering the voyage, who may or may not be out to discredit Zissou and expose him as a delusional fraud, or at least as washed up. The Belafonte itself, sometimes seen in cutaway as the action flows from cabin to cabin belowdecks, expresses its disapproval over the entire ordeal by slowly falling apart. In contrast, Zissou's sleek, high-tech rival, Hennessey (Jeff Goldblum), runs a tight ship, impeccably decorated with tight-bodied blond crewmen. The voyage, or, rather, the confusion, is well underway.

Day, me say day, me say day, me say day . . . You get the picture
A keyboard in the rickety shipboard laboratory reminded me of the incongruous detail of the watermelon in a vise in the laboratory in the film Buckaroo Banzai (1984). Although the mood of this movie is different—more mature, if you will—they share the same oddball, mock-serious, the world is not what it seems sensibility that John Lithgow in particular brought to the older film (which, incidentally, also featured Jeff Goldblum). Whereas Buckaroo Banzai often pointed right at its weirdness, Life Aquatic simply sets the world spinning in the background.

To See or Not To See
To give too many more details would be to spoil the unrolling of this strange episode in a strange man's strange life. In short: Highly recommended. My companion for the film wanted to turn right back around and see it a second time, to catch all the odd details and spend another two hours in Zissou's mind. The funniest, saddest movie I've seen in a long time.

Product placement included Campari on the rocks and RC Cola, but Zissou might have been hallucinating that one. Visit the website, where you can join the fan club and keep things surreal.

Sitting through the credits so you don't have to: It's hard to say where this film actually ends. Not until the last reel plays out the final frame, I would say. The credits eventually spin into a Buckaroo Banzai-style march and another guitar performance by Seu Jorge. Sit through it and let the entire movie wash over you.

Double feature picture show: See this, have a bottle of Campari, then see the Crocodile Hunter movie. No, really, trust me on this. But be sure to drink the Campari first.

Outside Food should have been Goldfish crackers (the snack that smiles back until you bite their heads off) and Swedish Fish candy and other food appropriate for the munchies, but I had a tummy ache brought on by wasabi cashews. Which may be suitably weird for this film.

Previews included Disney's Chicken Little (Signs meets War of the Worlds meets KFC); John C. Reilly in Dark Water, a soggy-looking translation of a Japanese horror movie by the author of The Ring; and White Noise, a movie promo that scares me senseless in a 30-second commercial in my living room, much less in an entire trailer in a darkened theatre.

Images © 2004 Touchstone Pictures. All Rights Reserved.

The Aviator

Yeah, I said I wasn't reviewing any more movies this year, and your point is?

A Beautiful Mind

The Aviator
Starring: A Cast of Thousands! Howard Hughes by Jacob Davich (as a boy) and Leonardo DiCaprio (as a boy); Kate Hepburn by Cate Blanchett; Ava Gardner by acclaimed actress Kate Beckinsale; Errol Flynn by Jude Law; Jean Harlow by Gwen Stefani; and shadowy Spencer Tracy by Kevin O'Rourke; with quite excellent performances from John C. Reilly as the accountant guy; Matt Ross as the engineer guy; Alec Baldwin as the evil Pan Am guy; Alan Alda as the eviller senator guy; Brent Spiner as that airplane guy; Willem Dafoe as that reporter guy; and Bilbo Baggins as the professor guy. Also featuring at least two black people not portraying waiters, porters, or club entertainers, and blame Amy Sloan as the mother. Aparently Jane Lynch played Amelia Earhart, but I didn't see her. Maybe her scenes were, you know, lost.
Directed by: Martin Scorsese
Written by: John Logan
Score by: Howard Shore, who more or less develops the theme this time
MPAA says: Rated PG-13, possibly for Kate Hepburn's bare back, or just because those Hollywood types are so, you know, wanton.
Running time: 169 minutes
Release date: December, 2004
Seen at: National Amusements City Center 15 (see previous comments). The concessions staff appeared to be stoned, but, seeing as it's New Year's Eve, I won't hold it against them. Except, of course, to make fun of them.

Midnight Plane to Hollywood
No Lord of the Rings movie this year, so midnight was spent at The Aviator.

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The writer of The Aviator has diagnosed his Hughes with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, sticking him in terrible loops of repeating the same phrase over and over, setting him into face-twisting tailspins of panic over different types of food touching on the plate. A dirty doorknob becomes an insurmountable obstacle. Even water for washing may be full of germs and disease. Paranoia makes social interaction almost impossible, particularly when Hughes cannot clearly hear what the people around him are saying. The expected irony: This compulsive attention to every minute detail may have fueled his genius as well.

Don't Trust Anyone Over . . . Never Mind
Thirty-year-old Leonardo DiCaprio screws up his face and pretends to look older than fourteen as he takes Hughes from young film director to famous aviator to infamous playboy. Don't get me wrong: DiCaprio is a phenomenal actor. I'm thinking of adding a page with photos of my personal acting pantheon just to acknowledge him and Johnny Depp and Cate Blanchett and Don Cheadle and a few others at the very top of their craft here in the first decade of the century. DiCaprio's Hughes is sympathetic and despicable at the same time; fascinating and repulsive; hopeful and hopeless. Leonardo DiCaprio is one of a few actors who might yet get me to see an epic-film version of the life Alexander the Great, in spite of my heartbreak over not growing up to produce an epic-film version of the life of Alexander the Great. Oh dear, pardon me, I have to go cry in a corner for a while. Okay, I'm back now.

Am I Blue?
I don't know whether this was meant as a cinematic effect or was just this theatre's print, but there was no green throughout the 1920s—blue golfcourse grass and cobalt peas. Howard Hughes meets Katharine Hepburn, and the late '30s and '40s explode into Technicolor as he temporarily thrives in her presence. Cate Blanchett does a convincing Hepburn, moreso when, in the interior scenes in Hughes' mansion, she is lit and filmed in a manner reminiscent of Hepburn's films of the era. Blanchett sustains the illusion all the way through. She may not exactly be the Kate, but she is this Kate. A large contribution to why the audience can like Howard is because Kate likes him. Howard the maverick aviator and maverick film producer is interesting in a distant way. Howard the troubled individual human is much more engaging, and once we see him as Kate sees him, he becomes important to us, too.

Other star turns as stars are not in the film long enough to make a huge impression. Stanley DeSantis is easily recognisable as the easily recognisable Louis B. Mayer, legendary head of MGM Studios (and a legendary Canadian! did you know that? I think I didn't know that). Jude Law gets only a cameo as Errol Flynn, but who better at the moment to portray him? Kevin O'Rourke mostly sticks to the shadows as an unconvincing Spencer Tracy, and acclaimed actress Kate Beckinsale is convincingly 1940s as Ava Gardner, an actress who in spite of her starlet status I've never found particularly identifiable. Gardner, I mean, not Beckinsale. All right, Beckinsale too.

Sir Ian Holm plays the significantly less famous Professor Fitz with scene-stealing aplomb, and John C. Reilly as Hughes' devoted accountant deserves the sort of high praise "character actors" don't get nearly enough of.

Lift and Separate
After designing a push-up bra for Jane Russell's famous cleavage, Hughes goes on to design sleek, fast, high-flying aircraft, and demand eccentrically forward-thinking designs from his engineers, as well as simply eccentric designs. At the same time he was becoming increasingly reclusive and apart from the world, and the movie portrays this in fits and starts that sputter along as his own life must have felt to him. In the end, any hope of and thrill from his triumphs turn simply into a lingering sadness. The successes are tinted by his illness, and there will be no happy ending.

In case you were wondering, the opening and several flashbacks along the way remind us: It's always the mother's fault. Gee, that was simple. Thanks for the psychological simplification, movie.

Lint Picking
There are far too many sloppy shot-to-shot continuity glitches for a production this slick. These are little things the editor and continuity personnel should be thwapped on the back of the hand for, along the lines of: Her spoon is raised; cut to next shot, and she raises her spoon again. Her head is turned; cut to next shot, she is just now turning her head. He is smiling; next shot from a different angle, he is not smiling. Such little details are jolting in a movie about how tiny details can be jolting. This might have been an interesting effect if intended as a way to show Hughes' overconnectedness with the minutiae around him, but it certainly does not come across that way. Other than highlighting the little bit of OCD in me, it distracts the viewer from the illusion of the film's reality.

To See or Not to See: Nitpicking aside, this is Recommended. At a running length approaching three hours (we went to the 10:10pm show and left the theatre around 1:15am), it's good value for the ticket price—Outside Food Critic is exceedingly happy films are trending back toward longer playing times now. It's a biopic, so it isn't forced into some sort of standard story arc, and the audience has to take Hughes' life as it happened (or, as it happened in Scorsese and scriptwriter John Logan's movie-land). It is so well-acted and steadily paced, the time flies by. As a legacy for Hughes, I'm glad Scorsese and DiCaprio have supplanted the image of that weird old longhaired recluse with this complicated young man.

Sitting through the credits so you don't have to: Stay and listen to the 1940 recording of a song about Howard and Kate.

Previews:

Hitch. Another take on the Mystical Black Man stars "date doctor" Will Smith, who Queer-Eyes a mensch trying to win the heart (or whatever) of a skinny blonde chick. Now the date doctor is in lurv himself, and hilarity ensues. Opens February 2005, so, whatever.

The Interpreter. Nicole Kidman, Sean Penn, and half the plot points of this thriller about an overheard UN assassination plot are set up in the trailer. No doubt well acted, but not a trailer that inspires me to give up $10. Spicoli looks old, dude. Like, a grown up.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. A minimalist trailer, but don't panic—you probably already know whether or not you're running out on opening weekend to see what's been done to this. I will miss David Dixon and the Ford Prefect outfits My Friend Alice and I so painstakingly recreated from the 1980s miniseries version. Come to think of it, I've never dressed quite normally after that.

The New World. Virginia, 1607. Colin Farrell. I'm sure I saw Wes Studi, but if I did, why isn't he credited in the trailer, hmm? Much like The Aviator, it makes me sad, because we know where this story is ultimately going.

Hostage. That guy who was in that Law & Order episode, you know, the one where the guy from Just Shoot Me has a gay son and there's a trial at the end? That guy. Holding people hostage. Bruce Willis headlines as a small-town maverick-cop Die Hard blah blah. Home Alone with ducts.

Outside Food: A bottle of the bubbly, of course! But I forgot the corkscrew, so all I could do was stare at it longingly while gnawing on my inside-food pizza slice.

Images © 2004 Miramax Films.

P.S.: A Word from Pinocchio
I only reached about half the target of fifty reviews in a year that would have made me a for-real critic in some eyes. If anyone has connections and can help your humble Outside Food Critic score some free movie tickets in 2005 for theatres in and around Manhattan, please let me know.

Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events

Curiously Sour

Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
Starring: Jim Carrey (boo! hiss!), Billy Connolly, Meryl Streep, Timothy Spall, various persons of indeterminate gender, and Jude Law, now officially in every movie, ever. And the extremely unfortunate Emily Browning, Liam Aiken, and Kara & Shelby Hoffman.
Directed by: Brad Silberling
Written by: Robert Gordon, based on the books by the author currently known as Lemony Snicket
MPAA says: Rated PG, because heaven forbid kids ever face anything scary or disturbing.
Running time: 108 minutes
Release date: December 17, 2004
Seen at: Loews Cineplex Lincoln Square

In short: The best possible role for Jim Carrey, an actor I don't like at all, so therefore I loved him as the detestable villain in this. A world spun of bits and pieces of Victoriana, and Addams-family scraps and snippets, and Twentieth-century odds and ends in Brazil-like "world of the future as seen from 1948" fashion, it's like stepping into a watercolour-tinted Gorey painting while holding hands with Tim Burton. Good work from actors old and young and infant, even if overall the movie is not nearly as deliciously dark as one might hope.

I might feel moved to write up a few more comments. We shall see.

Outside Food: Lemony scones, curiously strong Lemony Altoid Sours, Lemony Ade, and a big bag of popcorn.

Hotel Rwanda

Ever Again

Review to come when I recover from New Year's Eve. In short: Don Cheadle should win a Best Actor Oscar (trademark yadda yadda), even though, of course, he won't.

Earthsea (SciFi Channel)

I wasn't going to say anything. I was going to pretend it didn't exist.

Shipwrecked in Earthsea

The Legend of Earthsea (SciFi Channel original miniseries)
Starring: Shawn Ashmore, Isabella Rossellini, Kristin Kreuk, Danny Glover, Isabella Rossellini (again, because I love her name—say it with me, "Isabella Rossellini"), Denmark, Norway, and the Swedish Bikini Team.
Directed by: Robert Lieberman
Written by: Gavin Scott, based on a passing knowledge of the books by Ursula K. LeGuin.
MPAA says: Don't look at us, this was made for TV
Running time: Not sure it ever ends
Release date: December, 2004
Seen at: Home, with the remote within reach.
]]> Whitewashing the world

I wasn't going to say anything—being the Critic Formerly Known as Outside Food Critic, and all that. But last night I was speaking with a nice-lookin' guy at a book reading at KGB bar. At a wild, completely uninformed guess, I'd say there's a chance the very fair-complexioned nice-lookin' guy is originally from India. (This is somewhat relevant to the topic at hand, even though I always dislike it when people look at me and say "Are you from India? Of course you're from India. You don't know it, but your family came from India." Uhm, no.) His take on The Legend of Earthsea, the miniseries that aired this week on the SciFi Channel, was, coming from the perspective of his own job in marketing, you can't have a darkskinned hero on a cable channel movie, because you'll lose 90% of your caucasian viewers, and there goes your advertising. Most of the characters in the novels are non-caucasian, but from his industry perspective, it's not a matter of "colorblind casting." It's a matter of your target audience, those non-readers, the television viewership—or, that viewership as perceived through the minds of television producers and their marketing department.

I countered that, in science fiction and fantasy, for which viewers look to the SciFi channel to be the television flagship, your audience must be accustomed to everything from aliens to dragons as sympathetic heroes. And if they're incapable of empathising with a fellow human, how can they comprehend the genre at all? He argued that advertising and marketing precepts teach him that people will only empathise with people who are very similar to themselves, like with like. Then (I countered), I suppose Outside Food Critic is meant to empathise with nothing at all, what with being an alien hybrid mix and all. He did not invite me to accompany him to his post-reading stop at the ramen place down the street.

Ursula K. LeGuin, author of the Earthsea books and many other novels (including one I groused about in the entry Read the Book), counters with this column in Slate. An excerpt: "I think it is possible that some readers never even notice what color the people in the story are. Don't notice, don't care. Whites of course have the privilege of not caring, of being 'colorblind.' Nobody else does."

Aside from the casting, how was the miniseries?

A shipwreck.

Read the book.

Next week: I subject readers to 800 years of my wild and wacky family tree. Or maybe not.

No News is No News (in Neverland)

No new reviews, as you will have noticed. Outside Food Critic's life now consists of "commute, work, commute, sleep" during the week and "sleep, sleep, run a few errands with meagre pennies, sleep" on the weekends. Plus there was that whole Alexander debacle, which has not improved Outside Food Critic's outlook. Outside Food Critic might be able to retire in about 35 or 40 years, whereupon there might be more reviews, so be sure to check back in.

One Last Gasp

Outside Food Critic did manage to see Finding Neverland in previews, ages ago, which was small and quiet and once again shows that Johnny Depp can do just about anything. Essential viewing for adults who love Peter Pan, but a little slow for young kids.

Then I saw that Japanese horror-movie remake with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and things jumped out of dark places, and water slopped about, and nasty murders occurred, and this passes for scary.

And that's about it for the next few decades.

Read the Book

I've got the book on my head; so now what?

"You must lurk in libraries
and climb the stacks like ladders
to sniff books like perfumes
and wear books like hats
upon your crazy heads"
—Ray Bradbury

September's reading

I can guess what you're thinking: You spent a fortune on books in September, you could have spent that on movies! Not having a fortune—in fact, having no money at all except for travel expenses and a gas-station card—I put off food in favour of discount stores and remainder bins and poking through libraries. Besides, it was hard to find time for the cinema during August and September's long road trips with hotel stays on endless highways. Since parking myself and the misbehaving car at our destination, I've had little opportunity and less energy to make it to the movies. The long dismal commute to my cold dark warren at the office will drive me to destruction if I don't hide in a book.

Escapism is not merely a way to pass the time, it's a necessity for self preservation. If you don't like being where you are, be somewhere else. My preferred place to be is at the movies. When that's not available, I Read the Book.

There was a time I would struggle through to the end of even a mediocre novel, just to see how it all turns out. I'm already slogging through a mediocre reality with a painfully obvious plot. The books I read had better be better than that uncopyedited mess. So, my tolerance for bad books has become much lower than my tolerance for bad films, which, after all, I sit through (or have sat through in the past and will sit through in future) on your behalf, dear hungry reader.

Some capsule comments, as a record of the movie-less month...

]]> Goddess of Yesterday (2002)
by Caroline B. Cooney
A superlative departure into ancient Greece and Troy by an award-winning novelist of contemporary teen fiction. I can't recommend it highly enough. It's all I'd want my own historical young-adult writing to be. I missed my stop on the train, reading this one.

Tamsin (1999)
by Peter S. Beagle
Clever expression of the behaviour of cats is one appealing aspect of this YA ghost story. Also appealing is that it's nice and long, involves a spooky ramshackle house, and never slows down.

Perilous Gard (Newbery Honor winner, 1975)
by Elizabeth Marie Pope
illustrated by Richard Cuffari
I remember loving the illustrator of this novel when I was a kid, so the book had me halfway won over from the start. A look at the tale of Tam Lin from the perspective of an Elizabethan girl, and satisfying all the way through for its history, its mystery, and its romance. I read this one right after the less satisfying but also award-winning:

Shabanu, Daughter of the Wind (Newbery Honor winner, 1990)
by Suzanne Fisher Staples
A catalogue of cultural scenes involving a spirited young girl in a semi-nomadic family in Pakistan. A perfectly adequate, bittersweet story, and certainly eye-opening for many young readers, but its matter-of-fact pacing wouldn't have transported the young me into the story as Perilous Gard would, and did.

The Thief Lord (2002)
by Cornelia Funke
translated by Oliver Latsch
Overrated novel with a cheat at the end, but pretty spot illustrations by the author. Runaway children fend for themselves in the alleyways and canals of Venice; strangers are mysterious; and a sudden genre shift will leave some readers lost and others irritated.

Inkheart (2003)
by Cornelia Funke
translated by Anthea Bell
Recommended. A book lover's book, right to the beautiful hardcover book design. Don't let the size daunt you, no matter your age. It's shorter than some Harry Potters. Not for those who are squeamish about the fates of little animals, but neither is it gratuitous in its depictions of the cruel villains that authors unleash.

The Subtle Knife (book 2 of His Dark Materials trilogy) (1997)
by Philip Pullman
Here's a series that's been getting a lot of attention. I read the first book, impressed by the author's utterly thorough knowledge of his own world, and found myself fighting through to the end out of sheer loyalty to the beginning of the book. I listened to book two in unabridged audio, a full cast and an excellent production. The voice talent and author's narration kept me engaged through an increasingly labyrinthine plot. This story left more than this reader obsessed, and not in a good way, about an unaccounted-for cat.

The Homeward Bounders (2002)
by Diana Wynne Jones
I continue to keep Diana Wynne Jones on a far higher pedestal than J. K. Rowling, even though she can be uneven from story to story. This one is a thrilling, twisty plot—alternate realities and the games higher powers (whether alien-mystical or parental) play with our lives. Even though the ending left me perplexed, I can't get the vivid images out of my mind.

The Spiderwick Chronicles 1-5 (2003-2004)
by Tony DiTerlizzi and Holly Black
These books have become quite the phenomenon. I attended a bookstore party to celebrate one million copies sold, where I had extraordinarily yummy sheet cake. These are lovely little books that give younger (but too old for picturebooks) readers something to cherish, with pen-and-ink illustrations; but essentially it's one story split into five parts at US$9.95 apiece, which could be difficult for some parents. Good gifts, though.

Beyond the Deepwoods: Edge Chronicles 1 (2004)
by Paul Stewart
illustrated by Chris Riddell
Spiderwick after it's bulked up at the gym. Broad humour gets in the way of the picaresque plot about trolls and sky pirates and carnivorous trees, but complaining about that is like complaining about how distractingly detailed the line illustrations are. Readers looking for episodic, messy adventure will enjoy it, even if I found it hard going.

Gifts
by Ursula K. LeGuin
A mostly-masterpiece from a master-author. I found this slow to get into, then was thoroughly consumed by the culture LeGuin develops and the constraints binding a blind boy coming to terms with the magic around him. Those of you who dislike even indirect spoilers, stop here. Those of you who are curious: The ending left me sorely disappointed with the protagonists I had come to like so much. Instead of striving to find a solution that allows both personal happiness and the fulfillment of the obligation on which their people depend, the protagonists toss their responsibilities onto the backs of others who may not be able or willing to assume them. It's too bad, really.

Bindi Babes (2004)
by Narinder Dhami
Lightweight young Young Adult about a trio of Indian sisters in England. All the usual family/cultural stuff, plus a standard YA plot/subplot. Good for readers unfamiliar with the culture, but if the kids have seen Bend It Like Beckham (the novelisation of which Narinder Dhami also penned) they'll wish for a little more substance and variety. (If I'd been this book, I'd have put it, "they'll wish for a little more filling in this samosa." It's that sort of book.)

Ella Enchanted (Newbery Award winner, 1998)
by Gail Carson Levine
This perceptive and subtle novel is nothing at all like the recent movie that prominently featured Anne Hathaway's wench-outfit talents. It acknowledges that love is something that can take work to grow, not always something that switches on when the comely girl espies Mr. Right. Well deserving of its Newbery Medal. As nice as it was to see Cary Elwes reverse his Princess Bride role and play the opposite side of the coin, this story would have made a fine movie too. I hope some day it will.

Fleshmarket (2004)
by Nicola Morgan
Fascinating setting—the early 19th-century London of unscrupulous anatomists acquiring cadavers by whatever means convenient—but told through frantically uneven, repetitious writing. The manuscript needed a more dedicated editorial hand. That isn't style; it's sloppy.

I did get around to a few books that are not from the Young Adult market:

One for the Money (A Stephanie Plum Novel) (1994)
by Janet Evanovich
My mystery-reading friends love Evanovich's series about an unemployed young woman who turns to bounty hunting in spite of being utterly unprepared for a life of grit and bad hair care. I found the first novel (which is not so much mystery as crime/action) not at all my cuppa.

Skinny Dip (2004)
by Carl Hiaasen
Skinny Dip is maddeningly the same as the other Hiaasen novels I've read. I enjoy his style but I fear that once you've read one, you've read them all, with the usual riffs on the environment, politics, wealth, and greed. The plot involves revenge-seeking by a woman whose husband tosses her off a cruise ship and assumes her to be dead. Having spent so much time at the southern tip of Florida myself, contemplating whether or not to toss someone or other into a mangrove swamp, I enjoy reading an author who can apply a sardonic eye to the place; but I think I've heard these jokes before.

Best of the lot:
Hands down, Goddess of Yesterday. I immediately searched bookshop shelves for something else by this author, but this appears to be her only novel of this kind. I'm sure her contemporary novels and YA romances are well written, but I'd heartily encourage her to dip back into long-ago cultures. A talent this deft at bringing old stones to life should do so at every opportunity... my commuting survival depends on it.

On the roster for October:
There are books I rush through breathlessly; those which are a chore to finish; and those which must be saved, subdivided into smaller and smaller bits to postpone the inevitability of finishing and having no more of it left. This can get in the way of wearing books on one's head.

Unexpected Magic: Collected Stories (2004)
by Diana Wynne Jones
These short stories (plus one novella) are turning out to be more A than YA. So far, they have ranged from bland to piercingly unforgettable. I should be finished by tomorrow and seeking more.

The Game of Sunken Places (2004)
by M. T. Anderson
The author's relentless self-conscious humour might push me out of the book entirely. Each page is a bit of genuine fun with a thick frosting of "aren't I clever" in which the story and characters get lost.

The Sun, the Rain, and the Appleseed (2004)
by Lynda Durrant
A story of Johnny Appleseed from a favourite author. I've started this and then set it aside. I'm saving it up. Like an apple-cinnamon dessert.

The Story of Mankind (Newbery Award winner, 1922)
by Hendrik Willem van Loon
This was the first Newbery Award winner, and it's nonfiction. Technically. I'm reading it mostly to prove the point that one can start reading the Newbery books at the beginning and survive to the current year's book. The archaeological conclusions and social history in The Story of Mankind are far outdated, the tone sounding more nineteenth-century than twentieth, but the book gives quite a lot of insight into the assumptions and naivete of van Loon's day and a warning to presumptuous historians of the twenty-first century. Of course the pinnacle of civilisation is "our" own—and all his readers, the author assumes as he addresses them directly, are descendents of Christian Europeans. Female contribution to history is nearly nonexistent, of course, at least so far. I've just about reached the Reformation, and see long tracts covering World War I up ahead. Most of the time I'm reading this, half my mind wanders off contemplating re-covering the book jacket in a tidy protective sleeve, and next thing I know, a century has passed.

I'll have to take a break to read the trendy Devil in the White City by Erik Larson for the local reading klatsch. As you can see, I sometimes have several books rolling at once. In October, I hope also to insert a few movies.