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A couple of posts ago, I suggested that you all (yes, all) read Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman's Dragon Wing, the first volume of their seven-book Death Gate Cycle, on the basis that it's good light reading as well as a great introduction to fantasy genre tropes. I then both took my own advice, thus beginning to re-read it myself, as well as foisting it on Corey. The good news is, it may be even better than I remembered it.
The first four volumes focus on the main character's quest to, um, commit anarchy. Haplo is a Patryn, an uber-magic-powerful human race whose members were imprisoned in a humongous organic prison known as the Labyrinth by their arch-enemies the Sartan, the other uber-magic-powerful human race, for reasons unclear in the story's early stages. Just before imprisoning the Patryns, the Sartan split the Earth into four smaller, elemental planets, and then vanished altogether soon after. Haplo, powerful magician though he may be, is a grunt with blind allegiance to his liege lord Xar, who was the first to escape the Labyrinth and made it his life's mission to help others escape. Now, feeling that enough of his people are free, Xar's turned his sights to ruling other peoples as well. He desires to bring order to the universe by bringing it wholly under his command, and plans to accomplish that by having Haplo instigate civil unrest or war on each world, so that Xar can come in, bring peace, and take over. Of course, what's the enemy of the forces or Order? That's right, kids, Chaos! Its embodiment(s) are hard at work turning Xar to their sneaky purposes. Adventures of epic proportions - and a continuous theological discussion - ensue.
Also of course, the Sartan haven't all disappeared, and Haplo discovers this early in his travels. Haplo is young, angry, arrogant, and not prone to critical thinking, yet very powerful, and owns a dog who seems to be not your average dog. His Sartan nemesis Alfred, is older, sad, humble, and prone to over-thinking, yet very very powerful. No dog for him. The first four books introduce a cast of recurring secondary characters, as the first half of each are devoted to introducing the world they're set on; these include a human assassin, human rogue, inhuman child, naive dwarf, homicidal angry dwarf, progressive elf, conservative elf, senile elf, and tarty whoring elf with a heart of gold. Oh, and a mysterious sentient dragon and his seemingly senile geezer wizard. Tropes for all!
But - and this is a big but - these aren't mindless tropes. For starters, each world - Air, Fire, Earth, Water - is actually distinct, and the nature of the unrest Haplo must either instigate or improve on is different in each. He doesn't just go to the same world using the same procedure for four books. Heavy use of tropes may sound lazy on the surface, but Weis and Hickman push their story further by thinking things through. For all their quick-to-read qualities, these books aren't so fluffy. The third book, which takes the old story of a grieving man using necromancy to revive his wife or lover so that they'll be together eternally and extends it to the context of a king and his people, is grim to say the least (not to mention a nice exploration of the series-wide theme of the destruction that occurs when people play God - it's a horrific contrast to the good resurrection prophesied in the Bible). And, though they clearly like their Lord of the Rings, they rise above bad fanfic that somehow got published (Terry Brooks, I'm looking at you!) by building off influences instead of merely using them. Basically, Weis and Hickman are to Tolkien what Alastair Reynolds is to Heinlein and Asimov, or what Jim Butcher is to Spenser and the Brothers Grimm (but not quite as talented as Reynolds and Butcher). Corey has also suggested that their blatant LoTR and other pop references are clues to the series overarching themes of wave theory and finding God. Okay, that last sentence may not make sense, but I can't discuss it without going into they story in great depth; suffice it to say, I think he's right, and these themes are approached with thought and little disappointment. Another recurring theme in the series is abandonment by beings thought to be gods - the Sartan abandoning the Patryn, abandoning the four worlds; Haplo abandoning each world after his work is done - coupled with the search for the One God. This, too, is interestingly done.
And the character Zifnab's constant derogatory references to Gandalf the Grey? Corey has postulated a very interesting, reasonable, sort of profound and, I think, entirely correct reason for this other than the cheap comedic nudges I originally thought they were. If you've read it, I'd be happy to present you this theory; otherwise, it will mean little and spoil much.
If you're thinking the names Weis and Hickman are familiar, that's probably because they also created Dragonlance - but don't hold it against them. The first three books of that series are quite enjoyable; however, if you've made the mistake of reading on from there, don't let that prompt a rejection of the Death Gate Cycle. The only reasons I can think of to not enjoy this series are a) you don't enjoy fantasy, b) you don't enjoy adventure books, or c) you're bigoted, and think Christian/monotheistic themes automatically make a story bad, like those incomprehensible folks who say stuff like "the Chronicles of Narnia would be good if it weren't for all the Christian content!" (This is, without a doubt, the strangest literary criticism I've ever heard. You can't make this stuff up, kids. As the dog in Fallout 3 would say: [aroo?] )
Bottom line: for a long-ish series, the Death Gate Cycle is one of the better uses of your library card - though also worth owning; it re-reads well - and not even that big of a time commitment. Bonus fantasy series points: it also has a clear and well-reached conclusion, not to mention my favourite deus ex machina ever, in book seven. Take that, Wheel of Time!
A few years ago, back before the WB network became the CW, and we lived between Toronto and New York and thus got 30+ channels on our bunny ears, I caught the third and final season of a teen drama called Veronica Mars. Yes, a teen drama. The big surprise was that, generally speaking, it was welll-done and not too over the top. I found the first two seasons at the local library, and thought that I might as well find out how the show reached its conclusion.
Veronica Mars, also the name of the heroine, is set in mid-sized-town California and revolves around the life and misadventures of a high school senior who was rich and popular until her dad, the local sheriff, accused the town's most rich and famous citizen of his daughter Lily's murder. Lily also happened to be Veronica's best friend. You can see where this is headed. After losing both the next election and Veronica's mother (to abandonment, not death), Keith Mars goes into business as a private eye, which suits Veronica's nosy and arrogant nature quite well. In the space of two short seasons, the series tackled long story arcs of class divide, the mystery of who killed Lily, child abuse, and sexual abuse, to name a few, and for the most part did it with a degree of maturity not typically seen on the average WB program (this does not necessarily mean it was mature by higher standards). Snappy writing, classy acting, and the presence of everyone's favourite Enrico Colantoni (Flashpoint, Just Shoot Me, The Wrong Guy) as Keith Mars - as well as a recurring character for Angel's Charisma Carpenter, a.k.a. Cordelia - also help this program stand out from the pack. Perhaps the show's strongest aspect is Veronica and Keith's relationship. Keith is a good father, a cool cat too, and gives no sympathetic reasons for Veronica to rebel or misbehave...but she does, constantly. While the show is hardly conservative in its social commentary, unintentionally or not it doesn't gloss over its heroine's poor treatment of a parent who really doesn't provoke such behaviour, whose character is and of of itself a not-so-common twist for this genre.
Of course, it's not an ideal show. Its portrayals of teen relationships and sex are immature and messed up, it stooped very low in its attempts to champion gay rights by demonizing Christians instead of making arguments, and what was shaping out to be a bold and powerful study of psychological sexual abuse took a sudden turn for the cliched in the last two episodes of season 2, becoming flat and somewhat meaningless. The writers really had something interesting here, spending almost two seasons on a boy who had lots of trouble and discomfort with romantic relationships, making it look like this was due to the abuse by his older brother. The older brother's abuse wasn't physical (for the most part), but rather took form in constant verbal humiliation and degradation, often in front of others and in regards to the younger brother's sexual capabilities. I was shocked and (this is strange to say) pleasantly surprised that a show was actually bringing up this kind of abuse and its consequences, because it's plentiful in this age group. Unfortunately - spoiler! - at the very end, the writers attributed the younger brother's behaviour to physical abuse at the hands of an adult, and completely threw out, ignored, and (pardon the pun, but it's apt) neutered the whole storyline of psychological abuse, basically saying that it was inconsequential ("boys will be boys", perhaps?). So, humongous minus points for that.
On a completely different note, the cliche gloves are completely off once the series hits the third season, and college. I'm not suggesting there's no bad behaviour ever in frat houses, but the unbridled animosity towards fraternities on Veronica Mars suggests that no one on the writing staff was sufficiently academically strong, athletically inclined, or involved in campus/community life (as these tend to be membership conditions in the average real-life frat) to ever join or know anyone who joined a real fraternity (disclaimer: I've never joined a real fraternity). Whatever the presumptuous case may be, all fraternities on Veronica Mars are either bastions of bad and criminal behaviour, or so square and goody-two-shoes that they're supposed to come across as scary. It's pretty ridiculous, and emphasizes just how snobby the "laid-back" emo crowd can be.
As well, Veronica herself can get quite frustrating to watch on a regular basis. She's a House-type genius who's also incredibly narcissisctic and mean-sprited, and who is every so often reminded of that by either one of her few friends or a situation gone horribly wrong, but who never responds to such reminders with anything so bourgeois as growth, progress, or self-reflection. If you don't worship the ground smart and cunning people walk on, this behaviour can get very tiresome.
All that being said, if you're going to watch a teen drama, or show one to your kids so you can talk about issues, Veronica Mars is one of the very few that won't try too hard to make you, the adult, wish you were doing something fun like eating thumbtacks instead.
The good men and women of Bethesda Games have done it again. The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion is, all by itself, an excercise in video game excellence. Then, as with Morrowind, Bethesda added two wildly different expansions: The Shivering Isles and Knights of the Nine. I recently completed the latter, and had a great time doing so.
Knights of the Nine is a very Arthurian tale of taking the place of fallen holy crusader Pelinal Whitestrake and re-building his order of knights to fight the return of the Nine Divines' worst enemy. It's straightforward, sure, but well-designed, though some of the eight quests for the crusader's relics (as well as the final battle) could have been a bit longer or more challenging - only one of them had me seriously baffled, and finally had me admitting it was a great puzzle. Overall, Knights has a good flavour and tone, though some may find it a bit too easy and occasionally anticlimactic. To be fair, I built a character specifically for this expansion - a heavy armor-wearing, claymore-wielding, very strong Nord with cranked restoration skills - and started the quests at level 13 (enemies and bonuses scaling max out at 26). But to be fair in another way, what else would you build for an Arthurian crusade? A battlemage with heavy armor skill would also do nicely here, and probably work enemies over just as easily. It's almost as if the enemies weren't scaled, and I was superior to whatever level they were set at. On a completely different gripe, the ending of the quest was also a little disturbing for me as a Christian, what with all the knights assembled in the priory courtyard shouting, "The Crusader has risen! All hail the risen Crusader!" Kind of creepy.
At the end of it all, though, you get the rebuilt Priory of the Nine (southeast of Skingrad), complete with a bed, a chest that doesn't seem to delete items, an altar, and the ability to get every wayshrine blessing in one location. You also get as many knights as you recruited before the battle and kept alive during (I kept all of 'em), plus a few random extras, and you can ask any of them to follow you at any time. You also get to keep all the relics of the crusader, that being a full set of constant-effect heavy armor including a shield, as well as a sword and mace, and not only are the starting stats excellent, but you can level them up with you, a feature unique to this quest as far as I can tell.
You can ask any knight in the priory to follow you at any time, however, they are not invincible. I'm still going to bring them to the Siege of Bruma at the end of the game, and see what happens.
I've spent several kilobytes singing the praises of the collection and administration of the Edmonton Public Library. One thing it doesn't have, though, is that look or feel that says "you are in a library." Edmonton as a whole is not an architechturally or aesthetically pleasing city, and the EPL is no exception. Even their larger branches are dull, cramped, all function and no form, and with no understood or enforced noise-related rules, it's just not an inviting place to read, ponder, linger, or stimulate ones intellect and/or imagination.
Now, here's a link to make me heartsick. Anna, this one's for you.
(Oblivion afficionados who have completed the Thieve's Guild quest "The Ultimate Heist" may find that the U.S. Library of Congress looks very familiar...)
I'm what you might call a "regular reader", if only because "regular" sounds better than "chronic", or "obsessive." I get pretty distressed if I don't have anything to read on hand, and tend to go through phases of style and genre. I might read nothing but hard sci-fi for two months, then crave Stephen King, then read comics for a couple of weeks, then take some light fantasy, some Napoleonic war fiction, and then nothing but history, current affairs, or theology/philosophy for a good stretch. I like a little bit of everything, except pure romances and "mystery" (but give me a great noir any day).
All this to say, ever since I was a bright-eyed schoolgirl saddled with a crappy summer reading list, I've never understood the concept of "summer reading". It seems (at least in my day; I haven't been to high school in nearly a decade) that high school summer reading is all about extreme gravitas. I remember being assaulted every year like clockwork with the likes of Graham Greene, Margaret Atwood, Spider Robinson, the occasional Hemmingway, and more books about teen violence, drug use, suicide, prostitution, and plain ol' Rebel Without a Cause-style ennui than you can shake a Molotov at. And now, as an adult, it seems that what I'm supposed to read in the summer is either all the unabashed, guilty pleasure, "this could be a novelization of the Hallmark Movie of the Week" that I can get my hands on; however, certain media outlets will recommend non-fiction tomes of incredible gravity and timeliness, which will render me officially informed.
Either way, there's this idea going around that summer is either the time for non-readers to read, to temper your happy fun vacation with something that would fill any healthy person with the desire to jump off the nearest bridge, or to gorge oneself on the literary equivalent of deep-fried Mars bars and Desperate Housewives. And my response to all this is...why? If you don't enjoy reading enough to make time for it in the first place, why squander your precious vacation time? And if you do enjoy reading, why reserve certain genres for one time of year? And, if you're one of Those! who assembles school summer reading lists, why not pick some serious books that don't blow, like Les Miserables or Dracula or (original/unabridged=freakin' awesome novel) instead of punishing your children with Atwood and Hemmingway?
I'm going to violate a personal blogging rule here and make a list. A list that would've prompted me to send Those! a thank-you gift, had I been granted such a list while in high school at summer reading time.
Official classics:
Les Miserables, Victor Hugo - unabridged, read the French if you can swing it, as some key comments defy translation to English.
Dracula, Bram Stoker - everyone's heard of it, few have read it, few know what an extraordinary book it is.
The Three Musketeers, Alexandre Dumas, pere - unabridged, French if you can, etc. Hi-larious.
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll, unabridged. Not your Disney's Alice.
Peter Pan, J.M. Barrie, unabridged. Not your Disney's Peter. You want the kiddies reading something dark this summer? Here you go.
There is some good classic poetry out there. Much of it was written by Poe, Rimbaud, Blake, Tennyson, Frost, Spenser, Milton, Eliot, Gilbert & Sullivan, and, of course, Shakespeare. For those who "don't like poetry", that is one list of ridiculously different poets. I personally would add Edward Lear and Hilaire Belloc to the list of "poetry classics", but your English prof may disagree. ;) Roald Dahl's "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves" may also not make the "classic" cut.
Old(er) books your teachers may or may not consider classic:
Starship Troopers, Robert A. Heinlein - a hallmark, landmark, sci-fi masterpiece. Hard to believe it clocks in at a mere 263 pages in the paperback edition.
Red Harvest, Dashiell Hammet. Sounds like something Mike and Joel would watch on Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Is actually the father of all detective noir.
Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra, C.S. Lewis. The first two books of his "space trilogy". Strange, deep, musical, and did I mention strange? At the very least, read the second - it's a thing of grave beauty.
I, Robot, Isaac Asimov. No, the movie won't cut it for your book report, as the book is actually a series of interconnected short stories.
The Young Hornblower Omnibus, C.S. Forester. Napoleonic war naval fiction. Memorable characters, easier to read than Master and Commander (Patrick O'Brien). Though M&C is excellent, Hornblower is lighter and more fun.
Contemporary, i.e. not older than I am:
The Stand, Hearts in Atlantis, The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon, or The Gunslinger, Stephen King. Yes, folks, he's written more than trashy slashers, and stands an indisputable master of the writing craft. While these titles are quite low on or free of gratuitous R-rated content, I still wouldn't give 'em to the younger teens, or any kid you wouldn't let play Fallout 3.
Storm Front, Jim Butcher. Book one of The Dresden Files, a paranormal P.I. series with equally good senses of humour and gravitas, well-written, well-told, and it's mature about the supernatural, too. Unique!
His Majesty's Dragon, Naomi Novik. Like Horatio Hornblower, but with dragons, aerial combat, and feminism. Light, smart, and tons of fun.
Lost and Found, Alan Dean Foster. A short, smart, fun interstellar man-and-dog adventure similar to A Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, but more relaxed and less determinedly "look how ridiculous this is!" ridiculous (also, not British). Although, if you haven't read the Guide, I highly recommend it.
Century Rain, Alastair Reynolds. Hard sci-fi, classic-style noir, and alternate history all boiled into one of the best reads of the decade. Think Chinatown meets...Ghost in the Shell, crossed with Children of Men. Kind of. Small, mutant, fanged children, the likes of which are often seen in Japanese horror films, are also involved.
The Long Halloween and Dark Victory, Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale. Yes, comics. Also a strong story, good character exploration, interesting themes... Dark Victory is a continuation of The Long Halloween, so read that one first.
Assassin's Apprentice, Robin Hobb. For the requisite "disaffected teenager" book on your list, this was my personal favourite as a disaffected teenager, and I still like it as an adult. Book one of six.
The Dragonbone Chair, Tad Williams. The landmark fantasy classic of my generation, I'd go so far as to say the Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn trilogy is our Lord of the Rings. Williams is an excellent storyteller, and the big twist of the story is devastatingly hilarious. Bonus: the teenaged hero is...a normal teenager! Crazy!
Dragon Wing, Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman. Book one of a series that pulls out every fantasy trope in the book, recognizes its doing such, and is completely unashamed...and that's why it works, and is such an enjoyable read. If you want to teach the kids about tropes, this is a very fun place to start. And, with a 1990 publishing date, Dragon Wing may also be the first major, widespread introduction of steampunk to Western fantasy.
...and there you have it. Anna, I apologize for further burdening your "to read" list; you have my full permission to ignore this post completely. :D
One thing you may have noticed about me is that I'm afraid of neither the lowbrow nor the highbrow. I watched Shaun of the Dead last night, for the second time, on purpose. I own Masters of the Universe, on purpose. And, at my request, my birthday gifts from Corey consisted of a screening of Terminator: Salvation...and a large volume by Alvin Plantinga.
I'd never heard of him before my husband mentioned the name. It can be handy at times, having a spouse who grew up in academia. I've been re-acquainting myself with the works of Tom Clancy recently, and wanted something a bit deeper to balance things out; fortunately, the Edmonton Public Library was able to deliver. Alvin Plantinga, PhD. (Yale), has been teaching and writing for over thirty years, is the director of the Center for Philosophy and Religion at the University of Notre-Dame, and is widely considered to be America's leading Christian philosopher. Note that this is quite different from being a Christian apologist. The field of apologetics is typically geared toward the widest audience possible, and in my experience is primarily used to battle misconceptions about Christianity, whereas Plantinga is a philosopher in the formal, traditional sense of the word, with the goal of making proofs, and his audience is academic. Word on the street is he's particularly well-known in academia for quietly advancing the rationality of belief in God. As the current, aggressive Big Issue of the atheist movement is the idea that belief in any god is irrational, Plantinga's God and Other Minds: A study of the rational justification of belief in God caught my eye in particular.
I should note here that I'm only about a third of the way through that title. God and Other Minds is a philosophical treatise through and through, and not meant to be something one can quickly flip through on the bus. A formally constructed argument, it requires attention, digestion, re-reading, and, for folks like me with no formal philosophical training, the occasional Googling of a latin philosophy term or two. That being said, with a little effort, it's a brilliant piece of work and well worth the time. Primary atheist polemicist Christopher Hitchens - who is a philosopher by no stretch of any imagination, and whose (in)famous God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything is so poorly constructed and written that I could not bring myself to finish it - is a very determined proponent of the idea that belief in any god is inherently and utterly irrational, a notion which comes up frequently in his column syndicated weekly through Slate.com (I read it in The National Post). Plantinga's thirty year-old argument to the contrary is far more rational and convincing than anything I've read by Hitchens yet. He (Hitchens) takes great pains in his writings to ignore arguments by established philosphers like Plantinga, choosing to take aim at easy or sensational targets instead, and at this early point in my reading I can only conclude that a) Hitchens has never read Plantinga, b) Hitchens has read Plantinga, but hasn't understood him, or c) Hitchens has read Plantinga, understood him, and refuses to concede any points but is incapable of mounting a proper counterargument. If you're tired of sensationalism, easily overturned objections, and lazy thinking - on either side of this debate - Plantinga is an essential read.
(He's also quite unintentionally humorous, because since he uses understood, established methods of creating philosophical arguments, he can say things like, "this argument is impeccable" without coming off as a total prig...but it's still funny.)
Fortunately, there are Plantinga works that, while still involved reads, can be read on the bus on the way to work; for example, God, Freedom, and Evil, which I'm about as far through as I am God and Other Minds. If you don't mind a book that'll probably take a couple of months to work through unless you are free to sit and read all day, these are some excellent titles. And when your brain gets tired from all that heavy thinking, you can always kick back and watch Shaun of the Dead. It's good to lead a balanced life.
I like the Terminator mythos. It's an interesting story of human nature and decision, deals well with time-travel and paradox, and its overarching sci-fi elements are strong. These days, everything Terminator is expected in my book to be "Not as good as The Sarah Connor Chronicles (RIP)", but from the buzz I'd heard I decided to be more generous with Terminator: Salvation and downgrade to "Not as good as T2".
Well, yep. It was definitely not as good as T2.
Terminator: Salvation is the first Terminator production set after Judgment Day, though it opens pre-JD in 2003 with the execution of death-row inmate Marcus Wright (Sam Worthington), shortly after he's agreed to donate his body to Cyberdyne for scientific research. It's understood, to anyone in the audience with a basic familiarity with Terminator, that Marcus is the original prototype for the infiltrator terminators, though this isn't formally discussed until two-thirds of the way in. When John Connor (Christian Bale) launches an assault on a SkyNet base where human prisoners are being kept, Marcus wakes up after fifteen years to find himself in the middle of a bombing, and presumably having his last memory be of dying. Needless to say, he's a little distressed. All he knows for sure is that he wants to go north, which unknown to him is where SkyNet HQ is. In the course of his wanderings, he meets up with teenaged Kyle Reese (Anton Yelchin), who as far as Marcus knows is nothing more than a kind and wary young man, and whose subsequent capture prompts Marcus to alter his plans slightly...but not before his machine nature is revealed to the resistance, to their shock and fear, forcing John to decide what to do with him. If I seem to be focusing on Marcus more than on John or Kyle, it's because Marcus is the true main character of this story, and the salvation in question is primarily his.
As a sci-fi action film, this is one of if not the best - strictly in terms of the action. The planning, directing, and execution of these sequences are fantastic, and most importantly, they don't go on too long (Michael Bay, take note!). There may be a few too many plane/helicopter crashes - John personally crashes a chopper twice within the first hour - but hey. Also, the picture looks fantastic. I'm not sure why so many professional critics thought that a post-apocalyptic, occasionally nuclear wasteland having a washed-out look was a bad or gimmicky thing. What else should it look like, bright and fluffy? At any rate, I believe Terminator: Salvation is the first Terminator film production to show us the wasteland during the day, and it looked great. Like the Capital Wasteland of Fallout 3, but with more greenery. The other predominant and, I think, thoughtless professional criticism of this film's aesthetic was the "biker style" of clothing. Well, for one thing, bikers aren't the only people who wear leather. And for another thing, leather clothing makes the most sense in a post-nuke war setting, because a) it's durable and protective, b) it's easy to come by, c) it's comfortable, and d) it was the basic armor of choice for several millennia of human warfare, so it's not like the Terminator: Salvation costumers just thought, "hey, everyone should look badass. How about leather?". So enough pointless, thoughtless criticism about how the film looks. There's plenty wrong with it without having to be lazy in one's critique.
Which brings us to what's wrong with it: the story is, well, sorry and weak. It began life as a story with some strong elements but a nonsensical conclusion, from the golden pens of the scribes who gave us such frightening fare as Catwoman. The film was intended as a story about Marcus, and his relationship with Kyle, and John Connor's screentime amounted to roughly three minutes as he lived on the HQ sub, kept hidden so the machines couldn't identify him, and existed mostly as a legend making radio broadcasts to the resistance topside. The original ending of the film - which I really think would've been interesting combined with the "second chance" theme - had John dying at SkyNet in the scene where he's critically wounded, with Marcus bringing his body back to the resistance and offering to continue John's role, with only a handful of people knowing the truth, so that the resistance doesn't lose hope. John's wife and upper command agree, have his face grafted onto Marcus, and the film ends with Marcus, having completed the procedure and looking like John, having a normal conversation with his wife etc. before his eyes flash red, and he shoots them all...fade to black! As it stands, the story is a hodgepodge of interesting ideas that could have been but were poorly developed (ie. Marcus and Kyle's relationship), the frantic replacing of bad ideas (the orginial script had SkyNet pulling a Matrix-style "we're actually trying to preserve humanity!"), bad writing combined with tacked-on good writing, and, of course, trying to find things for John to do after Bale insisted on playing him. This helps explain why Salvation's John is such an uninspiring, one-dimensional, character - and, for some reason, not the leader of the resistance (this role is taken by good ol' Michael Ironside, doing in his best in a confusing and useless part). John Connor is an interesting creation, but Salvation's version feels like some random guy dressed up as John Connor. I presume this is because, as good as Jonathan Nolan is with a word processor, John just wasn't meant to be in the film in the first place, and to properly add him in would've meant a complete re-write and change from director McG's vision for the story.
As it is, there remain some strong elements thematically, and wise decisions. So many action films are killed by too much backstory; in the case of Marcus, we get none, and I think it's great. All we know is that he was responsible for the deaths of his brother and two cops, but not why or how, or whether he was a criminal, bystander, or a cop himself - and I think this is a great decision, especially considering the film's "second chance" theme, because when it comes to salvation, the past is irrelevant. There are also some interesting thematic implications in regards to how Marcus was given his second chance at life by the machines, combined with how he'll choose to use it. Another nice bit of non-exploration includes John's wife, a role that was heavily criticized for consisting of little more than being very pregnant. I suspect that was the whole point, just to be there and pregnant, because it's the utmost symbol of the divide between man and machine, and what says "second chance" more than one's own child? Unfortunately, these elements aren't enough to save the picture. I was particularly disappointed by the weak and lacking human element because of McG's long work on Supernatural, a TV show made successful by the interactions between its main characters.
In other news, the acting is pretty solid, even from Moon Bloodgood (Journeyman), whose relevance as a character could have easily been picked up by someone else, who had a real role in the original story, and who I strongly suspect remained in the film only to provide the requisite Hot Babe Factor. I'm not 100% sold on Sam Worthington, just because I'm pretty sure someone else could've played Marcus as well or better and been able to hang on to a U.S. accent at the same time (he flickers back and forth a lot, which I find distracting). I'm not trying to say he did a bad job, and I know there are some pretty strange accents in the states, but back-and-forth? Not fun. Actually, Bale was initially offered that role, but requested Connor instead. Anton Yelchin, last seen delivering an exuberant, delightful turn as young Chekhov in Star Trek (two blockbusters in one summer? Kid, don't ever fire that agent!) makes a fine Kyle Reese, and in a very sly bit of casting (if it was in fact on purpose) looks like a cross between original Kyle Michael Biehn, and Sarah Connor Chronicles' young John (Thomas Dekker).
If the physical casting resemblances aren't a deliberate wink, references to the first two films range nicely from blatantly obvious (Kyle's first words to Marcus are "come with me if you want to live!"; a very unexpected cameo of sorts from the first picture) to "you really need to like Terminator to catch that", like in a scene of Marcus teaching Kyle some survival tips that includes a quick and subtle nod to Arnold's famous one-handed sawed-off shotgun reload in T2. The film walks a thin line between requisite amusing references and going to far, and just barely stays on the right side.
Is it worth seeing in the theatre? Well, like I said at the beginning, the action and visuals can't be beat, so...yes. However, if you like Terminator and are used to it being an interesting story as well as good ride, you'll probably be disappointed.
Some movies scream "summer" because of the ratio of explosions to dialogue. Others scream "summer" in less pleasant ways (see: Chinatown). If you're in the mood for some fluffy summer fun that's 100% combustion-free, look no further than Tom Hanks' directorial debut, That Thing You Do!
An oft-overlooked flick that many folks haven't heard of, I must have watched this film a good four times the year it came out on video. That Thing You Do! is the simple, pleasant story of a group of friends who accidentally form a band and accidentally get a hit single on their hands. It's sometime in the early sixties, and twentysomething Guy Patterson is his small New England town's local beatnik and jazz drummer extraordinaire, who's been working at his dad's appliance shop since finishing his tour of duty (it's implied that he served in the Korean War due to the time frame). When his buddies Jimmy, Lenny, and the nameless Bass Player - a.k.a The Wonders - lose their drummer the night of a big college talent show, they beg Guy to step in for a night. On stage, Guy unexpectedly replaces Jimmy's ballad-beat with something considerably more swingin', and the up-tempo, 60's rock 'n roll sensation That Thing You Do! is born. Before long, The Wonders are getting gigs all across town, and are soon signed to Play-Tone Records and touring the summer festival circuit with their hit single (and a few other tunes). Of course, this idyllic summer of dreams is destined to break down. They know they'll be losing the Bass Player at the end of the summer, when he starts a tour of duty in the Marine Corp, but long before that, Jimmy's primadonna attitude and Lenny's irresponsibility hasten The Wonder's imminent assignment to the dustbin of one-hit wonder history.
This film is about as deep as a petri dish, but what sets it apart is production quality. It's well-made, well-written, well-directed, and well-acted, and boasts a fantastically fun original soundtrack. It's also notable for making big breaks into feature films for Liv Tyler (seen here as Jimmy's girlfriend Faye), Steve Zahn (a fantastic and varied actor, see: Sahara and Rescue Dawn), and Giovanni Ribisi (whose tiny role as the original drummer was followed by lead roles in The Mod Squad, Gone in 60 Seconds, and Lost in Translation, and who was seen shortly after That Thing You Do! in a very memorable turn as the ill-fated medic in Saving Private Ryan). That Thing You Do! is one of those movies you can pop in anytime, anywhere, with anyone, and not worry about whether anyone will be offended or not have a good time. It would be a staple of my DVD collection, if I can ever find it for sale.
Say what you will about the Walt Disney Company's animated productions - and my husband's side of the family has some pretty excoriating things to say about the average messages contained therein - but that studio's ability to turn out a kick-ass live-action family film cannot be denied. From classic, widely recognized productions like Treasue Island, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Swiss Family Robinson, and Mary Poppins to standards of my generation like Honey, I Shrunk the Kids!, White Fang, Iron Will, The Rocketeer, and Newsies, Disney just keeps bringing the live-action awesomeness. Sure, there have been some missteps (most recently, the final two Pirates of the Carribbean films), but otherwise, the Disney live-action studio has a solid and well-deserved reputation.
Which brings us to my most enduring, entertaining Disney live-action of the early 90's: The Three Musketeers, starring Kiefer Sutherland, Charlie Sheen, and Oliver Platt as the title trio and throwing in young upstart Chris O'Donnell as young upstart D'Artagnan. Of course, no 90's production would be complete without Tim Curry serving some sort of nefarious purpose...hey, is that him as Cardinal Richelieu? Check and check!
Is this a great film by great film standards? Of course not. And if you're trying to duck out of reading for that book report, kids, this is not the film you're looking for. What you'd want in that instance is The Three Musketeers and The Four Musketeers, starring Michael York and comprising the entire book in two parts. Fun productions, those are. The film in question out-Coles Coles Notes as far as story is concerned, for story is no one's worry here save as it applies to Athos (Sutherland). And, you know, as much as I enjoy that fun, fun book, I'm okay with Disney making a family film that cuts out D'Artagnan's flagrant, unstoppable adultery. You don't watch this particular production for an interesting take on The Three Musketeers; you watch it for the entertaining acting, Tim Curry's unbridled and gleeful villainy, and to decide what you should ingest every time someone says the word "musketeer" (note: this should probably be neither alcoholic nor fattening - the use of "musketeer" here is as prevalent as close-ups of the One Ring in the Lord of the Rings trilogy).
The bottom line is, it's fun, it's friendly, it's swashbuckling, and it has that classic theme song courtesy of Bryan Adams, Rod Stewart, and Sting. And now that I'm all grown up, and know a thing or two about French aesthetic history, I no longer spend most of the film trying to figure out if King Louis is supposed to be a man or a woman. Good times? Had by all!
