Dumbidity

Star in Your Own Vintage '50s Sci-Fi Movie

The last couple of weeks, I've seen increasing numbers of Eastern Lubber Grasshoppers along I-10 between LaPlace and Sorrento in the evenings. They herd up on the shoulder and demonstrate their arrogant intent to cross the deadly lanes filled with onrushing vehicles. I'm not really sure what they expect to attain by crossing - it's nothing but grass and litter, another pair of deadly lanes and more swampy woods on the other side - so they must be driven by some malevolent force.

They are some Ugly suckers, too.

They have a slight advantage over armardillos, opossumii and nutria (and alligators lately) in that the airwash from the carzentrux blows 'em back a few feet and rolls 'em around on the assfault - so they dust off, wogga-wogga-wogga their little buggy heads and try again. Some of them get damaged in this process, but I read they're poisonous so they don't get eaten by much other than maybe fire ants, emetic racoons or suicidal crows, and their little carcasses just sit there.

It is hard to splute them with your front tire, though I managed to gorch quite a few of the massing invaders yesterday evening. I hope I didn't anger their queen - she's the size of an Escalade and spews those buggers out her tailpipe all-day-all-night-Mary-Ann. That's probably why I didn't get pulled over for suspected DWI, sweaving back and forth between targets, because the State Troopers have been captured, and they're all trussed up in her den being tended by her millions of minions.

We'll need a scientific guy with fuzzy white hair and a drop-dead gorgeous daughter to hold a clipboard while lifting her glasses to see how handsome I am as I put her daddy's entomological brilliance into action to defeat the Lubber Queen and save The World.

Note to self - learn how to use a military flamethrower without immolating myself because they're de rigueur at some point in the Defense of Earth against oversized insect invasions.

I'm Glad I Know How to Quit You, Oscar!

This is me, not watching the Oxcars®©™.

There are a lot of reasons why I have no interest in them any more. It used to be fun to critique them afterwards, but they’re so pathetically introverted now that it’s no fun.

I was particularly unimpressed with all the pre-Oxcar®©™ hype on Ang Lee and his oh-so-avant-garde gay cow sheepboy movie, Bareback Mountie.

Fooey. Anglee had it easy. These days anybody can make a movie in any genre with overtly gay characters, and to the extent it causes a fuss, the fuss is free publicity.

Back in the old days, directors had to be real subtle with their closet caballeros and homo Hondos, but nobody gave Sergio Leone an Oxcar®©™ for the gay gunslingers in his spaghetti westerns. Leone hired Clint Eastwood, the most butch actor available, to camouflage the gay-romantic triangle, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly between the tragic Tuco (Eli Wallach) and his two lovers, Angel-Eyes (Lee van Cleef) and Blondie (Eastwood). Those in the know cried as Tuco discovers, too late, that Blondie has killed Angel Eyes out of vengeance and is abandoning him for his infidelity.

Eastwood continued to play repressed gays, notably in the campy musical, Paint Your Wagon, and as the dark, mysterious stranger in High Plains Drifter. How obvious could it be, what with him being so nice to the midget Mordecai and so anxious to play the overt hetero by raping Sarah Belding (the future Mrs. Vernon Wormer).

But Clint’s closeted capers weren’t confined to Westerns. He portrayed a queer WWII lieutenant, demoted to a private after being caught enflagrante dilecto , bent on revenge by bucking the Army and leading the more obviously gay, longhaired tanker Oddball and his fellow merry men to steal German gold in Kelley’s Heroes. His Dirty Harry series pushed the über-macho character to the limit as he sublimated forbidden desires by using his huge .44 magnum as a violent Freudian substitute. And in a few years when Hollywood has further lowered America’s mores, recall that Clint was ever at the forefront of loves-that-dare-not-speak-their-names with Every Which Way But Loose and his disgusting orangutan-love movies.

And what about John Ford? He took on the challenge of using the formidably macho John Wayne as his gaytagonist in dozens of movies. So often the code was a trusted sidekick like Victor McLaglen’s Sgt. Quincannon in She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (the film’s coded acronym is “SWAYR”) or a young upstart – or several young upstarts – as in The Cowboys (the film’s tagline: “The youngest was nine. There wasn't one of them over fifteen. At first, he couldn't stand the sight of them. At last, he couldn't take his eyes away.") Yeccch.

Wayne wasn’t the only one who used a “second-banana” to codify his latent-love in a long string of films – the venerable Roy Rogers and Andy Devine as “Cookie” and “Jingles”. Really, I’ll never go to Arby’s again.

The list goes on and on – Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (which won four Oxcars®©™ for, among other things, Best Music and Best Original Score); The Magnificent Seven (nominated for Best Music), Guadacanal Diary… even The Seven Year Itch – who else but a fairy’s gonna pass a chance with Marilyn Monroe?

No, Anglee is a poser who's merely gleaning low-hanging fruits where others have blazed the trail long before him.

[Crickets, My Left Foot!]

Sad Days in the Hundred Acre Wood

In two successive days last weekend, the entertainment world lost two artists who, while perhaps not known well as traditional actors, were loved by young and old for their voiceover talents in the Winnie the Pooh movies. Paul Winchell, original voice of the irrepressible Tigger, left the Hundred Acre Wood on Friday, and John Fiedler, the only movie voice of Piglet, followed on Saturday. Nevermind they were in their 80's, I can tell you it brought me down a couple notches when I found out.

And since recycling something is easier than creating it anew, here's the review I wrote in March of aught-three when the Piglenator (and Fiedler) got his big-screen moment in the sun...

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Movie Review: Piglet's Big Movie

Piglet's Big Movie - IN WHICH Piglet is missing and sought by his friends.

Piglet has long been my favourite Disney Character. Indeed, Piglet has long been my favourite character from A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh series even before Disney furthered its popularity. I can't really put my finger on why, but I think it has to do with his determination and perseverance combined with his unfailing (if not terribly fierce) loyalty to his 'top-banana,' Pooh Bear.

When my Dear Sweet Wife and I first brought the schmedlets to Disney World, they each decided which WtP character was "theirs" so they could embark upon their quests to find that character, get its 'autograph' and pose for a photo. Knowing full well that these quests would be seriously time-intensive and that, given the overall cost per day and the finite number of minutes during which fun could be maximized (a classic manifestation of Type-A Dad-on-Vacation Syndrome), I selected Piglet. The bonus was that at the time, WDW did not have an active (or very active) Piglet character roaming loose in the park.

The unintended consequences of this was that the schmedlets, having fulfilled their own quests, became increasingly concerned that Piglet had not been found. On the last day in-park, we inquired of an official looking Disney Dude the precise whereabouts and itinerary of said Piglet and learned we might as well be seeking the Grail.

There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth all the way home. Michael Eisner's name was used in vain many times and all the schmedlets repeatedly assured me that it would be OK, that even though we missed Piglet this time, Disney would HAVE to have a Piglet available next time.

Sure enough, in our recent trek to Orlando, Piglet was located deep in the heart of the Animal Kingdom on New Year's Day. Enchanted, we all waited on queue to complete the long-delayed quest. I must say I was a bit moved, and I played it up for all I was worth because, after all, schmedlets don't stay small forever unless you give them a venue or device to be your little kid whenever they want.

Get to the review, schmed!

I suppose I am digressing a bit.

A BIT? A mega-bit maybe.

Fair enough...

In this long-awaited movie, it seems that our hero, Piglet, is callously neglected by his friends. Suddenly (hey, it's only 75 minutes long), they realise Piglet is missing, and, since Owl has identified that an asteroid is hurtling through space right toward the 100 Acre Wood, they have to find him. Piglet begins to have these flashes of understanding astro-physics as well as exhibiting an innate talent for mentally computing target vectors and trajectory intercepts.

He also discovers latent martial arts and weapons skills which come in very handy when the Martians attempt to obstruct his efforts to design and build the rockets, vehicles and special gizmos to deflect the asteroid (in the movie, the deflection targets France, but since we're temporarily in a no-bashing zone, I'll leave that out).

Suddenly (75 minutes, remember?) a sleek, sultry sow tempts Piglet so as to distract him from his urgent task and to help him unlock the deep, dark secrets of his forgotten past. Fortunately for all involved, Piglet is not anatomically correct and therefore does not have the certain hormones necessary to make her evil efforts successful ('ray!).

As you might expect, Piglet IS successful with the help of his many friends who hold off the brutal final (and sudden) assault by the Martians. Eeyore is particularly heroic in the end by falling on a Martian plasma grenade to save his friends, sacrificing his tail. Christopher Robin collects it and pins it back on a very self-conscious Eeyore during a touching ceremony.

The special effects are awesome, with just the right balance of intense explosions to graphic portrayals of the fiercely pitched battle scenes.

REALLY, schmed? How very fanciful.

Well, that's not really how it went...

I called my DSW up yesterday from the office and asked her out on a date to go see Piglet's Big Movie.

Seriously, yes I did.

And to prove that she's almost as crazy as I am, she said she'd be thrilled.

Seriously, yes she was.

The movie is enchanting, if overly simplistical. As a special bonus, they had 78 year-old John Fiedler lend his vocal talents for the 19th (I counted) time since WtP's debut in 1968, to again give Piglet a voice. Don't sell Mr. Fiedler short (no pun intended) - he's got quite an extensive film career - check the link. Jim Cummings did an such outstanding job with Pooh's voice that I almost expected to see (original Pooh vocalist) Sterling Holloway's name in the credits, but sadly, he passed away in 1992 at age 87. Mr. Cummings also did a respectable job on Tigger.

Something to look for if YOU go see it: There's a flashback (there are several) to a bit where Pooh attempts to distract Kanga so that Piglet can be substituted for Roo in a nefarious scheme of Rabbit's. Pooh is very inept at deception, so all he can do is blurt out "Kanga! Is that a fish in that tree?" In the very next scene, look at the upper left part of the screen and see what the Disney Tokyo animators put in a tree.

Carly Simon does the music and it took a bit of getting used to. She reprised "With a Few Good Friends" in a music video during the credits and it's actually not a bad little piece of music. But at her age, and with that giant mouth, jawline and HUGE TEETH, she almost looks like she was done by the CG team. Her doing a jig reminiscent of the "Safety Dance" by Men Without Hats was a little disturbing.

:star :star :star :star
(I'd rate it 5 stars, but it's only 75 minutes long.)

Dave, there were a bunch of LBKs in that theatre. While they fidgeted a bit, not a one of them took a call on their sellphone.

Rebus Memus

A little "bird" told me that Dave's been a busy "bee" lately and will be even busier in the not-so-distant future.

So Justin Case he doesn't get around to building a Rebus this week, I thought I'd try my feeble hand at it:

( as usual, click for a lodger virgin)

And the only hint I'll give you is that it's from a movie popular enough so most everybody's scene it.

When you get the answer, email me and I'll update with those who get it (getting it is defined as the quote, the movie and how each picture makes the words). Commentia is disabled so as not to have the quick solvers sperl it Ferdie Yuthers.

UPDATA - Correct Ansels sofa: CC, TigerGrrl, Dave, Suzette.

Rebuke-by-Proxy: [I shall now channel Dave's spirit]
CC and TIgerGrrl, you unfertilized platypus eggs, you solved schmed's silly simplified Rebus after he blagrantly copied my meme, yet you dishonor me by not solving mine!  You are HAMSTERS! You REEK OF ELDERBERRIES!
[Dave farts in their general direction]

UPSUMOREDATA - tina.

It's a Bunn-derful Life

Y'ever feel the need to watch It's a Wonderful Life because Christmas is coming and it's just the right thing to do?

Me too, but who's got 2 and a quarter hours to watch TV when there's so much to do?

The folks at AngryAlien have a solution: an animated, heavily abridged version with bunnies (they must work cheap).

It only takes 30 seconds and makes Cliff Notes look like Warren Peas.

Next, they should bunnify Ralphie so he can nearly shoot his eye out in less than a minute and save us all even more time.

From the Department of You-Can't-Make-This-Up

This actual situation should be a movie along the lines of that classic sci-fi B-movie Mars Needs Women.

Synopsis - There's a remote village in Mexico near Chihuahua that is infested with an estimated 1.5 million rats. Early efforts to control the rodents with poison have the predictable effect of killing off all the local cats. Mexican authorities argue over different ideas to save all of Mexico from rodential overrun.

Characters:

- A poor-but-handsome young farmer with great leadership potential whose idea to import sterile, feral, urban American cats is ignored by the ignorant elders. He ultimately saves all of Mexico.

- A beautiful, compassionate single woman who becomes the young farmer's love interest. And is also a veterinarian. And gets elected Mayor.

- A cute, smart-aleck, yet Gilligan-like little brother of the beautiful female lead who constantly hangs around the young farmer and just happens to be a pen-pal to a brilliant Mexican scientist. He gets in the way a lot.

- A brilliant Mexican scientist who has been smitten with the female lead and conflicts with the young farmer for her attentions and Mexican Salvation. He touts a plan to lure the rats into a dry lakebed using high-frequency sound waves and a Bluesmobile-like sound truck, then blasting a dammed river to flood the lake and drown the rats. His survival will depend on the post-production focus groups.

- Numerous gratuitous rat-bit-to-death victims.

- A "Rent-a-Mob" from the People who Eat Tiny Animals protesting in favor of leaving the rats alone, many of whom are also included in the preceding category.

- Various Evil Gringos who seek to profit from exporting the otherwise worthless felines.

- A tall, indecisive American President who almost dooms all of North America by seeking international consensus and imposing a tax on cat owners. He is accidentally incapacitated by the First Lady who whacks him in the head with a lamp when a mouse ventures into the First Bedroom.

- Various Mexican Authorities who voice initial objections to the various plans and stages thereof, none of whom solicit or take the many proffered bribes.

Cameos by:
- Sean Penn, whose efforts to understand the rats are derisively ridiculed by the locals.

- Michael Jackson, who attempts to lead the rats away by singing "Ben" but gets et instead.

- Koffi Annan, who fails to get any action out of the United Nations, thereby single-handedly making the most significant international contribution.

Running gag/possible product placemat:
- A group of very small dogs of Mexican ancestry owned by a local hermit who exhibit much false-bravado against the indolent rats even though they outweigh the puppitos about 2 to 1. Should feature the vocal talents of Michael J. Fox, George Lopez, Cheech Marin and Jimmy Carter.

Sequel potential:
- Pregnant rats gnaw their way into the luggage of the family of the French Consulate, travel to France and escape into the sewers of Paris.

Considering the reference to the 1960's sci-fi flik, the title has great potential along scatological lines: "Mexico Needs (I don't really have to type it, do I?)". Michael Moore, eat your heart out.

Disnomama

~Motherless children have a hard time when mother is dead, lord.
Motherless children have a hard time when mother is dead, lord.
They don't have anywhere to go;
Wandering around from door to door.
Nobody treats you like a mother will when your mother is dead, lord.
- Traditional

Not long ago, the schmedlets, some schmedlet associates and I were having a discussion about movies, particularly Disney movies, and we noticed something rather interesting. Collectively, Disney movies involve a whole lotta dead mamas. Frinstance:

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)
Old Walt started out the chute with a dead mama. Even the wicked surrogate mama comes to a very bad end.

Pinocchio (1940)
OK, so he gets created by a maker of marionettes with a deity complex, but Gepetto was not the mama. Sorry, the Good Fairy would be too far to stretch.

Dumbo (1941)
Technically, the mama isn't dead, but she is put on death row, unjustly.

Bambi (1942)
The mama is killed off during the movie!

Cinderella (1950)
Stepmama takes over for dead mama. Cruel Stepmama and callous, cruel Stepsistas.

Treasure Island (1950)
Jim Hawkins, orphaned, raised by pirates. Arrrrr!

Peter Pan (1953)
A whole island of kids without mamas.

Sleeping Beauty (1959)
Dead mama.

Pollyanna (1960)
Orphaned, raised by sour old Aunt.

Sword in the Stone, The (1963)
Dead mama, but once Wart's revealed as sword-puller, you'd think there'd be some acknowledgement of his parentage. Nope.

Three Lives of Thomasina, The (1964)
Dead mama, busy Scots veterinarian dad. And she gets a wiccan stepmama!

Jungle Book, The (1967)
Little Orphan Mowgli. By definition, dead mama.

Disney certainly didn't start this morbid trend - in fact, most of the stories they adapted to film had been around for generations - but there are lots of stories that don't involve dead mamas as key parts of the premise or plot. Disney also isn't alone in exploiting motherless chirren:

Wizard of Oz, The (1939)
No mama or papa - Auntie Em and Uncle Henry have to deal with the juvenile Dorothy and her rebellion against authority.

Bonanza (1959-1973)
Oh, if there were ever a case of dead mama, this would be it. Not only that, Little Joe gets married and guess what? Dead bride. Hop Sing? Don't go there.

Andy Griffith Show, The (1960-1968)
Opie's mama was dead, but they don't make 'em like Aunt Bee any more, do they?

My Three Sons (1960-1972)
Mike, Robbie and Chip - dead mama. Ernie? Dead mama, adopted into motherless family. Bub, and later Uncle Charlie, were more attractive than some women I've known, but neither had much mama in 'em. Barbara was a Stepmama and Dody was... well, a bratty little stepsister. If that show had continued, how much you wanna bet they'da figured out how to bump off Katie?

Beverly Hillbillies, The (1962-1971)
Ellie Mae? Her mama had "gone to her re-ward." No wonder she turned out so butch, but she didn't marry Rosie.

There came a time in my life during which I didn't hang on every theatrical release emanating from the House of Mouse, so the 1970's and '80's may be underrepresented. Once the schmedlets came along, I sort of got re-interested out of necessity, and as I understand it, this coincided with a renaissance of animated features...

Little Mermaid, The (1989)
Dead mama, deity dad.

Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Dead mama, crazy dad.

Aladdin (1992)
Aladdin could've just been abandoned to street rat-hood, but Princess Jasmine? Dead mama.

Lion King, The (1994)
In a rare twist, Simba gets to keep his mama, but his dad gets kilt. Since this came out not long enough after my Old Man passed away, I'm countin' it. I still can't watch poor Simba after the stampede scene.

Pocahontas (1995)
Did Pocahontas have a mama? I dunno, but with all those White European Males running around with guns, I'm figuring she got kilded or worse.

Anastasia (1997)
Do we really need to go into detail about how the Bolsheviks killed her whole fambly including her mama, and in all likelihood, Anastasia her own self?

Tarzan (1999)
I don't think they made it very clear, but I'm assuming a dead mama.

Finding Nemo (2003)
Another cruel and very recent instance in which the mama gets offed during the movie.

I know I've missed more than a few, but that's a fairly extensive list if you ask me. With every other fringe group out there that can wave a bag of nuts getting on TV, you'd think someone would stand up and speak out on behalf of dead movie and TV mamas.

And all you wimmings out there - if some big-shot producer starts asking you to be in a movie or TV show, for the SAKE OF YOUR CHILDREN, JUST SAY NO!

Movie Review: Lord of the Rings

[No Spoilers]

Over the weekend (two weekends ago), I devoted about 12 hours to (finally) watch the epic film version of J.R.R. Tolkien's literary masterpiece.

From the time I first heard Peter Jackson was planning to make three movies corresponding to the so-called trilogy of books that are The Lord of the Rings, my strategy was to wait patiently until all were released before viewing any of them. Unlike the sitcom scenario where the Dad/Husband sets his VCR to record the BIG GAME so he can fulfill some dadly/husbandly obligation and still watch it as though it were live - only to have some unlikely character spoil it in some unlikely way, I knew the story (pretty much backwards and forwards). So while many people I know had their conversations about the movies, I would decline to participate actively, citing my plan which was occasionally complimented and almost always respected.

The schmedlets however, found this exercise in patience profoundly difficult to understand. To them, it was like waiting until the Fourth of July to open your Christmas presents. And speaking of Christmas presents - my Dear Sweet Wife most thoughtfully procured the ultra-enhanced-director's-cut-with-more-supplemental-material-than-one-has-time-to-watch versions of the first two installments this past yuletide. With the final installment playing in theaters, I was all set - I just needed a weekend. And a new DVD player.

Uh schmed, where's the part in this movie review where you quit talking about your really bizarre ways of going about things and actually say something about the movie that is remotely useful to anyone else?

I suppose I should get to that - I'll skip the part about finding the $60 DVD player and all its bells and whistles I'll never figure out unless Guido tells me about 'em.

Go see those movies. I can't recommend them highly enough. If you can see 'em theatres, do it. The big tradeoff in waiting was that I missed the first two on the big screen, but I did get to see the extended versions. And I'll certainly get the RotK DVD to complete the set.

Friday night, I watched all 3:38 minutes (give or take a few) of The Fellowship of the Ring. Saturday night was another 3:43 (gotaf) with The Two Towers, and Sunday afternoon was 3:21 well spent viewing The Return of the King on the big screen with big sound, 20 minutes of previews to movies I might rent and all that. Approximately eleventeen waking hours all told in one weekend, so I owe the DSW some foot-rubs, big time.

What I failed to realize was the degree to which I had emotional equity in the characters and their story. I first read these books during some formative years when the paperback edition resurged in the early/mid 1970's, so I've known Bilbo, Frodo, Gandalf et. al for 30 years. I've read and reread the story an uncounted number of times (I estimate at least 10, perhaps 15 and possibly 20 - y'see I used to read an awful lot before cable tv, schmedlets and the internet...), so I've had the chance to solidify my internal vision on all the details a filmmaker would have to create.

I had seen Ralph Bakshi's version when it came out, and it has been sufficiently critiqued over the years that I shall not do so here, save to say that I found it "unsatisfying."

Peter Jackson did an admirable job. I pronounce this effort "MOST satisfying."

Still, I shall render some opinions on some details with which I disagreed with Mr. Jackson. I found the overall countenance on the race of Elves to be more brooding and much darker than what I understood Tolkien to be conveying. My Elves tend to have more of the lightheartedness shown by Legolas than the knitted brow and stern gaze of Elrond. I pictured Orcs to be consistently heavier and thicker with more of a swine-like facial construction, and bristly hair (when I saw the Orcs illustrated by the Brothers Hildebrandt, I was amazed at how close we were on them). I also ran a Jethro Tull based soundtrack through it - primarily because the LPs Thick as a Brick, Living in the Past and Minstrel in the Gallery seemed most suitable for the turntable as I read. Nevertheless, the lush, orchestral music met my test.

I found most of the actors and actresses very suitably cast in their roles. I could pick nits here or there, but I won't. I particularly liked Dominic Monaghan and Billy Boyd as Merry and Pippin, and the Hobbits in general were presented very well (the Brothers Hildebrandt's version was okay, but I liked the film's take on them better).

To say that I do not envy Mr. Jackson for having to make in/out decisions on so many elements of the book is an exercise in understatement. Tolkien constructed Middle Earth and this epoch-defining story so thoroughly that nothing short of a 18 hour marathon could have been much truer. I shall not attempt to exhibit my fair knowledge of how and where the film strayed from the book, for most who do seem more interested in directing attention to their familiarity with the works. Instead, I will say that I recognized a number of differences, most of them simple omissions, and I can give Mr. Jackson a pass on them. If he had attempted to satisfy every die-hard LotR devotee and scholar, the film would never have been made.

I hope those who are now familiar with this incredible tale by virtue of the movies will read the book and hold forth about how it is different from the film. I look forward to hearing how it continues to provoke discussions likening every evil leader and his movement shaping current events to Sauron, as Hitler's Germany and Stalin's Soviet Union was during their times.

Lastly, I was reminded just how much I liked the characters and admired them for prevailing against long odds and their own shortcomings. I daresay I loved those characters about as much as one can without them being real.

And now, beggin' your pardon, since it's been two years since I've reread the book, I believe I'll pull The Hobbit off the shelf and go there and back again. Again.

Won't you join me?

Musta been a Whale of a Funeral

Last month, after Keiko the Movie Star Orca passed away from pneumonia, Norwegian authorities allowed his remains to be interred on the shore of Taknes Bay.

Interred - as in buried in the ground. Next to a large body of water connected to the ocean.

Guess what? Keiko is now an environmental problem.

It's not what you might think - nose pollution like it would be if you buried six tons of leftovers from a crawfish boil next to your neighbor's hot tub. Nope, Keiko apparently is a toxic waste hazard. Whooda thunk it?

Large ocean dwelling predators, because they're at the top of the food chain, accumulate various toxins. In Keiko's case, deadly PCBs are among the toxins threatening the Norwegian environment.

After this announcement by an unnamed group of local environmentalistas, enter the obligatory, concerned authorities and blameshifting. Ah, but the blameshifting isn't even what you'd expect. Nooooo, instead of pointing out the profound foolishness of burying something that Davy Jones ordinarily handles, they want to use Keiko's fame to point out how dangerous PCBs are and, as local environmental official Kolbjoern Megaard told Dagens Naeringsliv (hey, those names look like some of the people who send me spam) "draw the public's attention to the threat of sea pollution by toxic products and its repercussions for the whole food chain." Incidentally, there was no mention of any concrete evidence of Keiko's alleged toxicity.

It's a durn good thing they didn't give him a Viking funeral. All that blubber would burn for days, spreading PCB and Toxin Laden Smoke all over everything to settle on the grass to be eaten by...

Cows.

Movie Review: Something's Gotta Give

My DSW and I went to see this movie over the weekend with some friends who also said "to heck with it" about Christmas shopping.

We found it enjoyable, perhaps because we were literally escaping the whole Christmas prep thing and the listening to our respective DNA replication experiments do the me-me-me thing, but also perhaps because it's a fairly decent movie.

I've seen Jack Nicholson in better movies and I've seen Diane Keaton in worse, so no great shakes there. I did have a lot of trouble trying not to picture Bill S. Preston, Esquire popping in to leer at Amanda Peet and say something like "Whoa Ted, you're poochin' an egregiously old chick, dude!" as Keanu Reeves' character's antics progressed. That thread was a little bit cheesy.

The old-people as leopards-changing-spots mechanics were tolerable and the conclusion was developed in a way that tweaked the standard formulas. I do wonder what the intent was to have Ms. Keaton's character be the famous playwright - was it some sort of jab at Woody Allen or a tribute? A coincidence?

Last but not least, Nicholson has aged into the point where he's reminding me of my Old Man - the resemblance starts with his overall looks (hair, belly, facial expressions) and his general antics - not of his character in this movie, mind you - just his zaniness (especially as the Alpha "Dancing Henry" which was a complete and total hoot).

Once in the theatre was enough. Would I rent it? Maybe.

Would I buy the DVD? No, but I'm a guy and it's a chickflik and my house is fulla chicks, so it might just get bought without my sayso.