With last week's release of Inside Out on Blu-Ray, (which, of course, I had to buy the day it came out), this seemed an appropriate time to bust out a long overdue blog post that's been gathering dust in my notebook since summer.
There was a time when I believed that Pixar Animation Studios could do no wrong, but I have to admit that it's been a good few years since the last time I really looked forward to one of their movies. So it was exciting to see advertisements for Inside Out and feel that anticipation that I've been missing. I was sure that, for the first time since Toy Story 3, maybe even before that, I'd get to watch a Pixar flick that truly tugged at my heartstrings the way the old classics did. As it turned out, I got quite a bit more than what I bargained for.
My boyfriend has developed this uncanny ability to know when I'm crying during a film, even when I'm trying my best to hide it. I know this, because every time the silent tears start streaming down my face, his arm instinctively wraps around my shoulders and pulls me in close. I spent a very large percentage of Inside Out with my head resting on Kevin's shoulder, so much so that my neck felt a little stiff by the end of it. And every time I had a break and thought it was safe to sit upright, it was only a matter of minutes before his arm was around me again. Inside Out made me cry more than any Pixar movie every has, (and anybody who has ever seen almost any Pixar movie knows that's saying something).
I felt like Inside Out just got me. I know all too well how it feels to be out of control of my emotions, to have random feelings taking over without me being able to figure out why. I've been at that place of feeling like I was losing parts of my personality, and letting myself shut down because I couldn't get a handle on my emotions. I understand wanting nothing more than to find joy when it feels like sadness is overtaking my every thought. Even the tag scene, which already provided a wonderful bit of levity after such an emotional roller-coaster of a film, was especially hilarious to anyone who has ever witnessed a cat flipping out at the drop of a hat for apparently no reason at all. So for me, a cat owner struggling with emotional turmoil, Inside Out seemed perfect. It even got better the more I read about the inspiration behind the story, or people's in-depth analyses of its little details.
Given my intense emotional reaction to the movie, you can imagine my surprise to find out how many people were thoroughly unimpressed by it. I understand that people have different taste in movies, but this was something else. A lot of people really didn't like it. Some claimed it was uninteresting or went on too long. Others were upset because their kids didn't like it. What shocked me most, though, was who didn't like it. These opinions were coming from people whose taste in things I usually respect, and often share. So why was I lauding this movie as a genius piece of cinema while so many others were so "meh" about it?
This isn't to say I'm alone in my undying adoration of Inside Out. There are a fair few people who have the same enthusiasm for Pixar's latest gem, one of them being my friend Sarah, who studies child psychology, and found Inside Out to be brilliant and fascinating. Since she saw it, she has been posting all manner of articles and reviews on social media. It's because of one of these articles that I realized why I had such a strong reaction to the movie, and perhaps why others didn't.
The article highlighted the fact that Inside Out might have the potential to start important conversations about mental health. It's a visual depiction of how it can sometimes feel to experience anxiety and depression. For those of us who have had a hard time finding the words to explain our feelings, Inside Out puts it all right there on screen for everyone to understand.
The problem was, I think, that people who haven't had those thoughts and feelings couldn't fully understand what they were looking at. Friends of mine were correct in pointing out that it wasn't much of a kid's movie, because a lot of kids, especially little ones, might be too young to understand its emotional complexity. Or, as was the case with at least a couple of people I know, their kids felt upset by the movie without being able to figure out why, and there was never a super bright and cheery payoff to make up for it.
For my adult friends more mentally sound than I, it makes sense that they weren't that engaged or entertained. And it makes even more sense that many of them were confused by the actions of the characters, Several friends of mine found themselves frustrated, wondering why Sadness kept touching memories when Joy told her not to, or why Joy couldn't just touch memories to make them happy again. My friend Cassie also pointed out that not everyone who has anxiety or depression experiences those things in the same way. While I felt like I related to how it was shown, it didn't speak to everyone like it did to me.
The more I talk to people about Inside Out, the more I realize that it appeals to a pretty limited demographic. And while I would typically sit in silent judgment of people whose opinions in film differ from mine, that's not the case here. These are all valid concerns, particularly where kids are concerned. Most people would go into a Pixar film with the expectation that it will be light-hearted and entertaining for kids, and to be presented with such heavy material instead must feel to some people like a huge let-down.
I won't try to convince everyone that they should watch it again and try harder to enjoy it, because if you, personally, don't relate to it, it likely still won't appeal to you. Kevin hasn't lived with anxiety and depression, and so Inside Out didn't resonate with him quite the way it did with me. However, he still had a deep appreciation for it, at least in part because he was there to see my reaction to it, and because he's been with me long enough to fathom at least a bit of how my anxiety affects me. In fact, he was the one to suggest that we write conjoining blog posts about our reactions to the movie.
If you know someone who is like me, or especially if you have a child beginning to struggle with emotions that he or she can't verbalize, Inside Out might be worth a second look, even if just to get a better grasp on what they might be feeling, which might make communication much simpler. It may never be your favorite Pixar production, and that's okay. But hopefully I've been able to give you a deeper appreciation for what it could mean to the people you love.
CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: "The Joy of Credits" - Michael Giacchino (Inside Out - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
Monday, November 9, 2015
Monday, May 25, 2015
I've Just Had An Apostrophe
Lightning has just struck my brain.
It's funny how the smallest thing can lead to a very random train of thought, ultimately ending up at a life-changing revelation. On a seemingly normal day, I was passing by the break room across the hall from mine, and I caught a glimpse of their TV screen for a fraction of a second. They were watching Hook. For the brief moment that I could see the screen, it was a shot of Dustin Hoffman as Captain James Hook, standing in the Captain's Quarters in all his piratical glory. So why my thoughts immediately drifted to Peter Pan himself, I haven't the slightest clue. Whatever the reason, this is what went through my mind:
For anyone watching Hook, especially children, it's easy to get the impression that Peter Banning is a bad person. From what we can tell, he is a terrible husband, a neglectful father, and kind of a jerk in general. He is consumed with work, and cares little about anything or anyone else. He has even forgotten Neverland and his entire identity as Peter Pan, which is, arguably, symbolic of his having left behind every shred of childlike innocence that he once possessed. It's enough to make anyone shudder at the idea of becoming an adult, so it's not surprising in the least that so many people nowadays, (men, most commonly), tend to cling so ferociously to their childhoods. It's so prevalent that "Peter Pan Syndrome" is an official condition diagnosed by psychological professionals.
Hook isn't the only culprit. Most of us are used to versions of the Peter Pan story where young Peter is portrayed as a hero. Eternal youth and perpetual freedom from responsibility are utterly glorified, while the ugly side of never-ending childhood is ignored. However, J.M. Barrie, (who once described children as "innocent and heartless"), never intended for Peter to be an absolute role model. He has an endearing enthusiasm and a delightful thirst for adventure, certainly, but right along with those, there is flightiness, (no pun intended), immaturity, selfishness, and an errant disregard for the welfare of others. He stubbornly refuses to grow up, and even tries to trick Wendy into thinking that her mother has forgotten her so that she and the Lost Boys won't leave him to return to England. He promises to come back for Wendy, but forgets to do so until she is grown up with a child of her own. In this light, Peter Pan doesn't come out looking like much of a hero at all.
I admit I didn't realize this until I had my huge epiphany, but even Hook doesn't present Peter Pan as a purely noble character. There is a moment near the end of the movie that I always used to gloss over, probably because the scene is pretty awkward, but my profound train of thought led me back to it and I suddenly understood how significant it really is. After a couple of days in Neverland, Peter regains his memories and becomes Peter Pan again. By that, I don't just mean that he remembers how to fly, fight, and crow, but I mean he reverts completely back to a childish state. In the scene where he visits Tinker Bell, he refers to everything as a game, his logic when it comes to curing illnesses is juvenile and silly, and he momentarily forgets about his children, who are supposed to be the whole reason behind his return to Neverland. Then Tink gets human-sized and they kiss, and I think that's where this scene lost the audience and everyone missed the point. But the important thing is that Hook has now shown us the downfalls of both adulthood and childhood, and therein lies the genius of it all.
It's not a terrible thing to be a kid, nor is growing up some kind of unspeakable evil. What Hook does is warn us against the dangers of going too far to either end of the spectrum. It's a fantastic thing to be childlike, and to hold on to your imagination and sense of wonder as long as you can. It only becomes harmful when you cross the line into being childish. Becoming an adult means discovering your potential, having a family, and getting the chance to explore the world again through the eyes of your own children. Like many people out there, Peter Banning presumably took on his job with good intentions at first, wanting to provide for the family he loved. The problem is that people forget that they are allowed to enjoy the fruits of their labors. They drown themselves in their careers and daily stress, so much so that everything they started working for in the first place gets unintentionally placed on the back-burner.
We don't see much beyond Peter, Jack, and Maggie's return to England, but after a lot of rumination on the subject, I like to think that the end result, and the true point of Hook, was that Peter found a perfect balance between Pan and Banning, Rather than drifting between two unhealthy extremes, I believe Peter finally learned to merge the best parts of childhood and adulthood, to be responsible for his family and his career, (in that order), while still appreciating his life as the awfully big adventure that it should be.
CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: "Presenting The Hook" - John Williams (Hook - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
It's funny how the smallest thing can lead to a very random train of thought, ultimately ending up at a life-changing revelation. On a seemingly normal day, I was passing by the break room across the hall from mine, and I caught a glimpse of their TV screen for a fraction of a second. They were watching Hook. For the brief moment that I could see the screen, it was a shot of Dustin Hoffman as Captain James Hook, standing in the Captain's Quarters in all his piratical glory. So why my thoughts immediately drifted to Peter Pan himself, I haven't the slightest clue. Whatever the reason, this is what went through my mind:
For anyone watching Hook, especially children, it's easy to get the impression that Peter Banning is a bad person. From what we can tell, he is a terrible husband, a neglectful father, and kind of a jerk in general. He is consumed with work, and cares little about anything or anyone else. He has even forgotten Neverland and his entire identity as Peter Pan, which is, arguably, symbolic of his having left behind every shred of childlike innocence that he once possessed. It's enough to make anyone shudder at the idea of becoming an adult, so it's not surprising in the least that so many people nowadays, (men, most commonly), tend to cling so ferociously to their childhoods. It's so prevalent that "Peter Pan Syndrome" is an official condition diagnosed by psychological professionals.
Hook isn't the only culprit. Most of us are used to versions of the Peter Pan story where young Peter is portrayed as a hero. Eternal youth and perpetual freedom from responsibility are utterly glorified, while the ugly side of never-ending childhood is ignored. However, J.M. Barrie, (who once described children as "innocent and heartless"), never intended for Peter to be an absolute role model. He has an endearing enthusiasm and a delightful thirst for adventure, certainly, but right along with those, there is flightiness, (no pun intended), immaturity, selfishness, and an errant disregard for the welfare of others. He stubbornly refuses to grow up, and even tries to trick Wendy into thinking that her mother has forgotten her so that she and the Lost Boys won't leave him to return to England. He promises to come back for Wendy, but forgets to do so until she is grown up with a child of her own. In this light, Peter Pan doesn't come out looking like much of a hero at all.
I admit I didn't realize this until I had my huge epiphany, but even Hook doesn't present Peter Pan as a purely noble character. There is a moment near the end of the movie that I always used to gloss over, probably because the scene is pretty awkward, but my profound train of thought led me back to it and I suddenly understood how significant it really is. After a couple of days in Neverland, Peter regains his memories and becomes Peter Pan again. By that, I don't just mean that he remembers how to fly, fight, and crow, but I mean he reverts completely back to a childish state. In the scene where he visits Tinker Bell, he refers to everything as a game, his logic when it comes to curing illnesses is juvenile and silly, and he momentarily forgets about his children, who are supposed to be the whole reason behind his return to Neverland. Then Tink gets human-sized and they kiss, and I think that's where this scene lost the audience and everyone missed the point. But the important thing is that Hook has now shown us the downfalls of both adulthood and childhood, and therein lies the genius of it all.
It's not a terrible thing to be a kid, nor is growing up some kind of unspeakable evil. What Hook does is warn us against the dangers of going too far to either end of the spectrum. It's a fantastic thing to be childlike, and to hold on to your imagination and sense of wonder as long as you can. It only becomes harmful when you cross the line into being childish. Becoming an adult means discovering your potential, having a family, and getting the chance to explore the world again through the eyes of your own children. Like many people out there, Peter Banning presumably took on his job with good intentions at first, wanting to provide for the family he loved. The problem is that people forget that they are allowed to enjoy the fruits of their labors. They drown themselves in their careers and daily stress, so much so that everything they started working for in the first place gets unintentionally placed on the back-burner.
We don't see much beyond Peter, Jack, and Maggie's return to England, but after a lot of rumination on the subject, I like to think that the end result, and the true point of Hook, was that Peter found a perfect balance between Pan and Banning, Rather than drifting between two unhealthy extremes, I believe Peter finally learned to merge the best parts of childhood and adulthood, to be responsible for his family and his career, (in that order), while still appreciating his life as the awfully big adventure that it should be.
CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: "Presenting The Hook" - John Williams (Hook - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
Monday, April 20, 2015
An Even Newer Hope
I suppose my tag is a little misleading here, because this isn't going to be so much a movie review as it is a movie trailer review. That will also probably explain why this post will be slightly shorter than my typical posts, but then again, maybe that's good news to some of you.
If you've been on the Internet at all in the past few days, or just generally living on this planet, you've at least heard about the new teaser trailer for Star Wars: Episode VII - The Force Awakens. You may have also heard about the range of fan reactions to said trailer, including (but not limited to) extreme goosebumps and crying openly. If you're not a Star Wars fan, or if you haven't yet seen the trailer, perhaps you're thinking that this is weird. Well, as someone who got unexpectedly teary-eyed watching the teaser, I'm here to tell you that it isn't.
It's no secret that the Star Wars prequels were an utter disappointment, but until this past weekend, I don't know if we knew just how let down we had really been. When the prequels were coming to theaters, fans of the franchise were brimming with excitement, because it was the first time we were teased with the notion that Star Wars might live on in the mainstream as more than just another classic tale. Then people went to see Episode I, and saw how awful it was. After that came Episode II, which was even worse. By the time Episode III came out, people weren't even excited anymore. I personally waited until it was almost ready to leave theaters before deciding that, eh, I might as well go see it.
This was an especially difficult blow for people of my generation, because we weren't even born yet when any of the original films had their theatrical releases. We never got to experience them on the big screen, (that is, until they were re-released with all of the stupid CGI effects thrown in, but let's not talk about that). We grew up in a world where it was common knowledge that Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's father, and so most of us never got to have that feeling of true incredulity at the moment of the big reveal. The prequels are the only new films that we've ever had.
Before this past weekend, we had gotten to a point where we were almost complacent in our love of Star Wars. Out of a sort of duty to the original trilogy, we would watch the prequels and the spin-off shows, but though all of these things are "officially" canon, they've never felt like Star Wars to any of us. The real Star Wars was becoming just another classic tale. It was nostalgic. Until the trailer dropped.
Having been so burned by the previous "new" Star Wars material, I think a lot of us were hesitant to get too excited for Episode VII. Even with the assurance that George Lucas wouldn't be there to screw it up, even with the news that J.J. Abrams was using practical effects again, even with the intriguing first teaser, we were, at best, cautiously optimistic. But this past weekend, we saw a trailer chock full of elements of the original trilogy, from the characters to the music to the dialogue. We saw the first thing since 1983 that actually felt like Star Wars. Suddenly, we had a reason to believe that the franchise might finally be restored to its former glory. So you see, it makes every bit of sense that we were overcome with such intense emotions, because for the first time in years, we have a New Hope.
CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: "Yoda and The Force" - John Williams (The Empire Strikes Back - Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Happy Merry Christmahanukwanzaakah
There seems to be a fear going around that the rise of saying "Happy Holidays" in place of a more specific greeting signals an impending "War on Christmas." If I may, I'd like to set the record straight, from one Christmas enthusiast to another.
I'm sure you're familiar with "Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men," and all sorts of other Christmas buzz-words. We hear them pop up in all sorts of carols and Christmas movies, and it's not just because they sound pretty. They exist as a constant reminder of what the Christmas holiday is supposed to be about. It's a time in which we are called to put aside our hateful, selfish tendencies and join together in a spirit of warmth and brotherhood with all humankind, (and all animalkind, while we're at it). And while it's true that we, the keepers of Christmas, make up for a whopping 90% of Americans, "all humankind" does, in fact, include the other 10%.
Making an effort to say "Happy Holidays" doesn't mean we can't still love Christmas. It's merely an effort to be all-inclusive in the spirit of this festive season. America is supposed to be this wonderful melting pot of cultures. (Not that it always is, but it's supposed to be.) So if we can appreciate each other's cultures during the rest of the year, then why shouldn't we do the same during the holiday season? On the other hand, if you're the type of person who hates other people's cultures in general, then we've got a much bigger problem on our hands.
If you really must, just think of it like you're putting Thanksgiving and New Year's Eve into the mix when you extend your well-wishings.
Now, there is a flip-side to this coin, and this is for my friends who don't celebrate Christmas. In recent years, I've become painfully aware of the fact that people take offense to things a lot more often than people mean offense. One of the best examples by far is when people take a simple holiday greeting and manage to turn it into a huge insult.
If your biggest complaint about Christmas is how much it gets pushed by corporations, unfortunately there isn't much to be done about that at this point in time. Numbers don't lie, and because, as I said earlier, 90% of Americans do celebrate Christmas, companies are well aware that advertising Christmas will make them more money. This isn't to say they shouldn't make an effort to throw in a few nods to other holidays here and there, but, from a corporate standpoint, focusing too much on them just isn't going to turn a profit the way that Christmas does. But hey, if it makes you feel any better, even a lot of us Christmas types are getting pretty annoyed with the commercialization, and the fact that the Christmas season now begins in roughly the middle of October.
Or maybe you're upset that the overwhelming presence of Christmas feels like an infringement of your right to practice, (or not practice), your own faith. Perhaps it's not as much about the holiday itself as it is that you think people are trying to convert you to Christianity. Well, as it turns out, half of the Americans who keep Christmas do so as a secular holiday, not a religious one, so hopefully that will ease your mind.
Personally, I'm most concerned with the matter of the greeting. Again, I have absolutely no problem with saying "Happy Holidays," (even though I will never not find the joke at the beginning of this clip funny). However, given the fact that I have celebrated Christmas for all twenty-eight years of my life, there will always be times when my default setting will kick in and I'll wind up saying "Merry Christmas." And yet, while I say it with every intention of being friendly, (which is not always the easiest feat for a shut-in like myself), there are people who take great issue with it.
Some people have this idea that, by saying "Merry Christmas," we're attempting to force others into celebrating our holiday, which, to me, seems almost as silly as claiming that saying "Happy Holidays" is the same as declaring war on Christmas. If I say "Merry Christmas," it's nothing more than an honest sentiment aimed to convey friendship and goodwill. It means only that I hope you have a merry time on the day that is widely recognized as Christmas by millions of people and the federal government. If you really think about it, even if you aren't partaking in the festivities, today is still Christmas Day. So, really, someone saying "Merry Christmas" to you is basically the same as someone saying "Merry December 25th."
Similarly, no amount of me not celebrating Hanukkah will change the fact that it will be Hanukkah for eight days in December. And I feel like it would be a little bit ridiculous for me, when faced with a "Happy Hanukkah," to get all huffy and forcefully remind people that I'm not Jewish. I imagine I'd feel touched that someone took the time to wish me well, even if it was in honor of a holiday I don't observe.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, whether you're holding your festivities for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice, Festivus, or anything else you choose, let's all try our best to spread the joy and love of the season, rather than letting ourselves get angry with the people who do. We're all celebrating, so we might as well celebrate together.
Merry Today, everyone.
CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: "Silent Night" - Bing Crosby (Merry Christmas)
I'm sure you're familiar with "Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men," and all sorts of other Christmas buzz-words. We hear them pop up in all sorts of carols and Christmas movies, and it's not just because they sound pretty. They exist as a constant reminder of what the Christmas holiday is supposed to be about. It's a time in which we are called to put aside our hateful, selfish tendencies and join together in a spirit of warmth and brotherhood with all humankind, (and all animalkind, while we're at it). And while it's true that we, the keepers of Christmas, make up for a whopping 90% of Americans, "all humankind" does, in fact, include the other 10%.
Making an effort to say "Happy Holidays" doesn't mean we can't still love Christmas. It's merely an effort to be all-inclusive in the spirit of this festive season. America is supposed to be this wonderful melting pot of cultures. (Not that it always is, but it's supposed to be.) So if we can appreciate each other's cultures during the rest of the year, then why shouldn't we do the same during the holiday season? On the other hand, if you're the type of person who hates other people's cultures in general, then we've got a much bigger problem on our hands.
If you really must, just think of it like you're putting Thanksgiving and New Year's Eve into the mix when you extend your well-wishings.
Now, there is a flip-side to this coin, and this is for my friends who don't celebrate Christmas. In recent years, I've become painfully aware of the fact that people take offense to things a lot more often than people mean offense. One of the best examples by far is when people take a simple holiday greeting and manage to turn it into a huge insult.
If your biggest complaint about Christmas is how much it gets pushed by corporations, unfortunately there isn't much to be done about that at this point in time. Numbers don't lie, and because, as I said earlier, 90% of Americans do celebrate Christmas, companies are well aware that advertising Christmas will make them more money. This isn't to say they shouldn't make an effort to throw in a few nods to other holidays here and there, but, from a corporate standpoint, focusing too much on them just isn't going to turn a profit the way that Christmas does. But hey, if it makes you feel any better, even a lot of us Christmas types are getting pretty annoyed with the commercialization, and the fact that the Christmas season now begins in roughly the middle of October.
Or maybe you're upset that the overwhelming presence of Christmas feels like an infringement of your right to practice, (or not practice), your own faith. Perhaps it's not as much about the holiday itself as it is that you think people are trying to convert you to Christianity. Well, as it turns out, half of the Americans who keep Christmas do so as a secular holiday, not a religious one, so hopefully that will ease your mind.
Personally, I'm most concerned with the matter of the greeting. Again, I have absolutely no problem with saying "Happy Holidays," (even though I will never not find the joke at the beginning of this clip funny). However, given the fact that I have celebrated Christmas for all twenty-eight years of my life, there will always be times when my default setting will kick in and I'll wind up saying "Merry Christmas." And yet, while I say it with every intention of being friendly, (which is not always the easiest feat for a shut-in like myself), there are people who take great issue with it.
Some people have this idea that, by saying "Merry Christmas," we're attempting to force others into celebrating our holiday, which, to me, seems almost as silly as claiming that saying "Happy Holidays" is the same as declaring war on Christmas. If I say "Merry Christmas," it's nothing more than an honest sentiment aimed to convey friendship and goodwill. It means only that I hope you have a merry time on the day that is widely recognized as Christmas by millions of people and the federal government. If you really think about it, even if you aren't partaking in the festivities, today is still Christmas Day. So, really, someone saying "Merry Christmas" to you is basically the same as someone saying "Merry December 25th."
Similarly, no amount of me not celebrating Hanukkah will change the fact that it will be Hanukkah for eight days in December. And I feel like it would be a little bit ridiculous for me, when faced with a "Happy Hanukkah," to get all huffy and forcefully remind people that I'm not Jewish. I imagine I'd feel touched that someone took the time to wish me well, even if it was in honor of a holiday I don't observe.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, whether you're holding your festivities for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice, Festivus, or anything else you choose, let's all try our best to spread the joy and love of the season, rather than letting ourselves get angry with the people who do. We're all celebrating, so we might as well celebrate together.
Merry Today, everyone.
CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: "Silent Night" - Bing Crosby (Merry Christmas)
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Some Call It Madness, We Call It Phamily Time
Well, we hope you all enjoyed our show, hope it was not anticlimactic
Now there's something we want you to know, and we don't want to sound didactic
But if there's one thing we can say
I know it sounds a bit cliché
There's no such thing as just an ordinary day
And you don't have to build a roller coaster
Just find your own way to make the most of these
Days of Summer
And dance to the beat of a different drummer
Just grab those opportunities when you see 'em
'Cause every day's a brand new day, you gotta Carpe Diem
And you don't have to build a roller coaster
Just find your own way to make the most of
Every minute
No more waiting for the right time, you're in it
Just grab those opportunities when you see 'em
'Cause every day's a brand new day, baby, Carpe Diem
Every day's a brand new day, baby, Carpe Diem
Every day's a brand new day, baby, Carpe Diem
Every day's a brand new day
Carpe Diem
Now there's something we want you to know, and we don't want to sound didactic
But if there's one thing we can say
I know it sounds a bit cliché
There's no such thing as just an ordinary day
And you don't have to build a roller coaster
Just find your own way to make the most of these
Days of Summer
And dance to the beat of a different drummer
Just grab those opportunities when you see 'em
'Cause every day's a brand new day, you gotta Carpe Diem
And you don't have to build a roller coaster
Just find your own way to make the most of
Every minute
No more waiting for the right time, you're in it
Just grab those opportunities when you see 'em
'Cause every day's a brand new day, baby, Carpe Diem
Every day's a brand new day, baby, Carpe Diem
Every day's a brand new day, baby, Carpe Diem
Every day's a brand new day
Carpe Diem
Friday, October 31, 2014
Nosferatu: A Symphony of Mild Concern, Maybe
In honor of Halloween, for my first Throwback Thursday, I'll be resurrecting a blog entry that I wrote back in 2010 and never posted. Once again, I'm a couple of minutes late, because I was trying way too hard to think of a bad vampire pun to add here, but it ended up being too much of a pain in the neck.
I think people never realize the value of a good soundtrack until they've sat through a movie with a bad one.
Seriously, think about it. In the best cases, we're not always consciously aware of the music playing under a film because it blends so well with the story itself. It helps to heighten our emotional reactions without sticking out like a sore thumb. It's only when a movie has a less than great soundtrack that you can't help but notice it. There you are, trying to get invested in the story, but there's all of this awkward noise getting in the way.
It's difficult for me to find stuff to watch around Halloween because I don't do well with really scary horror flicks. This Halloween, though, I had the brilliant idea to watch a couple of classic silent horror films. What made it better was that my brother was in town, and I knew he'd be on board. On Halloween night, we settled on Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror. It started as a great plan, but the mistake I made was choosing to watch the version of Nosferatu that was available to stream on Netflix rather than ordering the DVD version ahead of time. Well, how could I have known? Being generally unfamiliar with the ways of silent films, I just assumed that all of the versions would be basically the same, or at least have the same music. How very wrong I was.
If you, like me, were not aware, silent films back in the day almost always featured a live orchestra. I mean, now that I know, it seems incredibly obvious and I'm not sure why I didn't figure that out in the first place, but whatever. I didn't. I have since learned that there are multiple versions of Nosferatu in existence, each with a different score. One of them, (the one I meant to watch), has a soundtrack replicating the music that would have accompanied the movie when it was originally in cinemas. Another version features a gothic industrial soundtrack, and I've heard fairly good things about that one as well.
And yet, out of all of the cool versions floating around out there, the one Nick and I got stuck with was the one with music sounding like it was played on a Casio keyboard from the 1980s, and some weird filter that made all of the scenes different colors, meant to enhance the intended emotion of each scene, or something like that. The actual result was that this iconic film, this self-proclaimed "Symphony of Horror" that was supposed to have terrified audiences when it premiered, was instead kind of a joke. Nick and I couldn't take it seriously, and I caught myself starting to fall asleep more than once. And all because the music took so much away from what should have been a legendary fright-fest.
Moral of the story is, if you plan on watching a silent film, make sure it's the version with the correct soundtrack.
UPDATE (10/30/2014): This Halloween, Netflix was streaming the version of Nosferatu with the original score. I gave it another watch, and I'm pleased to report that it's much more effective with an actual orchestra behind it. I was surprised to discover that this version still had the color filter, but it was somehow less jarring without the stupid Casio score. Also, I didn't fall asleep this time, so I got to see a few scenes I'd missed upon first viewing, and they turned out to be some of the scariest ones in the entire movie, which would partially explain why I was so underwhelmed the first time around. Granted, it's possible that Nosferatu may still not be considered terrifying by the standards of today's horror fanatics, but that's perfectly fine with me because I hate horror movies anyway and probably couldn't watch it if it were really that bad. It was still delightfully creepy, and I'm thrilled that I finally got to see it the way it was meant to be seen.
I think people never realize the value of a good soundtrack until they've sat through a movie with a bad one.
Seriously, think about it. In the best cases, we're not always consciously aware of the music playing under a film because it blends so well with the story itself. It helps to heighten our emotional reactions without sticking out like a sore thumb. It's only when a movie has a less than great soundtrack that you can't help but notice it. There you are, trying to get invested in the story, but there's all of this awkward noise getting in the way.
It's difficult for me to find stuff to watch around Halloween because I don't do well with really scary horror flicks. This Halloween, though, I had the brilliant idea to watch a couple of classic silent horror films. What made it better was that my brother was in town, and I knew he'd be on board. On Halloween night, we settled on Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror. It started as a great plan, but the mistake I made was choosing to watch the version of Nosferatu that was available to stream on Netflix rather than ordering the DVD version ahead of time. Well, how could I have known? Being generally unfamiliar with the ways of silent films, I just assumed that all of the versions would be basically the same, or at least have the same music. How very wrong I was.
If you, like me, were not aware, silent films back in the day almost always featured a live orchestra. I mean, now that I know, it seems incredibly obvious and I'm not sure why I didn't figure that out in the first place, but whatever. I didn't. I have since learned that there are multiple versions of Nosferatu in existence, each with a different score. One of them, (the one I meant to watch), has a soundtrack replicating the music that would have accompanied the movie when it was originally in cinemas. Another version features a gothic industrial soundtrack, and I've heard fairly good things about that one as well.
And yet, out of all of the cool versions floating around out there, the one Nick and I got stuck with was the one with music sounding like it was played on a Casio keyboard from the 1980s, and some weird filter that made all of the scenes different colors, meant to enhance the intended emotion of each scene, or something like that. The actual result was that this iconic film, this self-proclaimed "Symphony of Horror" that was supposed to have terrified audiences when it premiered, was instead kind of a joke. Nick and I couldn't take it seriously, and I caught myself starting to fall asleep more than once. And all because the music took so much away from what should have been a legendary fright-fest.
Moral of the story is, if you plan on watching a silent film, make sure it's the version with the correct soundtrack.
UPDATE (10/30/2014): This Halloween, Netflix was streaming the version of Nosferatu with the original score. I gave it another watch, and I'm pleased to report that it's much more effective with an actual orchestra behind it. I was surprised to discover that this version still had the color filter, but it was somehow less jarring without the stupid Casio score. Also, I didn't fall asleep this time, so I got to see a few scenes I'd missed upon first viewing, and they turned out to be some of the scariest ones in the entire movie, which would partially explain why I was so underwhelmed the first time around. Granted, it's possible that Nosferatu may still not be considered terrifying by the standards of today's horror fanatics, but that's perfectly fine with me because I hate horror movies anyway and probably couldn't watch it if it were really that bad. It was still delightfully creepy, and I'm thrilled that I finally got to see it the way it was meant to be seen.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Here Lies Poor Old Jack OR My First (and Most Controversial) Movie Review
I'm about to make a pretty startling confession. It's something I don't normally like to share with people, for fear that I'll get burned at the stake by nearly everyone I know, including my boyfriend and my best friend. But recently, this deep, dark secret has been weighing on me, and I'm not sure why. Maybe the lies have just gone on too long, or maybe I feel like I've given people a very wrong impression of me, but either way, it's time to get this off of my chest. I think that The Nightmare Before Christmas is just...okay.
In case you're wondering, I don't have anything against people who love The Nightmare Before Christmas. I'm still expecting a whole lot of backlash, because I think almost everyone I've ever met is a huge fan. It's important to note that I do like watching it. When I was younger, I was right there with everyone else singing its praises. But as I got older, and as I watched it more, I started noticing several things that just didn't make sense. However, in spite of its flaws, I still find it very enjoyable. So no, I will not judge you if you're part of the 99% of the population who adores it. It's just that, if you try to tell me it's the most flawless, brilliant piece of cinema ever made, I'm going to have to disagree with you.
First of all, the "love story" comes off as extremely forced. I'm getting this complaint out of the way first, both because it was the first thing that really stood out to me, and also because I worry that this is the one that will rattle the most cages, considering how many people think that Jack and Sally are the cutest little spooky couple that ever happened. Basically, I'm trying to get the most severe beatings over with right in the beginning. Anyway, it's pretty well-established that Sally has feelings for Jack. There are plenty of scenes throughout the movie showing her admiring him from afar. However, I have a hard time believing that there is any kind of a foundation for an actual relationship. The only arguably romantic moment between them comes when Sally sends Jack a basket containing a dead fish and a bottle of magic butterfly wine. But even then, she runs away before Jack has time to say anything to her. They only have one real conversation at any point, which consists of Jack effectively brushing off Sally's attempts to warn him about his Christmas being a terrible idea. And suddenly, at the end, they're singing about how they're "simply meant to be," and we're expected to just accept it. Unfortunately, it's not, as they claim, "as plain as anyone can see." It feels to me like they just decided to throw in a love story for the sake of having a love story. Even in Sally's own song, her unrequited love seems like nothing more than a footnote:
I sense there's something in the wind
That feels like tragedy's at hand
And though I'd like to stand by him
Can't shake this feeling that I have
The worst is just around the bend
And does he notice my feelings for him?
And since we're on the subject of the music, I have to say at least a little bit about the songs. Mind you, I'm not talking about the score itself, which I honestly believe is one of Danny Elfman's finest. But while no one is arguing that Elfman is a talented composer, a brilliant lyricist he is not. Every once in a while, he manages to crank out some lines that sound fairly poetic, but most of the time, it feels like he's just trying to throw in words because he didn't have enough syllables to fill out a line, ("I am the clown with the tear-away face / Here in a flash and gone without a trace"), or he needed a rhyme, ("Kidnap the Sandy Claws, tie him in a bag / Throw him in the ocean and see if he is sad," which, let's be honest, doesn't actually rhyme), or he just wanted some more arbitrary Halloween-themed lyrics, ("Trick or treat 'til the neighbors come and die of fright"). At least three of the songs contain bits where people are just singing "la la la," sometimes for the entirety of the chorus. One of these songs, "This Is Halloween," also includes numerous repetitions of just the word "Halloween" over and over. This may only be me, because I'm an admitted grammar nazi, but every time I listen to "What's This," I can feel my eye twitching from the multiple grammar mistakes, ("They're gathering around and hearing story," or "The smell of cakes and pies are absolutely everywhere"). The good news is, the songs to lend themselves quite well to cool covers, and I like to listen to Nightmare Revisited on loop every October.
Every time I watch Nightmare, I have more and more questions brought on by the continuity errors and all of the things that go unexplained. How can Jack be killed if he's already dead, like he says he is very early on? How does Jack wander (sleepwalk?) into the portal between Holiday Worlds without ever coming out through the door to Halloweentown? If Santa Claus comes from Christmastown to deliver toys to children, and the Easter Bunny presumably comes from...let's call it "Eastertown" to hide eggs in the human world, then what is the purpose of Halloweentown? Do they just pop out and scare people on Halloween, or do they just have some kind of a parade amongst themselves and then start planning for next year? Why does Jack get frustrated with the villagers for not understanding Christmas when he does exactly the same thing? What's up with Oogie Boogie, anyway? So he's a gambling addict who eats/is made of bugs (and maybe people)? Why is he the villain? Can you really have an outcast in a village that's already full of strange nightmare people?
To be fair, a lot of the issues I have with this movie can probably be chalked up to a lack of time. I watched it a couple of weeks ago, and for the first time, I noticed that it has a runtime of just over an hour. I don't know enough about the making of the movie to know why it was so short, but Nightmare was truly the first movie of its kind, and the first stop-motion feature of that magnitude. It's entirely possible that the crew didn't have the time or resources to make such an elaborate production too much more than an hour long, and perhaps that's why the story suffered. Or maybe I'm being too nice, and it really was the product of terrible writing.
Speaking of the writing, I need to clarify something. Tim Burton neither directed Nightmare nor wrote the screenplay. It was directed by Henry Selick, and written by Caroline Thompson. Burton was a producer, and the creator of the original characters and concept. I know this is a little nit-picky, but I like to give credit where credit is due.
And of course, anyone who has known me for any amount of time is aware of how often superfans have ruined things for me. I have very little patience for all of the weird little Jack Skellington fangirls and fanboys, and it certainly doesn't help that a huge percentage of them weren't even born when the movie came out.
Now, all of that aside, I'll still maintain that The Nightmare Before Christmas is a cute, fun-to-watch movie with a lot of redeeming qualities. As I mentioned before, it was definitely the first of its kind. Full-length stop-motion features may have existed before Nightmare, but none on such a grand scale. No other movie before that time involved such intensely detailed character animation, facial expressions, or set designs. It paved the way for a number of amazing movies like Coraline and ParaNorman. Even though the final story left a lot to be desired, the concept itself is very unique and endearing. And like I also said earlier, it has a fantastic score. Now, I know we like to poke fun of Danny Elfman's tendency to reuse a lot of the same elements in everything he writes, (with the lalalala lalalalas and the BOM BOM BOM BOMs and the deedleedeedlee deedleedeedlees), but he really does have a distinct and intriguing style that's hard not to like, and his Nightmare score was exceptionally well-written.
So keep on truckin', all of you Nightmare fans. I salute you. I just...probably won't watch it with you multiple times in one year.
In case you're wondering, I don't have anything against people who love The Nightmare Before Christmas. I'm still expecting a whole lot of backlash, because I think almost everyone I've ever met is a huge fan. It's important to note that I do like watching it. When I was younger, I was right there with everyone else singing its praises. But as I got older, and as I watched it more, I started noticing several things that just didn't make sense. However, in spite of its flaws, I still find it very enjoyable. So no, I will not judge you if you're part of the 99% of the population who adores it. It's just that, if you try to tell me it's the most flawless, brilliant piece of cinema ever made, I'm going to have to disagree with you.
First of all, the "love story" comes off as extremely forced. I'm getting this complaint out of the way first, both because it was the first thing that really stood out to me, and also because I worry that this is the one that will rattle the most cages, considering how many people think that Jack and Sally are the cutest little spooky couple that ever happened. Basically, I'm trying to get the most severe beatings over with right in the beginning. Anyway, it's pretty well-established that Sally has feelings for Jack. There are plenty of scenes throughout the movie showing her admiring him from afar. However, I have a hard time believing that there is any kind of a foundation for an actual relationship. The only arguably romantic moment between them comes when Sally sends Jack a basket containing a dead fish and a bottle of magic butterfly wine. But even then, she runs away before Jack has time to say anything to her. They only have one real conversation at any point, which consists of Jack effectively brushing off Sally's attempts to warn him about his Christmas being a terrible idea. And suddenly, at the end, they're singing about how they're "simply meant to be," and we're expected to just accept it. Unfortunately, it's not, as they claim, "as plain as anyone can see." It feels to me like they just decided to throw in a love story for the sake of having a love story. Even in Sally's own song, her unrequited love seems like nothing more than a footnote:
I sense there's something in the wind
That feels like tragedy's at hand
And though I'd like to stand by him
Can't shake this feeling that I have
The worst is just around the bend
And does he notice my feelings for him?
And since we're on the subject of the music, I have to say at least a little bit about the songs. Mind you, I'm not talking about the score itself, which I honestly believe is one of Danny Elfman's finest. But while no one is arguing that Elfman is a talented composer, a brilliant lyricist he is not. Every once in a while, he manages to crank out some lines that sound fairly poetic, but most of the time, it feels like he's just trying to throw in words because he didn't have enough syllables to fill out a line, ("I am the clown with the tear-away face / Here in a flash and gone without a trace"), or he needed a rhyme, ("Kidnap the Sandy Claws, tie him in a bag / Throw him in the ocean and see if he is sad," which, let's be honest, doesn't actually rhyme), or he just wanted some more arbitrary Halloween-themed lyrics, ("Trick or treat 'til the neighbors come and die of fright"). At least three of the songs contain bits where people are just singing "la la la," sometimes for the entirety of the chorus. One of these songs, "This Is Halloween," also includes numerous repetitions of just the word "Halloween" over and over. This may only be me, because I'm an admitted grammar nazi, but every time I listen to "What's This," I can feel my eye twitching from the multiple grammar mistakes, ("They're gathering around and hearing story," or "The smell of cakes and pies are absolutely everywhere"). The good news is, the songs to lend themselves quite well to cool covers, and I like to listen to Nightmare Revisited on loop every October.
Every time I watch Nightmare, I have more and more questions brought on by the continuity errors and all of the things that go unexplained. How can Jack be killed if he's already dead, like he says he is very early on? How does Jack wander (sleepwalk?) into the portal between Holiday Worlds without ever coming out through the door to Halloweentown? If Santa Claus comes from Christmastown to deliver toys to children, and the Easter Bunny presumably comes from...let's call it "Eastertown" to hide eggs in the human world, then what is the purpose of Halloweentown? Do they just pop out and scare people on Halloween, or do they just have some kind of a parade amongst themselves and then start planning for next year? Why does Jack get frustrated with the villagers for not understanding Christmas when he does exactly the same thing? What's up with Oogie Boogie, anyway? So he's a gambling addict who eats/is made of bugs (and maybe people)? Why is he the villain? Can you really have an outcast in a village that's already full of strange nightmare people?
To be fair, a lot of the issues I have with this movie can probably be chalked up to a lack of time. I watched it a couple of weeks ago, and for the first time, I noticed that it has a runtime of just over an hour. I don't know enough about the making of the movie to know why it was so short, but Nightmare was truly the first movie of its kind, and the first stop-motion feature of that magnitude. It's entirely possible that the crew didn't have the time or resources to make such an elaborate production too much more than an hour long, and perhaps that's why the story suffered. Or maybe I'm being too nice, and it really was the product of terrible writing.
Speaking of the writing, I need to clarify something. Tim Burton neither directed Nightmare nor wrote the screenplay. It was directed by Henry Selick, and written by Caroline Thompson. Burton was a producer, and the creator of the original characters and concept. I know this is a little nit-picky, but I like to give credit where credit is due.
And of course, anyone who has known me for any amount of time is aware of how often superfans have ruined things for me. I have very little patience for all of the weird little Jack Skellington fangirls and fanboys, and it certainly doesn't help that a huge percentage of them weren't even born when the movie came out.
Now, all of that aside, I'll still maintain that The Nightmare Before Christmas is a cute, fun-to-watch movie with a lot of redeeming qualities. As I mentioned before, it was definitely the first of its kind. Full-length stop-motion features may have existed before Nightmare, but none on such a grand scale. No other movie before that time involved such intensely detailed character animation, facial expressions, or set designs. It paved the way for a number of amazing movies like Coraline and ParaNorman. Even though the final story left a lot to be desired, the concept itself is very unique and endearing. And like I also said earlier, it has a fantastic score. Now, I know we like to poke fun of Danny Elfman's tendency to reuse a lot of the same elements in everything he writes, (with the lalalala lalalalas and the BOM BOM BOM BOMs and the deedleedeedlee deedleedeedlees), but he really does have a distinct and intriguing style that's hard not to like, and his Nightmare score was exceptionally well-written.
So keep on truckin', all of you Nightmare fans. I salute you. I just...probably won't watch it with you multiple times in one year.
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