Sunday, July 8, 2007
Cloverfield Has An ARG
I just realized that I didn't get to see the nifty giant monster trailer before Transformers. Anyway, here's a link to the first step in the Cloverfield alternate reality game.
L.A. Diary #1
My first couple of days back in Los Angeles have been packed. I spent most of Friday with my friend Mike at work at G4. For lunch we met up with another friend, John, and had a delicious lunch at Luna Park. The Nicoise Salad, as suggested by Paul (one of Mike's X-Play cronies), was excellent. I <3 seared Tuna.
John passed me the preview of his new comic, Sublife, which will be published by Fantagraphics later this year. There's some surprising, but intriguing subject matter in the new book. As well as some interesting characterization of animals, not anthropomorphized so much as well-considered. I'm looking seeing how this new book plays out.
That evening we met some friends for dinner at Hooters then went back to Mike's place for one of his bad movie nights. A bunch of folks turned out, some to say, "hi" to me, others to experience the deep hurting of Step Up and Ghost Rider.
Today, we drove out to Venice and visited the QuikSilver Mission for an inspiring talk from Steve Larosiliere and his youth program Stoked Mentoring. We went to Secret Headquarters to catch the last days of John's gallery show.
Mike had a family dinner, so I went to my old neighborhood and grabbed a burrito and tamale at Yuca's. Afterwards I caught Transformers at The Vista, a beautiful old theater that you may remember as the joint where Clarence catches the Sonny Chiba marathon in True Romance. I was surprised at how much I dug the movie. Giant robots kicking ass really can overcome rapists and boring hacker subplots. Michael Bay's car commercial aesthetic was genuinely appropriate. My friend Mike said it best, "Transformers was the movie Michael Bay was born to make."
I tried to grab a haircut after the movie, but Rudy's was just closing. So Mike and Chris picked me up and we grabbed some Pinkberry at one of the zillion storefronts that have sprouted up around Los Angeles in the two years since I moved away. The place serves frozen yogurt with fresh toppings -- nothing new, really, but their presentation is perfect and the food very tasty. They've re-branded frogurt with an iPod-style presentation.
Flickr photoset of Mike's movie night.
Flickr photoset of 7/7/07
John passed me the preview of his new comic, Sublife, which will be published by Fantagraphics later this year. There's some surprising, but intriguing subject matter in the new book. As well as some interesting characterization of animals, not anthropomorphized so much as well-considered. I'm looking seeing how this new book plays out.
That evening we met some friends for dinner at Hooters then went back to Mike's place for one of his bad movie nights. A bunch of folks turned out, some to say, "hi" to me, others to experience the deep hurting of Step Up and Ghost Rider.
Today, we drove out to Venice and visited the QuikSilver Mission for an inspiring talk from Steve Larosiliere and his youth program Stoked Mentoring. We went to Secret Headquarters to catch the last days of John's gallery show.
Mike had a family dinner, so I went to my old neighborhood and grabbed a burrito and tamale at Yuca's. Afterwards I caught Transformers at The Vista, a beautiful old theater that you may remember as the joint where Clarence catches the Sonny Chiba marathon in True Romance. I was surprised at how much I dug the movie. Giant robots kicking ass really can overcome rapists and boring hacker subplots. Michael Bay's car commercial aesthetic was genuinely appropriate. My friend Mike said it best, "Transformers was the movie Michael Bay was born to make."
I tried to grab a haircut after the movie, but Rudy's was just closing. So Mike and Chris picked me up and we grabbed some Pinkberry at one of the zillion storefronts that have sprouted up around Los Angeles in the two years since I moved away. The place serves frozen yogurt with fresh toppings -- nothing new, really, but their presentation is perfect and the food very tasty. They've re-branded frogurt with an iPod-style presentation.
Flickr photoset of Mike's movie night.
Flickr photoset of 7/7/07
Friday, July 6, 2007
/sigh 14 and 16 year olds
Police: Woman forced into sex with son
By BRIAN SKOLOFF, Associated Press Writer
Two teenagers were accused of gang raping a woman and forcing her 12-year-old son to join in the attack, then beating him and pouring cleaning solution into his eyes.
Authorities allege Avion Lawson, 14, and Nathan Walker, 16, were among a group of about 10 masked suspects who forced their way into the woman's apartment in a crime-ridden housing project the night of June 18.The two were being held without bail Friday on suspicion of armed sexual battery by multiple perpetrators, sexual performance by a child, armed home invasion and aggravated battery. Both were arrested this week, but formal charges had not been filed."
Any rape case is horrible but this takes it to another level, something you can't think of even in your worst dreams," police spokesman Ted White said.According to the police report, a man knocked on the woman's door at about 9 p.m. and told her he had a flat tire.
The mother and son, whom police have not identified, went outside and were ambushed by a group of gun-wielding suspects.The victims told police they were forced back into their home and beaten and sexually assaulted. According to authorities, the men raped, sodomized and beat the woman, then forced her son to participate in the assault at gunpoint, making him have sex with his mother in front of them.The boy was then beaten and had numerous household cleaning liquids poured into his eyes, according to the police report.The suspects also stole a few hundred dollars worth of cash and jewelry, White said.
White said more arrests were pending, but he would not say if authorities had identified additional suspects. The teens in custody were not cooperating, but Lawson confessed to taking part in the attack, White said. Walker has denied involvement, White said.DNA evidence in a condom found in the victims' home linked Lawson to the crime, police said. Investigators also say they found a palm print belonging to Walker at the scene.The victims did not suffer life-threatening injuries and have been released from the hospital, White said."They're going through the county victim services for counseling," he said.
Lawson lived in Dunbar Village, the hardscrabble project where the attack occurred. Walker was apparently visiting a friend there, White said.Authorities believe the suspects all knew each other from the neighborhood, but they don't think they knew the victims directly.Prosecutors have 21 days from the time a suspect is arrested to formally file charges. Lawson was arrested Tuesday. Walker was arrested Thursday.A call to Lawson's public defender was not immediately returned. It was not known if Walker has an attorney.
Copyright © 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. The information contained in the AP News report may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without the prior written authority of The Associated Press.(sorry I am breaking your AP rules)
By BRIAN SKOLOFF, Associated Press Writer
Two teenagers were accused of gang raping a woman and forcing her 12-year-old son to join in the attack, then beating him and pouring cleaning solution into his eyes.
Authorities allege Avion Lawson, 14, and Nathan Walker, 16, were among a group of about 10 masked suspects who forced their way into the woman's apartment in a crime-ridden housing project the night of June 18.The two were being held without bail Friday on suspicion of armed sexual battery by multiple perpetrators, sexual performance by a child, armed home invasion and aggravated battery. Both were arrested this week, but formal charges had not been filed."
Any rape case is horrible but this takes it to another level, something you can't think of even in your worst dreams," police spokesman Ted White said.According to the police report, a man knocked on the woman's door at about 9 p.m. and told her he had a flat tire.
The mother and son, whom police have not identified, went outside and were ambushed by a group of gun-wielding suspects.The victims told police they were forced back into their home and beaten and sexually assaulted. According to authorities, the men raped, sodomized and beat the woman, then forced her son to participate in the assault at gunpoint, making him have sex with his mother in front of them.The boy was then beaten and had numerous household cleaning liquids poured into his eyes, according to the police report.The suspects also stole a few hundred dollars worth of cash and jewelry, White said.
White said more arrests were pending, but he would not say if authorities had identified additional suspects. The teens in custody were not cooperating, but Lawson confessed to taking part in the attack, White said. Walker has denied involvement, White said.DNA evidence in a condom found in the victims' home linked Lawson to the crime, police said. Investigators also say they found a palm print belonging to Walker at the scene.The victims did not suffer life-threatening injuries and have been released from the hospital, White said."They're going through the county victim services for counseling," he said.
Lawson lived in Dunbar Village, the hardscrabble project where the attack occurred. Walker was apparently visiting a friend there, White said.Authorities believe the suspects all knew each other from the neighborhood, but they don't think they knew the victims directly.Prosecutors have 21 days from the time a suspect is arrested to formally file charges. Lawson was arrested Tuesday. Walker was arrested Thursday.A call to Lawson's public defender was not immediately returned. It was not known if Walker has an attorney.
Copyright © 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. The information contained in the AP News report may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without the prior written authority of The Associated Press.(sorry I am breaking your AP rules)
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Godzilla > Megatron
Gus, have you heard about a new Godzilla movie coming out in January? There was a preview that didn't explicitly show what was causing havoc through the eyes of a going away party for a guy leaving for Japan. And then they didn't even tell us the name of the movie. Well done teaser.
So we saw Transformers.
Remember way back when you were playing BATTLETECH pencil and paper style and thought, "Wouldn't this be an excellent video game?" Remember when you were playing all of the BATTLETECH video games and thought, "This would be the coolest live action movie ever!" The opening scene to Transformers is that coolest live action BATTLETECH movie ever! And then the movie is good but you are really just waiting for the next action sequence.
And Optimus saying, "Autobots, roll out!" brings tears to your eyes because it is done so well.
So it was a good movie but I can only say that beacuse I went into it expecting Transformers cannon to be messed with. And it was. Oh boy was it.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Monday, July 2, 2007
An Odd Occurrence in the Back of My Throat
Susan and I decided a while back to split our Netflix queue so we could each choose our own movies. Sometimes we like each other's choices; sometimes not so much. And sometimes the results are... disturbing.
* * *
Coming home tonight, I eat some leftover Tuna Helper (mmm... hot tuna), run a quick Auctioneer scan, putter about a bit, then head up to the bedroom to check on the wife. Nothing much happening, not in the mood for a boardgame, garbage on the tube. Should we watch the Netflick that arrived today? Sure. I glance at the cover blurb briefly, something called Eight Below. Dogs in the Antarctic... a nature film?
Previews begin: a Little Mermaid ad. Hmm... fast forward. Studio fanfare... wait a minute -- it's a Disney flick! And not Pixar.
"What are you trying to do to me?" says I.
"You suggested we watch the movie," says she.
Grumble.
It begins poorly, introducing us to our hunky leading man with some heinously trite dialog, then for an hour proceeds to fail to meet my (now significantly lowered) expectations.
It's a simple story: our hero is a guide at an Antarctic research base. He takes the scientists out on their missions and makes sure they come back without blackfoot. To get to the hard-to-reach places, he employs a dog sled team, each member of which we get to meet in an excruciating expository sequence wherein our hero pets each dog, names it, then drops a frozen fish at its feet.
The canines, however, are pretty cool: Husky sled dogs who sleep in the snow and don't dick around. They are by far the best actors in the film. They save a researcher from falling in a crevasse, then pull him out of a hole in the ice through which he has stumbled after breaking his leg. (Our hero is apparently doing a shitty job.) The dogs save them both, and now it's Act II, but I get some Jack London flashes, which are just enough to keep me from heading down to my lair to get some Un'Goro Crater questing done.
The biggest winter storm in history has rolled in, and the brass orders the research outpost evacuated posthaste. There's no room in the plane for the dogs. They leave them. "We'll be back to get you in a few hours, buddy." The storm rolls in faster than expected. No one is allowed back in. For six months. I knew it was coming a half-hour ago, but I still find myself affected by the aerial shot of the 8 dogs leashed out in the yard watching the plane leave them behind.
So you get the idea. The dogs escape from their tethers and fending for themselves through the winter. They stalk seagulls. There's a fight with a really bad CGI leopard seal over a pretty cool model of a frozen beached killer whale carcass. It's all pretty pat, and all fairly calculated. I should be done with it.
But something is happening which is, for me, and unusual occurrence. I'm starting to get a little worked up. Old Jack doesn't have the strength to break his chain and dies on the leash. A lump forms. Dewey slips off an embankment while cavorting under the aurora australis, breaks something inside, and dies while his twin brother Truman snuffles and begs him to get up. A hitch, just a little. The pack finally leaves the body behind, but Max the frolicking youngling refuses to leave him for a while, then when he, too, gives up, the rest of the pack has disappeared into the blizzard and he is left alone to wander the wasteland. The screen blurs.
So, of course, most of them survive the winter, our hero makes his way back, and all are reunited. I figure that's it -- the odd happenings in the back of my throat are a strange anomaly.
But the credits roll, and I'm suddenly awash in flashbacks of our dog Josie, a Doberman with diabetes who we had to put down last year. (It snuck up on us, and turned out to be fairly awful, involving her vomiting the contents of her bowels onto the vet's floor when she began to go into organ failure, just prior to the final injection.) I look down through a haze of tears at our two current dogs, Duke & Leia, 200-odd pounds of Rott/Dobe/Chow mix, both lying comfortably at my feet, looking up at me, and I am suddenly on the floor with them, sobbing. For Josie. For these dogs whom I love and will someday die. For the fucking dog actors in the fucking Disney film. I cradle them tightly to me, while Susan looks down from the bed and smiles softly. I'm glad they don't pull away. Leia licks my face. Duke farts.
* * *
It's been a long time. More years than I can even guess. I had forgotten how husked out you feel. How your head aches from the tension in the back of your throat. How tiring it is. But I also feel kind of relieved, because treacle or not, I had actually been touched to the core by something, which doesn't happen often. I wasn't sure if I still had the capacity to feel so deeply. My cynicism is so ingrained that I thought I might be... broken? No. That's too strong. Perhaps just rusted. Apparently not.
Whether I have this kind of empathy for humans is still an open question, I suppose, but I like to think it's possible.
So thank you, Walt Disney, for making a crappy movie, and making me cry like a little girl. I needed that.
* * *
Coming home tonight, I eat some leftover Tuna Helper (mmm... hot tuna), run a quick Auctioneer scan, putter about a bit, then head up to the bedroom to check on the wife. Nothing much happening, not in the mood for a boardgame, garbage on the tube. Should we watch the Netflick that arrived today? Sure. I glance at the cover blurb briefly, something called Eight Below. Dogs in the Antarctic... a nature film?
Previews begin: a Little Mermaid ad. Hmm... fast forward. Studio fanfare... wait a minute -- it's a Disney flick! And not Pixar.
"What are you trying to do to me?" says I.
"You suggested we watch the movie," says she.
Grumble.
It begins poorly, introducing us to our hunky leading man with some heinously trite dialog, then for an hour proceeds to fail to meet my (now significantly lowered) expectations.
It's a simple story: our hero is a guide at an Antarctic research base. He takes the scientists out on their missions and makes sure they come back without blackfoot. To get to the hard-to-reach places, he employs a dog sled team, each member of which we get to meet in an excruciating expository sequence wherein our hero pets each dog, names it, then drops a frozen fish at its feet.
The canines, however, are pretty cool: Husky sled dogs who sleep in the snow and don't dick around. They are by far the best actors in the film. They save a researcher from falling in a crevasse, then pull him out of a hole in the ice through which he has stumbled after breaking his leg. (Our hero is apparently doing a shitty job.) The dogs save them both, and now it's Act II, but I get some Jack London flashes, which are just enough to keep me from heading down to my lair to get some Un'Goro Crater questing done.
The biggest winter storm in history has rolled in, and the brass orders the research outpost evacuated posthaste. There's no room in the plane for the dogs. They leave them. "We'll be back to get you in a few hours, buddy." The storm rolls in faster than expected. No one is allowed back in. For six months. I knew it was coming a half-hour ago, but I still find myself affected by the aerial shot of the 8 dogs leashed out in the yard watching the plane leave them behind.
So you get the idea. The dogs escape from their tethers and fending for themselves through the winter. They stalk seagulls. There's a fight with a really bad CGI leopard seal over a pretty cool model of a frozen beached killer whale carcass. It's all pretty pat, and all fairly calculated. I should be done with it.
But something is happening which is, for me, and unusual occurrence. I'm starting to get a little worked up. Old Jack doesn't have the strength to break his chain and dies on the leash. A lump forms. Dewey slips off an embankment while cavorting under the aurora australis, breaks something inside, and dies while his twin brother Truman snuffles and begs him to get up. A hitch, just a little. The pack finally leaves the body behind, but Max the frolicking youngling refuses to leave him for a while, then when he, too, gives up, the rest of the pack has disappeared into the blizzard and he is left alone to wander the wasteland. The screen blurs.
So, of course, most of them survive the winter, our hero makes his way back, and all are reunited. I figure that's it -- the odd happenings in the back of my throat are a strange anomaly.
But the credits roll, and I'm suddenly awash in flashbacks of our dog Josie, a Doberman with diabetes who we had to put down last year. (It snuck up on us, and turned out to be fairly awful, involving her vomiting the contents of her bowels onto the vet's floor when she began to go into organ failure, just prior to the final injection.) I look down through a haze of tears at our two current dogs, Duke & Leia, 200-odd pounds of Rott/Dobe/Chow mix, both lying comfortably at my feet, looking up at me, and I am suddenly on the floor with them, sobbing. For Josie. For these dogs whom I love and will someday die. For the fucking dog actors in the fucking Disney film. I cradle them tightly to me, while Susan looks down from the bed and smiles softly. I'm glad they don't pull away. Leia licks my face. Duke farts.
* * *
It's been a long time. More years than I can even guess. I had forgotten how husked out you feel. How your head aches from the tension in the back of your throat. How tiring it is. But I also feel kind of relieved, because treacle or not, I had actually been touched to the core by something, which doesn't happen often. I wasn't sure if I still had the capacity to feel so deeply. My cynicism is so ingrained that I thought I might be... broken? No. That's too strong. Perhaps just rusted. Apparently not.
Whether I have this kind of empathy for humans is still an open question, I suppose, but I like to think it's possible.
So thank you, Walt Disney, for making a crappy movie, and making me cry like a little girl. I needed that.
I Welcome Our New, Monstrous Overlords
Like Tim, I too am a fan of escapism. For my dollar, I prefer outsider escape to the kind that Hollywood comes up with. Because, honestly, Godzilla should have been a slam-dunk. Maybe it's no coincidence that the writers of the movie that set giant monster movies back a decade also wrote the increasingly tiresome Pirates of the Caribbean sequels. Check out the trailer to D-War -- it's a Korean giant-monster that imagines dragons and their slayers duking it out in the modern-day. It looks quite a bit cheesier than The Host (which, I might add, was pure, unbridled awesome). Those of you with an extremely high tolerance for movie cheese should check out Godzilla Final Wars -- it's a nutso monster battle royale from the guy who directed Versus, a Evil Dead-influenced low-budget actioner that pit the yakuza against zombies.
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