Showing posts with label geekery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label geekery. Show all posts

01 January 2010

2009 in Review

Online, there was less blogging but more other stuff. Out in the real world, things were kind of mixed this year. We escaped from Crazy Neighbor Land, which was obviously very necessary but entirely bittersweet. Job frustration has started creeping from my peripheral vision into the center of things, but I have no idea what to do with that turn of events. Anyway, perhaps as a coping strategy, I’m going to continue my new tradition of recapping the year in list form, since I like how that turned out last year.

Miles bicycled: 840.85

Minutes of tennis played: 11,370 (that’s 189.5 hours!)

Movies seen in the theater:
Watchmen
X-Men Origins: Wolverine
Star Trek
Terminator Salvation
District 9

New country seen:
Scotland, aye!

Hopes for 2009 that came true:
The house sold
Gilbert Arenas is playing basketball
Halo 3 kill/death ratio isn’t too bad

Hopes for 2010:
Health for people I care about
A clearer view of what happens next for me job-wise
Achieving a 3.5 NTRP rating

Something we all still need:
World peace!

Happy new year to everyone.

20 May 2009

Review: Star Trek

Battle stations, everybody! Since I saw Star Trek on Sunday I’ve been thinking about how I might go about reviewing it. It’s not easy to sift through everything I think about it, and moreover there’s already a huge amount of discussion about the movie on the net, so it’s hard to be original. Hence I’m going to approach this as a meta-review.

First, as a longtime and fairly dedicated ST fan, it’s expected that I wouldn’t like the movie. And indeed I didn’t like it. Although while I was actually sitting in the theater, dazzled by all its prettiness and enjoying the often humorous dialogue and all the biiig explosions and the rest of the usual summer movie jazz, I did have a good time.

Then the lights came up, and the thinking started. Bad move. This is definitely not a movie to think about, under any circumstances. Don’t try to sift through any of the completely incoherent plot. Don’t try to figure out how the characters are motivated to do what they do. Don’t expect consistency from recurring plot devices. None of it will do anything for you but turn you into what is apparently the worst possible thing: the Cranky Fan.

One thing that keeps cropping up in online discussions of this movie is a neverending scorn for people who are Trek fans. Yeah, a few loonies out there actually dress as Klingons or commit other Trek-related weirdness. But never mind them, they’re a tiny cohort and outliers on the chart. Meanwhile, us sane people who have enjoyed a lot of Trekness over the last few decades, are we really to be ridiculed for thinking this movie sucked? If you’ve got a counterargument that it didn’t suck, then please lay it out. Forget the ad hominem crap and come up with some substantive reasons why it’s good. (Please try to move beyond the following: miniskirts, explosions, lensflare.)

Another thing I’m hearing is the idea that Trek fans can’t complain about the nonsensical supernova behavior or the other head-scratching plot elements in the movie because we’re willing to buy into impossibilities like faster-than-light travel or antimatter explosions or whatever. Hey folks, I don’t have a problem with science fiction. I do have a problem when a movie plot can’t scrape together the tiniest bit of internal consistency, or make any damn sense. Who cares if the concept of warp travel is crappy science? If a person or thing acts one way in one situation, and a different way when the plot requires it, that’s crappy storytelling. All stories deserve to be told well, whether it’s Trek or L.A. Confidential or Shakespeare. This one is told incredibly poorly.

Eh. I sound defensive through this whole post, but I don’t think I should have to defend myself. I’m bummed that this newest Trek incarnation is so lousy, and I don’t have to apologize for that. (Be glad I never even tried to watch Enterprise, heh! That looked like all kinds of suck.) In the meantime, maybe I’ll see the Wolverine movie again, that turned out to be better than this one. And maybe with the scads of money this movie will make, they’ll be able to make a better film next time.

13 May 2009

Hot news in several flavors

It hardly seems possible, but there’s been too much going on recently and it’s been keeping me from updating the blog. So here is a summary:

New wheels: Finally, after many, many false starts (going back a ways!) we bought a new car last weekend. The hard part is over now—the price research, figuring out which dealer might be less sleazy than the others, the horror of haggling, the feeling that, despite everyone saying that this is the bestest time to get a fab deal on a car, we paid too much. Now all that’s left is to pick it up later this week (after checking to make sure the VIN is correct and all that paranoid jazz). Once the new toy gets driven home, I’ll post a pic and give more details. Woo, first car bought in twelve years, how crazy is that!

New TV: It seems silly to have a whole paragraph about this, but it’s pretty momentous in Casa Snorklewacker to upgrade the TV. After all, it was only back in 2000 that I replaced the 13-inch TV with a very modest—nay, un-American—20-inch one. Now we’ve got a 32-inch HD display with all the widescreen goodness. And, I must say, Halo 3 looks goddamn good on it. Standard-def cable, not so much. Guess I gotta upgrade that too, hmph.

There is no “I” in team: Last Tuesday, I overheard the pro who runs my tennis clinic telling someone about the local women’s USTA team. It’s something I’ve been curious about, so I wandered over and inserted myself into the conversation. Turns out that the last day of tryouts was the next day, so I figured that I was too late to get in on it. But the pro called the guy who runs the team and basically browbeat him into letting me come in and do some hitting. Mostly this consisted of the pro telling me to just show up, never mind that the coach was saying that there were no slots, etc. So on Wednesday I did just show up, and they did let me hit. The good news: they let me on the team! The bad news: despite how that sounds, it’s pretty much noncompetitive to get on the team, and it doesn’t at all mean that they send you to actual matches. There are far more people on the team than they need, so at a minimum it just means you can come to practices and get a little coaching and drilling. Well, I’m happy with that. What’s kind of schmacky is that after five minutes of hitting the ball around, the coach put me into the 3.0 level, which I doubt I am. I went to the first practice last night and out-hit a lot of the supposed 3.0s—heck, there is one girl there who can’t consistently hit the ball with her racket, which seems pretty crazy to me. Surely I am at a higher NTRP ranking than her?? But anyway. The important thing is that my foot’s in the door, something which wasn’t even on my radar a week ago. And maybe I’ll meet some people. Everybody seems nice, and I did get some good coaching advice last night. And after playing tennis last night for three-odd hours (there was the usual clinic, too!) I can proudly say that I am still able to climb stairs today. I wasn’t sure whether that would be the case!

So there’s the update for now. Hopefully more updates more often from here. I also need to see the Star Trek movie, surely that’ll inspire a post. Stay tuned.

02 January 2009

Batting practice

Well, during this long week off (not long enough, actually!), there’s been just a little bit of time spent playing Halo 3 online. Just a little bit. I figured out how to take screenshots, so here are a couple. You can either shake your head and wonder what the heck this silliness is all about, or if you’re kaskasero you can feel incredibly jealous!

In the first one, I am actually missing the target of my gravity hammer strike, but the ensuing effect was cool so I took a pic of it.


In the second one, well, this is what happens when you actually make contact. Whammmm!


29 December 2008

Recap 2008

It’s getting down to the wire here in 2008, isn’t it? Somehow a final taking of stock seems appropriate.

Miles bicycled: 915.98

Minutes of tennis played: 6,949

Appallingly short list of movies seen in the theater:
There Will Be Blood
Iron Man
W.
Valkyrie

2009 movies that hopefully won’t suck:
X-Men Origins: Wolverine
Watchmen
Star Trek

Presidential elections pwned: 1

Purchases reflecting my deeply conflicted nature:
New MacBook laptop
Xbox 360

Other things I want to see in 2009:
My house sell
Gilbert Arenas playing basketball
Another Crowded House album
Continued improvement in my Halo 3 multiplayer kill/death ratio

And of course:
World peace.

18 August 2008

Data pwns Klingon

Yeah, I’m a total sucker for TNG. This scene is one of about ten thousand reasons why.

28 July 2008

Some geek talk

I should be hitting the sack, but I gots some free association geekery to drop. First off, must link to this interesting interview with Alan Moore. Weirdest, coolest dude.

Next, wanted to link to the Watchmen trailer. I hope Moore is wrong and that the movie does justice to the book. Hope hope.

Finally, been thinking about getting one of these. For when my Palm finally dies. And to go with the MacBook I’ve been thinking about. (I think there’s a longer post in me about my Computers I Have Loved, so I won’t go into detail about the MacBook plan here.) But someday I think my affair with Palm is going to have to end, since my Tungsten E has lasted far longer and been far more trusty than most people have experienced with theirs. It seems crazy, but what I really need is a personal organizer, not a music player or kewl web surfing device. But why not have all three? Yeah, I sound like Steve Jobs’ bitch, don’t I. It pains me, but to some extent it is true.

On that note, time to put the computer and myself to sleep!

04 June 2008

Bong hits for Comcast

Man, the further I read in this article, the more I could have sworn I was reading the Onion. Rock on, hacker dudes. Aren’t we all tired of Comcast’s shitty service?

25 March 2008

Abandon all hope

I was clearing out old emails at home the other night and came across a good discussion we had on the Elvis Costello mailing list back in 2006. The question was, what books have you abandoned reading? Now, I have at least one good friend of steely resolve who finishes everything she starts, no matter how painful the experience. I, on the other hand, have a lot less resolve—okay, let’s be honest and say hardly any. Unexpectedly, though, my abandoned list is not that long, since I don’t start a lot of books that I’m not sure I’ll be interested in.

The following list is in no particular order.

Tristram Shandy, by Laurence Sterne
This one is not surprising in the least, although it’s mildly surprising that I tried to read it in the first place. I first heard of it in grad school, because it’s the subject of a (very dull) scholarly article written by a proponent of the Russian Formalist school of literary analysis (yeah, that sounds just about as dry as it actually is). The book is actually fairly entertaining, especially given that it was written nearly 250 years ago, but is so meandering and plotless that it finally lost my interest. It might have been easier to get through if I took some kind of recreational mood-altering substances.

Idiot, by Fedor Dostoyevsky
Another bad decision motivated by grad school. I was supposed to read it before my comprehensive master’s exams, but never managed it. A later attempt was also foiled when I quickly lost any interest in any of the characters, and couldn’t find a plot to speak of. I was surprised by my abandonment, though, because the other Dostoyevsky I’d read was actually quite good. If you want to give the Russian classics a go, I would recommend you try Crime and Punishment, which was way, way more engaging. Actually, start with Gogol—that cat had a sense of humor, unlike any of his fellow countrymen.

Gulag Archipelago, by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
The third in my trilogy of grad school-inspired miscalculations. I don’t even remember a single thing about it. Did I get past the first page? I think I did. I would definitely recommend Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich instead, if you feel that you must.

The Bostonians, by Henry James
Whoa, was this one a crashing bore. I don’t think I made it past the first scene where a bunch of tiresome people say dull things in someone’s salon. Considering how much Boston gets your heart pumping, what with the gale-force winds and insane drivers, this book should have a lot more going for it. This was my first and last attempt at Henry James. I will not make a weak Dave Chappelle joke here.

Dune, by Frank Herbert
Admittedly, I pulled this one off my brother’s shelf when I was too young to really have a crack at it, but the first page was all I got through. Heck, even the Bible knows that you put all the dull genealogy a few chapters in so that you give the reader a chance to get interested. For whatever reason, I never went back. Doesn’t stop me from making postmodern, ironic references to the sandworms, so I figure it’s win-win.

Lord of the Rings trilogy, by J.R.R. Tolkien
I put these on the list even though I have actually finished them, simply because it’s remarkable to note that I made two attempts in my youth to get through all three, but got stuck both times at the end of Two Towers. Frodo and Sam get separated in Shelob’s lair, and then for some reason I failed to pick up volume three. For all I knew, Sauron got the ring and nuked everyone’s ass back to the First Age. Then again, I was too young for these, too; for example, it was only during the recent revival of Tolkien and my first adult read of these books that I realized that Strider and Aragorn were the same dude. Rest assured that I’ve now finished these easily, and got all the way through Silmarillion as well. Boo yah!

29 February 2008

Leap day

Well, I gots to post on February 29. By the time the next one rolls around, we’ll probably all be brains in jars with terabit wireless implants for communication and virtual interactions in Fourteenth Life.

In contrast to the futuristic tone of that paragraph, things have been pretty retro this week. This morning I saw the video for Rick Springfield’s “I’ve Done Everything for You,” which is five minutes I’ll never get back (but I just couldn’t look away). And my bro tipped me off to the fact that if you run a little program called DOSBox, you can play Snipes on your Mac or Linux box. Oh man, did I waste a cumulative several months of my life playing that. I’m actually afraid to set it up now—you all might never hear from me again. At least, not until the whole brains-in-jars thing comes to pass.

05 November 2007

Striking writers

So Hollywood’s writers have gone on strike for the first time since 1988. That gives me the perfect excuse to think about what I was doing in 1988 (since this blog is All About Me, of course). That was the spring I was stuck at home before I went (back) to college, when I was slogging through a year of community college. I watched Letterman religiously back then, back when he was the funniest thing on TV. (For the record, though, I hate Chris Elliot.) I had not yet decided to watch Star Trek: TNG, which was probably a good thing because it pretty much sucked until the third season.

Of course, that was an election year, and the inevitable end of Reagan’s presidency was finally on deck. I was still too young to vote, and things didn’t exactly turn out the way I wanted, but at least Bloom County’s National Radical Meadow Party was still holding raucous caucuses. And we all have fond memories of Bentsen’s “You’re no Jack Kennedy” moment.

In the realm of music, I was just getting into Crowded House with the foolish impression that I was finally getting into a band fairly early on in the game. Then I found out about Split Enz, whoops. I think that was also during the brief period when Sting was cool, which lasted up until I went to a show on his “Nothing Like the Sun” tour in August and decided he was kind of lame. That summer was also spent buying all the Genesis albums, which may cause you to wonder whether I should really consider myself an arbiter of cool.

All in all, the spring and summer of 1988 were characterized mostly by lots of sitting around waiting for my life to get its shit together. Er, is there any way I can tie that in with the writers’ strike? Too bad nobody from the Guild is around to help me out.

09 October 2007

Ten quotes

  1. (Magneto) You’re a god among insects—never let anyone tell you different.

  2. (Benjamin Katz) Fire in the hole!!

  3. (The Tick) Eating kittens is just plain wrong! And no one should do it, ever!

  4. (Hudson) Hey, maybe you haven’t been keeping up on current events, but we just got our asses kicked, pal!

  5. (Sarge) Why don’t you put that in a memo titled “Shit I already know”!

  6. (Ricky Roma) What are you gonna do about it? What are you gonna do about it, asshole?

  7. (Kirk) Khan, you bloodsucker!

  8. (Nathan Arizona) I don’t know, they were jammies! With Yodas and shit on ’em!

  9. (Meadow Soprano) Self-involved much?

  10. (David St. Hubbins) There’s a fine line between clever and stupid.

01 October 2007

Bang a gong

Whoa, it’s October. How did that happen?
I’ve been quiet, but not idle. A week ago yesterday we rode our second Hub on Wheels, and this time we made it the full 41 miles—our longest ride ever. Only one minor mishap, despite many, many unskilled cyclists out there on the road with us. It was fun, but three hours of pretty much unwavering, teeth-gritting concentration. Yes, cyclists are masochists.

I’m also happy to report that Sashe has reemerged, yay! And I finally got a book to press; the first one since I took over the manager job two freaking years ago. The next one better not take so long.

In possibly surprising news, Halo 3 came out last week and I haven’t bought a copy yet. True, we technically have an Xbox 360 since we have kaskasero’s on long-term loan, but it’s not actually hooked up yet! And yes, I confess I’m still playing the same game of Morrowind that I started in May of 2006. (!) Don’t worry, Halo 3 will get its day at some point. Of course, it’s hard to imagine anything will recapture those heady early days of Halo. Man, the first time you go through “Guilty Spark,” you wonder if your heart can take it.

The final update is that I’ve had two dreams about seeing U2 in concert in the last week. As usual, my subconscious is failing miserably to convey to me whatever incredibly important message it has to deliver. And last night, I dreamed I was trying to explain permanent hearing loss to some chick on the bus who was blasting T. Rex out of her headphones super, super loud. Can anybody explain what the heck this all means??

17 September 2007

Movie review: Superman Returns

It seems prudent to reveal all my biases first, before I dive into the actual review of this movie. It also might be helpful to explain why it’s taken me over a year to see it, which is very much a related topic. Thanks to X-Men and X2, I am now pretty firmly committed to that particular universe as serving my comic needs. Heck, I didn’t even know I had comic needs until those two movies kicked my ass. (See more of my ramblings on this topic here.) I’m also a little too young to have been impressed by the 1978 Superman movie that jumpstarted the current culture’s interest in the dude; in fact, I’m young enough to find Superman and his world pretty painfully dorky. More on that last point later.

So that takes care of the “I’m not a fan of Superman” portion of this review. But given that Bryan Singer brought me X-Men nirvana, you’d think that would have spurred me into the theater. Aha, not quite. Recall that X3 was originally going to be under Singer’s direction; recall that Singer jumped from the project, voiding his deal with the studio, to direct SR; recall that X3 under hack director Brett Ratner was a major disappointment to me. (Did I ever give you all my lengthy rant about X3? Searching through my blog I think I haven’t. I might have to rectify that sometime.) So I was feeling pretty ill disposed to Singer’s decision, and feeling apathy to the whole Superman idea, ergo there I am not going to see the movie.

That brings us to last Saturday night, when the disc was finally shoved into the player. I was nearly a tabula rasa, although I found myself recognizing Supermanalia in the dark reaches of my memory as I watched: oh yeah, I remember Jimmy Olsen, yep, Daily Planet, right, the Fortress of Solitude. In fact, it turns out that I had a pretty good grasp on what I needed to know in order to enjoy the movie, although not quite enough, perhaps. It turns out that this is a sequel, not a reinvention, and so there is some assumption that the story line continues from the last Superman movie back in the 1980s. (Upon checking the IMDB, by the way, I find that Superman IV is the very definition of Suck, and I wonder if it would be better for humanity to pretend it never existed, rather than tack the current movie onto the end of the chain.)

Enough of this screwing around, you cry, is it a good movie?? Yes and no. Let me take care of the “no” part first. Superman himself is the largest hindrance to movie goodness, in terms of generating what I need from plot and characterization. As my pal kaskasero always says, he’s too goddamn perfect. Strong plots and characters require conflict, and the truth is that Superman doesn’t have a lot of room for it. He has only one flaw, the weakness to kryptonite, and that gets pretty tired when you have to bring it into every confrontation with the bad guys. One of the strengths of the X-Men, and Spider-Man, for that matter, is that they’re inherently flawed or vulnerable (even Xavier, who has to get knocked out of commission almost immediately in every conflict or else nothing gets going), often psychologically, which means there’s a lot you can do if you want to make things difficult—and interesting—for them. With Superman, you kind of feel sorry for Lex Luthor, because that guy is nowhere near an irresistable force trying to push on that immovable object.

This movie does some work to show us a weakened Superman and therefore an actual conflict, but the solution boils down to pulling the kryptonite thorn out of his paw and then he’s back to being, as the Tick is fond of saying, nigh invulnerable. He also doesn’t seem particularly deep psychologically, never really confronting the new developments with Lois and her tyke. Speaking of the Lois Lane family unit, by the way, I was glad to see that James Marsden got a decent amount of screentime, considering that Cyclops’ woeful underuse in X3 is one of the reasons why that movie was so frustrating.

To sum up the negatives, then, Superman is inherently a somewhat flat character that doesn’t end up very compelling, and the movie’s plot was too thin to sustain itself around him. Kevin Spacey did a great job as Luthor, but he didn’t have a lot of room to work with. He was kind of a bad dude, but as far as villains go his world domination plan was thin, and I think the Joker does a better job of projecting true sociopathic malevolence. This all dovetails with my frustration that Superman’s world is too simplistic, too unreal, as if it’s never grown up. Part of that is the annoying PG-13 rating these comic-book movies always try for, but part of it is the fault of the Superman concept.

And here’s where I should remark on the dorkiness I referred to earlier. I’m sorry, but the cartoonish red and blue tights just don’t work on the modern screen, although I recognize that the alternatives are nearly impossible to imagine. (Batman benefits immensely from the forethought of his dark outfit, doesn’t he?) And is it just me, or is it darn difficult to imagine Superman and Lois feeling actual, passionate love for each other? Even though they’re ostensibly adults, they’re still trapped in a world that’s imagined for children. The X-Men have managed to transcend their immature, adolescent beginnings and turned into adults, wrestling with moral ambiguity and imperfection just like us poor slobs in the real world. Maybe it would help if these damn movies would go for the R rating. Of all people, Wolverine deserves to say “fuck” more than a few times. On the other hand, I can almost imagine a plotline in Superman where Luthor tries in vain to force him at kryptonite point to say “fuck.” Supes would certainly find a way around it; he’s so clean he practically squeaks.

But as I said earlier, there are some positives. Even though the movie was very long and often extremely slow moving, I found myself entirely caught up in it. This is where I reaffirm my unconditional love for Bryan Singer and his team’s visual artistry. They do such an amazing job of showing the viewer everything you might want to see, with camera angles and movement that naturally draw you into scenes. This is very much unlike some directors, who cut around so fast that you can’t figure out what the hell you’re looking at, which is disorienting and alienating, and leads you to wonder whether they’re trying to hide something by being deliberately sloppy. (Here I must cast an accusatory eye at Gladiator.) And everything looks so damn good, colors and lighting are rich, and Metropolis has a Deco splendor that makes me want to move there tomorrow.

Singer probably could have done a better job in terms of economy, though; one of the strengths of his X-Men movies was that he was able to give us insight into such a large cast of characters with a minimum of lines and screen time. (Although I will comment that Cyclops got shafted, even in X-Men and X2, but what can he do when Wolverine’s the center of attention?) Here, we didn’t have that many characters, but they’re still fairly flat. Time was spent on things that probably didn’t need it, like Superman’s convalescence at the hospital, and the plot hardly had time to ramp up before it was actually over.

Anyway, I think Singer did an amazing job with a very, very small amount of actual movie. For his next trick, it looks like he’ll be trying to convince me to go see a movie with Tom Cruise in it sometime in 2008. Good luck with that, Bryan.

29 June 2007

Crazy moon language

Like anybody’s, my day is mostly filled with routine and sometimes with outright drudgery, but every once in a while I remember why I slogged through grad school and took this crazy job. Here’s an excerpt from something I’m editing:

That’s part of a text in Glagolitic, an alphabet used in the Slavic-speaking world before the more familiar Cyrillic was used. (They were used contemporaneously, though—the exact chronology is a little fuzzy on which one was invented first. At any rate, we’re talking ninth century AD.) I’ve always thought it was the coolest looking script, all loops and impractical forms that look like they’d take a while to draw. But then again, monks spent their entire lives copying books out by hand, so maybe those curlicues kept them from getting bored.

I can’t read Glagolitic freely by any means—one of my professors in grad school actually could, which makes her pretty much a god in my view. And when I had to retype this particular Glagolitic passage using a Unicode-compliant font, it took a good while before I could get any speed going. Here’s a picture that shows the Cyrillic equivalent, just to give you an idea:
Working with Glagolitic is cool, and it definitely keeps me from getting bored when I get to do it.

27 June 2007

Use your illusion

Just picked up this link to some fascinating illusions off the SDMB. Ah, so this is why it’s so damn difficult to choose colors for book jackets—you can thank the sheer orneriness of the human brain.

P.S. I am hopelessly addicted to the SDMB. I mean hopelessly. I feel so proud of myself today, I held out all the way until 1:30 p.m. before I surfed over there!

26 March 2007

Encounter at tvsquad.com

Thanks to Danielle for pointing me to Wil Wheaton’s reviews of ST:TNG. They’re awesome! Can you believe it’s been almost twenty years? Yikes. And TNG is still the best Trek series, however craptacular that first season was.

20 August 2006

Book review: Just a Geek by Wil Wheaton

This review will address two themes: ST geekery, and a more sober discussion of life and adulthood and all of that self-reflection schmack.

First, some geekery. I must begin with full disclosure: I am a huge Trek fan, and have been since I was 8 or 9 years old (I was always Captain Kirk in the role-playing I did with my friends—yes, even at that tender age I was domineering). In fact, I recently unearthed a calendar from 1984 among my possessions where I had written in which TOS episode aired each day. Now that’s some good blackmail material.

When TNG started up, though, I was going through a phase of Geek Denial and didn’t watch it. Actually, I’m not sure I even knew it was on; 1987–88 was a particularly crappy time in my life. It wasn’t until the fourth season that, under the influence of roommate Marc, I started watching ST again. It’s probably for the best that it happened that way anyway, considering that the first two seasons were fairly awful, and seasons 3 and 4 were excellent. Anyway, let’s just say that I am now and shall always be deeply in love with TNG. I think it’s the best ST series by far. Some obscure cable channel has been re-running them lately, and I find it damn near impossible to keep from watching them every night. (One of the greatest hours of TV ever was on the other night, in fact, when they showed “Family.”)

Despite all the love, though, I thought (and pretty much still think) that Wesley Crusher was the biggest L0ser in the known galaxy and I always thought his character was completely lame. (I shall not weigh in with my opinion of his eventual fate, except to roll my eyes.) Steve and I nicknamed him “The Weasel,” and lo there was much mockery. Things remained in this state for the entire decade of the 1990s and the early years of the 2000s.

Then, a few years ago I discovered Wil Wheaton’s blog. I don’t remember how I found it, or what I expected, but I ended up spending a fair amount of time poking around. I do recall the first realization that struck me: he and I are about the same age. Since I had watched the early TNG episodes only in reruns, I always assumed I was older. We also have both played a hell of a lot of Nethack. Other than that, I noticed his writing style was engaging, and he wrote pretty openly about his family and whatever was going on in his life. He seemed like a real person, rather than some 2D, glossy celebrity. The fact that he had his own presence on the Web, all done himself, was cool. And the site was damn popular—every post had comments numbering in the dozens at least, so clearly the dude was writing something interesting. Then it dawned on me: Wesley Crusher might not be cool, but it was distinctly possible that Wil Wheaton could be cool. They were, like, orthogonal and shit.

So last Christmas I found myself asking for Just a Geek, which he was plugging on his site, and so I got it. Fast forward to last month, when I finally took it off my huge stack of planned reading and cracked the cover.

Suffice to say, I devoured the whole thing in a few sittings. If I had to sum it up, I’d say that it’s a narrative of Wheaton’s struggle to come to terms with his past as Wesley Crusher. Somehow over the course of his time on TNG, he went from successful child actor to starving adult actor, and at the same time he suffered a fair amount of rejection from people at Paramount and the convention circuit as they treated him far worse than the other regular cast of the show, even after the series ended and everyone could be considered former cast members (Wheaton had left partway through season 4).

But the message is larger than that. When Wheaton hits his late 20s and early 30s, life gets pretty nasty and complicated as he has to confront the fact that acting might not ever pay the bills again. I think many people can identify with this arc, since I think for many of us our career path, determined by choices made in college or grad school, will at some point naturally start to reach a lull (or smack into what turns out to be a brick wall). So Wheaton’s struggle to confront this, and his eventual success in overcoming everything that was holding him back, is engaging reading and inspiring to those of us trying to avoid the same traps. Even though this isn’t All About Me, I would also humbly point out that his own blogging and book-writing have provided some of the impetus for me to get off my ass and finally create this blog.

All of this, plus a few hilarious anecdotes about TNG and some warm recollections about his fellow cast members, made this book a very satisfying read. In terms of design, I thought O’Reilly did a good job even though it’s not their usual fare. I especially dug the sans-serif typeface they used for Wheaton’s quoted blog entries. (That was an obligatory warm comment about O’Reilly, should they take an interest in hiring me—hint, hint.) I might not ever give The Weasel the time of day, but Wheaton will definitely get the Fingers of Rock if the opportunity ever comes up.

16 August 2006

Mel Gibson vs. Nightcrawler

Last night I dreamed the following, more or less: I was in a theater watching the newly released X-Men 4. The movie was turning out to be really terrible, although I was glad to see they brought Nightcrawler back from his completely unexplained vacation from X3. Then Mel Gibson showed up, both in the movie—as Nightcrawler’s brother, which seemed as outrageous to my dream self as it does to me as I type this now—and in the theater, sitting one row in front of me. At that point the movie began to reach new depths of suck, mostly because of Mel’s crappy acting. Meanwhile, the Mel in the theater started making an ass of himself, talking and generally being obnoxious. So I stood up, knocked his baseball hat off his head, and basically picked a fight. At this point it became clear that he’d had a few (what can I say, apparently my subconscious reads more supermarket tabloids than I do) and the cops quickly showed up. We were ordered to empty our pockets, and Mel spent about twenty minutes pulling fistfuls of cash and empty Heineken bottles out of various places on his person.


At this point things get kind of sketchy in terms of story line. I know that at one point I told Mel to “shut the fuck up already,” and then one of the cops started to accuse me of being emotionally unstable. Fortunately for all involved, the real-life alarm clock went off and I woke up.

Study questions: (1) Do you think Mel really drinks Heineken? Why or why not? (2) Discuss the pros and cons of Nightcrawler turning out to have a crazy cop for a brother who paints half his face blue (aha!) and goes around pouring glasses of water on extraterrestrials. (3) Essay: Imagine a world in which Mel Gibson would actually be cast in an X-Men movie. Extra credit if you bring up the fact that David Hasselhoff has actually played Marvel character Nick Fury in a cheesy TV movie of his own.

10 August 2006

Book review: V for Vendetta

Was it only a couple of years ago that my bookshelf had a mere one or two comic books among all the holdovers from my Russian literature degree? Now there is at least one foot of shelf space devoted to the things. If I had to characterize turning thirty a few years ago using a single metaphor or meme, it would be that of Humility: realizing that all kinds of things I used to scoff at (flared-leg pants, comic books, fitted t-shirts, Kashi cereal, Green Day) are worthy of respect. I’ve even confessed in the dark of night that there are songs by Steely Dan and Elton John that don’t completely suck. Did I just write that?

So anyway, comic books. Or graphic novels, if you like. Something I always considered to be the domain of lonely teenage boys who were compelled to draw or just gaze at the impossible women that they could never date. (Never mind the fact that stereotypical comic-book women are probably structurally unsound to begin with, and therefore inherently undateable.) So what happened? The aforementioned Humility, I suppose. Well, that and Bryan Singer. Despite all of my mixed feelings about 20th Century Fox and their handling of the X-Men (I’ll save that for another rant, as it’s a lengthy one), I’ll say that Bryan Singer directing the first X-Men movie was a smart, smart decision. And it was a brilliant move to make an X-Men movie that stripped away all the candy-colored comic silliness of the X-Men, much like ST:TNG rose so far above the campy beehive hairdos of the original Star Trek. It meant that I, a self-confessed female, actually could get into the movie and the characters, and come away without feeling too geeky. (Of course, I recognize that using Star Trek metaphors is the apotheosis of geeky and I should just shut up and face the music, but never mind.) Plus, Hugh Jackman is a damn good Wolverine, even if he’s several inches too tall (I leave it to the hardcore fanboyz to give a damn about that kind of crap.) And for the lova Pete, you put Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian in a movie and it more than makes up for the non-acting of Halle Berry! So the X-Men movie made me think, hey, there are decent stories behind all that cheesy spandex and HH chest measurements. And so comic books, and graphic novels, began to trickle into the house.

I should also give credit to Frank Miller’s Sin City, whose artwork and anti-superhero characters showed me that there was more to the genre than good vs. evil and fights on the moon. So he gets a paragraph all his own.

Then Raoul gave Steve Watchmen by Alan Moore. Goddamn. The book threw me into a depression for weeks (nothing like bleak, late-1980s cynicism to make you feel like hanging yourself instead of celebrating the holidays—I recommend reading it in, say, June), but the complexity of the story and the characters earns it the coveted label of literature. Never mind that the thing is done with pictures—excellent, cinematic pictures—if that’s going to cause you to write it off, then your mind is closed, baby.

After that, the small trickle of pebbles became a real rockslide. I started picking up some X-Men trade paperbacks, although I have yet to find a series that doesn’t smack too much of The Silly, or have lousy artwork, or some unholy combination of the two. Then League of Extraordinary Gentlemen invaded the house and kicked all sorts of ass. Let’s all pretend that there was no movie made of that masterpiece. Bone even showed up, my reading of which is the only thing that has prompted strangers to speak to me on the bus (despite my strong vibe of leave-me-the-fuck-alone).

And now at last I’m ready to talk about V for Vendetta, which I just finished last night. As with Watchmen, it’s a thick slice of 1980s-style paranoia, which is all right by me. In my universe, post-nuclear fascist dystopia is always in style. And speaking of style, despite the book being over 20 years old I don’t find too much that’s dated about it, except perhaps the art. The colors are very weak, like a faded page of comics from the newspaper, and lines are not particularly sharp. I don’t know if that’s because it was done on softer paper or not, but it’s striking if you’re used to the sharp color and smooth paper you find in recent trade paperbacks. The art also often feels quite cramped, and you do often find yourself straining to see more detail in an individual panel to figure out what the heck is going on. I don’t know if the art was shrunk from a larger size, or if the claustrophobic panels are supposed to metaphorically reflect the stifling fascism of the society portrayed within, but either way it’s not deal-breaking. (Dig my rationalization, though.)

Regarding substance, I was curious to see how the book differed from the movie, which I saw first. (And by the way, thanks to Vendetta the Wachowski brothers have regained a small measure of respectability, all of which had been lost as soon as the second Matrix movie came out.) There are certainly differences, and in many cases the movie is an improvement. Regarding the book, the character of Eve is problematic, in my opinion. She’s profoundly weak; even after her transfiguration into V’s protégé she doesn’t come across as possessing the brash spirit or intellectual promise that you’d think V was looking for. I’m glad that Natalie Portman’s Eve had more going for her. In the book I found myself wondering why V bothered with her, since it didn’t appear at all certain that she would ultimately have the strength to do what he needed her to do. And one must recall that it was complete chance that she was the one whom V rescues at the beginning of the story—I suppose that’s where suspension of disbelief comes in, to ease the jarring shift of her character’s development.

In the obligatory feminist portion of this review, I must point out that the women come off very badly. There’s the calculating bitch, the spineless wife, and the helpless victim—not a lot to go on in the Fem Pride department. But truthfully, once I change out of my feminist superhero costume and return to my mild-mannered self I see that the men are just as petty, pathetic, and pathological. So I conclude that Moore’s not a misogynist—he’s a full-fledged misanthrope. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

So to sum up, I think if you are going to hold your nose and grudgingly read only one Alan Moore graphic novel, read Watchmen. If you’re more comfortable with your inner geek, or if you have a soft spot for dystopian novels, read Watchmen, but read Vendetta too. Ave atque vale!

By the way: Here’s a good biography of Alan Moore.