Movie Review: "TRON: Legacy"

In short, it's not worth the price of admission. If you really want to know why, then by all means read on. I just didn't want you to waste any more time on this movie than necessary.


I mean, don't get me wrong, this isn't a bad movie. It's just that there's nothing good in it. From start to finish, it's as bland and predictable as a Disney movie can possibly be. You probably already know the whole plot already, or else you could make an educated guess.

The acting is wooden and unbelievable, the narrative is riddled with gaping, obvious plot holes, and the villain is laughably destructive, killing underlings and civilians without warning or mercy, even when it would be in his better interests NOT to kill them.

The good guys are equally unlikeable. Kevin Flynn, the protagonist's Zen-Master/Wizard/Hacker father, never expresses any believable remorse for missing out on twenty years of his son's life. That son, Sam, immediately forgives his father upon learning why he disappeared one night when he was seven, never to be heard from again. Hey, no hard feelings, right? We cool? Yeah, we're cool.

The love-interest, Quorra, lacks even a rudimentary pesonality - she alludes to being less patient that her mentor, but this quality is never demonstrated onscreen. I'd call her eye-candy, but it's a kids' movie, so there's not even enough skin to make her any more appealing visually than she is emotionally. But this doesn't stop Sam from falling for her the moment she bursts right into the Games Arena in a transforming off-road vehicle (no joke!) to save his sorry ass, even though she's never seen him before.


It might, might, be worth the price of admission, if you're:
A) a kid under the age of eight,
B) a CGI-fanatic, or
C) such an enormous fan of the franchise that it's starting to damage your social life.
If none of these terms could be applied to you, then just save your money.

ADDENDUM: There was one bit that I thought was clever. When Sam and Quorra go to the dance club (yes, really!), the event is DJ-ed by two helmeted men who look suspiciously like an homage to the French techno-duo Daft Punk.


... that's it. The only part of the whole movie that was clever or (intentionally) funny.

Book Review: “The Spiderwick Chronicles, Vol. 2: The Seeing Stone" by Holly Black and Tony DiTerlizzi (2003)

In the second entry to the Spiderwick Chronicles, we begin to see a darker, scarier side to the realm of the fae, as well as the darker side of our hero, Jared Grace. In Volume 1, he was largely shy and reserved. In Volume 2, we begin to see the first hints of his anger and rage. He's obviously hurting; his parents are newly divorced, his dad lives on the other side of the continent, and his mother still believes him to be responsible for the dangerous and mean-spirited "pranks" of the brownie-turned-boggart Thimbletack. He's not doing well at school, either. All that frustration and helplessness must (and does) find a release.

After Jared's identical twin brother Simon is spirited away by an invisible band of goblins, Thimbletack tells Jared that he knows a way to help Jared see the fae: his Uncle Arthur's seeing-stone.

Thimbletack leads the boy to the workshop where the stone resides, but refuses to give it to Jared until he makes a promise not to use it improperly, or show it to anyone else, and to return it safely when he's done. Frustrated at the brownie's refusal to cooperate while his brother may be in mortal danger, Jared attacks the little man and takes the stone from him by force, setting in motion a terrible chain of events.

I liked the construction of this book; it's very taut and exciting, with almost no unnecessary elements. Everything leads quickly and precisely to a satisfying conclusion. It's a very satisfying read.

I was a little shocked (in a good way) by the story's brutal honesty; particularly with regards to the fate of Simon's cat. I feel that a lot of authors, particularly those writing for young adults, are afraid to allow characters to fail or come to bad ends. Especially good or innocent characters.

...But I feel that allowing the unfairness and capriciousness of real life to bleed into the text allows for a more powerful effect when the heroes do eventually triumph, because their victory was never guaranteed.

Book Review: “The Spiderwick Chronicles, Vol. 1: The Field Guide" by Holly Black and Tony DiTerlizzi (2003)

I've known of these books for a while now. I saw a boxed set of them on the shelf in my cousins' basement, and read the first chapter of the first book, thought it was good, and decided to check 'em out. Then I promptly forgot to do so.

Fast forward to October 2010. While searching the children's section of the Ypsilanti District Library for books on fairies (for reference, of course!), I came across Arthur Spiderwick's Field Guide to the Fantastical World Around You. Each and every creature depicted therein (in beautiful, full-color plates) combined aspects of real-world flora and fauna to create something that was fantastical, and at the same time, believable.

I had to see more. So I began to read the books from which the illustrations were taken.

I've recently completed the first book of the five-volume Young Adult series, The Field Guide. It's a very quick read: I finished it in two bus-rides. The Library of Congress blurb in the front of the book pretty much says it all:

When the Grace children go to stay at their great-aunt Lucinda's worn Victorian house, they discover a field guide to fairies and other creatures and begin to have some unusual experiences.

The illustrations are pen-and-ink, with a pronounced sketchy quality, like the scientific portraits that Darwin or Audubon might have drawn in their journals while observing nature in action. In his dedication, the artist, Tony DiTerlizzi, specifically thanks noted illustrator Arthur Rackham (1867-1939), hoping that he may "continue to inspire others as you have me." Rackham is also no doubt the visual inspiration for the titular Arthur Spiderwick, author of the eponymous Field Guide.

I especially liked the illustration on page 42 ("Just chop it."), depicting Mallory, the eldest of the three Grace children, with her hair tied to the bedstead in dozens of tangled braids by a malicious boggart. It's surreal.

I also liked the honesty of the book's depiction of childhood as a time of unfairness and fear. I feel that far too many authors (and people in general) look back on their childhoods through sepia-toned glasses. They forget the fear that accompanied each night in a strange house, the unfair conclusions to which adults often leap, and the powerlessness that a small child feels in relation to school, their older siblings, and their parents.

It's gratifying to see that some people still remember what it was like, being a kid in a grown-up's world.

Novel Progress: Slow

I haven't been religious about keeping up with my word count. I'll admit it. I feel bad about this; I feel like I'm slacking off. In a sense, promises you make to yourself are the most important ones of all. There's no one else to disappoint, so really it's a test of your own willpower. How far will you go under your own steam?

On the other hand, I do have a pretty good impetus to get this thing done: that check I'll have to write to a certain group of assholes out in Kansas. I have no intention of ever giving them anything more substantial than the finger. I will NOT be sending them money at the end of this month, because I'll be finishing my damn book!

In related news, many other cooks in the kitchen at Buffalo Wild Wings have expressed interest in reading my book when it's done. One of them, who admitted that he hasn't read a book for pleasure since he graduated high school (!), said that he's eager to read my novel. Another, who never reads for pleasure and works "a hundred hours a week" (seriously, he does!), said that he would make an exception for my book. This is flattering, and does more than a little to inflate my ego, but it's also daunting: it means people are actually going to read this thing!

In a related note, I've been debating whether I should continue on a second project after finishing this book (since it looks like I'll finish the story in less than 330 more pages). I'd like to be able to say that I finished NaNoWriMo this year, not just finished the novel I've been plunking away at for a year. Writing 50,000 words in a month just sounds so much more impressive. But I've only done a quarter of the writing, and I'm halfway through the month. That means I'd have to do three-quarters of the work in half the time.

Part of me says that just finishing the novel is enough, and I'll need the extra time to do editing anyway. What do you think? Should I keep going after I finish? Or stop punishing myself and stick with one project at a time?

NaNoWriMo Update

I've been a bad, irresponsible novelist.

My my calculations, if I'm supposed to be doing about 10 pages a day, then I should have somewhere in the neighborhood of 80 pages done by now. At last count, I've only done 42. That's just over 50% of the writing I should've done by now. In grading terms, that would be a D, or maybe an F.

I need to step up my game. I need to keep my eye on the prize. I need to stay focused. Can't let myself get diverted by easy entertainment, and the petty distractions of day-to-day life.

If I don't take this project seriously, then who will?

National Novel-Writing Month (a.k.a. NaNoWriMo)

Three years ago this November, spurred on by a friend of mine, I decided to attempt one of the craziest things I've ever done in my life: I entered a literary marathon known as National Novel-Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo).

The goal of an aspiring novelist who enters NaNoWriMo is simple to say, but very difficult to do: write a 50,000-word novel in a single calendar month. The entrant is not allowed to edit, revise, or otherwise worry about the quality of his/her writing in any way; you can save the self-criticism for later. Obviously, it was an insane thing to even try, and there were nights when I gave up an hour or more of precious sleep after working a 10-hour shift, with classes the next morning, just so that I could meet my daily requirement of 1,667 words.

My grades slipped, my social life suffered, and even my sleep cycle was affected. But twenty-eight days later, when I crossed the 50,000 word mark in the Halle Library computer lab at EMU, sometime around two in the morning, I felt what may well have been the greatest sense of accomplishment I had experienced in my life up to that point.

I learned a lot about myself, about what I can do when I've got a goal, a deadline, and consequences for missing said deadline. I learned a heck of a lot more than I would have in "Health & Fitness," that's for sure.

The next year, I gave NaNoWriMo another go, but was defeated early on. I didn't really have a story I believed in. The year after that (i.e., last year) I attempted the task again, this time with a better story in mind. But once again, my resolve flagged, and I allowed the mundane world to swallow my literary ambitions. I chipped away at the massive task over the course of the next year, though I was forced to stop for nearly six months, due to personal crises (such as the basement-flood, and the subsequent Black Mold infestation).

Since beginning my book (which remains untitled), my current page-count sits at 177. That's a lot of writing, and I'm very proud of myself for getting that much done, but I've still got a long way to go. Probably less than a hundred pages, but that's still a daunting task.

But since it's coming up on the anniversary of my starting this novel, and NaNoWriMo is looming once again, I find that I'm seized by the urge to finish the damn thing. I want to formally dedicate myself to the task of completing my manuscript, and getting the whole darn thing off my chest. Of course, the quality will necessarily be low, but NaNoWriMo is about quantity, not quality. You can go back and edit later; the important thing is to get all your ideas out on paper, before your conscious mind can say Hey, this is the worst thing anyone's ever written, and I should destroy the manuscript before my friends and family find out what an idiot I am.

So, here is my formal declaration:

I, David Frederick Keeber Wurtsmith, by the end of November 2010, will finish the first draft of the novel I began last year, or else I will have a trusted confidante mail a $20 check in my name to the Westboro Baptist Church.

It is up to you, my friends and family, to keep me on track and honest with myself. Throughout the month of November,

I realize that now isn't the best time to try to write a novel. I have other responsibilities: work, friends, my girlfriend, shopping for groceries,etc. But there's never a good time. There's always a bill to pay, or a job to find, or a party you really can't cancel, or the floor needs to be cleaned, or the dog needs to go to the vet, or something.

Even if you wait until you're retired, you still won't have all the time you want, and you'll probably have forgotten half the plot by then. Worse still, you'll probably have convinced yourself that your idea wasn't that good to begin with, and you're better-off not exposing your friends and family to something that bad.

That's why I need to do this now, before I can come up with more and better reasons why I shouldn't attempt it. As Shakespeare had it:

Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
-Julius Caesar, II.2.33-4

Movies To Avoid: "Dracula" (1931), starring Bela Lugosi

The other day, inspired by the approach of All Hallows' Eve, I had a desire to watch a horror movie. Lacking both money and a library card (I know, I know!), I decided to search you Tube for Bela Lugosi's world-famous 1931 performance as the infamous Count.

I have to say, was deeply disappointed. It started pretty early on; the acting was stilted and awkward, but that was only to be expected. After all, audiences back then expected something very different from their actors than they do today.

The first thing that jerked me out of the experience was the scene in which we first see Castle Dracula, and its inhabitants, both living and undead, which includes spiders (duh),bats (naturally), an opossum (Umm, okay...) and a nest of armadillos (WTF?!). It's like they didn't even think to research what kind of animals live in Europe, or that they might be different from the ones that live in California.

Speaking of uncertain locations, only about half the cast had English accents, despite the fact that the film was set in London, England. One particularly memorable performance, by Charles K. Gerrard, has one of the most gratingly fake Cockney-esque accents I've ever heard in my life. Furthermore, his character, Martin (a guard at Dr. Seward's sanitarium) is entirely useless as both a person and a character. He lets Renfield escape from his cell on several occasions, and is entirely ineffectual at restraining him. Also, his endless interjections ("'E's croizy! Comploitely looney!") are, as a rule, glaringly obvious, and largely ignored by the other characters.


Furthermore, Dracula's facade of normality is so laughably flimsy that it's a wonder that his own wives don't take him out, for his numerous and flagrant violations of the Masquerade. I mean, he doesn't make even the slightest attempt to hide what he's doing, and practically announces his next victims in public. It's a shock that it took Dr. Van Helsing himself to even notice that something wasn't quite right with this Dracula fellow.

Overall, the film entirely lacked any power to frighten, horrify, disgust, or even intrigue any modern viewer. I have a hard time believing that anyone was ever frightened by it. And don't give me any of that "It was a different time" crap! H.P. Lovecraft was still making a name for himself while this was being filmed, and his stories still scare the bejeezus out of me! And eighty years previous, Edgar Allan Poe penned The Tell-Tale Heart, one of the creepiest stories ever written in English. Hell, even Shakespeare told a few good ghost stories in his time. It's not as if no one had ever frightened an audience before 1931.

If you want a scary, classic vampire movie, watch F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu. If you insist on knowing how this movie ends, watch Bram Stoker's Dracula instead. It's got basically the same plot, and it does what it sets out to do (i.e., it's actually scary) which is more than Tod Browning's film can say.