People who know me tend to regard me as somewhat weird. And I shouldn't pride myself on my eccentricities, but I do. I sometimes spend an inordinate amount of time pushing certain obsessions to a certain limit. (Just an inch shy of falling off the cliff into insanity, actually.)
For example, I've 'forged' my own ring. Just before Peter Jackson's screened his masterpiece, I've taken bits of broken jewellery and made a crude gold ring. Didn't have enough precious metal to make a band thick enough for anything wider than my little finger, but I was proud that I managed to get it into a good circle, without the use of proper jewellers' tools.
I've manufactured a set of lock-picks and learnt to pick small simple locks. Am far from good enough to be able to moonlight as a burglar, but it lets me get into locked desk drawers and cabinets and such. It sometimes earns me a miasma of 'cool'.
I've used water and chopped up bits of a lorry radiator to cool my computer processor, but that just makes me geek.
I own a Winsor & Newton brush, (MYR 40.00 for a few strands of 5mm long red sable hair), which totally outraged an artist friend who's still making do with chinese brushes. This is for my miniature painting, for dotting the eyes of 2in tall pewter figurines.
I have a huge collection of broken printers that I can't seem to throw away. My latest acquisition is a broken laser printer. Even if I could fix it, I doubt I can find new toner cartridges for it, so I expect that I'll most likely be ripping out the laser from this thing and possibly doing something unhealthy with it.
So you see, I'm pretty nuts.
And it's probably fortunate that I can't get my hands on more outrageous pieces of hardware to fool around with. Cos seriously, THIS is something I can see myself doing too, given the chance.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Books Books Books
There are many reasons why you should own a PDA
#1 : Shaman's Crossing, by Robin Hobb in e-book format
#2 : Anansi Boys, by Neil Gaiman in e-book format
#3 : ... and so it goes ...
I've 'earned' back the price of my Tungsten T2 by reading e-books on it.
Paperbacks generally cost MYR 30.00 in bookshops here.
To put that into relative terms...
MYR 30 is 10 plates of the cheapest chicken rice you can find in KL.
MYR 30 is almost 10% of what I usually spend on food + groceries for a month.
Thus having a 'free' source of books to assuage my addiction is fantastic.
But don't look at me like I'm a thieving pirate! The national libraries in Malaysia sucks! I went to the main library in KL almost 10 years ago and only found one Lat comic worth reading. Everything else was garbage, such as a Madonna autobiography and worse.
Yet all the books seem old and well read. My suspicion is that the administration spends their budget buying in discounted/rejected old books discarded from other libraries/publishers just to make their quota of book acquisitions. And someone is reaping the difference. Corrupted bastards.
The only national library that's any good is the one in Kota Kinabalu, built and stocked during colonial days I suspect. There, at least you can still find some Frank Herbert and James Clavell that has not gotten lost in the intervening decades. And it's also the only place I've ever seen a collection of Richard Gordon's Doctor in the House series.
I can't count on the library, so I have to get my fix elsewhere. Books that deserve my note, I will still pay for. I've always had my sis buy every Robin Hobb book as soon as it's out cos Melbourne gets them really quick. She already bought Shaman's Crossing there, and had it signed by the author when Megan (R.Hobb is a nom de plume) was doing a con there in July.
I didn't want the precious autographed book to be damaged by ham-fisted postal workers, so she's keeping the book first while I read the e-book.
And today, just half an hour ago.... I've finally gotten an electronic copy of Anansi Boys.
Happy Happy Joy Joy
#1 : Shaman's Crossing, by Robin Hobb in e-book format
#2 : Anansi Boys, by Neil Gaiman in e-book format
#3 : ... and so it goes ...
I've 'earned' back the price of my Tungsten T2 by reading e-books on it.
Paperbacks generally cost MYR 30.00 in bookshops here.
To put that into relative terms...
MYR 30 is 10 plates of the cheapest chicken rice you can find in KL.
MYR 30 is almost 10% of what I usually spend on food + groceries for a month.
Thus having a 'free' source of books to assuage my addiction is fantastic.
But don't look at me like I'm a thieving pirate! The national libraries in Malaysia sucks! I went to the main library in KL almost 10 years ago and only found one Lat comic worth reading. Everything else was garbage, such as a Madonna autobiography and worse.
Yet all the books seem old and well read. My suspicion is that the administration spends their budget buying in discounted/rejected old books discarded from other libraries/publishers just to make their quota of book acquisitions. And someone is reaping the difference. Corrupted bastards.
The only national library that's any good is the one in Kota Kinabalu, built and stocked during colonial days I suspect. There, at least you can still find some Frank Herbert and James Clavell that has not gotten lost in the intervening decades. And it's also the only place I've ever seen a collection of Richard Gordon's Doctor in the House series.
I can't count on the library, so I have to get my fix elsewhere. Books that deserve my note, I will still pay for. I've always had my sis buy every Robin Hobb book as soon as it's out cos Melbourne gets them really quick. She already bought Shaman's Crossing there, and had it signed by the author when Megan (R.Hobb is a nom de plume) was doing a con there in July.
I didn't want the precious autographed book to be damaged by ham-fisted postal workers, so she's keeping the book first while I read the e-book.
And today, just half an hour ago.... I've finally gotten an electronic copy of Anansi Boys.
Happy Happy Joy Joy
Thursday, September 22, 2005
The Talkies
2005 has not been a good year for movies.
Christmas won't ever be the same again without Lord of the Rings to look forward to. Even now, I have yet to watch the extended version of Return of the King. It's a reluctance to see the magic end.
In the nine months of 2005, the only contribution I had made to the film industry (theatres or pirates) was spending rm16 (twice) for Kung Fu Hustle. And that's a late 2004 film.
Some might argue that 2005 also brought us Revenge of the Sith and Batman Begins. Which I did watch, through certain means. But neither made me want to fork out rm8 to watch in the theatres. I ask for so little from movies nowadays, and I get exactly that, very little. Hitting the 'Play' button, I only ask, "Please don't disappoint me."
Not seeing Jar Jar die was a disappointment I think I can live with. The rather Force-d logic ("It's over, Anakin. I have the high ground.") was easily forgiven, since I didn't expect any better of Lucas. OMG! Even the latest episode of Gilmore Girls has Luke Danes yammering about this higher ground BS! Hilarious!
Batman Begins was alright, no more nor less than what I expected.
Then there were movies like Deuce Bigalow European Gigolo. Now this one lived up to and beyond all expectations. I anticipated a piece of shit and was rewarded with a whole cart-load of monkey faeces. It's just the kind of movie I need to fuel my self-righteous vindication of the sad state of movies nowadays.
And movies like Tsui Hark's Seven Swords (七剑)... Shit! Did I walk into that one... I shouldn't have forgotten about Double Team and Black Mask 2: City of Masks before I built up my expectations for his latest movie. In his desperate bid to win over an international audience, he decided to throw in every tired formula in the book! Add two portions of slaughter (ala Braveheart, Gladiator), raiders and farmers (Seven Samurais), seven mystical swords (stories with Excalibur-ianesque weapons are all the rage in HK comics these days), some cannons (a sad attempt to capture the desperation of the Battle of Helm's Deep), conjure two random Korean characters out of no where (he's deluded if he thinks he can get Korean viewers with such a cheap move), and that horse-Lassie scene that could only be inspired by someone whose brain has been addled by tertiary syphilis!
I hope 梁羽生 sold 七剑下天山 for a big fat bundle, cos Tsui Hark really butchered his book. Or maybe he didn't, the only thing he took from the book was the name of the characters and of one sword. Nothing else is anything like the book.
The only movie I'm looking forward to this year, is MirrorMask. Story written by Neil Gaiman, directed by Dave McKean, and produced by The Jim Henson Co. What's not to like about this film??
Written by one of the best story tellers of our time, who's already credited with The Sandman, Stardust, Neverwhere, American Gods, and Anansi Boys (just out these few days). I'm prejudiced; I'll sing praises for anything this man has touched. Except maybe the articles he wrote for certain 'gentlemen's magazines' earlier on in his career, which I doubt I can ever get hold of.
And who doesn't miss Jim Henson? Creator of The Muppets. In the days before multi-million dollars CGI was economically or technically feasible, fantasy movies were a terribly sad genre. Cheesey green screen effects just couldn't create the neccesary willing suspension of disbelief. Amongst the very few that achieved this was Labyrinth.
The one with David Bowie wearing pants so tight you can see what religion he is. The one with the 16 yr old Jennifer Connelly. Took me years to hunt up the DVD for this.
Ah well... For decent movies to watch, you really have to look back.
Heck, even watching The Wizard of Oz, was time better spent than some of the dregs we're getting this year. And here I'm talking about the Judy Garland in Technicolor affair. Ruby slippers. Munchkins. "Ding dong the witch is dead." The TinMan of the purple eye shadows. The weird googly eyes the Lion makes. The corny rhymes. The funny dances. Midget ballerinas in pink tutus. And a story of 3 misfits who start off feeling ashamed about themselves (complete with their own musical numbers), and later discovering that everything they needed was inside them all along. Talk about a coming out of the closet gay movie!!
Also watched Before Sunrise [1995] and Before Sunset [2004] recently. A somewhat interesting romance story that's quite different from the average Hollywood idea of love (ie. love can blossom even without a speeding bus to bring the characters together). Sunrise was about Ethan Hawke walking around Vienna with a Frech girl, talking about everything and anything. A simple story about two highly believeable characters forming a bond. Sunset is what happens years later, same characters, same cast.
A common story, with a common theme, but an uncommon delivery. It's mundane, it's undramatic. But that just makes the characters easier to identify with real life. Sunset gives you back the same characters, and assuming that you already know them, it lets you judge them by their actions in the intervening years.
Interesting movies when you watch them together.
But personally, Chasing Amy still tops them. This is still by far the most entertaining, and the most interesting romance movie I've ever seen. I secretly believe that one criteria with which I can spot my soul-mate, is that she will be someone who's able to appreciate and take delight in this movie as much as I have.
Back to the movie...
Chasing Amy is the third installment of Kevin Smith's New Jersey Chronicles. Kevin went to film school for a bit, then used his credit card to produce Clerks. Movie was in B&W cos that's the film he could afford. It won such acclaim that he got the money to go on to produce Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma, Jay & Silent Bob Strikes Back, and Jersey Girl. Every one except the first had Ben Affleck in it. One even had Mark Hamil (the "white craker farm-boy Luke Skywalker, Nazi poster boy- blonde hair, blue eyes").
In Amy, Affleck went kinda stupid in the end, but the journey there was a lot of fun. Like Sunrise/Sunset, there's also about a bunch of characters who talk very openly about 'love' and various other pop minutiae... Be prepared for a bit of surprise though, the dialogue makes Sunrise/Sunset sound as tame as an Archie comic. But you know guys, we tend to be fascinated by disgusting things.
And I'm the kind of person who once went, "Oooo!! I get to hack this cadaver's chest open with a hack-saw! Wicked cool, dude!!"
Gee... was there a point to all this rant? Not particularly. As promised, what you're getting here is a rant from a diseased mind.
ratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatosk
ratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatosk
Christmas won't ever be the same again without Lord of the Rings to look forward to. Even now, I have yet to watch the extended version of Return of the King. It's a reluctance to see the magic end.
In the nine months of 2005, the only contribution I had made to the film industry (theatres or pirates) was spending rm16 (twice) for Kung Fu Hustle. And that's a late 2004 film.
Some might argue that 2005 also brought us Revenge of the Sith and Batman Begins. Which I did watch, through certain means. But neither made me want to fork out rm8 to watch in the theatres. I ask for so little from movies nowadays, and I get exactly that, very little. Hitting the 'Play' button, I only ask, "Please don't disappoint me."
Not seeing Jar Jar die was a disappointment I think I can live with. The rather Force-d logic ("It's over, Anakin. I have the high ground.") was easily forgiven, since I didn't expect any better of Lucas. OMG! Even the latest episode of Gilmore Girls has Luke Danes yammering about this higher ground BS! Hilarious!
Batman Begins was alright, no more nor less than what I expected.
Then there were movies like Deuce Bigalow European Gigolo. Now this one lived up to and beyond all expectations. I anticipated a piece of shit and was rewarded with a whole cart-load of monkey faeces. It's just the kind of movie I need to fuel my self-righteous vindication of the sad state of movies nowadays.
And movies like Tsui Hark's Seven Swords (七剑)... Shit! Did I walk into that one... I shouldn't have forgotten about Double Team and Black Mask 2: City of Masks before I built up my expectations for his latest movie. In his desperate bid to win over an international audience, he decided to throw in every tired formula in the book! Add two portions of slaughter (ala Braveheart, Gladiator), raiders and farmers (Seven Samurais), seven mystical swords (stories with Excalibur-ianesque weapons are all the rage in HK comics these days), some cannons (a sad attempt to capture the desperation of the Battle of Helm's Deep), conjure two random Korean characters out of no where (he's deluded if he thinks he can get Korean viewers with such a cheap move), and that horse-Lassie scene that could only be inspired by someone whose brain has been addled by tertiary syphilis!
I hope 梁羽生 sold 七剑下天山 for a big fat bundle, cos Tsui Hark really butchered his book. Or maybe he didn't, the only thing he took from the book was the name of the characters and of one sword. Nothing else is anything like the book.
The only movie I'm looking forward to this year, is MirrorMask. Story written by Neil Gaiman, directed by Dave McKean, and produced by The Jim Henson Co. What's not to like about this film??
Written by one of the best story tellers of our time, who's already credited with The Sandman, Stardust, Neverwhere, American Gods, and Anansi Boys (just out these few days). I'm prejudiced; I'll sing praises for anything this man has touched. Except maybe the articles he wrote for certain 'gentlemen's magazines' earlier on in his career, which I doubt I can ever get hold of.
And who doesn't miss Jim Henson? Creator of The Muppets. In the days before multi-million dollars CGI was economically or technically feasible, fantasy movies were a terribly sad genre. Cheesey green screen effects just couldn't create the neccesary willing suspension of disbelief. Amongst the very few that achieved this was Labyrinth.
The one with David Bowie wearing pants so tight you can see what religion he is. The one with the 16 yr old Jennifer Connelly. Took me years to hunt up the DVD for this.
Ah well... For decent movies to watch, you really have to look back.
Heck, even watching The Wizard of Oz, was time better spent than some of the dregs we're getting this year. And here I'm talking about the Judy Garland in Technicolor affair. Ruby slippers. Munchkins. "Ding dong the witch is dead." The TinMan of the purple eye shadows. The weird googly eyes the Lion makes. The corny rhymes. The funny dances. Midget ballerinas in pink tutus. And a story of 3 misfits who start off feeling ashamed about themselves (complete with their own musical numbers), and later discovering that everything they needed was inside them all along. Talk about a coming out of the closet gay movie!!
Also watched Before Sunrise [1995] and Before Sunset [2004] recently. A somewhat interesting romance story that's quite different from the average Hollywood idea of love (ie. love can blossom even without a speeding bus to bring the characters together). Sunrise was about Ethan Hawke walking around Vienna with a Frech girl, talking about everything and anything. A simple story about two highly believeable characters forming a bond. Sunset is what happens years later, same characters, same cast.
A common story, with a common theme, but an uncommon delivery. It's mundane, it's undramatic. But that just makes the characters easier to identify with real life. Sunset gives you back the same characters, and assuming that you already know them, it lets you judge them by their actions in the intervening years.
Interesting movies when you watch them together.
But personally, Chasing Amy still tops them. This is still by far the most entertaining, and the most interesting romance movie I've ever seen. I secretly believe that one criteria with which I can spot my soul-mate, is that she will be someone who's able to appreciate and take delight in this movie as much as I have.
Back to the movie...
Chasing Amy is the third installment of Kevin Smith's New Jersey Chronicles. Kevin went to film school for a bit, then used his credit card to produce Clerks. Movie was in B&W cos that's the film he could afford. It won such acclaim that he got the money to go on to produce Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma, Jay & Silent Bob Strikes Back, and Jersey Girl. Every one except the first had Ben Affleck in it. One even had Mark Hamil (the "white craker farm-boy Luke Skywalker, Nazi poster boy- blonde hair, blue eyes").
In Amy, Affleck went kinda stupid in the end, but the journey there was a lot of fun. Like Sunrise/Sunset, there's also about a bunch of characters who talk very openly about 'love' and various other pop minutiae... Be prepared for a bit of surprise though, the dialogue makes Sunrise/Sunset sound as tame as an Archie comic. But you know guys, we tend to be fascinated by disgusting things.
And I'm the kind of person who once went, "Oooo!! I get to hack this cadaver's chest open with a hack-saw! Wicked cool, dude!!"
Gee... was there a point to all this rant? Not particularly. As promised, what you're getting here is a rant from a diseased mind.
ratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatosk
ratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatosk
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Will Work For Food
Hired myself out last weekend in a blue-collar capacity.
My pal, Moses, just bought a single-storey terrace fixer-upper. Had already spend some holidays helping him throw up the paint, desperately repairing the 'queer' colour scheme the original owner had. Seriously, there shouldn't be that much pink in the kitchen.
Now, there's a fresh coat of avocado green, peach, light lilac, light baby blue... Very pastel-y shades. No comments on my friend's selection of colours, but anything's better than gay-pink.
Now he's ready to move in and need some muscle to haul his worldly possessions. Cupboards. Beds. Mattresses. Sofas. He's not leaving anything behind at all for the old landlord. I even yanked out his water heater and ceiling fan and installed it at his new place.
My fees: Yau Char Kuai for breakfast; porridge for lunch; and a dinner with a fish course.
At dinner, Moses' mom-in-law said something that really got me...
I commented that I don't seem to be able to eat as much as I used to. I'm still the last person to finish eating at most meals, but I know I'm eating less. That's when Moses' mom-in-law said, "Deng dua hui bo liao."
Literally from Hokkien: "Long big years no more."
Meaning those years of growing tall and big are gone. I'm no longer in puberty.
The years, the years... they've gone...
And on the Sunday, I popped over to Nilai to collect on a debt. That's all the way over in another state.
I had spent several late nights proof-reading this friend's Masters project. Her language really needed a lot of polishing up. And for all this work, my fees was a dinner at Mantin, which is some random little town off somewhere in the middle of nowhere with hardly anything to distinguish itself.
But it was an adventure, travelling to a new place, and the food was really delicious.
Aye, it was a good weekend. A well fed squirrel is a happy one.
My pal, Moses, just bought a single-storey terrace fixer-upper. Had already spend some holidays helping him throw up the paint, desperately repairing the 'queer' colour scheme the original owner had. Seriously, there shouldn't be that much pink in the kitchen.
Now, there's a fresh coat of avocado green, peach, light lilac, light baby blue... Very pastel-y shades. No comments on my friend's selection of colours, but anything's better than gay-pink.
Now he's ready to move in and need some muscle to haul his worldly possessions. Cupboards. Beds. Mattresses. Sofas. He's not leaving anything behind at all for the old landlord. I even yanked out his water heater and ceiling fan and installed it at his new place.
My fees: Yau Char Kuai for breakfast; porridge for lunch; and a dinner with a fish course.
At dinner, Moses' mom-in-law said something that really got me...
I commented that I don't seem to be able to eat as much as I used to. I'm still the last person to finish eating at most meals, but I know I'm eating less. That's when Moses' mom-in-law said, "Deng dua hui bo liao."
Literally from Hokkien: "Long big years no more."
Meaning those years of growing tall and big are gone. I'm no longer in puberty.
The years, the years... they've gone...
All the clocks in the city
Began to whir, and chime.
Oh, let not time deceive you,
You can not conquer time.
In headaches and in worry,
Vaguely life leaks away.
And time will have its fancy,
Tomorrow, or today.
And on the Sunday, I popped over to Nilai to collect on a debt. That's all the way over in another state.
I had spent several late nights proof-reading this friend's Masters project. Her language really needed a lot of polishing up. And for all this work, my fees was a dinner at Mantin, which is some random little town off somewhere in the middle of nowhere with hardly anything to distinguish itself.
But it was an adventure, travelling to a new place, and the food was really delicious.
Aye, it was a good weekend. A well fed squirrel is a happy one.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Six Feet Under
Didn't get much sleep last night. Was just going to watch Six Feet Under before bed, and at the end of that episode, Nate suffered a stroke. Well, I can't stop right there!! I had to watch the next episode, and the next, and the next....
Ended up sleeping at 4am.
Finished watching the series finale, after 5 seasons. Quite enjoyed the way it ended. Everybody died in the end. It seemed a very fitting ending.
First of all, a primer about Six Feet Under (SFU) for the uninitiated.
You remember American Beauty ? The Kevin Spacey movie, where his sad character's desire for the young cheerleader is depicted in a series of hallucinations, day-dreams, wet-dreams etc... The casual use of marijuana. The homophobic soldier who develops lust for the person he thought was his son's homosexual lover. The awful ironic ending where Spacey found death when he stopped searching for it. SFU is very much like that. It's even written by the same guy, what a coincidence.
Nathaniel Fisher ran a funeral home. His eldest son, Nate, ran from the family business. His second son, David, has a black boyfriend, Keith. His youngest daughter, Claire is finding her purpose in life. His wife, Ruth is having an affair with her hairdresser. A bus ran over Nathaniel and kills him. But this doesn't stop him from making regular appearances as Nate's hallucinations.
Garnish the main-course with a nymphomaniac, her bi-polar brother, her psychotic parents and up-bringing, a Latino family, a number of Claire's boyfriends, Nate's wives, Ruth's lovers, Kathy Bates, a featured corpse every week... and you have quite a cuisine.
Some people might find SFU pretentious. A lot of pot-induced cosmic insights trying to pass themselves off as philosophy. A lot of crazy characters that's just too damaged to be realistic. In real life, shit happens. But to have so much happen to one family, in such concentration, with each event timed to such perfection, a divine maestro must be orchestrating the drama.
Me, I think the writer must have broken into his therapist's files, and took out 20 of the thickest folders, and created characterts to personify each of the worst nut-jobs he found. Then, he plays god and makes up the most whacked out events to slap those characters around like a frenzied kitten batting a crippled mouse. It's merciless and mindlessly cruel.
Nate comes home, and his father is killed. He stays to help his mother to cope. Eventually he gets roped into joining the family business, which he left home to escape in the first place. He continues to see his father's ghost. The Corpse of the Week frequently sits up and talks to him. He develops a relationship with the nympho, one that is continually challenged by her appetite and her unusual relationship with her insane brother, who attempted to stab someone at one point. Just when he's getting into the swing of work, he has an AVM. He's finally going to marry the nympho, and his old girlfriend shows up with his baby. He does the right thing, and feels trapped in a marriage with a Dharma on lithium. Just as he begins to bond with his wife and daughter, 'Dharma' goes on a spiritual journey and disappears, only her car found, no body, and no closure.
All this drama and more for just one character. It's simply amazing how the cast managed to keep up.
Director: "Ok, your motivation for this scene... It's your wedding day. Everyone's happy for you. But you just miscarried your first conception yesterday. There was no anaesthesiologist on hand at the hospital to do a D&C, but you still carry on with the wedding because it's the easier thing to do compared to calling up every one of your friends and relatives to tell them over and over a hundred times that you just had a miscarriage. Your dead baby is still leaking out of you, and you're worried if it's going to stain your gown; the grandma underpants you're wearing is a constant reminder of this. Now you're having an argument with the hallucination of your husband's late-wife. Okay.... Camera!!"
Compared to this, directing a Keanu Reeves movie is a piece of cake. Of course, not counting those scenes when you actually need Keanu to smile.
Keanu's Director: "Ok. He's the bad guy. He pwns. So, look brave!"
Keanu: "Ok, I use my Cool-LookTM #47."
Anyway, moving on....
What makes SFU special is the way the writer uses hallucinations and day-dreams to emote the suppressed emotions that is happening under the character's skin. It is an interesting way of using the medium to tell a deeper story. Not every emotion can be acted out. Some passions are so overwhelming that they paralyse all actions and facial expressions.
Getting to know the characters from inside their heads, is like reading The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Bridget Jones' Diary, or The Catcher In The Rye. It may be hard to explain unless you've actually read any of these books....
I also found the series to be really educational. If not for one of the Corpse of the Week, I don't think I'ld ever have known what a Prince Albert is... (Try to read the following words without cringing: "Piercing", "Penile", "Urethra", "Stretching". Oh, and please don't click on the Prince Albert link if you've got sensitive eyes... You are warned.)
The entire series has a morbid tone. But there are some hilarious moments. The way the corpse of the week is presented is always more fun than Bart Simpson's blackboard scrawls. The writer loves irony.
The situations and events the characters find themselves in sometimes are just completely impossible, yet somehow their pain and psychoses really flesh out the characters.
The dialogue is also one of a kind. Some notable quotes such as:
"What is this, some kind of Quaker thing? You f*ck someone's husband to death, and then you bring them a quiche?"
"You were the one we thought we could lose. What with AIDS, and picking up strange men from the side of the road. Screwing a whore with no condom. You know, that sort of thing. You've been begging for annihilation your entire life."
The fifth season makes following the series all worth while. The way the characters change and develop. The last few episodes gave the show excellent closure.
Everybody died.
It's wonderful.
Ended up sleeping at 4am.
Finished watching the series finale, after 5 seasons. Quite enjoyed the way it ended. Everybody died in the end. It seemed a very fitting ending.
First of all, a primer about Six Feet Under (SFU) for the uninitiated.
You remember American Beauty ? The Kevin Spacey movie, where his sad character's desire for the young cheerleader is depicted in a series of hallucinations, day-dreams, wet-dreams etc... The casual use of marijuana. The homophobic soldier who develops lust for the person he thought was his son's homosexual lover. The awful ironic ending where Spacey found death when he stopped searching for it. SFU is very much like that. It's even written by the same guy, what a coincidence.
Nathaniel Fisher ran a funeral home. His eldest son, Nate, ran from the family business. His second son, David, has a black boyfriend, Keith. His youngest daughter, Claire is finding her purpose in life. His wife, Ruth is having an affair with her hairdresser. A bus ran over Nathaniel and kills him. But this doesn't stop him from making regular appearances as Nate's hallucinations.
Garnish the main-course with a nymphomaniac, her bi-polar brother, her psychotic parents and up-bringing, a Latino family, a number of Claire's boyfriends, Nate's wives, Ruth's lovers, Kathy Bates, a featured corpse every week... and you have quite a cuisine.
Some people might find SFU pretentious. A lot of pot-induced cosmic insights trying to pass themselves off as philosophy. A lot of crazy characters that's just too damaged to be realistic. In real life, shit happens. But to have so much happen to one family, in such concentration, with each event timed to such perfection, a divine maestro must be orchestrating the drama.
Me, I think the writer must have broken into his therapist's files, and took out 20 of the thickest folders, and created characterts to personify each of the worst nut-jobs he found. Then, he plays god and makes up the most whacked out events to slap those characters around like a frenzied kitten batting a crippled mouse. It's merciless and mindlessly cruel.
Nate comes home, and his father is killed. He stays to help his mother to cope. Eventually he gets roped into joining the family business, which he left home to escape in the first place. He continues to see his father's ghost. The Corpse of the Week frequently sits up and talks to him. He develops a relationship with the nympho, one that is continually challenged by her appetite and her unusual relationship with her insane brother, who attempted to stab someone at one point. Just when he's getting into the swing of work, he has an AVM. He's finally going to marry the nympho, and his old girlfriend shows up with his baby. He does the right thing, and feels trapped in a marriage with a Dharma on lithium. Just as he begins to bond with his wife and daughter, 'Dharma' goes on a spiritual journey and disappears, only her car found, no body, and no closure.
All this drama and more for just one character. It's simply amazing how the cast managed to keep up.
Director: "Ok, your motivation for this scene... It's your wedding day. Everyone's happy for you. But you just miscarried your first conception yesterday. There was no anaesthesiologist on hand at the hospital to do a D&C, but you still carry on with the wedding because it's the easier thing to do compared to calling up every one of your friends and relatives to tell them over and over a hundred times that you just had a miscarriage. Your dead baby is still leaking out of you, and you're worried if it's going to stain your gown; the grandma underpants you're wearing is a constant reminder of this. Now you're having an argument with the hallucination of your husband's late-wife. Okay.... Camera!!"
Compared to this, directing a Keanu Reeves movie is a piece of cake. Of course, not counting those scenes when you actually need Keanu to smile.
Keanu's Director: "Ok. He's the bad guy. He pwns. So, look brave!"
Keanu: "Ok, I use my Cool-LookTM #47."
Anyway, moving on....
What makes SFU special is the way the writer uses hallucinations and day-dreams to emote the suppressed emotions that is happening under the character's skin. It is an interesting way of using the medium to tell a deeper story. Not every emotion can be acted out. Some passions are so overwhelming that they paralyse all actions and facial expressions.
Getting to know the characters from inside their heads, is like reading The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Bridget Jones' Diary, or The Catcher In The Rye. It may be hard to explain unless you've actually read any of these books....
I also found the series to be really educational. If not for one of the Corpse of the Week, I don't think I'ld ever have known what a Prince Albert is... (Try to read the following words without cringing: "Piercing", "Penile", "Urethra", "Stretching". Oh, and please don't click on the Prince Albert link if you've got sensitive eyes... You are warned.)
The entire series has a morbid tone. But there are some hilarious moments. The way the corpse of the week is presented is always more fun than Bart Simpson's blackboard scrawls. The writer loves irony.
The situations and events the characters find themselves in sometimes are just completely impossible, yet somehow their pain and psychoses really flesh out the characters.
The dialogue is also one of a kind. Some notable quotes such as:
"What is this, some kind of Quaker thing? You f*ck someone's husband to death, and then you bring them a quiche?"
"You were the one we thought we could lose. What with AIDS, and picking up strange men from the side of the road. Screwing a whore with no condom. You know, that sort of thing. You've been begging for annihilation your entire life."
The fifth season makes following the series all worth while. The way the characters change and develop. The last few episodes gave the show excellent closure.
Everybody died.
It's wonderful.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
The First Post
First I tried to get nuts.blogspot.com, to match my website at http://nuts.freeservers.com, but apparently that's been taken. Thus I had to try various combinations of synonyms for madness before I finally got InsaneSquirrel.blogspot.com.
I couldn't believe RabidSquirrel had already been taken.
But InsaneSquirrel works fine I guess. For the reason why I have this 'squirrel thing', there's some sparse introduction on my website, which has not been updated since the time I registered that domain.
More than a few friends started up their own blogs and asked me where's mine. Well, I already have my own outlet to vent my steam, venomous rants, creative ramblings, cosmic insights, cynical observations, movie & book reviews etc. She is a treasure, but I'm thinking maybe I've been abusing her ears for too long already, and that I should try to dilute my poison amongst a greater audience here.
Or maybe I'm just a self-important megalomaniac who believes that his words can make the world the richer for it.
But I for one am partial to another theory: that hidden in the darkest recesses, in the deepest roots of my brain, there is an insane squirrel valiantly defending my sanity from an evil serpent bent on corroding my mind with unspeakable evil. And he must be given a voice.
ratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatosk
ratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatosk
I couldn't believe RabidSquirrel had already been taken.
But InsaneSquirrel works fine I guess. For the reason why I have this 'squirrel thing', there's some sparse introduction on my website, which has not been updated since the time I registered that domain.
More than a few friends started up their own blogs and asked me where's mine. Well, I already have my own outlet to vent my steam, venomous rants, creative ramblings, cosmic insights, cynical observations, movie & book reviews etc. She is a treasure, but I'm thinking maybe I've been abusing her ears for too long already, and that I should try to dilute my poison amongst a greater audience here.
Or maybe I'm just a self-important megalomaniac who believes that his words can make the world the richer for it.
But I for one am partial to another theory: that hidden in the darkest recesses, in the deepest roots of my brain, there is an insane squirrel valiantly defending my sanity from an evil serpent bent on corroding my mind with unspeakable evil. And he must be given a voice.
ratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatosk
ratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatoskratatosk
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