That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, I have purchased and played a computer game. Get your shocked and potentially appalled reactions out now.
The Clockwork Man, courtesy of Total Eclipse games, is what is called a “Hidden Object” or “Seek and Find” game. Basically, you are presented with a room full of objects. Usually entirely spontaneous objects. You are also presented with a list for every room of things you are to find amongst the mess presented you. You click on each object to collect it, and then you move on. In some cases there are other puzzles, like solving a combination box, fixing a boiler, using multiple items to patch a pipe, things like that. In short, gameplay is very basic.
I will own that I have never played a “seek and find” game before, and that it came off as rather childish to me in the realm of gameplay. I finished the entire adventure in a single sitting. Perhaps I am just used to things like The Legend of Zelda, but I honestly hoped the game would be longer. I even could have dealt with the endless screens of “find these random things even when it doesn’t make much sense to” if only the story kept going. My hopes were raised about mid-game with the advent of the puzzle-box. The idea was that every line of tiles you were presented had a kind of “key” – and you had to transform the symbols not to match, but to match with a rotation or change made to it presented in a single static tile. That may have been a terrible description on what the puzzle calls for as far as nonsensicality, but it was the first – and last – puzzle that actually had me going. I was excited after that, anticipating other more difficult puzzles, but the rest were simply not up to snuff. I also held out for the bonus “free play” option, hoping that there would be puzzles to be had there, as well, that something would be different. Instead what I found was more cluttered rooms and lists. To be fair I haven’t yet re-played the adventure, which, according to a message at the end of the first play through, is entirely different. I would hope that means the puzzles as well, but what with how the game played out, I doubt it.
On another note, what was up to snuff was the design. The characters, while expressively and proportionally appearing straight out of an online fashion doll generator, had great concepts. I liked the costumes especially. It was the backgrounds and objects themselves where the artistry showed. Even amongst the clutter the gameplay called for, the rooms and backgrounds were beautifully rendered. My other favorite part art-wise was the cut scenes. They had an old charcoal-on-teastained-parchment look, and the characters looked more natural.
The writing itself was passing fair, but, sadly, the voice acting completely destroyed its potential nuances and intricacies. The largest complaint I had was that the text presented in the dialog boxes didn’t match the audio, but only for one single character. As for the rest, they matched, but half the accents attempted were grating. The main character’s British drifted in and out of badness and the only French character, well...he wasn’t quite French. However, while the voice acting left something to be desired, I enjoyed the plot itself. While simple and short, Miranda Calomy and her eccentric yet well-known inventor Grandfather were endearing. The concept for The Clockwork Man himself was excellent – he was arguably the prettiest part of the game – and the use of the Mayan temple buried in the jungle added some nice spice to it. I had hoped the game would continue after the jungle adventure with the concept put forth in the prologue, of Miranda attending University, but alas, the story ended there. Or did it?
The Clockwork Man already has a sequel, which can be purchased via download here, or, you know, snail mail for half price here. It appears to be a straight-up sequel, but judging by the video, the interface and puzzle-play have both improved, the backgrounds are less insanely cluttered, AND (WHAAT?) the characters look to have improved design-wise! [Hooray for ladies in trousers!] The voices appear to be the same. Damn.
However, my dearest ladies and gentlemen, the point remains thus: even though I complained about this game up and down the town, I simply could not stop playing it. For a glorious three (maybe four) hours, it consumed my life. I only wish the gloriousness had lasted longer.
The Clockwork Man: The Hidden World, Here I Come!
Steam on.
Links
Official Clockwork Man Website
Friday, September 10, 2010
Kick-Ass
Kick-Ass, which recently hit the DVD release, is the perfect descriptor for itself. It was KICK. ASS. Bold, double underlined, and in red. For good measure.
It had everything a gritty urban adventure needed, from the cocaine dealers to the tattooed gang bangers, and everything a superhero movie needed, from deep dark comic book pasts to big guns. Especially the big guns.
But in the end, there were a few things that really surprised me. First was the casting. What a star-stud. Mark Strong as Frank D’Amico was brilliant. After his recent appearance in Sherlock Holmes as Lord Blackwood, I am not at all surprised that film makers are chomping at the bit to see more of him. I realize in both movies he had some kind of distinguishing physical feature on his face to make him stand out: Lord Blackwood had his off-kilter tooth (dare I say snaggletooth?) and Frank had a very unique pseudo-circular scar a little above the bridge of his forehead on the left side. It’s little things like that just make my day. Then of course there was Nicholas Cage. I’ve never thought that he was badass before. Honestly, I’ve never been a big Cage fan. Even in National Treasure (which I do have a bit of a guilty pleasure for) I thought he was mediocre at best. But this…I dunno. There was a kind of charm to his performance of vigilantism in this film. And then there’s Kick-Ass. Aaron Johnson was wonderful. With his talent I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of him, [especially with those cheekbones, not gonna lie,] but the shocking thing is how much we may have seen of him already. I personally did not recognize the transition between The Thief Lord’s Prosper and Kick-Ass’ Dave Lizewski. In singing his praises as Dave/Kick-Ass, his voice-crack was hilarious, and his momentary imitation gay voice was priceless. I laughed so hard because I honestly believed it. Oh gracious me. But my absolute favorite, for writing, for design, for physicality, for performance, was definitely Chloe Moretz’s Hit Girl. She was so darling when not in costume, and she was definitely the most badass in costume. I mean, what more could you ask for? Purple hair, classic Robin mask, combat boots, tartan skirt, more weapons than can even be imagined, and a mouth like a sailor. She was GREAT. Quite a performance for a girl of 13, too. Can’t wait to see her again.
One aspect of this film which caught me off guard with its quality was the soundtrack. I’m out to find it, it was so good. [Note: this is a huge compliment. I usually only go after the instrumental soundtracks. Like Clint Mansell’s score for The Fountain. It’s scrumptious.] There were so many times that my dad and I reacted with “Oh, I know this song!!” that it added a new level to the whole experience. The best by far was when they broke out a remix of the beginning of 3 Doors Down’s Kryptonite and led it right into Joan Jett’s Bad Reputation. Seriously. It’s like chocolate milk and kahlua: it just works.
The visuals of this film I could rant about for days. The strobe-light fight scene was definitely one of the best. The use of sight-through-news broadcast, or youtube video, or security camera, or teddy-cam, all of it was great. The direct references to comic books were also great when it’s a film about super heroes outside of the comic books, as well. That little visual self-reference was satisfied-nod-worthy.
But all in all? Basically? This thing was a hit, and it shocked me. It’s not that I doubted its ability to rock the house, I just never expected it to become my new favorite film.
Well. Since I enjoyed that so much, I guess it’s time to finally go and watch Kill Bill Vol. II.
In the words of my new favorite superhero, show’s over, motherf*****s.
Links
IMDb
Trailer
It had everything a gritty urban adventure needed, from the cocaine dealers to the tattooed gang bangers, and everything a superhero movie needed, from deep dark comic book pasts to big guns. Especially the big guns.
But in the end, there were a few things that really surprised me. First was the casting. What a star-stud. Mark Strong as Frank D’Amico was brilliant. After his recent appearance in Sherlock Holmes as Lord Blackwood, I am not at all surprised that film makers are chomping at the bit to see more of him. I realize in both movies he had some kind of distinguishing physical feature on his face to make him stand out: Lord Blackwood had his off-kilter tooth (dare I say snaggletooth?) and Frank had a very unique pseudo-circular scar a little above the bridge of his forehead on the left side. It’s little things like that just make my day. Then of course there was Nicholas Cage. I’ve never thought that he was badass before. Honestly, I’ve never been a big Cage fan. Even in National Treasure (which I do have a bit of a guilty pleasure for) I thought he was mediocre at best. But this…I dunno. There was a kind of charm to his performance of vigilantism in this film. And then there’s Kick-Ass. Aaron Johnson was wonderful. With his talent I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of him, [especially with those cheekbones, not gonna lie,] but the shocking thing is how much we may have seen of him already. I personally did not recognize the transition between The Thief Lord’s Prosper and Kick-Ass’ Dave Lizewski. In singing his praises as Dave/Kick-Ass, his voice-crack was hilarious, and his momentary imitation gay voice was priceless. I laughed so hard because I honestly believed it. Oh gracious me. But my absolute favorite, for writing, for design, for physicality, for performance, was definitely Chloe Moretz’s Hit Girl. She was so darling when not in costume, and she was definitely the most badass in costume. I mean, what more could you ask for? Purple hair, classic Robin mask, combat boots, tartan skirt, more weapons than can even be imagined, and a mouth like a sailor. She was GREAT. Quite a performance for a girl of 13, too. Can’t wait to see her again.
One aspect of this film which caught me off guard with its quality was the soundtrack. I’m out to find it, it was so good. [Note: this is a huge compliment. I usually only go after the instrumental soundtracks. Like Clint Mansell’s score for The Fountain. It’s scrumptious.] There were so many times that my dad and I reacted with “Oh, I know this song!!” that it added a new level to the whole experience. The best by far was when they broke out a remix of the beginning of 3 Doors Down’s Kryptonite and led it right into Joan Jett’s Bad Reputation. Seriously. It’s like chocolate milk and kahlua: it just works.
The visuals of this film I could rant about for days. The strobe-light fight scene was definitely one of the best. The use of sight-through-news broadcast, or youtube video, or security camera, or teddy-cam, all of it was great. The direct references to comic books were also great when it’s a film about super heroes outside of the comic books, as well. That little visual self-reference was satisfied-nod-worthy.
But all in all? Basically? This thing was a hit, and it shocked me. It’s not that I doubted its ability to rock the house, I just never expected it to become my new favorite film.
Well. Since I enjoyed that so much, I guess it’s time to finally go and watch Kill Bill Vol. II.
In the words of my new favorite superhero, show’s over, motherf*****s.
Links
IMDb
Trailer
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The Dead Weather
in the Crystal Ballroom and very, very live.
I have never been to a show so intense. Because of it, I was not only squished, pseudo-levitated and bathed in the sweat of me and my four closest compatriots [meaning the people boxing me in], I gained a huge [TALENT] amount of respect for the artists in this band. I knew I loved Jack White. Everybody who knows who Jack White is - which should be everyone ever, but there's no accounting for taste - should at least appreciate the undeniable music in his soul. I mean, that music must come pouring out of him somehow: to have been in The White Stripes, The Raconteurs, and the Dead Weather all within a fairly short amount of time (not to mention various underground Detroit bands before getting his claim to fame with The White Stripes) is awe-striking at least. Add that to his stage presence and you get an international superstar [all Green Day and Moulin Rouge! references aside, I'm serious]. Couple all that with the intensity of Alison Mosshart and things get explosive.
Mosshart's sound for her second band, The Kills (Dead Weather being #3), is alternative and, in some cases, playful. For all those curious, see Tape Song. In The Dead Weather.... I think the best possible word I could choose here is gnarly. She was a grunge cigarette zombie queen in the body of an indie fashion model. I can't conjure anything more evocative than that, abstract though it is, so there you have it. Her badassery knew no bounds. She was aloof to the desperate cries and raucous sing-along of the crowd who reached for her as though their lives depended on it, teased them even, and gladly received an unlit cigarette from a devoted fan or two who knew she didn't give shit about the no smoking rules onstage. In short, she rocks. Hard.
The thing that was definitely the most insane and amazing about the show was the investment and passion pumped into every single note. They were larger than life and they knew it, and since they knew it, they weren't about to put on a poor show. And there's evidence to say that they love their crowds and devoted fans as much as the fans love to show it: at a New York show full of big wigs Jack White reputedly shouted "F*** you, you hip motherf***ers!" Go, Jack, Go!
Overall: one of the best shows. Ever. It'll be hard to top that one.
Opening band: Harlem.
What I remember the best from this set is honestly the bassist, sporting a Mickey Mouse-emblazoned baseball-cut 3/4 sleeve tee and rosary made of what I can only assume was pale green and frosty white jade. Well, that and the ability of the band to switch it up and change instruments mid-set. That at the least was worthy of a nod. Sadly, with the sound quality they received they seemed basic indie pop at best. However, their enthusiasm and energy level were certainly promising, and I would be more than willing to give them a second listen.
You can pay Harlem a visit at Shockhound, and on MySpace.
Fashion Report:
The Band
Jack White. Black, long-sleeved tee; tight black jeans; white shoes with a slight heel (soles: black) and buckle closure.
Alison Mosshart. White on black silkscreen tee; 3/4 sleeve leopard-print sweater with button closure; black skinny pants (not denim, a la Tripp); gold ankle boots; silver industrial bracelet; dainty silver chain with silver disk pendant; black nail polish.
Dean Fertita. Short-sleeved v-neck tee, thin horizontal black and white striped; black jeans; black shoes (presumably boots).
Jack Lawrence. Black from head to foot; button-down shirt; jeans; shoes; coke-bottle glasses.
The Crowd
Was completely inconsistent, in retrospect. I saw stylin' hippie-skirts and halter tops in with sleek designer skinny jeans and leather pumps. My personal favorite was a guy in a muscle shirt, pinstriped button-down, and last but not least a huge pair of headphones worn around his neck. But hey. It was a typical motley Portland crowd, and it certainly says something about the sheer number of people The Dead Weather is able to reach.
Links
Official Site
Myspace
Facebook
Shockhound
Wiki
I have never been to a show so intense. Because of it, I was not only squished, pseudo-levitated and bathed in the sweat of me and my four closest compatriots [meaning the people boxing me in], I gained a huge [TALENT] amount of respect for the artists in this band. I knew I loved Jack White. Everybody who knows who Jack White is - which should be everyone ever, but there's no accounting for taste - should at least appreciate the undeniable music in his soul. I mean, that music must come pouring out of him somehow: to have been in The White Stripes, The Raconteurs, and the Dead Weather all within a fairly short amount of time (not to mention various underground Detroit bands before getting his claim to fame with The White Stripes) is awe-striking at least. Add that to his stage presence and you get an international superstar [all Green Day and Moulin Rouge! references aside, I'm serious]. Couple all that with the intensity of Alison Mosshart and things get explosive.
Mosshart's sound for her second band, The Kills (Dead Weather being #3), is alternative and, in some cases, playful. For all those curious, see Tape Song. In The Dead Weather.... I think the best possible word I could choose here is gnarly. She was a grunge cigarette zombie queen in the body of an indie fashion model. I can't conjure anything more evocative than that, abstract though it is, so there you have it. Her badassery knew no bounds. She was aloof to the desperate cries and raucous sing-along of the crowd who reached for her as though their lives depended on it, teased them even, and gladly received an unlit cigarette from a devoted fan or two who knew she didn't give shit about the no smoking rules onstage. In short, she rocks. Hard.
The thing that was definitely the most insane and amazing about the show was the investment and passion pumped into every single note. They were larger than life and they knew it, and since they knew it, they weren't about to put on a poor show. And there's evidence to say that they love their crowds and devoted fans as much as the fans love to show it: at a New York show full of big wigs Jack White reputedly shouted "F*** you, you hip motherf***ers!" Go, Jack, Go!
Overall: one of the best shows. Ever. It'll be hard to top that one.
Opening band: Harlem.
What I remember the best from this set is honestly the bassist, sporting a Mickey Mouse-emblazoned baseball-cut 3/4 sleeve tee and rosary made of what I can only assume was pale green and frosty white jade. Well, that and the ability of the band to switch it up and change instruments mid-set. That at the least was worthy of a nod. Sadly, with the sound quality they received they seemed basic indie pop at best. However, their enthusiasm and energy level were certainly promising, and I would be more than willing to give them a second listen.
You can pay Harlem a visit at Shockhound, and on MySpace.
Fashion Report:
The Band
Jack White. Black, long-sleeved tee; tight black jeans; white shoes with a slight heel (soles: black) and buckle closure.
Alison Mosshart. White on black silkscreen tee; 3/4 sleeve leopard-print sweater with button closure; black skinny pants (not denim, a la Tripp); gold ankle boots; silver industrial bracelet; dainty silver chain with silver disk pendant; black nail polish.
Dean Fertita. Short-sleeved v-neck tee, thin horizontal black and white striped; black jeans; black shoes (presumably boots).
Jack Lawrence. Black from head to foot; button-down shirt; jeans; shoes; coke-bottle glasses.
The Crowd
Was completely inconsistent, in retrospect. I saw stylin' hippie-skirts and halter tops in with sleek designer skinny jeans and leather pumps. My personal favorite was a guy in a muscle shirt, pinstriped button-down, and last but not least a huge pair of headphones worn around his neck. But hey. It was a typical motley Portland crowd, and it certainly says something about the sheer number of people The Dead Weather is able to reach.
Links
Official Site
Myspace
Shockhound
Wiki
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Adam Lambert
Live and in concert: the following being a recollection of one hell of a night.
I have never seen the Crystal Ballroom so packed. Then again, I suppose that's a given, being the show sold out within twenty minutes of the tickets being available for purchase, but still: for those of you who know what I mean, the line was like K-Con. For those of you who don't, I mean that it went all the way around the block.
Absolute truth be told, rather like when I saw Muse, I didn't consider Adam Lambert among my favorite artists, though I certainly respected his voice from the get-go. Also like with Muse, my standpoint is now rather different. Even with how painfully loud the music was, Adam's voice more than held out. He clearly takes immaculately good care of it: there was no sign of wear and tear as is typically inevitable while on a tour circuit. Rather, it was spot-on. Thus my respect grew. Couple that with the dance beats of half his songs and you have an irresistible mix. And even beyond that, it was the energy with which he performed, the energy with which the dancers moved, and the sheer passion for their art that every single performer displayed. That is what made this a glorious show.
I will have to admit, my night was pretty much made when he performed his rendition of Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire. But then of course it only got better when his cover of Tears for Fears' Mad World as well as his own Strut and Fever made the setlist. Perhaps the best piece he performed - his intended last before his encore - was If I Had You, not for its pop hooks, but for the fact that he made a point to say before he began "This is what this tour means to me." Gotta love an artist with that much honesty and that much passion, no matter the manner in which he climbs the charts.
For the gossip column: Tommy Joe Ratliff, on bass for the Glam Nation Tour, was absent the night I attended. Lambert brought it to the special attention of the crowd, asking for good wishes for him, as "a family emergency" called him urgently home. There has been speculation that Ratliff's father fell victim to a stroke, but the tabloids rage on and time will tell.
To give credit where it is justly due:
the two opening artists, Allison Iraheta and Orianthi, were pretty tight. I have to say that I respect Iraheta's fabulously pink/purple fadeout hair and her energy, Orianthi's voice [it was noted by a friend I made at the concert that she sounded hoarse, but I thought it added a nice growl-flavor to her vocals. oh well], and the energy and talent of Orianthi's bassist (who I sadly cannot find the name of).
Alert to all readers! The following is a new segment I've decided to add to my music reviews. Being I am now employed by a company which deals with both music and clothes, and especially how they work together, I have decided to use my powers of observation toward that end. So, without further ado,
Fashion Report:
The Band.
Adam Lambert. Had a variety of costumes a la David Bowie's Thin White Duke routine, though he didn't quite have one outfit for every song. The following are not complete outfits, but rather elements of various ensembles.
Coat and tails (black) with a white or off-white fur collar; tall, sparkly, red top-hat with a black silk hat-band, black brooch, and two long, thin, black feathers angled and drooping toward the back on one side; p/leather pants; to the floor black coat, presumably either [Tripp fabric] or p/leather; makeup galore; black vest-like muscle shirt, fiddle back (these seams were accentuated by ridges of dark neon-blue fabric, perhaps bias tape on a fold), emblazoned with a calligraphic letter A; long-sleeved button-down black or charcoal grey shirt, silver scrollwork embroidered at the top of each sleeve near where each was set in at the shoulder as well as between the shoulder blades; black cane headed with a silver skull (featured especially in the song Strut).
Dancers' ensembles and other things of import. Honestly I was far enough away from the stage to be unable to absorb the majority of the other fashions onstage. However, I was able to note that the dancers were sporting garments that were either made by the fabulous Skingraft or else they were made to look like them. I recall especially the use of something similar to shoulder-holsters: it made me recall this Skingraft bridle harness.
Allison Iraheta. Black corset, sweetheart neckline; black skinny jeans. [apologies for the brevity: I couldn't see much of her and almost nothing of Orianthi excepting her fabulous hair.]
The Crowd.
There was a predominant sense of glam-rock on the legendary floating floor. If glitter really is the herpes of everything, the Crystal Ballroom will never be the same. It was everywhere. Anything that sparkled, glinted, or shined could be seen, from temporary body art and makeup to sequined butterfly-cut vests to stretch-glitter you-name-it. The sparkle was the key. But there was no lack of skinny-jeans or corset-clad fans, either. There was more than a hint of clubwear, laces, mesh, and lace. I especially recall a black empire-waisted coat, long-sleeved, with a standing collar and lace-up back.
IN SHORT, readers, it was a night full of glitter and good fun.
Links
Wiki article for the Glam Nation Tour
Adam Lambert:
Official Site
Facebook
Myspace
Shockhound
Wiki
Allison Iraheta
Official Site
Facebook
Myspace
Shockhound
Wiki
Orianthi
Official Site
Facebook
Myspace
Shockhound
Wiki
I have never seen the Crystal Ballroom so packed. Then again, I suppose that's a given, being the show sold out within twenty minutes of the tickets being available for purchase, but still: for those of you who know what I mean, the line was like K-Con. For those of you who don't, I mean that it went all the way around the block.
Absolute truth be told, rather like when I saw Muse, I didn't consider Adam Lambert among my favorite artists, though I certainly respected his voice from the get-go. Also like with Muse, my standpoint is now rather different. Even with how painfully loud the music was, Adam's voice more than held out. He clearly takes immaculately good care of it: there was no sign of wear and tear as is typically inevitable while on a tour circuit. Rather, it was spot-on. Thus my respect grew. Couple that with the dance beats of half his songs and you have an irresistible mix. And even beyond that, it was the energy with which he performed, the energy with which the dancers moved, and the sheer passion for their art that every single performer displayed. That is what made this a glorious show.
I will have to admit, my night was pretty much made when he performed his rendition of Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire. But then of course it only got better when his cover of Tears for Fears' Mad World as well as his own Strut and Fever made the setlist. Perhaps the best piece he performed - his intended last before his encore - was If I Had You, not for its pop hooks, but for the fact that he made a point to say before he began "This is what this tour means to me." Gotta love an artist with that much honesty and that much passion, no matter the manner in which he climbs the charts.
For the gossip column: Tommy Joe Ratliff, on bass for the Glam Nation Tour, was absent the night I attended. Lambert brought it to the special attention of the crowd, asking for good wishes for him, as "a family emergency" called him urgently home. There has been speculation that Ratliff's father fell victim to a stroke, but the tabloids rage on and time will tell.
To give credit where it is justly due:
the two opening artists, Allison Iraheta and Orianthi, were pretty tight. I have to say that I respect Iraheta's fabulously pink/purple fadeout hair and her energy, Orianthi's voice [it was noted by a friend I made at the concert that she sounded hoarse, but I thought it added a nice growl-flavor to her vocals. oh well], and the energy and talent of Orianthi's bassist (who I sadly cannot find the name of).
Alert to all readers! The following is a new segment I've decided to add to my music reviews. Being I am now employed by a company which deals with both music and clothes, and especially how they work together, I have decided to use my powers of observation toward that end. So, without further ado,
Fashion Report:
The Band.
Adam Lambert. Had a variety of costumes a la David Bowie's Thin White Duke routine, though he didn't quite have one outfit for every song. The following are not complete outfits, but rather elements of various ensembles.
Coat and tails (black) with a white or off-white fur collar; tall, sparkly, red top-hat with a black silk hat-band, black brooch, and two long, thin, black feathers angled and drooping toward the back on one side; p/leather pants; to the floor black coat, presumably either [Tripp fabric] or p/leather; makeup galore; black vest-like muscle shirt, fiddle back (these seams were accentuated by ridges of dark neon-blue fabric, perhaps bias tape on a fold), emblazoned with a calligraphic letter A; long-sleeved button-down black or charcoal grey shirt, silver scrollwork embroidered at the top of each sleeve near where each was set in at the shoulder as well as between the shoulder blades; black cane headed with a silver skull (featured especially in the song Strut).
Dancers' ensembles and other things of import. Honestly I was far enough away from the stage to be unable to absorb the majority of the other fashions onstage. However, I was able to note that the dancers were sporting garments that were either made by the fabulous Skingraft or else they were made to look like them. I recall especially the use of something similar to shoulder-holsters: it made me recall this Skingraft bridle harness.
Allison Iraheta. Black corset, sweetheart neckline; black skinny jeans. [apologies for the brevity: I couldn't see much of her and almost nothing of Orianthi excepting her fabulous hair.]
The Crowd.
There was a predominant sense of glam-rock on the legendary floating floor. If glitter really is the herpes of everything, the Crystal Ballroom will never be the same. It was everywhere. Anything that sparkled, glinted, or shined could be seen, from temporary body art and makeup to sequined butterfly-cut vests to stretch-glitter you-name-it. The sparkle was the key. But there was no lack of skinny-jeans or corset-clad fans, either. There was more than a hint of clubwear, laces, mesh, and lace. I especially recall a black empire-waisted coat, long-sleeved, with a standing collar and lace-up back.
IN SHORT, readers, it was a night full of glitter and good fun.
Links
Wiki article for the Glam Nation Tour
Adam Lambert:
Official Site
Myspace
Shockhound
Wiki
Allison Iraheta
Official Site
Myspace
Shockhound
Wiki
Orianthi
Official Site
Myspace
Shockhound
Wiki
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Shutter Island
May I open this one with a great big SPOILER ALERT.
Then again, I think you're all pretty aware that I'm liberal with the details on this blog, so I don't know why I was compelled to do so. Moving on.
For a true beginning to this review, I'm going to lay it out there plain and simple: I expected a lot more from this film. I love Leonardo DiCaprio - I believe he's very talented - and I'm also a huge fan of Emily Mortimer. However, this movie definitely left something to be desired in multiple courts.
The Plot is my main concern. In fact, I think I may be experiencing the same kind of disenchantment with Shutter Island as many other people of my acquaintance experienced with Avatar: in the end, it did exactly what I expected it to, and so it was a let-down. I mean really. When the major plot twist, that the gung-ho main character is actually insane, gets predicted by someone in the room within the first half hour of the film, there's something rotten in the state of Denmark, and in this case it rank of someone failing miserably at trying to pull a Tyler Durden. I would rather have watched a hackneyed and predictable story about a bad-guy insane-asylum-gone-experimental-medical-facility post-World War II featuring a detective with post-traumatic stress disorder which, naturally, he then uses to solve the case and escape; the blind leading the blind, the traumatized spiraling into the insane in order to understand the insane and thereby gleaning a glimmer of truth to cling to. I would have adored that, run-on sentence and all. Eaten it up. But of course that's not how things seem to work right now. The only redeeming quality of the plot was the very end, the very conscious decision of Teddy/Andrew to commit mental suicide and be ice-pick lobotomized: "to die a good man" rather than "to live as a monster."
The other main aspect that I was disappointed with, honestly, was the score. It kills me to say so, as movie music is one of my favorite things in life, but there it is. Upon looking into it further, it kills me even more to see that the score wasn't original: it was hand-selected tracks from various classical sources! Oh Hollywood Gods, why do you do these things? [Give me a moment to compose myself.] I must give credit where credit is due: I desired the 'silence is more terrifying than sound' effect, and they gave it to me in spades (once I waited a while for it). However, my complaint, in light of the aforementioned discovery, is with the use of certain tracks. Every once in a while a piece would be chosen that just screamed that the film was trying too hard to be suspenseful and thereby ruined the entire setup. During the sequence wherein Teddy and Chuck are being driven to the compound on Shutter Island to work on their missing persons case, the music was so repetitive and over the top I actually laughed and said "I can'e even take this seriously right now." That same track happened at least twice more, and it totally pulled me out of the film. It became a parody of itself, and I cannot see how that could have been the intent for the piece. It did the song no credit, and it did the visual film no credit, either.
Because, dear readers, if you've even made it this far, I hate to bag on this film. I really do, and not least because the cinematography was brilliant. Stunning, even. The contrast in lighting between the waking hours on Shutter Island and Teddy's dreams of his home and wife were excellent. The stark lighting and bleached-out effect for every flash of lightning during the migraine scene was gorgeous, an almost poetic representation of the characteristic photosensitivity, as was the transition with every flash between that waking world and the dream world, witnessed only by brightness and the presence or absence of Teddy's five o'clock shadow and subtle beard. The devastatingly still sequences of Teddy's flashbacks to the war and the concentration camps were exquisitely horrifying, and beautiful because they were so. But by far my favorite shot caused a reference I can only hope was intentional: Teddy's wife, during one of his dreams, is pictured standing at the window with her back to him. At this point in the film it is an accepted idea that she was killed when their apartment was set ablaze by an arsonist. In this shot where she lingers at the window, her back is cut away so to speak, to reveal that she is hollow and made of a charcoaled log with still-glowing lines of ember. In several traditions, Faery or Elfin women, as well as some dryads, are described as beautiful women having holes in their backs which reveal that they are hollow and made of wood. The use of this image in Shutter Island was not only well done, it was striking, worked gloriously in the context of the story as well as in that of the nightmare, and ultimately demonstrated Teddy's idealistic view of his wife: as a beautiful, even supernatural creature beyond the bounds of humanity and thereby beyond the bounds of mortality. It reflected his inability to let her go using mythological connotation with a twist of logic. It was brilliant.
And to touch on the performance itself, there was not a single actor who I found lacking in skill or conviction. I continue to be impressed with both Leonardo DiCaprio and Emily Mortimer. I was also very impressed by Ben Kingsley and Mark Ruffalo. There was no lack of talent or fervor in the cast, and I commend them for making the most of that which they were given. It was only that which they were given that I had quips with.
So, in short, overall I was disappointed. I feel that this had potential to be much more than what it was, especially with the visual brilliance displayed throughout the film. But, I think now that I have detained you for long enough.
Then again, I think you're all pretty aware that I'm liberal with the details on this blog, so I don't know why I was compelled to do so. Moving on.
For a true beginning to this review, I'm going to lay it out there plain and simple: I expected a lot more from this film. I love Leonardo DiCaprio - I believe he's very talented - and I'm also a huge fan of Emily Mortimer. However, this movie definitely left something to be desired in multiple courts.
The Plot is my main concern. In fact, I think I may be experiencing the same kind of disenchantment with Shutter Island as many other people of my acquaintance experienced with Avatar: in the end, it did exactly what I expected it to, and so it was a let-down. I mean really. When the major plot twist, that the gung-ho main character is actually insane, gets predicted by someone in the room within the first half hour of the film, there's something rotten in the state of Denmark, and in this case it rank of someone failing miserably at trying to pull a Tyler Durden. I would rather have watched a hackneyed and predictable story about a bad-guy insane-asylum-gone-experimental-medical-facility post-World War II featuring a detective with post-traumatic stress disorder which, naturally, he then uses to solve the case and escape; the blind leading the blind, the traumatized spiraling into the insane in order to understand the insane and thereby gleaning a glimmer of truth to cling to. I would have adored that, run-on sentence and all. Eaten it up. But of course that's not how things seem to work right now. The only redeeming quality of the plot was the very end, the very conscious decision of Teddy/Andrew to commit mental suicide and be ice-pick lobotomized: "to die a good man" rather than "to live as a monster."
The other main aspect that I was disappointed with, honestly, was the score. It kills me to say so, as movie music is one of my favorite things in life, but there it is. Upon looking into it further, it kills me even more to see that the score wasn't original: it was hand-selected tracks from various classical sources! Oh Hollywood Gods, why do you do these things? [Give me a moment to compose myself.] I must give credit where credit is due: I desired the 'silence is more terrifying than sound' effect, and they gave it to me in spades (once I waited a while for it). However, my complaint, in light of the aforementioned discovery, is with the use of certain tracks. Every once in a while a piece would be chosen that just screamed that the film was trying too hard to be suspenseful and thereby ruined the entire setup. During the sequence wherein Teddy and Chuck are being driven to the compound on Shutter Island to work on their missing persons case, the music was so repetitive and over the top I actually laughed and said "I can'e even take this seriously right now." That same track happened at least twice more, and it totally pulled me out of the film. It became a parody of itself, and I cannot see how that could have been the intent for the piece. It did the song no credit, and it did the visual film no credit, either.
Because, dear readers, if you've even made it this far, I hate to bag on this film. I really do, and not least because the cinematography was brilliant. Stunning, even. The contrast in lighting between the waking hours on Shutter Island and Teddy's dreams of his home and wife were excellent. The stark lighting and bleached-out effect for every flash of lightning during the migraine scene was gorgeous, an almost poetic representation of the characteristic photosensitivity, as was the transition with every flash between that waking world and the dream world, witnessed only by brightness and the presence or absence of Teddy's five o'clock shadow and subtle beard. The devastatingly still sequences of Teddy's flashbacks to the war and the concentration camps were exquisitely horrifying, and beautiful because they were so. But by far my favorite shot caused a reference I can only hope was intentional: Teddy's wife, during one of his dreams, is pictured standing at the window with her back to him. At this point in the film it is an accepted idea that she was killed when their apartment was set ablaze by an arsonist. In this shot where she lingers at the window, her back is cut away so to speak, to reveal that she is hollow and made of a charcoaled log with still-glowing lines of ember. In several traditions, Faery or Elfin women, as well as some dryads, are described as beautiful women having holes in their backs which reveal that they are hollow and made of wood. The use of this image in Shutter Island was not only well done, it was striking, worked gloriously in the context of the story as well as in that of the nightmare, and ultimately demonstrated Teddy's idealistic view of his wife: as a beautiful, even supernatural creature beyond the bounds of humanity and thereby beyond the bounds of mortality. It reflected his inability to let her go using mythological connotation with a twist of logic. It was brilliant.
And to touch on the performance itself, there was not a single actor who I found lacking in skill or conviction. I continue to be impressed with both Leonardo DiCaprio and Emily Mortimer. I was also very impressed by Ben Kingsley and Mark Ruffalo. There was no lack of talent or fervor in the cast, and I commend them for making the most of that which they were given. It was only that which they were given that I had quips with.
So, in short, overall I was disappointed. I feel that this had potential to be much more than what it was, especially with the visual brilliance displayed throughout the film. But, I think now that I have detained you for long enough.
Snatch
Oh my goodness have I delayed on this review and I apologize to the Film Deities for said delay. This film deserved immediate attention and I can no longer conjure the reason it did not receive it.
Snatch is a jewel of a film. Released in 2001, it can only be called an action flick with every good thing: con artists, incompetent thieves, bare-knuckle boxing, gypsies - throw in one cute dog and one bat-shit crazy pig farmer and you've pretty much got it down. Written and directed by Guy Ritchie, it's one hell of a ride. Infused with a host of unique characters and with one of my favorite plot twists of all time, the film's cherry-on-top is a star-studded cast featuring names like Jason Statham, Benicio Del Toro, Alan Ford, Dennis Farina, and, that's right, Brad Pitt.
The whole cast was impressive, but I think the best performance goes to Brad Pitt. For those of you who know me well, you'll already be aware of the fact that my conversion to Brad Pitt fandom was fairly recent. That conversion would have come much quicker if I had seen Snatch sooner than I did. He portrays Mickey O'Neil, a lightning-fisted and almost completely unintelligible Irish "Pikey." (Wiki article on said derrogative term here.) I think it's one of the best performances he's ever done. The accent was perfect, the attitude was marvelous, he as a whole was simply excellent.
I would highly recommend this movie to everyone I know, just know that it is VERY heavily curse-laden. If you have no problem with this (and even if you do but are willing to set it aside for about two hours), watch it and see what happens. My dad has repeatedly grouped it with Bank Job and The Italian Job (2008), in a way as their predecessor. [And hey, the marvelous Jason Statham is in all three! That's always a plus.] Snatch is quickly becoming one of my favorite films, and I can't wait to see it again.
Until next time, dear readers. And remember, don't Snatch.
Links
IMDb
Trailer (Sadly censored. apologies. Had trouble with my videos.)
Snatch is a jewel of a film. Released in 2001, it can only be called an action flick with every good thing: con artists, incompetent thieves, bare-knuckle boxing, gypsies - throw in one cute dog and one bat-shit crazy pig farmer and you've pretty much got it down. Written and directed by Guy Ritchie, it's one hell of a ride. Infused with a host of unique characters and with one of my favorite plot twists of all time, the film's cherry-on-top is a star-studded cast featuring names like Jason Statham, Benicio Del Toro, Alan Ford, Dennis Farina, and, that's right, Brad Pitt.
The whole cast was impressive, but I think the best performance goes to Brad Pitt. For those of you who know me well, you'll already be aware of the fact that my conversion to Brad Pitt fandom was fairly recent. That conversion would have come much quicker if I had seen Snatch sooner than I did. He portrays Mickey O'Neil, a lightning-fisted and almost completely unintelligible Irish "Pikey." (Wiki article on said derrogative term here.) I think it's one of the best performances he's ever done. The accent was perfect, the attitude was marvelous, he as a whole was simply excellent.
I would highly recommend this movie to everyone I know, just know that it is VERY heavily curse-laden. If you have no problem with this (and even if you do but are willing to set it aside for about two hours), watch it and see what happens. My dad has repeatedly grouped it with Bank Job and The Italian Job (2008), in a way as their predecessor. [And hey, the marvelous Jason Statham is in all three! That's always a plus.] Snatch is quickly becoming one of my favorite films, and I can't wait to see it again.
Until next time, dear readers. And remember, don't Snatch.
Links
IMDb
Trailer (Sadly censored. apologies. Had trouble with my videos.)
Boondock Saints
Yes, the first one. No, I had never seen it before. Please get all your sin and sacrilege responses out now.
Feel better? Good. Let's move on.
A little bit of background, for the books. The 1999 film The Boondock Saints is the comedic and action-packed brainchild of writer and director Troy Duffy, for whom I gained an insane amount of respect in the span of approximately two hours. I can't even touch on how many aspects of this movie I adored, so you're just going to have to put up with me when I say "all of them." Especially the (SHOCKER) Willem Dafoe in drag there in the end. Not gonna lie. I just about busted a lung I was laughing so hard. [Mostly at myself: for a split second there I actually thought it was a woman.]
Speaking of Willem Dafoe, oh gracious, what a wonderful cast! And Mr. Dafoe was not even the most exciting star-stud it featured. Billy Connelly was, honest to god, the last person I expected to appear in an action flick, especially this one, so when I realized it was him I thought it was Christmas. He was fantastic as Il Duce (which I believe translates to 'the Duke'), and he, now he had a great plot twist. I will actually try and stay mute as to the majority of the twists in this one, being they're just too delicious. The aforementioned Willem Dafoe played a fabulous [and I mean insert rainbows here kind of fabulous, though the character himself certainly did NOT accept the existence of said rainbows until the very last minute] FBI agent with just a twist of insanity. Overall, wonderful performance. And then there were Sean Patrick Flanery and Norman Reedus as the MacManus brothers. They were funny, convincing siblings in all the right ways, as well as solemn and poised. Their banter was fantastically delivered and their characters were flawless: their personalities were even projected in their stances and walks.
I especially appreciated the use of Irish-Catholic heritage and faith as a device in The Saints' killings. The coins over the eyes were a nice touch. The rosaries were nicer. The family prayer was my favorite. And, as though the brothers needed one more thing make them wholly inseparable, their hand tattoos, one reading Veritas, the other Aequitas, or Truth and Justice, were a wonderful choice. I also approved, then, of Il Duce's tatoo on his hand, though I couldn't determine quite what it was.
To note, the whole idea of killing in the name of god usually doesn't sit well with me. For some reason, in this case, it did. Yes it was vigilantism, but somehow it felt right, necessary, in the context of the world woven by the film. The Saints were undeniably heroes in my mind, though they were perhaps a little bumbling, like all human beings can be, and terrifyingly absolute in their judgment. Perhaps it was the light nature of the film's tone on the whole that made me glide over this particular age-old quip of mine. But whatever the reason, I loved the MacManus brothers, and I don't think anything is going to change that.
Overall, glorious, amusing, wonderful, IRISH, mob-gang-decimating good fun.
I can't wait to see it again, and I would recommended it a hundred fold.
And shepherds we shall be,
for Thee, my Lord, for Thee.
Power hath descended forth from Thy hand,
that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command.
So we shall flow a river forth to Thee
and teeming with souls shall it ever be.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.
Feel better? Good. Let's move on.
A little bit of background, for the books. The 1999 film The Boondock Saints is the comedic and action-packed brainchild of writer and director Troy Duffy, for whom I gained an insane amount of respect in the span of approximately two hours. I can't even touch on how many aspects of this movie I adored, so you're just going to have to put up with me when I say "all of them." Especially the (SHOCKER) Willem Dafoe in drag there in the end. Not gonna lie. I just about busted a lung I was laughing so hard. [Mostly at myself: for a split second there I actually thought it was a woman.]
Speaking of Willem Dafoe, oh gracious, what a wonderful cast! And Mr. Dafoe was not even the most exciting star-stud it featured. Billy Connelly was, honest to god, the last person I expected to appear in an action flick, especially this one, so when I realized it was him I thought it was Christmas. He was fantastic as Il Duce (which I believe translates to 'the Duke'), and he, now he had a great plot twist. I will actually try and stay mute as to the majority of the twists in this one, being they're just too delicious. The aforementioned Willem Dafoe played a fabulous [and I mean insert rainbows here kind of fabulous, though the character himself certainly did NOT accept the existence of said rainbows until the very last minute] FBI agent with just a twist of insanity. Overall, wonderful performance. And then there were Sean Patrick Flanery and Norman Reedus as the MacManus brothers. They were funny, convincing siblings in all the right ways, as well as solemn and poised. Their banter was fantastically delivered and their characters were flawless: their personalities were even projected in their stances and walks.
I especially appreciated the use of Irish-Catholic heritage and faith as a device in The Saints' killings. The coins over the eyes were a nice touch. The rosaries were nicer. The family prayer was my favorite. And, as though the brothers needed one more thing make them wholly inseparable, their hand tattoos, one reading Veritas, the other Aequitas, or Truth and Justice, were a wonderful choice. I also approved, then, of Il Duce's tatoo on his hand, though I couldn't determine quite what it was.
To note, the whole idea of killing in the name of god usually doesn't sit well with me. For some reason, in this case, it did. Yes it was vigilantism, but somehow it felt right, necessary, in the context of the world woven by the film. The Saints were undeniably heroes in my mind, though they were perhaps a little bumbling, like all human beings can be, and terrifyingly absolute in their judgment. Perhaps it was the light nature of the film's tone on the whole that made me glide over this particular age-old quip of mine. But whatever the reason, I loved the MacManus brothers, and I don't think anything is going to change that.
Overall, glorious, amusing, wonderful, IRISH, mob-gang-decimating good fun.
I can't wait to see it again, and I would recommended it a hundred fold.
And shepherds we shall be,
for Thee, my Lord, for Thee.
Power hath descended forth from Thy hand,
that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command.
So we shall flow a river forth to Thee
and teeming with souls shall it ever be.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.
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