a zoo in hell

8.30.2009

And your frustration/Will not let you speak

Defiance

Strangely earnest action-adventure film which offers plenty of biblical subtext for those who still enjoy that sort of thing. A good script, adapted from a novel, which hits many levels simultaneously. Struggles between ethnicity, morality of violence, and leadership styles propel most of the drama.

While there is plenty of violence and brutality, it is mostly bloodless, returning us to a pre-Saving Private Ryan kind of war movie. Which only augmented the biblical undercurrents to me, the lack of gore seemed to say, this isn't really a war movie, you know? It's a parable.

Performances are strong, but the production itself wavers between a solid mid-budget film and a low-budget one. A few glitches in cinematography lower the value a bit, and yes, I noticed that they used the same five geese in all the farm scenes. There is also a strangely impressionistic interlude with the arrival of spring in the forest, which stands out as looking like it was shot for another film entirely.

Overall, it's an inspiring film about solidarity, resistance and survival in a miniature sort of apocalypse. Not epic, Oscar, or everlasting but a solid film which could've benefited with a better budget or shooting schedule.

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Outlander

More proof that all the good fantasy flicks are being made far-outside the borders of the US. An alien, or time-traveler, not made clear which, falls back into medieval Norway in pursuit of a hostile life form. Hold on, it's not a new Van Damme, Lambert or Statham vehicle. It stars James Caviezel, an actor who has been in the trenches for a long time and is finally surfacing in this, and in the new version of The Prisoner.

He's learned a good deal along the way, bringing needed grounding to this hybrid film which manages to mix the best of medieval swordplay films with neo-Predator flicks. There plenty of Viking politicking and skullduggery to keep things flowing in between monster attacks, too.

There are a few low points of momentum killing plot digressions, but overall it moves forward solidly. Some CGI blood kills what were solid combat and monster kills. Please, low-budget filmmakers, leave the CGI to the people who can afford it and stick to what worked for your forerunners. Thanks.

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The Punisher: War Zone

I've had plenty to think about these last few weeks, so you'll excuse me if my viewing habits have been less than avant-garde, okay? I've been a fan of The Punisher since the four-issue limited series was released by Marvel and I've been suckered in by every film as a result.

Maybe it took the success of the Dark Knight films to get this franchise moving in the right direction. Smart casting by bringing up Ray Stevenson (Rome) to carry his own lead and bring a solid fury to the character which isn't really supposed to be a super-hero. Even smarter move bringing in action superstar Gale Anne Hurd to bring her razor sharp instincts to bear.

So, it's pretty solid. Much meaner and more action than any of the other films, and none of the cute to kill the mood. Sadly, the final showdown kills the momentum of the previous three acts, and suffers from a bit of anti-climax. The writing is decent and elevates the material above your run-of-the-mill cable action cheapie.

CGI blood? Yes, and see above.

The productions is gorgeous, a neon nightmare of noir visuals which occasionally get too dark for small screen viewing, but have hints of Blade Runner (without the rain), Batman Begins, and a more realistic rendering of Sin City. The rock and roll soundtrack is a bit cliched and disappointing, but there are a few moments of inspiration.

Sadly, the movie bombed mercilessly in release. But here's to a valiant effort and the hope that Gale Anne Hurd can bring something similar forward in the coming years.












8.17.2009

set me aflame and cast me free

They used the "transplant" word today.

Abstract becomes concrete, never occurred to me, never felt, how alienating it is to think about someone else's heart inside my chest. A "dead heart" at that. I am hopeful that it won't come to that, but it's better than being completely dead in ten years.

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In other wor(l)ds, been reading Perdido Street Station in my downtime and am discovering, even though that book is awesome, what I need to do and not do in my own book about a phantasmic city. It's been very helpful, inspiring and not a little intimidating.

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In my writing meditations, I feel like I've gotten closer to what I feel is the most organic and honest ending for this story. The hardest part will be making it visible in all it's mind twisting glory for the reader. Same as it ever was...

8.11.2009

D2

Well, it's day two of a regular week and day four of actually being back at work again after the attack. How is life different? I guess I have a few observations: 1. In general, given the amount of records I have to keep about what, how, and when and I do various activities I feel more like a walking experiment than ever before. Empathy with Frankensteins monster is growing daily. 2. I feel like the Earth's gravity has increased by about 1.5 and the atmosphere has lost about 10%, maybe more, of it's oxygen. 3. I do not feel enlightened or blessed. I feel grumpy, sleepy and more annoyed than ever before. Not to mention I am tilting away from agnosticism toward atheism, because if I do by chance happen to die I don't really need the stress of some afterlife to worry about.

8.10.2009

remake

I wonder if all of my poems aren't just remakes of Hiroshima mon amour.

8.09.2009

09.10.01

09.10.01

crushing her lips are
inflamed red she pushes
on top of me
I can see dual skyscrapers
blue and yellow
jealously overlook the left
strap of her night black
corset

black panties black jeans
moon silvered river seen
behind the slope of her
flaring right nipple
straps fall away criminal in the night
maybe maybe we can't make it home
teased toward the woods shadow
racoons

wine vodka smoke and lies
I rose up into you
one leg bruising into the 
splintered park staircase
climb each other like rungs
til we tumble fall fall
salty ruin at each other's
feet

red-eyed headache and dan rather
disaster alert explosion collapse
I knew you weren't to stay
until the burning rays of dawn
not quite a stand but
an in and out strike

I call about the news
raspy smokey wine and lies
    until this happens again
you say
    there is nothing for us
    to remember.
 
              -TW



8.01.2009

Long walk?

Shy of one week ago, I suffered a sustained and surprise heart attack. The attack lasted for over five hours while I battled what I assumed was an attack of severe heartburn. The food poisoning from earlier was still lingering, so it was no an illogical self-diagnosis. When I finally gave in, woke Missy up, and got us over to the ER. Moments after I walked in the door, I was strapped onto a gurney and well on my way to having a stent placed in my clogged artery.

So, it was a big scary thing. I think I was laughing half of the time I was conscious. Mostly because they kept asking me if I was okay and how was I doing, and I had to say "fine, considering". Not until a few days later, maybe when the "bad cop" doctor came to visit, did the big scariness finally reach through my buffers. The cold facts; my heart is damaged, I will need medication for life, my life expectancy gets real dicey fifty years out, and I will have to decisively change many things in my life.

I can't say the heart had some root shaking mortality awareness for me. That lesson has come and gone a few times over. Maybe it's my attitude toward the certainty of mortality that got me into this position in the first place--maybe I've let it distract me from health concerns too much. I know full well my days are numbered and there is nothing guaranteed in body or breath. I will die. I will cease to be. I have died. I have never been. Mr. Heart Attack, if this is your message, you are seriously so-last-decade.

Of course, you can't have something like this happen (or things like these happen) without the opportunity for opening some window for meditation. As the first week closes, and I prepare to reengage with the work at hand, I can't see I feel futile, defeated or somehow demoralized by the attack. Rather I feel newly focused, concentrated, and even more intent on living the remaining years with all the intensity and passion I can bring to them.