Transcendent moments in otherwise mediocre movies, pt. 1

Note: I just spent the last three hours writing this post while herding my kids around, and then it published but was then somehow deleted. I'm pissed, and it might show through in my rewrite.

So, every week I borrow a crap movie or two from the library to watch whilst I fold laundry. The parameters are: must be good enough to keep me anaesthetized during the domestic drudgery, but bad enough that I can still multitask. This is not an introduction as much as an explanation as to why I watch so many crap movies. The title of the post pretty much explains where I'm coming from, I think.

Feel free to contribute/respond.


The Movie: Mamma Mia!
The Scene: Dancing Queen

Why It's Transcendent: In an earlier draft of this blog post, I had a rant about the unholy trifecta of Colin Firth, Pierce Brosnan, and Christine Baranski, and what they mean to a movie meant for middle aged women, but now that I was able to use "unholy trifecta" again, I will move on.

Anyway, this movie is about an engaged woman who wants her father to walk her down the aisle, and so contacts the three men who could be her father and asks them to come to the wedding, unbeknownst to her mother, played by the in this case flatteringly made up and borderline hyperactive Meryl Streep. And the hijinx that ensue. All set to the dulcet tones of Abba. But seriously, I love Abba.

I realize that "transcendent" is a rather big idea sort of word, but here goes. First, this scene is transcendent in the way of all musicals: that the characters' feelings are so strong, mere speech is not sufficient. Second, there is the very obvious part that the rest of the movie (especially the men's singing and the clunky transitioning to the musical numbers) is absurdly bad and this scene rises above it; and the third thing that makes this scene transdendent is that this scene is the most perfect illustration of "Dancing Queen." Anyone who has spent any amount of time partying with sorority girls or theatre people (read: me) knows that "Dancing Queen" holds a special place in the heart of collective Womanhood. Chicks love this song, and at a certain point (usually around "Night is young and the music's hiiiiiiigh") when the song is playing, they stop singing the song and start living it. There's a faraway look in the eyes, a reminiscent and secret smile as a woman becomes that girl: young, dead sexy, the night ahead of her glittering with possibility, and knowing it. In this scene, Meryl Streep's character is feeling old and tired, and her friends sing her this song. They walk through the town, and as the women of the town hear it, they join in. Eventually, it's a huge parade of village women of varying ages, shapes, and sizes, singing and dancing their hearts out, as if overtaken by the song, by their own memories and joy. The whole scene is a celebration of Womanhood, experience, and the idea that within every crone is a dancing girl--and not just a girl but a queen--just waiting for the right song to bring her out.


The Movie: Excess Baggage
The Scene: The Pre-Kiss Exchange

Why It's Transcendent: This movie in general and this scene--line, really--introduced me to the unbelievable sexiness that is Benecio del Toro.

He spends the whole movie getting beaten up by Alicia Silverstone, running away from bad guys, being emasculated, put down, shot at, getting blamed for stuff that he's too dumb to foist off on other people. He's really quite pathetic.

And yet. And yet. You are strangely drawn to his pale, stringy body, how he's clean shaven yet gives the impression of having a poorly filled in goatee, how his character always seems confused, the slow, measured way that he talks that makes you wonder if he is perhaps high and that is why he seems confused. Because that is the wonder of del Toro. Alicia and Benecio are next to each other, leaning in for a kiss, in classic rom com fashion where they paaaaaaause, heightening I believe it's called. Benecio mumbles/murmurs/growls/stutters, "Come on come on come on come on." And suddenly you want to tear his pants off. Transcendence! It's a meta moment: he knows that he can make his character as weasly and pathetic as he wants but because of the rom-com formula, he will get the girl anyway. Also, with that one line you know that the character has viewed the entire preceding emasculating, humiliating, and pathetic episode as merely foreplay (both overturning traditional ideas of attraction and masculinity and keeping his priorities straight), and by then, he is ready to "get 'er done," as they say.



And an opposite: The crap scene that ruined an otherwise awesome movie
The Movie: True Grit (remake)
The Scene: Post-snake Bite, Journeying Back to Civilization

Why It Ruined the Whole Damn Movie: Do you remember this part of the movie? (BTW, this is an uber spoiler, so stop reading if you haven't seen "True Grit," stop reading right now!) They have killed the bad guys, the girl fell in the hole and got bit by a rattlesnake, and Jeff Bridges has to take her back to civilization, or the closest approximation thereof. I hate hate hate this part of the movie, because: 1, I do not believe Jeff Bridges' character, title of the movie aside, could carry her for hours and hours. I get tired carting my little daughter around Costco, and I am not a dissolute middleaged gunslinger who also smokes cheroots and has recently been shot; 2, the girl suddenly became super ineffectual. Yes, yes, I know she has been bit by a snake but what was with the the little arm circles and the mewling cries? It was as if she suddenly reverted to infancy, and if it's supposed to be artsy it's failing failing failing to be; and 3, the up-the-nostril being carried perspective shot, with the wide Western sky and all its stars surrounding Jeff Bridges' head like a blessing or a halo--yes, it sounds poetic(ish) when I describe it, but in reality it looked CGI super cheezy and made me want to punch someone in the face.

Thoughts while listening to Lana Del Rey and Googling

Lana Del Rey recently dropped her album “Born to Die.” Do I want to buy this album? The only way for me to know for sure is to listen to every song she has on Grooveshark and read Internet gossip; it’s a system that works for me.

Some thoughts:

It used to be “Ray” but now it’s “Rey” so don’t feel dumb if you misspell in your Google search. It also used to be Lizzie Grant, which does indeed sound like a Disney tween hero.

This music is for girls who like “The Virgin Suicides”—movie version. Point one to me: Tavi Gevinson, stylerookie blogger and rookiemag editor (and highschool sophomore) digs both.

She has a pretty good vocal range. The lower register songs are more interesting but at the same time not as dynamic. There seem to be only three low-voice songs.

Her SNL performance did, indeed, suck. But most of them do. Kanye West, anyone?

On “Gramma,” she sings, “Gramma, I want the whole world to want me; is that wrong?” or something to that effect. Which is a pretty accurate response to a lot of “is she real or is she manufactured?” argument going on on the internetts.

She is not a “gangsta Nancy Sinatra.” Further, people who describe themselves as “gangsta Nancy Sinatra”s are really saying: I want to rebel against my father, like how Nancy wanted to rebel against Frank; I also want to align myself with ol’ Blue Eyes and the Rat Pack, if only by a loose, Kevin-Bacon-y association; I’m super white, if the baddest bad girl I can think of is Nancy Sinatra; I love a good, hipster-riffic sound bite; I don’t really know any gangsters if I refer to myself as one; I don’t really have any good friends, because a good friend will tell you to not refer to yourself (except for in the most ironic way) as an anything “gangsta.”

There is nothing remotely “gangsta” about this music.

She is also not “Nikki Minaj in the body of Lana Turner.” I mean, please.

This music is for girls who like Mazzy Star and Tricky, if they’ve even heard of those guys, but think those artists are too old, urban, or European.

“Sneaking out looking for a taste of real life.”—one of the opening lyrics for “This is What Makes Us Girls.” Again with the whole “Virgin Suicides” thing.

The whole late teens, early twenties wild nihilism of the suburban young lady. Who can have a drinking problem while attending private high school. Who might really be experiencing something, or might just be trying on an identity. Where you can feel world weary about shit that’s gone down (“My friend almost OD’d at a party, yo, right in front of my eyes! We had to leave him at the front of the ER so Bryan’s parents wouldn’t find out he was having a party”), while, you know, in other parts of the world people don’t have access to water.

These songs seem lonely. None of this “me and my girls” stuff; it’s all dark-eyed lonely girls wearing sundresses, trying to find love and meaning and connection with some jackass loser.

Sex. Getting high. Drinking. Playing video games. Filler things people in these songs do. No mention of apps or FB, though. Strange.

Overall, the best part of these songs is their lyrics, and the melodies are kind of nice and sinuous. However, her subject matter is somewhat slight (“Video Games” is about a girl who loves a boy who wants to drink beer and play video games)—at least to me, perhaps because I’m a decade older than her and I’ve seen real shit go down. Kidding. I think these songs speak to a certain generation—the post-post-suburbanites, the post-post-feminists. Is what she describes in her songs any different than what happens in, say, an episode of “Jersey Shore”? It’s just slanted for the indie crowd.

It seems like Lana Del Rey is a constructed identity of a woman/girl who wanted a certain look and musicality, and aggressively pursued both those things and fame. I don’t know why hipsters are getting mad for; except for the fame part, isn’t that they were doing when they bought $350 skinny jeans, Goodwill sweaters, and grew all that godawful facial hair? Nobody came from the womb citing Sartre while drinking organic coffee and toting a McSweeney’s—though that would make a nice skit on “Portlandia.”

Sadly, Lana Del Rey does not make the jump from Grooveshark sample to iTunes playlist.

Best tracks: Born to Die, Diet Mtn Dew, Hey Lolita Hey, This is What Makes Us Girls, Video Games (only because I was once this girl and I feel her pain. So bad.)

Final score: 2.5/5.

Ps. Additionally, I learned the word “sadcore.”

Effin' Blogger and its Weird, Frustrating Settings

I think I fixed the commenting on this blog. Now we can have exciting discussions and get links to ED medicines for less and never pay full retail price for Gucci watches again!

Technology in classrooms: confusing for everyone, especially NY Times readers

In the past few days, the NY Times, bastion of everything educated and literate, has run a bunch of single articles (at least, I don't believe these are part of a series) about technology in the classroom. Spurring intelligent discussion or spreading confusion? You decide.

Screen Time Higher Than Ever for Children:
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/25/us/screen-time-higher-than-ever-for-children-study-finds.html
(my summary: studies show increased tech use; term "app gap" used for the division of people who use apps and don't)

And
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/20/opinion/occupy-the-classroom.html?emc=eta1
(my summary: we need to change classroom tech inequalities instead of financial/job inequalities)

And
Out with Textbooks, in With Laptops for an Indiana School District:
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/19/education/19textbooks.html?pagewanted=1
(my summary: this school uses only laptops and PDF textbooks; it's ka-ray-zay!)

Contrast this with:

A Silicon Valley School That Doesn't Compute:
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/23/technology/at-waldorf-school-in-silicon-valley-technology-can-wait.html?hpw
(my summary: these rich IT execs send their kids to a school with no computer use; the kids learn fractions from cutting fruit; it's ka-ray-zay!)

Beautiful network of utility: friends

Somebody told once that if I wanted to make lots of friends, I could just buy a truck. It might have been my brothers-in-law, because they all have friends and trucks, and also like to throw out little tidbits like that.

I was thinking about that the other day: the usefulness of friends. So, I made a list, which is of course a completely logical thing to do. At this point, I feel compelled to say two things:

1.    This blog is not small-children-with-big-eyes cutesy, so although I fully acknowledge that a friend “who knows where all the bodies are buried” and a friend “who loves you even at your worst” (yeah, I work in an office and have received that particular email a time or twelve) are both really nifty, I want to talk about utility, not about feelings of joy like a wriggling basket of puppies.

2.    And when I talk about utility, I don’t mean it in a cut-throat way. I’m not going to drop or make friends just because they have certain things. But you can’t possibly know, have, or learn everything, so it’s nice to have friends who do.

All right, caveats aside, here is my list of The Friends Everyone Needs

-A friend with a truck.

-A friend with power tools.

-A friend who can fix your computer or tell you when it can’t be fixed.

-A friend who can help you shop for a car.

-A friend who makes really excellent desserts.

-A friend—who may or may not be a medical professional—who knows if something looks infected, if those sound like symptoms or just a result of eating pizza four days straight, and who doesn’t mind helping you with lancing, bandaging, icing, or driving to the hospital.

-A friend who can find you on the freeway with a spare and a jug (that’s the wrong word: bottle? Tank? Nozzly thing?) of gas. In the night in the rain.

-A friend who knows about cars.

-A friend who will cook for you when you are sick or hungover.

-A friend who still has whatever bad habit(s) you quit and will indulge you with it/them when you hang out.

-A friend who will float you a twenty when you forgot to go to the ATM… and never bug you to pay him back.

-A friend with an AAA membership.

-A friend who brings good booze to the bbq or dinner party.

-A friend who can offer free legal advice.

-A friend who can explain technical things.

-A friend who will help you look for a job.

-A friend who has a house with a pool or lives by the beach.

-A friend who enjoys planning parties.

-A friend who’s handy.

-A friend who will make phone calls for you.

-A friend who likes gardening.

-A friend with actual grown up, nice possessions who acts like a mature adult.

-A friend who has good taste in books and music.

-A friend who can grill and has a nice bbq.

-A friend who will forward really great YouTube clips and silly websites.

-A friend who loves to babysit.

-A friend with all the latest tech toys.

-A friend who is DIY crafty. Not shifty crafty.

-A friend who knows all the slang and pop culture references.

-A friend who gives a good massage.

-A friend who knows what’s going on Friday night and will make an effort to get your ass out of the house.

-A friend who will research something for you, or proofread something for you.

Got any you want to add?

No dairy=Happy

So, I’ve been trying to cut out dairy from the family’s diet, for a variety of reasons that I’ll mention briefly here and perhaps expand upon in a later rant. Some of these reasons are pseudo-science based, and pseudo-economics based, which I fully acknowledge before you question my conspiracy-theorist-sounding use of the nefarious “they.” Dairy is bad because:

-Hormones. They (see? “They”!) pump the cows full of hormones so that they will lactate  and the hormones go into our milk. I didn’t think about it much until I was a nursing mother, and saw firsthand how what I ate affected the milk I produced.

-The cattle/dairy industry is not humane. Read “Skinny Bitch” (or a host of other books) if you want to give yourself a complex.

-It causes inflammation. Here’s the pseudo-science part, not because it doesn’t make sense but because I am not good at articulating these kinds of things. Inflammation—where a localized part of your body swells, usually in response to injury or sickness—is bad when it’s chronic. So, if you eat dairy all the time, then you are always inflamed, and that is bad. For little kids it’s especially bad because their parts are small. When they stopped having dairy all the time, my kids stopped having ear and sinus infections (caused by sinus inflammation and trapped liquids in their inner ear tubes, etc.).

-Milk allergies. I saw an article (that of course I can’t find now) that milk allergy is the most common and most undiagnosed allergy for toddlers in the U.S. Milk allergy is different than lactose intolerance, which is also unpleasant.

-It makes me mucus-y. Maybe that’s part of the inflammation point above.

-Cheese poops. Powerful and wretched.

So, absolutely no milk, not even Lactaid (which tastes like milk blended with Tums). Sometimes yogurt, which I like to make myself from the organic milk from Costco. We also like to get froyo. But my biggest weakness is cheese. One of my college roommates ate a lot of good cheese and passed on the addiction to me—but nowadays, we get a block of Tillamook Medium Sharp Cheddar once a quarter or so. I also adore brie and gouda, and that goat cheese where they soak the rind in wine. I made myself drool on the keyboard. Damnit.

All of the above has been a longwinded introduction to what I really wanted to talk about: The Uncheese Cookbook by Joanne Stepaniak, and the only recipe from that book that I like, Parmezana Sprinkles (Note the “z.” It’s that kind of book. I was surprised that it wasn’t “Sprinklez.”).

This book seeks to create a non-dairy equivalent to any occasion you should have to need cheese, usually using some combination of beans, nutritional yeast, tofu, lemon juice, pimiento, nuts, oats, and salt. You also need a blender and a transcendent act of imagination. It is my opinion that anyone who thinks these recipes taste anything like cheese (I tried five recipes in this book, but have blocked out most of them) either is quite imaginative/delusional, or hasn’t had actual cheese in so long that they can’t accurately remember the taste.

Here I will note that negative reviews of this book on Amazon.com have received aggressive responses from Ms. Stepaniak. I appreciate how she is protective of her work, but “You’re a fat pig who’s going to die from a heart attack” (not a real quote, but approximate) is not an appropriate response to “I don’t like your book.” Just sayin’.

But this book led me to nutritional yeast. Yes, it’s a fungus. A dry, mustard-yellow powder (or flakes) that smell cheesy/nutty/yeasty. It’s supposed to be super nutritious, and is not to be confused with brewer’s yeast, or any of the other yeasts you may already know. In NZ, it’s called “savory yeast” or “savory yeast flakes” (for Claire, who may or may not read this blog but who definitely lives in NZ).

Here’s my version of the Parmezano Sprinklez (couldn’t resist). I put it on popcorn and spaghetti. What’s really awesome is that I find I like it better than cheese. How often does that happen?

Sprinklez

-Handful of blanched almonds, dry, skin taken off

-1 Tablespoon nutritional yeast (you can add more later, but start with less)

-Pinch of Tony Chachere’s Original Creole Seasoning or chili pepper flakes

-Pinch of salt

-Pinch of brown sugar (not mandatory)

Blend. Sprinkle on stuff. Eat. That’s it.

References:

http://my.clevelandclinic.org/symptoms/inflammation/hic_inflammation_what_you_need_to_know.aspx

www.skinnybitch.net

http://www.webmd.com/allergies/guide/milk-allergy

http://www.amazon.com/Uncheese-Cookbook-Creating-Dairy-Free-Substitutes/dp/0913990426

http://vegetarian.about.com/od/glossary/g/nutyeast.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nutritional_yeast

Solar Aquaponic Update 1: Gettin' the sh!t together

I know I just posted a whole review, but I'm super stoked: Tyler just dropped off the solar water pump he had torqued up for me!