An eventful and enjoyable Sunday!

I spent most of the day down in West Hollywood reminiscing with old high school friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen for twenty years!  Not too long ago, in my hometown of Fredonia, a class reunion was held but many of us on the west coast couldn’t make it.  We did our best to make up for it yesterday and I had a lot of fun catching up and sharing stories of our western New York roots.  It still amazes me, years later, how lucky I was to grow up in a town full of so many creative, interesting, fun people–I so took it for granted back then.  Heya folks:  let’s do that again sometime soon!

From old friends to new:  Jenn and I adopted a new kitten!  So far we haven’t officially named him, but for now he’s “Arthur” (the name his foster mom gave him):

“Arthur” is a friendly and curious fellow who will purr at the drop of a hat.  He’s adapting quickly and nicely to his new home.  Sadly, the same can’t be said for our four-year-old cat Cairo, who isn’t terribly happy about having to share his house with a new stepbrother.  We’re hoping in time the two dudes will start hanging out, but for now, we’ve got them in separate rooms and are hoping to integrate them gradually into each other’s lives.  It will take time, but I think it will work out eventually!

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

So this weekend, after many weeks of neglect, I finally dusted off the “novel-in-progress” (I’m using the term loosely) and re-read the first nine chapters to see if it’s worth continuing to work on.

I think it is.  I have no idea if it’s structurally coherent–I suspect it’s kind of a mess in that regard, actually–but I enjoyed reading it and was a little miffed there was no ending.

So I’m going to finish it.  Eventually.  I even managed to write up the next eight chapters’ worth of plot, in skeleton form, anyway.  I’m trying not to think about whether it’s publishable.  I just want to be able, someday, to dig it out of my trunk and read it through and not have it stop in the middle on me. 

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

The Visitor (2007) lured me on the pedigree of its director Tom McCarthy, whose previous film The Station Agent (2003) hit the bullseye for me.  Although there are structural similarities, The Visitor is definitely a different film, darker and less optimistic in some respects–but no less moving, and ultimately a great story.

Walter Vale (Richard Jenkins), an economics professor, lives his life on autopilot–teaching a course at a Connecticut university, working half-heartedly on a book, and moving quietly through life.  When the university administration recruits him to present a paper he just barely co-authored at a conference in New York City, Vale reluctantly drives to the big city, to stay in a rarely used apartment he keeps in Manhattan.  When he arrives, however, he finds it unexpectedly inhabited by two illegal immigrants:  a Syrian drummer named Tarek (Haaz Sleiman) and a Senagalese jewelcrafter named Zainab (Danai Jekesai Gurira).  Surprising everybody (including himself), Vale invites them to stay, and finds their friendship stirring him out of his rut.

Jenkins is terrific as the withdrawn, introverted widower, a step removed from his own life and forced out of his routine, to find himself awakened by the interesting new people in his life.  Sleiman and Gurira provide capable support, as does Hiam Abbass, who arrives later as Tarek’s mother.  All three of these characters are endearing, well developed, and real, and each of them helps sell one of the film’s overarching messages:  that we’re a nation of immigrants, and that there’s strength in our diversity.  This inherently political angle to the film is neither shrill or heavy-handed, and while it’s certainly a sad story, it’s also uplifting in its way.  The film’s final image is brilliant, and really hit me where I live.  A terrific little film, well worth seeing.

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

I didn’t realize how weak my camel’s back was getting until this straw broke it.  I totally thought this snuck over to AV Club from the satirical part of the Onion site.  I mean,  Asteroids: The Movie?  Really?

I know the economy is bad.  I know Hollywood is looking for established, familiar, “sure thing” properties.  But but but…really?

Seriously, let’s take a stand, people!  We need to stop legitimizing the film industy’s remake/reboot/redo recrap.  So spend your hard-earned, movie-going dollar not at Random Familiar Thing II, or Old TV Show Redux, but at:  anything else.

I mean, what’s next?  Life Cereal Commercial: The Movie?

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

Yesterday I was laid up with some kind of sinus junk–congestion and a mean-ass headache–and spent most of the day nesting on the couch, marathoning episodes of Pushing Daisies and Mission: Impossible.  In the process of wallowing, I barely noticed that a new month had arrived.  Zip, there goes another one!

The new Futurismic story went live right on schedule:  it’s “Homeostasis” by Carlos Hernandez.   Click on over and give this one a read!

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

I was hoping to see The International (2009) in the theater, basically for two reasons;  director Tom Tykwer (Run, Lola, Run and Winter Sleepers) and actress Naomi Watts (Mulholland Drive).  Ultimately I ended up watching it on Blu-ray, though, and it’s probably just as well; it’s a pretty average movie.

It’s a thriller centered around an investigation into an international bank based in Luxembourg, which is suspected of attempting to set itself up as a go-between weapons broker connecting Chinese arms manufacturers with third-world revolutionaries.  The investigation is a joint effort by the New York District Attorney’s office, spearheaded by Eleanor Whitman (Watts), and Interpol (represented by Clive Owen).  Owen’s character, Louis Salinger, is a former Scotland Yard hothead who has carried over his relentless pursuit of justice against this dirty bank from his British law enforcement career to his new gig with Interpol.  The death of one of Louis and Eleanor’s colleagues, just as he is closing in on a bank insider who could make their case, sets the duo up with enough clues to pursue their case further…with often hair-raising results.

For the most part it’s a well plotted film and its focus on reprehensible bank behavior is certainly well timed, but for all its detailed plot machinations, ultimately the proceedings felt a little cold and hollow.  Tykwer’s usually impressive visual sense is on display, particularly in the film’s gorgeous establishing shots of various international locales (the film visits Germany, France, Luxembourg, Italy, Turkey, and the United States), but on the whole the direction feels kind of half hearted, as if the director is one step removed from the story.  Both Owen and Watts are effective, given the limited opportunities afforded by their roles–although sadly, Owens has little more to do than act intense, and Watts concerned.  The films tries to shotgun them into a “romance-that-wasn’t” subplot, but there aren’t really any sparks.  There’s an impressive action setpiece and there’s some enjoyable, subtle investigative hugger-mugger, but by and large it’s hard to get emotionally invested in any of it.

Really, there’s nothing wrong with The International–it’s a highly professional film, well acted, diverting.  But it’s ultimately just kind of unmoving.

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

He, She and It (1992) is my first experience with Marge Piercy’s work.  I had something of a mixed reaction to its science fictional content, but on the whole I found it a strong, thought-provoking novel.

The world of He, She and It is a dystopian, near future United States.  The federal government has vanished, global warming and pollution have decimated the environment, vast segments of the population live in a lawless urban sprawl, and huge multinational corporations vie for power and control.  The narrative kicks off when Shira Shipman, a technician specializing in human-machine interfaces for one of the largest multinationals, loses custody of her son in a divorce and finds herself cut adrift from an ill-considered path in life.  She returns to the community of her youth, Tikva, a Jewish free town that has managed to maintain its independence by selling superior computer security to various multis.  There, Shira goes to work for a scientist, Avram Stein, helping with the development of a cyborg, Yod, with whom she develops a complicated relationship.  Meanwhile, Tikva is under assault–mostly via cyberspace–by multinationals looking to absorb its talent and technology.  Yod was developed in order to help defend the town, which puts Shira in the middle of wars both political and actual.

I found myself struggling to get into this one at first, as the early stages of SF world-building felt a bit clumsy and overly expositional; it kind of felt like “SF as a second language,” the author discovering familiar tropes and describing them as if they were brand new.  Ultimately I don’t think that’s a fair judgement, though, because once the groundwork is laid, Piercy handles the material adroitly, and the novel addresses numerous classic SFnal issues quite effectively.  However, I think if you have strongly developed SF-reading filters, some of those early infodumps ring a bit false.

I also thought the SF content of He, She and It was curiously unstuck in time–even today, seventeen years after its publication, it feels as if it could have been written anywhere from the 1970s to the 2000s.  In some ways it feels very forward-looking, in others oddly dated.  Piercy’s take on the environmental crisis, for example, seems slightly ahead of the curve of mainstream thinking; the book’s cyberpunk influence make it feel very much a product of its time; the social consciousness seems very much a hallmark of 1970s SF; and, to really reach back, the cyborg Yod can be seen as a reconceptualized Frankenstein’s monster.  I came away from the book feeling like it could have been released just yesterday or re-released from an original publication forty years ago.  In the end, I think this is a good thing–the ideas and issues it deals with are timeless, in other words–but for some reason I found it occasionally off-putting.  I think I kept expecting the book to…settle into an era of the SF canon, and it never really does.

Still, while I found the world-building and the timeliness of the SFnal content slightly problematic, the novel clearly succeeds as science fiction, particularly in its examination of the central premise–which is not its world, or its occasional cyberpunk flavor, but its complex and well thought out look at the ethics of creating artificial life for human purposes.  Yod, the cyborg at the heart of the story, is a strongly conceived character, and used to good effect in examining these issues, at the core of many practical and philosophical arguments, and his plight raises many thought-provoking questions.  Piercy emphasizes this theme in an alterate track narrated by Shira’s grandmother, Malkah, in which she tells Yod a story of a magical golem created to protect a Jewish ghetto in Prague in the 1600s.  The introduction of this additional, historical storyline contributed to the book’s slow opening for me, but quickly became an effective part of its structure, accenting and illuminating aspects of the future track.

The religious elements also contribute to the novel’s unique atmosphere; I found it quite refreshing to see religion in the future.  It says something, perhaps, about how infrequently that’s dealt with in future SF.  (Either that, or I’m just an overly secular kind of guy…)  The novel is also swarming with memorable, well developed characters.  The emphasis is on strong, empowered women, but even the men–if slightly more villainous in their somewhat single-minded ambitions–are interesting and dynamic.  My only struggle here was with Avram, the scientist chiefly responsible for Yod’s development, who seems unrealistically incapable of understanding the extent of Yod’s capacity to think and feel and want and need.  If Avram is such a brilliant scientist, shouldn’t he be more sensitive to his creation’s capacity for human-like traits and behaviors?  I wasn’t entirely convinced by him, and I’m not sure why he was chosen to represent the cold, heartless side of the argument about Yod–which was necessary to the conflict, but didn’t strike me as a true scientist’s behavior.

I wouldn’t say I loved this one through and through, but it’s a well written, effective, and ambitious novel, and it definitely got my gears turning.

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

If you’re in the mood for intricate, intelligent drama, you can do far, far worse than to check out State of Play (2003), a six-episode BBC miniseries involving journalism, political scandal, complicated relationships, ethics, and more.  It might be the last of the great newspaper dramas, wherein a random-seeming event snowballs unexpectedly into the story of a lifetime, as a team of reporters gradually disentangles a convoluted web of intrigue to get to the hard truth behind a young woman’s death.

When a young researcher for a government energy committee, Sonia Baker–something of a “Laura Palmer figure” for the series–is killed by a train in the London Underground, at first it seems like simply a tragic accident–until evidence comes into the possession of journalist Cal McCaffrey (John Simm) that might link her death to the shooting of a young boy on the same day.  Baker’s boss, politician Stephen Collins (David Morrissey), is an old friend of McCaffrey’s, which puts McCaffrey in a unique position to get to the heart of the story, which becomes more complicated when Collins admits to having had an affair with Sonia.  Torn between his friendship with Collins and his journalistic ambition, McCaffrey doggedly pursues the story, with the help of his staff (which includes a feisty Kelly Macdonald and a smarmy James McAvoy) and, less directly, his editor (the brilliantly shifty and amusing Bill Nighy).  Each new piece of evidence makes the story more and more eye-opening, eventually leading to an explosive emotional climax.

It’s a superb drama, which tells a compelling, propulsive narrative, which is also deviously complex, and in the meanwhile examines the ethics of journalistic behavior in the pursuit of the truth.  Indeed, McCaffrey and his team are as crafty and ruthless as any team of spies, and deploy every trick in the book to get the information they need.  But McCaffrey, entangled as he is by his relationship with Collins and Collins’ wife (Polly Walker), gradually comes–as the viewer does–to see the human cost of his actions, which colors any professional success he may achieve.

Crisp writing, strong characterization, and terrific acting help sell the story–I was particularly impressed with Morrissey as the emotionally shattered M.P., and Marc Warren, who is fantastic as the profoundly paranoid key witness, Dominic Foy.  I found it thoroughly engrossing stuff and well worth the five-hour commitment.

Don’t confuse it with the big budget film of the same name that came out recently (starring Russell Crowe and Ben Affleck); I didn’t see it, although I have to admit I’m intrigued to see how they condensed it, and what kind of Hollywood casting they tried.  Maybe for another post…but really I can’t imagine how they could have improved the original.  Go to the source!  (No pun intended…)

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

The magnificent Wonderfalls (2004) has the odd distinction of being a died-before-its-time TV gem that I don’t have to feel guilty about for having killed.  Fox gave this one a measly four episodes before pulling the plug…barely enough time to learn of its existence!  Fortunately, they actually shot fifteen episodes, which makes for a worthwhile DVD collection.  And that’s where I came in…I pretty much watched it over a weekend when I first got it a couple of years ago, and recently went around the horn a second time with Jenn.

Set in Niagara Falls, New York, Wonderfalls stars the adorably exasperated Caroline Dhavernas as Jaye Tyler, a bright but aimless twenty-something who works as a retail clerk for a gift shop, lives in a trailer park, and languishes in the shadow of her considerably more successful immediate family members.  Her witty slacker existence is challenged when one day at work, a wax figurine begins speaking to her–more specifically, telling her to do things.  This is just the first of a series of inanimate objects that begin dictating Jaye’s fate, and she quickly realizes that ignoring the toy animals’ cryptic directives can have harsh consequences.  How the cosmic instructions will impact Jaye’s fate, color her relationships, and help her grow as a person, is an unpredictable, quirky, and funny ride.

Bryan Fuller has done a lot of great TV series–Dead Like Me, Heroes, Pushing Daisies–but I think this is the one that really hit the mark the most for me.  Part of it is surely Dhavernas’ sheer charm, and on some level I think I relate to her character way too much…chiefly her sense of high expectations squelched, a sort of Gen-X cliché I suppose, but rendered amusingly and with real heart.  Part of it is probably the western New York setting, which pushes my nostalgia buttons (and the show pretty much gets the look and feel of western New York right–I think it was shot in Toronto, which probably helped).  It also has the quick pacing and quirky, upbeat music that tends to make good comedies click.  But in the end I think it’s just the damn good writing–its simple, fantastical, premise, which lends itself to surprise after surprise, and plenty of comic confusion; its rapid-fire, quick-witted dialogue; its clever conceits and left turns and satisfying resolutions.  It’s even got some pre-Daisies Lee Pace (in fine form as Jaye’s laconic, intellectual brother) and a nice string of Jewel Staite appearances late in the season, for all you Firefly fanatics.

Do yourself a favor and grab this box, or at least put it in your queue.  Good stuff!  (And did I mention the catchy Andy Partridge theme music…?)

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

Evidently this past Tuesday was National Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Day.  I guess this is a new thing, so I didn’t know about it to celebrate…although, strictly by coincidence, I swung by the bookstore on the way to work to grab a glimpse at The Year’s Best Science Fiction, Twenty-Sixth Annual Collection, edited by Gardner Dozois.

Initially I told myself I mainly wanted to see how well Futurismic had fared in 2008, in the eyes of Mr. Dozois.  Sadly, we warranted little more than half a sentence in the online section of the summary, but four of our ten stories made the honorable mention list:

•    “Uxo, Bomb Dog” by Eliot Fintushel
•    “Maquech” by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
•    “Solitude Ripples from the Past” by David Reagan
•    “Willpower” by Jason Stoddard

Congrats, folks!  I was thinking a few more of our stories were deserving of a nod, but I guess forty percent of our total output for the year isn’t too bad–and heck, if every story made it, the list wouldn’t have much of a point, would it?  (I mean, beyond convincing writers to buy the book to see their name in print…see below.)  Incidentally, I’m not counting the mistaken inclusion of “The Rivers of Eden” by Jay Lake & Ruth Nestvold, which must have snuck in from an old file…that one was published in 2005!

Happily, my Cosmos story “Frame of Mind” also made the honorable mention list.  A minor distinction to be sure, but for me, an elusive one, so pardon me while I feel briefly cheerful about actually being mentioned in something.  Woot!

I told myself I wouldn’t buy it just because my story was noted…so I bought it thinking that, down the road, I will review it for this blog. 

Meanwhile, in more forward-looking news, I’m hammering away at the opening scenes of two new stories at the moment.  So far it’s like chiseling through a cement block, and I don’t have solid titles for either one–which for me is a serious stumbling block–but at least some new projects are taking shape.

Happy Belated National Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Day!

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

Over the past several weeks, Jenn and I caught up on the third and final season of Veronica Mars (2004-2007), and we finished off the final episodes during the England trip, watching the DVDs on our laptops.

Veronica Mars is one of the best shows you never heard about.  Set in Neptune, California, a southern California town with a profoundly noticeable and contentious class divide, the show centers around the eponymous Veronica (Kristen Bell), a sharp-tongued, quick-witted, and outrageously resourceful teenage investigator, who goes to high school by day and solves mysteries by night…er, well, actually 24-7.  As the show begins, Veronica is still recovering from the trauma of losing her best friend Lily Kane (Amanda Seyfried) to a horrible murder.  Veronica’s father Keith (the absolutely wonderful Enrico Colantoni) was the sheriff of Neptune at the time, but went after the wrong suspect, pissed off the wrong people, and lost his job in the process.  By standing by her father, Veronica lost most of her friends, ousted from the in-crowd of rich and powerful kids from the wealthy side of town, including her ex-boyfriend, Lily’s brother Duncan (Teddy Duncan), and Lily’s boyfriend, volatile celebrity brat Logan (Jason Dohring).  A woman without a caste in a highly stratified community, Veronica takes solace in helping out her father with his PI cases, and running her own side business at school, straddling the line between the haves and have-nots with her one kindred spirit, stand-up guy Wallace (Percy Daggs III).

In its first two seasons, the show managed the nifty trick of presenting in each episode a clever mystery-of-the-week for Veronica to solve, while simultaneously advancing an overarching, season-long mystery plot.  While it’s hard not to feel that the first season’s larger story was more successful–indeed, I’d rank it among my favorite seasons of any show, ever–ultimately both the first and second seasons are very satisfying:  intricate, clever, funny, and addictive TV, not unlike Buffy the Vampire Slayer in its fun, compelling story-telling.

Season three, which sees Veronica off to college, isn’t nearly as successful, partly because of interference–evidently, the network demanded changes in order to “help the ratings.”  Unfortunately, this seemed to involve eliminating the season-long story arc, playing up the weekly “A-story,” and drawing out a particular relationship storyline ad naseum.  Sadly, nerfing Veronica Mars not only didn’t help the ratings, but it may have driven away some of the faithful.  It’s a hugely unfortunate fate for a show that deserved better.

Even so, I would hesitate to say the show jumped the shark–even if it was marched to the shark by gunpoint.  The third season has its moments, and by and large it stays true to the spirit of the series so brilliantly established in its earlier hours.   To the end, the show had mystery, humor, heart, and charm to burn.  I suppose a show could do worse than to leave you wanting more…

Farewell, Veronica!

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

Genre writers don’t get much more prolific, versatile, or flat out fun than Paul Di Filippo, whose diversity and literary fearlessness never cease to amaze me.  I just caught up with Shuteye for the Timebroker (2006), his tenth (!) full collection.  Although typically inventive, this one felt somewhat minor compared to some of his other collections… kind of like when a band you love releases a bunch of studio outtakes which don’t really add up to a true album.  Di Filippo’s trademark creativity is on display as ever, but to me Shuteye just isn’t as uniformly impressive as some of his more strongly themed collections (the essential Strange Trades coming first to mind, followed by the wonderful Ribofunk).

I didn’t detect much of a theme to this collection–it’s a fairly even mix of genre stories, the fantasy tending toward the whimsical and the contemporary, while the SF is generally of the Twilight Zone-ish variety, and perhaps a tad darker.  Probably my favorite of the bunch is the fierce “Shadowboxer,” in which a man with the ability to kill with his mind is put to work for the government, an effective and chilling tale.  The most satisfying storytelling in the collection, though, comes from “The Secret Sutras of Sally Strumpet,” an engaging novelette about a male writer whose fictional chick-lit pseudonym comes to life and takes over his ill-gotten career–a slick premise nicely realized, if marred a bit by iffy gender politics.

Indeed, many of the tales of Shuteye are typically groovy Di Filippo idea stories that don’t quite hit the bullseye.  Take the opening fantasy tales, “Captain Jill” and “Billy Budd,” for example–previously unpublished stories from his short-lived Blackwood Beach series, which is centered on a mysterious Atlantic coastal town, a kind of Twin Peaks for New England.  In the former story, a notorious female pirate is awakened in a man’s basement after years of magical slumber…in the latter, a man who is half-plant attempts to seed and nurture a perfect female partner with whom to share his life.  Both stories generally execute their premises well and possess an inherent likeability, but both overstay their welcome a bit, too long for what they accomplish. “Distances,” meanwhile, is similarly half-satisfying:  a ballsy and ambitious early experiment in which SF writers extrapolate future SF writers extrapolating farther future SF writers, on and on–an impressive feat that simultaneously feels too much like an exercise.  Also populating the collection are a number of stylistic homages–some indirect, others more targeted, with many a nod and a wink to other writers–and some of these tend to miss the mark for me.  “The Mysterious Iowans” (Verne) and “The Days of Other Light” (Poe), for example, are earnest nods to their ancestors…but I showed up to read Paul Di Filippo, you know?

So, while not without it merits, on the whole this one was a bit disappointing to me, then–one for the Di Filippo completist, I think.

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

I considered posting a one-word review of Pixar’s latest animated film, Up (2009).  It would have read: go!  But, of course, I can’t possibly be that short-winded.

Still, honestly, I don’t feel the need to be all that much more specific.  Up is simply a delight:  creative, fun, moving, exciting, funny as hell.  Providing more detail would simply spoil its wonderful surprises.  So, in the end, the upshot of this post remains…

Go! 

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

I like to bring page-turners with me when I’m traveling, and based on my reaction to the first Greg Rucka Queen & Country novel, I figured its sequel would be a good bet.  I was mostly right:  by and large, Private Wars (2005) is a brisk, enjoyable read in the mode of its predecessor.  But I found aspects of it troubling, and overall it didn’t connect with quite as strongly.

Following the dramatic events of the last novel (as well as several subsequent comic book issues), Rucka’s super-spy Tara Chace has retired to the English countryside to raise a child and recover from her traumatic experiences.  Chace’s resignation has left the Special Section of SIS, headed by acerbic, shrewd survivor Paul Crocker, in a sorry state:  the new head of section is a political appointee and isn’t up to snuff, and Minders Two and Three are still too inexperienced to handle department leadership.  Meanwhile, there’s a new Deputy Chief, and a new CIA Head of Station, which have transformed Crocker’s bureaucratic battlefield.  When an under-the-table operation comes his way, involving a regime change in strategically important Uzbekistan, Crocker sees a chance to do some good, and also improve his career prospects.  Carrying out the mission, though, involves luring Chace out of retirement, which takes some doing–but once Chace is on board, the adventure launches in earnest, as she inserts herself between rival siblings vying for power in central Asia.

Although it has many of the elements that made A Gentleman’s Game successful, and is certainly diverting and fast-paced, for some reason this one didn’t win me over to the same extent.  For one thing, the operation–which involves determining which successor to an ailing president will take over upon his death–is difficult to get all that excited about.  More problematic, for me, was how much of the plot turns involve revenge and violence.  Revenge was a major factor in A Gentleman’s Game as well–its mission a message-sending response to a severe terrorist attack on London–but in this case it takes a more personal turn, when Chace gets into a private war with an evil henchman of one of the Uzbek heirs, Zahidov.  Captured during an action in which she ruthlessly kills numerous members of Zahidov’s team, she is subsequently abused and tortured by him, barely escaping with her life thanks to a last-minute intervention.  While Zahidov’s behavior  is unquestionably despicable, and it’s certainly easy to root for his comeuppance in light of his treatment of Chace (and others), to me, on a certain level, Zahidov’s vicious, merciless behavior isn’t all that far removed from the machine-like killings of Chace.  It’s a problem I have with many thrillers and suspense shows or films–Taken, actually, is a perfect example–wherein the Hero, simply by virtue of being our viewpoint character on the right side of an argument, has carte blanche to brutally murder anyone who gets in his path, even if the motive for doing so places the one above the many.  Don’t get me wrong, Chace’s antagonist in Private Wars is a torturer and wanton killer, who has in the past raped his interrogation victims.  It isn’t that he doesn’t deserve whatever he gets–he does.  But does this excuse Chace’s remorseless killings, which in many cases come across like honorless, fatal sucker punches, merely in the context of a meddling political operation?  Or, even if they are in retaliation for the villains’ past abuses?  It seems like both sides of fence are equally guilty of perpetuating the violence, and escalating it without regard to collateral damage–never with a thought toward a nonviolent solution.

Anyway, much more interesting and engaging for me in the Queen & Country universe are the corridors of MI6–Crocker’s schemes, his interactions with the other major figures of the service, the teamwork in the Ops room, and the considerably more human personalities of the other Minders.  These are the parts of The Sandbaggers that I really liked, and it comes across more strongly in the comic books.  Rucka handles these scenes well in Private Wars, and I invariably find them more interesting than the action sequences and the operations themselves, but unfortunately they always seem to run subservient to Chace’s relentless wetwork.  I, personally, would like to see more intrigue and less combat.

So, many complaints perhaps, but setting them aside I still really like this universe, and I’ll probably keep following it, provided it continues.  At the moment there doesn’t appear to be another novel out, but I do still have another volume of the collected comics to catch up on.

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

One benefit of seatback entertainment-on-demand on a long flight:  with all that time to kill, you can take a chance on something you might not normally spend time on.  I picked The Edge of Love (2008) because, although it looked a bit heavy on the romance (not my favorite genre), it seemed to contain elements I might like:  a historical drama with a  biopic angle, set during World War II–and, as a kicker, plenty of eye candy in the cast.  What could go wrong, eh?

Well, it could be frightfully boring.  And The Edge of Love kind of is.

It seems that, long in the film’s past, poet Dylan Thomas (Matthew Rhys) had a passionate affair with singer Vera (Keira Knightley).  They meet years later during the Blitz, but now Dylan is married to the sassy Caitlin (Sienna Miller) and also has a son.  It appears that Dylan and Vera aren’t quite over each other, a fact that quickly becomes an open secret among the three of them.  But when Vera and Caitlin hit it off as friends, they all move in together, openly acknowledging the love triangle.  Meanwhile, Vera resists the advances of handsome young officer William (Cillian Murphy), until finally she briefly gives up on her love for Dylan and submits…and then there’s a whirlwind romance, a marriage, a boy is shipped off to war, there are hard times, and an affair…

You get the idea.  If you haven’t seen this movie, you’ve probably seen one like it:  tortured romance, unrequited love, longing glances, beautiful women falling all over the wrong guys, affairs, striking young men transformed and haunted by their war experiences, arrogant artistes acting like entitled jackasses, etc.  It’s not badly executed, it’s just not very interesting.  The acting is nicely done, generally–Miller is particularly charming, and Murphy has strong moments.  It also has a rather nice final scene.  But there’s just not enough here to warrant a very strong recommendation.  Other movies have done The Edge of Love, better.

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

Toward the end of our week, Jenn and I organized a quick day-trip to London.  We traveled by train from Leeds to Kings Cross Station in London, then navigated the Underground down to our insanely huge and extravagant hotel, the Royal Horseguards:

This is in a very touristy area, well within easy walking distance of the Thames, Trafalgar Square, Covent Garden, scads of museums and theaters and historic buildings, and countless other attractions.  We visited as many of them as we could in our two half-days.  Photos from London:

Here’s Jenn, taken along the Thames with the Eye in the background.

The obligatory red phone booth pic.

A highlight for me was out visit to the Churchill Museum and Cabinet War Rooms.  Here they’ve restored the bunker from which the Churchill government directed the war effort during WWII.  Audio handsets conveniently describe each exhibit so you can tour at your own pace.  My favorite room was the map room:

Don’t worry, those are mannequins…they’re not still taking shelter from the Blitz. 

Here’s an enigma machine.  This is just wicked cool, and the accompanying display was even cooler.  It’s a really, really good museum if you’re interested in the subject and you get the chance.

Above is the marquee for the Criterion, where we saw The 39 Steps. It’s an enjoyable stage recreation of the Hitchcock film, very clever and meta, with four actors playing all the roles.  The suspense setpieces were creatively and amusingly recreated…

One more of Jenn, in the shadow of a huge monument near Piccadilly (not sure which one this is).  We jam-packed our time in London and I still don’t think we did a fraction of a percent of all the things there were to do…awesome trip!

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

We were greeted at the airport by our friends Stephanie and Patrick, and their adorable son, Mr. Darcy.  We spent most of our week in England as their guests in Leeds, enjoying great company, excellent food, various outings to different places in Yorkshire, and lots of excellent writing shoptalk.  They were incredibly generous hosts, showing us the sites and making us feel welcome.

Here are some photos:

A building at Bolton Abbey

Me and Jenn at Bolton Abbey

Patrick, Stephanie, and Mr. Darcy at Skipton Castle

A pedestrian mall in downtown Leeds

The courtyard in Skipton Castle

Skipton Castle

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

When I saw the trailer for Taken (2008),  I thought, “Well, I don’t have to see that now.  That was pretty much the whole movie.”  But it had spies, and Liam Neeson, so I decided to give it a shot during the Newark-Manchester leg of our flight.  Hey, it was free.  But, alas, I was right…if you’ve seen the trailer, you’ve seen the movie.

Bryan Mills (Neeson) is a retired CIA spook, who left the job to be closer to his teenage daughter Kim (Maggie Grace).  (Everyone take note:  if you’re a spy and your daughter’s name is Kim, she’s going to get in trouble.  Know that going in…)  When Mills’ catty ex-wife (Famke Janssen) browbeats Mills into allowing Kim to travel to Paris with a friend, his over-protective paranoia is swiftly justified…the naïve kids trust the wrong fellow at the airport, and in short order the kids are…that’s right…taken.  Unfortunately for the kidnappers, Kim is on the phone with Mills when it happens–giving him just enough clues to kick off her rescue.  Which…he carries out.

Yeah, that’s pretty much it:  a simple thriller, not entirely unpromising in premise, given a thoroughly run-of-the-mill Hollywood execution.  The script is so generic, it might have been generated by machine, basically a framework on which to hang a bunch of technically adept but emotionally empty action sequences.  Neeson is physically convincing as the hyper-efficient, retired spook on a personal mission, but his utter competence and professionalism quickly render the action suspenseless.  The film makes it very clear that nobody can stop this guy, and guess what?  Nobody does.

So, now that I’ve told you that (in slightly more detail than the trailer did), you can go see a different movie.  Aren’t I helpful?

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

Just about everyone I know who’s seen Casablanca (1942) has told me it’s one of those films that everybody should see.  Even though I only watched it on a tiny seat monitor, I can now concur: see this, this is a great movie.  And it’s even greater if you dig classic films, espionage, romance, noir, World War II era movies, Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, or any combination of the above.  I’m serious.  Watch this! 

Set in Morocco at the height of Nazi power during World War II, the story centers on a tavern run by bitter American expatriot Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart).  Morocco is technically neutral and policed by French colonials, represented by the affably corrupt Captain Renault (Claude Rains), and Casablanca has become a popular jumping-off point for refugees attempting to escape Nazi oppression.  Rick is an outwardly bitter soul, strictly neutral on the surface, although it appears there may be chinks in his armor–which are challenged when a combination of circumstances thrust a pair of exit visas into his custody, via the seedy Ugarte (Peter Lorre).  This, combined with the arrival of Rick’s old flame Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman), a Norwegian escapee with whom Rick shared a whirlwind romance in Paris just before the Germans invaded, thrusts him into the middle of the conflict–on the fringes of the war proper, but in the war nonetheless–leading to hard, hard choices.

This is just a beautiful, beautiful film in every respect:  its look, its story, its perfectly cast actors, its highly stylized and unforgettable dialogue.  Bogart is brilliantly roguish in the central role, the barkeep with the heart of gold–toughened and unforgiving on the outside, but internally noble and sentimental.  He’s surounded by an able and memorable cast of characters:  Bergman is stunning, Rains charming, Lorre shifty and clever.  It’s pretty much perfectly structured, filled with memorable scenes, highly quotable dialogue, and stirring images throughout, and its final moments are inspiring.  Definitely a must-see!

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.

The trip started a couple Saturdays ago, when Jenn and I loaded our luggage into the car and drove down to LAX to catch the first leg of our flight overseas.  Sensing our departure, Cairo attempted to stow away in Jenn’s luggage:

Evidently we missed the worst of the Memorial Day traffic by leaving on Saturday instead of Friday.  I’ve never had such an easy time getting through security at LAX, the Newark terminal where we spent our layover was practically a ghost town (by LA standards, anyway), and there were no delays or problems on either leg of the trip.

We flew Continental, and I was impressed.  There aren’t a lot of things I hate more than plane travel, but this time the experience was downright pleasant, and the service was definitely a cut above.  The planes seemed to be newer, and a little bigger, than the typical domestic flight, and the seats were all equipped with entertainment-on-demand touchscreens.  The movie and TV selection wasn’t particularly eclectic, but it was reasonably large, so it was pretty easy to find things to occupy the long hours.  The seats also had laptop plugs, and it seemed like the attendants were constantly serving food and drinks.  Although it was definitely airline food, it was vastly superior to the rock-like, inedible “snack boxes” I’ve had on other carriers–most of which don’t even serve anything, these days.  Add to this that Jenn shrewdly re-seated us in exit rows when we checked in online, giving us extra leg room, and I’d have to say the trip from Los Angeles to Manchester was among the best flying experiences I’ve ever had.

Figuring in the drive down to the airport, security, boarding, flying, a three-hour layover in Newark, and more flying, we didn’t reach Manchester until basically the next morning.  Our plan to sleep on the second leg of the flight proved impossible–I can’t sleep on planes generally–so I was pretty wiped when we went through customs.  (I really don’t think I ever got adjusted to UK time; a week later, on the way back, I slipped back into the Pacific time zone pretty effortlessly.)    Customs was relatively painless, although the guy was pretty miffed that we didn’t know the street address of the place we were staying.  (Won’t make that mistake again!)  But they let us into the country–my first passport stamp, whoopee!

Coming up:  movie reviews from the plane, and Yorkshire.

Originally published at Christopher East. You can comment here or there.