Saying that Bryan Bertino’s The Strangers breaks no new ground in the horror genre shouldn’t be construed as an entirely negative thing, for it is a very well-made horror flick. The film is often restrained, and, in sharp contrast to the currently fashionable torture porn direction most contemporary horror films take, doesn’t show us much in the way of actual violence. Yes, we surely see the effects, sometimes immediate, of the violence. The film takes time to develop its main characters, James (Scott Speedman) and Kristen (Liv Tyler), to such a degree that when the terror begins, we do care about what’s going to happen to this couple. Bertino plays very well by the two golden rules of a good horror flick: we must care about the person being terrorized and the unseen/unknown is much more horrifying than seeing everything.

I said that the film breaks no new ground. And that’s true. Playing on the tried and true plot setup of the city couple isolated in the country, we are ever mindful that “out here” no one can hear you scream. The conservatism of the horror genre shines through as the ominous first knock at the door by one of the Strangers comes exactly when the couple is beginning to engage in sexual activity. We are even treated to a classic trope (homage to Halloween) when Kristen locks herself in a closet hoping in vain to elude the attackers. There wasn’t a jump/shock moment that I didn’t anticipate even though they all succeeded in doing their duty. The film even begins with the old “inspired by actual events” banner, which I suppose is meant to emphasize our fear that “this could really happen!”; however, if Wikipedia is to be believed, there was no one event of this nature but rather the film was inspired by a series of disconnected actual events that Bertino has stitched together.

The difficulty in assessing a film such as this is that on the one hand, it IS very well made. Liv Tyler does a very good job of communicating various levels of fear without much dialogue; Speedman is solid as the would-be fiance who loves his girl and is under attack; and the technical aspects of the film do nothing to distract us from the ratcheted-up tension. On the other hand, the content of the film brings nothing fresh to the table. As a heart-thumping horror entertainment, it’s very successful. As anything more, it’s hard to know why it needs to be seen. It is, in some ways, the perfect kind of film to raise discussions about why it is that we find such topics entertaining.

Whatever the case, Bertino shows great promise with his first film. Perhaps this was the recreation of a masterwork that a developing artist needs to make in order to develop. If that’s so, then Bertino has done a very good job indeed, and I’ll look forward to his next work.

Living out on the edge of nowhere, we don’t really get much in the way of film that isn’t mainstream, so in addition to missing many of the great films everyone’s talking about, I don’t see many films either. Therefore, my list of 2007 favorites isn’t limited to films of 2007, nor is it limited to film. Rather, my 2007 favorites list is going to be a list of favorite art/media that I’ve ingested this past year: film, DVD, TV, music, web, books. Ok, perhaps I’ll put one limiter on this; the list only includes NEW TO ME experiences. Otherwise things like Firefly and reading Tolkien would overtake the list. So without further ado, here it is:

Todd’s 25 Favorite Art/Media Experiences of 2007 In Alphabetical Order

1. 28 Weeks Later, film by Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, 2007

   One of the purest representations of nihilism I’ve seen in recent years. Apart from being a fun zombie flick, the film is unrelenting in punishing severely anyone who even dares to play even the smallest heroic role or act on any human feeling.

2. Amazing Grace, film by Michael Apted, 2006

   While not perhaps ground-breaking or even remarkable in its film-making aspects, the story itself is compelling, and the film doesn’t get in the way of it.

3. The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Goth Girl, novel by Barry Lyga, 2006.

   Lyga paints a complex portrait of suburban America as seen by the kind of teen-age boy that many today would profile as a potential Columbine-like killer. That the boy has no violent intentions doesn’t seem to matter to those around him. What makes the story intriguing is that even the minor characters are complex, not fitting neatly into the stereotype boxes that they appear to be occupying.

4. Atonement, film by Joe Wright, 2007

   I generally despise frame stories and do think that the ending of this film could be lopped off with no negative effect to the narrative. However, when I think about what kind of love story I’d like to write, I’d like to think that I could do as a good a job of avoiding sugary-sweet sentimentality.

5. Bridge to Terabithia, film by Gabor Csupo, 2007

   While my 6-year-old nephew kept assuring me that it would “get better than this” throughout the film, I found myself not thinking it needed to. A rare display of showing restraint in the use of digital effects helped focus the film on the very real story of very real people rather than veering off into the tempting land of CG monsters and mindless action.

6. The Descent, film by Neil Marshall, 2005

   Perhaps the best horror film I’ve seen this century! While the general outline of the story is not terribly inventive, the execution of the tale is excellent. Marshall understands the concept of not showing too much, and does for spelunking what Spielberg did for ocean swimming. The DVD provides 2 or 3 different endings, which provides some interesting fodder for discussing changing film for different markets. (AKA, why American audiences make films stink).

7. Kôkaku kidôtai (Ghost in the Shell), film by Mamoru Oshii, 1995

   For about six-months–when I was 5–I was riding the cultural curve that brought Japanese animation to the US. Then I wiped out. I finally found my board and am tentatively paddling out into the surf again. Oshii’s 1995 anime classic is the best kind of sci-fi: a good story asking BIG questions set in an unfamiliar setting that gives people permission to explore issues. That, and the artwork and music rock.

8. Grizzly Man, film by Werner Herzog, 2005

   Like Into the Wild, Herzog takes a stark look at a somewhat unlikeable person to examine extreme aspects of the human psyche.

9. How’s Your News, film by Arthur Bradford, 1999.

   I haven’t felt this ambivalent about a documentary since Southern Comfort. I vascillated between wondering if these people were being exploited or at least endangered–psychologically if not physically–to being moved and fascinated as we watched the interactions between the developmentally challenged and, in some cases, the humanity challenged.

10. In Persuasion Nation, short stories by George Saunders, 2006.

    Perhaps not as strong a collection as Pastoralia, Saunders still brings the wonderfully fun satire. This time around, I was impressed with his consistency of voice and its verisimilitude to the kind of tone created by folks trying to sound sophisticated.

11. Live from Nowhere, Vol 2, music album by Over the Rhine, 2007.

    The group’s live interpretations of already good songs almost never fail to improve the material.

12. Life of Pi, novel by Yann Martel, 2001.

    A 21st century Robinson Crusoe tale. With a Tiger!

13. Mayflower: A Story of Courage, Community, and War, history by Nathaniel Philbrick, 2006.

    I was a bit shocked when the story departs the actual Mayflower less than a 1/3 into the book. My interest waned quickly when I saw I wasn’t going to get the sea story I desired, but Philbrick reeled me back in with a complex look at a period in our history that is so often simplified and romanticized.

14. Never Let Me Go, novel by Kazuo Ishiguro, 2005.

    Just what you might expect when the man who gave us The Remains of the Day turns his attention to the future.

15. Offside, film by Jafar Panahi, 2006 (Iran).

    How do young women pursue their passions in a highly repressive society? A good example of how an examination of an extreme situation can reveal truths about our own “enlightened” one.

16. Operation Homecoming: Iraq, Afghanistan, and the Home Front, in the Words of U.S. Troops and Their Families, edited by Andrew Carrol, 2006.

    This collection represents highlights from the hundreds of manuscripts generated by the Operation Homecoming project. While all war writing seems to fall into familiar tropes–glory of battle, horror of battle, tedium and stupidity of the military, inhumanity of the situation–each conflict also seems to give rise to unique stories rooted in the specificities of the environment. This collection runs the gamut.

17. Ratatouille, film by Brad Bird & Jan Pinkava, 2007.

    The Pixar formula continues to impress: compelling story + breathtaking art + humor = great film. What’s not to like about a rat guiding a noobie chef to greatness and melting the heart of a stone-cold reviewer? I especially appreciated that the ending allowed for a certain realism concerning the response of health inspectors.

18. The Queen, film by Stephen Frears, 2006.

    Excellent film all the way around. While obviously a study of why the Monarchy reacted the way it did to Diana’s death, I found in this explanation many parallels to the response of the evangelical world to contemporary times.

19. “Seven Deadly Sinners,” song by The Born Again Floozies, 2007.

    What’s not to like about a group whose rhythm section comprises two tap dancers and a tuba?

20. Sky Blue Sky, music album by Wilco, 2007.

    Two of my favorite records of the year feature formerly unhappy groups dealing with being happy. Some have criticized the “lightness” of this album, but I think Tweedy and company deal fantastically with the difficulty of not being blue.

21. Story of a Girl, novel and blog by Sara Zarr, 2007.

    Even if I didn’t know Sara, this would have been one of my favorite reads of the year. The story succeeds in being realistic and heartwrenching and hopeful all in one go. And, hey, I even liked the character.

22. Les Triplettes de Belleville, film by Sylvain Chomet, 2003.

    Been wanting to see this for a while. There’s barely a word of dialogue in the whole film, but Chomet draws us into a wholly realized hyper-stylized Paris and New York for a grand tale of a mother’s love and bicycling.

23. The Trumpet Child, music album by Over the Rhine, 2007.

    Like Wilco, OTR had to figure out what to do with being happy. They mostly succeed. Of course, a bad OTR day is still better than most good ones.

24. What Gets Into Us, short stories by Moira Crone, 2006.

    I read this initially to get an idea about who this person was who was going to be leading the fiction track at the Glen Workshop. Then I read “The Ice Garden.” Wow.

25. The Woman in White, novel by Wilkie Collins, 1860.

    As part of my Dorothy Sayers-a-thon, I read this classic novel that inspired Sayers to write a book about Collins. It’s got your pscyh asylum, your dilapidated castle, your evil baron, your sinister foreigner, your secret society. Heck, it’s got it all. And more.

Sherry and I vascillate between describing Tiffin as “in the middle of nowhere” and “on the edge of no-where.” In either case, our location means that we miss out on many quality film releases each year since the nearest “art house” is two hours away. Also, as noted elsewhere, 2006 was a rough year for us, and we didn’t get out to as many films as we wished. Therefore, we even missed many highly recommended films that were shown within our viewing area. So, with those caveats, I present my list of the top new release films that I did see this year in no particular order:

• Word Play
• The Descent
• Nanny McPhee
• Nightmare Before Christmas 3-D
• The Prestige
• Casino Royale
• The Good Shepherd
• The Departed

Much of our NetFlix consumption has been TV shows, but I did discover some great older films this year through DVD. Here’s my favorites:

• Hidden Fortress
• Kon Tiki
• The Boston Strangler
• The Eyes of Tammy Faye
• My Neighbor Tortoro
• Jason and the Argonauts
• Sleuth
• The Gleaners and I
• The Tin Drum

Before my sophmore year of high school, I was set a list of books that I had to read over the summer. I was pretty excited when I read the dust jacket of Thor Heyerdahl’s Kon Tiki. I had already been bitten by the sea story bug, and what better adventure could there be than some guys floating across the Pacific ocean on a balsa wood raft? I was not disappointed. Heyerdahl’s voyage may have been conceived as a proof to Heyerdahl’s theory that ancient peoples from South American had sailed to Polynesia, but it was also an epic struggle between humanity and nature. On the face of it, the idea was ludicris: how could anyone possibly just float 5,000 miles across the barren sea?

As part of the expedition, Heyerdahl and his crew lugged along still and movie cameras to document their adventures. The footage was then made into a film, which won Norway’s only Oscar. (To be fair, there was only one other nominee in the feature-length documentary category, I Was a Communist for the FBI.)

When I saw Kon Tiki was available through Netflix, I knew I was have to see it sometime. And I’m glad I did. On the one hand, the film is very much not like any of the high-quality documentaries being produced today. Heyerdahl is very upfront about the fact that no one on the crew was a cinematographer, and their main goal was just to get some shots of everyday life on the raft and possibly some of the extraordinary events that transpired. Given that there were only six guys on the raft in the middle of the ocean, one can forgive them if in the middle of a storm they had more pressing matters than pulling out the movie camera. Further, the script, editing, and narration of the film don’t call to mind a serious documentary as much as they do a typical high-school instructional film, including a poorly lit globe that spins about to show us where in the world they were.

However, despite its shortcomings, Kon Tiki is compelling. The content of the journey carry the load here. Watching men doing their daily chores while water laps over their feet and thinking that they lived this way for 101 days is stunning. The scenes of the men clubbing fish to death so they could eat them would probably not make the cut today. Neither would the way the men dispatched sharks by hauling them up onto the raft, tying them down, and basically letting them drown in the air. Yet, how else would ancient crews have fed themselves and protected themselves from marine predators? The morning rounds of gathering flying fish from the deck made me think of manna. All of this happens on a raft that is barely steerable with a deck that sits just inches off the sea. A motif throughout the film is that if anyone had fallen overboard there would have been no way to turn the raft around and pick him up. While the scenes of the men playing guitar seem like a wonderful vacation, they were always moments away from death.

Another recurring theme throughout the film is just how wrong all of the “experts” were in just about every area of the venture. Heyerdahl almost seems more happy to point out the failings of the experts than he is that his theory was proven. We hear how the experts were wrong about how to treat the logs, how to bind them, what the men would eat, how they would navigate. Apparantly there wasn’t a single aspect of the voyage that the experts were correct about, and, of course, our stalwart Norwegians were right on every score. I fear to show this film to students in case they start thinking the same about their professor.

All in all, Kon Tiki is an interesting and informative look at someone putting his life on the line to prove a point. The movie was clearly meant to play up the adventure of the journey rather than the anthropology, but as we move into an age of privately funded space exploration, I look forward to seeing Kon Tiki on the Moon.

Kon Tiki
Directed by Thor Heyerdahl
1950 B&W

Boys and girls of every age
Wouldn’t you like to see something strange?

One can only imagine what the wonks at Disney thought when Tim Burton showed up with the idea for A Nightmare Before Christmas. Whatever their initial thoughts, I, for one, am glad that they realized not only how much money they could make with it but also what a wondrous creation it is. I was taken somewhat by surprise last night when Wade said he had never seen the film; the film had been playing at a party he attended some time ago, but he didn’t really pay attention. After we saw A Nightmare Before Christmas 3D, he said, “So, it’s Edward Gorey and Dr. Seuss.” I’d toss in a healthy dose of Rankin/Bass and 60’s B-grade horror flicks as well, but Gorey and Seuss I think are the main ingredients.

What will become of my dear friend?
Where will his actions lead us then?

When I heard that Nightmare was being done up in 3D, I had my apprehensions, but I was generally excited. I’d never seen the film on the big screen with full-on surround sound. I figured that if nothing else, the songs would be a treat. I was not disappointed.

The folks that worked their movie magic to transform a 2D film into 3D did a wonderful job of hiding their work. Only once or twice did I sense that something had been changed to give us one of those oh-so-obvious “3D shots,” and even those were so solidly in context that I’d have to go back to the original to see if anything had actually been changed. It was the first time I’ve seen 3D effects look natural in a film. Perhaps part of that is that they were working with source material, so the story was strong and the scenes set without any thought to the 3D effects. The 3D effects worked best when the adapters used them to “push” the back of the screen further into the distance creating a sense of depth. You felt like you were looking out of a window and seeing a great ways. Anytime objects were brought towards you out of the screen, the effect was much less effective. Wade posited that the illusion was broken anytime some part of the extending object reached the edge of the screen, which I think is correct. There’s a reason so many other 3D movies feature arrows and spears getting thrust at you; they can come out of the screeen a long way without running into a border. In the end, however, the transformation into 3D added a wonderful depth to the imagery without screaming out “IT’S IN 3D!” Further, the word done on the film allowed it to be given a real good once-over in the color department, and the film looks vibrant and lovely in a kind of halloweeny, ashen way.

What’s this? What’s this?
There’s something very wrong
What’s this?
There are people singing songs

In addition to the story and the animation, one of the joys of Nightmare is the wonderful songs. Wade was not wrong to invoke Gorey and Seuss. The lyrics have a wonderfully macbre sing-songy-ness to them that mimicks the Christmas specials we all love while at the same time capturing the misfit theme that undergirds all of Burton’s work. Elfman provides a joyfully creepy tone to the tunes while making them quite hummable. There’s four or five tunes that I’m still humming, hours later.

Something’s here I’m not quite getting
Though I try, I keep forgetting
Like a memory long since past
Here in an instant, gone in a flash
What does it mean?

At a short 1 hour 16 minutes, the film does not waste a single moment. And yet, even in this short(er) film, we’re shown the wide range of emotions of the creator. After getting shot down out of the sky for a Santa Claus impersonator, Jack laments

What have I done?
What have I done?
How could I be so blind?
All is lost, where was I?
Spoiled all, spoiled all
Everything’s gone all wrong

Seconds later, though, he’s turning just a bit defiant

But I never intended all this madness, never
And nobody really understood, how could they?
That all I ever wanted was to bring them something great
Why does nothing ever turn out like it should?

Well, what the heck, I went and did my best
And, by god, I really tasted something swell
And for a moment, why, I even touched the sky
And at least I left some stories they can tell, I did

After returning to himself, and setting things aright, however, his arrogance and bluster seem to fade. The narrator asks

And would, if you could, turn that mighty clock back,
To that long, fateful night. Now, think carefully, Jack.
Would you do the whole thing all over again,
Knowing what you know now, knowing what you knew then?”

And, Jack, the Pumpkin King, older and wiser

And he smiled, like the old pumpkin king that I knew,
Then turned and asked softly of me, “Wouldn’t you?”

I was thoroughly entranced by this restoration and re-presentation of a modern classic. Is it a Christmas film or a Halloween film? Hard to say, for, like so many Burton films it’s not really about either, it’s about a creative spirit trapped by his limitations and misunderstood by all. It’s hard not to see the Pumpkin King, Willy Wonka, Edward Scissorshands, Ichabod Crane, Ed Wood, even Batman and Pee Wee Herman all wrapped up together in the same story. When Burton’s off his game, it can seem plodding and pedantic (Wonka), but in a masterwork like Nightmare we sing with Sally

I sense there’s something in the wind
That feels like tragedy’s at hand

Tragedy in that wonderful Aristotelian sense that brings catharsis and cleansing, ruth not sadness. So that in the end, we can join with Jack

That’s right! I am the Pumpkin King, ha, ha, ha
And I just can’t wait until next Halloween
‘Cause I’ve got some new ideas that will really make them scream
And, by God, I’m really gonna give it all my might

Beginning first with setting all things right.

I understand why Peter Jackson would make a derivitively original film and slap a Lord of the Rings label on it: sadly, Tolkien has a huge fanbase that will slurp up whatever swill you put in front of it. What I don’t understand is why Marleen Gorris and Peter Berry would use the same strategy for an early novel by Vladimir Nabokov. The Luzhin Defence is a quiet romance that bears a striking resemblance to Nabokov’s The Defense. Both stories feature a former child chess prodigy struggling with inner demons who finds love but is tragically unable to handle life away from the chess board. Both stories feature snappish in-laws and an oily Svengali figure. And both stories include the sad demise of our title character. But that’s about where it ends.

One can understand the need to cut and reshape a novel when bringing it to the screen. Different media require different approaches. What is harder to fathom is why it is that screenwriters and directors think they know better than world-class authors when it comes to the themes and plots of great stories. In the case of The Luzhin Defence, my growing concerns throughout the film came to fruition when Luzhin jumps out of a window and there were twenty minutes left in the film. Sure enough, some foggy shots of a boat and waiting dead relatives appeared. And then the ultimate debasement: the filmmakers tried to tack on a feel-good, redemptive ending to a novel that is unabashedly tragic. It’s so base and pandering that I can’t bring myself to describe it.

None of this is to say that the film is poorly made. In fact, for the first half-hour, I was scrambling about trying to figure out if this were a Merchant-Ivory film. The settings are lush and beautiful. The film score evokes the time period in fresh way and gently nudges the viewer towards sympathizing with the socially inept chess player. John Turturro constrains his over-the-top antics to effect a fascinating portrait of a man who dwells intensely in his head while barely surviving in the physical world. I was concerned at the casting of Turturro since Nabokov describes Luzhin as a corpulent, dumpy man, but rail-thin Turturro made me forget all about that within minutes of the opening. Emily Watson is also compelling as Natalia Katkov. The compassion she has for Lushin comes across as much more than just pity. In a pivotal scene, the reclusive Luzhin fears that he has offended her by not asking questions about her, but Natalia is relieved; she can breathe when she’s around him.

And it is here, in the tender, quiet evocation of a true romance that perhaps the filmmakers stray from the novel in ways that irrevocably harm the story. They confuse a relational romance with a literary one. While The Defense does feature a romance between two people and while that love story does take up a large part of the novel, in the end The Defense is not, in fact, a chivalric tale with a happy ending. It is, in fact, a tragic tale of alienation and the loss of innocence; it may, in fact, be an early refutation of the modernist milieu present in the wake of WW I. To turn such serious and heavy material into a light romance makes it just another story about the beautiful girl who falls for the nerdy guy and is vindicated in the end by proving that he really was special.

As with PJ’s travesty of an adaptation, Gorris gets so much right that it is all the more painful when the film goes so wrong. Had the film simply been presented as a period romance, the strengths of the film could be appreciated on their own. But, by linking the film to the novel, it only suffers in comparison.

School has now started, and we’re headed smack dab into Labor Day, so I guess it’s safe to say that summer is over, regardless of what the equinoxes (equinoxi?) have to say about it. I began the season with a firm determination to write full-scale reviews of all the movies I saw this summer, but then two things happened. First, I didn’t actually see that many films. No costumed crusaders, no blockbuster books turned into dud movies, not even animated vroom-vrooms. Nope, none. In fact, if you include MI:3, I only took in six summer movies–and only two of those were sequels. Now, my friend Jeffrey Overstreet, film critic extraordinaire, tells me that I didn’t really miss anything. And I believe him.

So, what I thought I’d do is provide a short digest of the films I did see:

• Mission Impossible:III
  MI:3 was actually sorta fun. It certainly shouldn’t be remembered past this summer, and truthfully, even now, I’m getting a bit fuzzy on the details. But Hoffman seemed to be having fun not talking with a lisp, and the director even tried to have a tiny shred of a story in amidst all the bang-bangs.
• Wordplay
  Saw this in Chicago with our friend Katrine. It was such a wonderful thing to see people doing something they truly love. The film itself wasn’t the best documentary I’ve ever seen–there were too many things that it didn’t address, like how they come up with clues–but Creadon does a nice job interspersing interviews with the story of the crossword puzzle competition. Calling a film inspirational is usually a proper kiss of death, but Wordplay inspires by showing you people who are inspired without telling you that you should be inspired. In the end, I walked out of the theater wanting to rush out and buy The New York Times so that I could do the puzzle.
• A Scanner Darkly
  There wasn’t alot story-wise in this film that we haven’t seen in other adaptations of Philip Dick stories (Minority Report, Blade Runner, Total Recall) except that it’s ending is perhaps even more cynical than those others. Robert Downey Jr. absolutely steals the show whenever he’s onscreen. I’m not sure he doesn’t unbalance the whole thing actually. Woody Harrleson does his usual druggy thing, but when he and Downey Jr. get going, the pair is really a hoot. Keanu is, well, Keanu.

  The big buzz around this film was less about the story than about the filming technique. The actors were filmed, and then the shots were digitially animated. I’ve had two conversations since seeing it about whether or not the animation detracted from the story or was even necessary. Certainly, the funky camo suits required the animation (and were pretty cool), but the general look of the film had a pulsing quality that caused me more than once to get lost watching the pretty lights rather than be engrossed in the story. In that sense, the technology got in the way of the film and turned it into something of a “gee, whiz! Look what they can do with computers.” sort of deal.

• Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest
  First, let me emphatically state that Sherry and I are big fans of Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. That said, Sherry was thoroughly disenchanted with the film, found it dull, and never cares to see it ever, ever again. I certainly thought it was inferior to the first Pirates, but had a bit more tolerance for it overall. Why were we less than thrilled? On the most basic level, the film lacks the punch and wit of the first. Even taken on its own merits, the film suffers the same malady that we can see in the Matrix sequels, the Star Wars prequels, and PJ’s King Kong: the filmmakers get so wrapped up in their set pieces that they let them go on way too long so that they can show off their nifty special effects. How much time do we really need to spend on a swordfight on a mill-wheel? My guess is that it’s about 33% less than they do. The result is that the story grinds to a halt whenever the effects kick in. The most lively part of of the whole film was at the end when ….. Arrgh! I shouldn’t say.
• The Descent
  The Descent is probably the best horror flick I’ve seen in a good long while. No, it doesn’t really break any new ground (heh), but it tackles the people-on-a-trip-getting-into-more-trouble-then-they-ever-dreamed scenario with great panache. In the end, it does for spelunking what Jaws did for the ocean, and isn’t that a wonderful thing? What sells the movie is that the characters–5 women adventurers–never do anything that stretches the credulity of the viewer. Yes, it’s clear that these are extremely fit and trained outdoorsy types, but they don’t suddenly have the ability to leap 70 feet over a crevasse.

  I’ve heard it said that in this type of fiction, you get one thing that the audience will accept in order for the story to progress. Any more than that and you risk stomping on the good will of their “willing suspension of disbelief.” In this film, the only thing that we’re asked to accept is the existence of the cave creatures. Beyond that, everything is plausible.

  Besides, who can’t get on board with a good Carrie homage?

• Snakes on a Plane
  Ok. Yes. We succumbed to our desire to see Samuel L. Jackson get revved up like only he can. There’s really no other reason to see this film other than to watch Jackson go into Jules mode. Oh, and seeing Julianna Margulies with straight hair was interesting as well.

  Other than that? Well, you see, there’s this airplane. And there’s these snakes, poisonus snakes, lots and lots of poisonous snakes. And then, well, kind of like the chocolate and peanut butter of a Reese’s PB Cup, the two tastes taste great together. So, we put the snakes ONTO the plane. Get it?

  My friend Ken wrote a good review of the film explaining why we really don’t care about anything that happens in the film and why no one is going to care what people writing about the film are going to say about it. He’s right, you know. There’s snakes. There’s a plane. What more do you need to know?

Well, that’s it. That is the sum total of theatrical film releases that I’ve seen this summer. It’s a bit sad, I know. Next up: a digest of my Netflix consumption for the summer, which isn’t all that much more impressive.

Last year sometime we rented Kingdom Hospital, Stephen King’s adaptation of Lars von Trier’s made-for-Dutch-television series Riget. The American version was had a kind of quirky Tales from the Crypt meets Chicago Hope-musical sensibility that, while interesting, did wear a bit. We’re still not quite sure what the giant ant-eater was all about.

Having now just finished the first series of the Dutch original–thanks Netflix–both Sherry and I were a bit disappointed that the second series is not available on Netflix, and that the third, and final, series was not and probably will not be filmed.

What was pleasantly surprising were the number of bits seemed really campy in the King version that really did have their genesis in von Trier’s work: The odd salute of the lodge members, operation sunshine, and the DS kitchen workers. Being made for Dutch TV in the ’90’s, the production values aren’t always up to snuff (the pregnant woman’s belly seems to be made of clay), but the eeriness and atmosphere are always spot on.

I’ll post more after I’ve digested this a bit.

On Thursday, Sherry and I presented ourselves at the Enterprise rental service–the only rental car company in Tiffin–and found ourselves presented with another Dodge Charger.  Instead of the screaming red Charger we took to North Carolina, this one was a stately steel.

Tooling down the Indiana turnpike, we were amused by a sign for the RV/Motorhome Hall of Fame in Elkhart, IN.  I couldn’t help but think of the “conservation” museum Ted and I saw in Springfield, MO earlier this year; amidst the beautiful animals and habitats were “histories” of bass boats and what not: the whole thing was sponsored by Bass Pro Shops, which of course had a store right next door.  At any rate, if anyone is interested in the development of RV’s and projections into the RV future, Elkhart is the place to be.

Driving into Chicago from the east, you are presented with a choice, some may say a Hobbesian choice.  You can either take I-90 straight into the heart of the city, or you can take I-94, which hooks into a web of auxiliary routes that circle the city.  Since our goal is to reach Woodstock on the other side of town, each route has its advantages.  However, experience has taught us that no matter which option we choose, we’re going to get stuck in some kind of construction.  And no matter which option we choose, the other option is going to be better.  This trip, we decided on I-90 and were pleasantly surprised to be faced merely with vast masses of traffic that moved at a somewhat constant pace.  Thus, our trip–which Yahoo! Maps laughingly states should take 5.5 hours–took a little over 7.  In fact, the worst traffic we had was off the Interstate in Huntley, a tiny little burg that is not dealing very well with the fast and vast development taking place all around it.

We spent Friday and Saturday visiting with Katrine and other folks from MCC.  Our friend Deb gave us a neat little dish for holding condiments or drink garnishes.  (She gave Sherry something else, but I can’t remember what it is.)  Katrine presented us with an assortment of herbs and a small celtic painting from Prince Edward Island, as well as Sufjan Stevens’s album Come on feel the Illinoise.[review forthcoming]

In addition to visiting, we ate wonderful meals at some of our favorite Chicagoland restaurants: Pirro’s, Big Bowl, Bistro Wasabi, Le Creperie.  We did miss out on Portillo’s this time round, but we’ll make up for that next visit.

Due to the oppressive heat, we took in two films: Wordplay and A Scanner Darkly. I’m sure I’ll have more to say on that later.  Sunday morning we hopped back in the Charger and headed home. This time the traffic was heavy almost the whole way home as everyone in the world seemed to be leaving Chicago to get back home. 

Tonight was the kick-off event to this year’s Arts & Angles series at Tiffin University. Arts & Angles runs throughout the school year and features various faculty members of the school of Arts and Sciences giving talks each month. This year, the dean of A&S—Janet Hanna—decided to give the talks a theme—World War II—in celebration of the 60th anniversary of the end of that war.

While the talks are usually given on campus, the kick-off event was a recreation of a night at the Ritz theater in 1943. Upon entering the lavishly renovated period theater, we were greeted by a young couple in period dress. Shortly after we took our seats, the entertainment began with Bugs Bunny imploring us to buy war bonds. After singing the national anthem with a bouncing cartoon ball, we were treated to the Bugs Bunny classic, “The Wabbit Who Came To Supper.” Next up was a series of newsreels, which revealed that the contemporary fascination with women in bathing suits is really not that new.

The main attraction for the evening was the Humphrey Bogart flick Action in the North Atlantic. In addition to Bogey, I was surprised to see someone who looked an awful lot like the Skipper from Gilligan’s Island. Turns out it was the Skipper’s dad, Alan Hale.

War has been described as long bouts of mind-numbing boredom punctuated with moments of sheer terror. This film tried its best to recreate that for the audience. In between loud explosions and men running about and jumping in the water, we were treated to a series of scenes devoted to convincing us of the humanity of these men and the importance of the merchant marine. The whole thing was spiced up a bit with various pieces of war-time propaganda (loose lips sink ships!). Oh! I shouldn’t forget the kitties. The film spends an inordinate amount of time establishing the existence of two kittens. One gets killed in the first explosion, and the other makes noise when the ship is trying to avoid a submarine. At the two-hour mark, our intrepid crew has only made half of its journey, and we were starting to wonder if it was going to take another two hourse to get them home, but rather than fulfill the dramatic arc created by any number of scenes in which Bogey talks about having something to go home to, the filmmakers end with a rousing speech and talk of “delivering the goods.”

A good night was had by all.

Sherry’s lecture will be on Feb 28, 2006. Her topic is “The Shorthand for Evil: Nazi Figures in Gothic Literature.”