the Dalaverse

::limps home:: First day of work. To this I say, ehhhh. I hate retail as much as I ever did. The problem isn't the work so much as the environment. I am not a people person. I'm perfectly happy to be stuck at a desk in the back somewhere, doing whatever, and I don't mind wandering around folding towels and adjusting fixtures. It's the constant happy face that bothers me, the fact that by default I greet anything that moves, and being surrounded by PEOPLE all the damn time. This was made worse when I discovered that my lunch break was only half an hour. Dr. Marc only let us have a half-hour, but I didn't hate that job. At Penneys, I remember as generally having an hour if I was working seven or eight hours, and I really needed that time to sit by myself and ignore the rest of the world. The meal itself was secondary. Half an hour is not sufficient for that kind of mental refreshment. Also, I was so annoyed that my willpower was shot to hell and I marched over to McDonalds, ordered the ginormous chicken nugget meal, and ate every bit of it because I paid five bucks, dammit. Bleah. Gym tomorrow.

Anyway, I'm limping because my right knee hurts. What the crap? I have weak ankles, not bad knees. My feet are killing me even in sneakers, but I expected that. This knee thing is puzzling.

And now, your reviews for the past week or so. Cut for length and rampant spoilers, especially the last one.


Saw with Ness on Saturday night. I'm sorry to say that I don't have any stunning new insights to add; a lot of what pinged me about the movie had already been discussed on my flist by the time I saw it. However, I will say again that Orlando Bloom pulls his weight amid a great cast, and when he takes more of a lead role towards the end, continues to be entirely believable. Ridley Scott and/or his own growing abilities keep him from that silly overacting habit, and he's much better at low power. Also, really, super, ridiculously hot with the muscle and the hair and the dirt and the quiet power. Not just pretty, but actively hot. I was very pleased. I did whine about the lack of naked, but I suppose I respect the movie more for not going for the easy, shallow titillation (*coughTROYcough*). Balian was an interesting sort of hero. He did go crusading with a particular goal, but it eventually ceased to matter and he moved on -- he was there, that was that, and he was simply going to do what he had to do.

Rest of cast, again, was fantastic. Neeson did what he seems to do best these days -- mentor and die, and god love 'im for it. Thewlis was quirky and awesome. There are no words for how great Ghassan Massoud was; I think the combination of actor and role is one of my favorites in the past few years. I also loved King Baldwin. Ed Norton's eyes-and-voice performance reminded me of John Hurt's performance in "The Elephant Man," which is one of my favorite movies, and I'd better stop now before I start crying. Eva Green's competancy surprised me, as did the nature of the romantic subplot. It...seemed to have greater importance than just Requisite Romantic Subplot, if that makes any sense, and it didn't annoy me in the slightest. I thought Green and Bloom had more chemistry in the scene where they're walking from Jerusalem and she takes his hand than he's had with any of his other female co-stars.

I was mightily interested in the storyline because it's a part of history I know almost nothing about (although I was stupidly pleased with myself to recognize King Richard at the end). The pacing's not perfectly smooth, but I think that has to be forgivable in an epic like this. The extended DVD release will probably be stronger. Battle scenes were excellent, and you know, I wish people would stop comparing the action to fucking LotR. I realize they're recognized as the industry standard, and with good reason, but honestly. Are we ever going to be able to stage period battles again without measuring them against Peter Jackson's?

To sum up: best movie of its kind since "Gladiator," definitely (I think a lot of the really negative critics were carrying all those other films around in their heads while watching this one, and that's just not fair). Orlando Bloom is starting to outgrow his bad habits and looking to become a truly fine actor. Bring on the PotC sequels and "Elizabethtown"!


Very glad I waited to see this with Meg, because it just wouldn't have been the same sans somebody to whisper lines back and forth with. It was...odd. We alternately squeed our pants and burst out, "What the hell?" The parts directly from the book were just perfect. Mos Def is Ford, Sam Rockwell is the Zaphod I never knew I secretly always wanted (HEEEEEEE to when he was making eyes at the Vogon secretary), Magrathea looks just as I pictued it, the Vogons and other assorted galactic beings are fantastic, and Martin Freeman finally convinced me to let go of Jack Davenport as Arthur. I didn't even mind the altered role of Trillian, in part because I love Zooey Deschanel.

But all the non-canonical stuff...it wasn't that it was bad (okay, except for the cheesy ending -- THAT was bad), it was more than its presence was confusing. Why was it there? Did the movie really need it? I actually think the average viewer might have an easier time than fans of the book, if they're into offbeat sci-fi humor, simply because a fan will spot every single inauthentic plot point and be confused. At the same time, I know Douglas Adams worked on the script before he died, so I was leery of forming too negative an opinion on any of the WTF? stuff (I got a little misty at the "for Douglas" at the end).

However, my favorite thing? The whale and the bowl of geraniums made the cut. Meg and I were delighted enough for the whole empty theater (it was a Monday afternoon, so there were only three other people).


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I'm still w3[0rjs;alkndf09ujwelknl1=-2039!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 over it. Gimme a second.

*deep breaths* Okay. This was one of the best hours of television I have ever seen. So tightly plotted that there wasn't even room for the opening credits. I can't wait to watch it without commercial interruptions (DVD release before fall, PTB, PLEASE -- our VCR is broken so I couldn't tape it). If I had taped it, I would be watching it again right now.

Just...all of it. Poor Keith, breaking things off with Alicia even though his wife's sneaking booze into her water bottle (kudos for bringing us in at the end of the scene, BTW -- subdued but no less effective, and far less cliched). Keith telling Veronica that she is in fact his daughter, and her reaction to the news, and the fact that she didn't need it or even need to think before she signed the papers (although, and I'm cringing as I write this, the music in that scene sounded vaguely porny to me, and it squicked me out). Logan...och, Logan. Yeah, he's kind of a pyschopath, but he's not a murdering pyschopath, unlike SOME Echolls men I could name.

Speaking of which, I'd seen the idea of Aaron being the killer bandied about on TWoP, but I was really impressed by the way it was revealed, and what exactly happened. Lilly was kind of a fucked-up chick, huh? I'd still want to be her best friend, but damn. The sex must have been really good or something. The last half was nail-biting, pillow-clutching, squeak-inducing adrenalin overload. Hollywood wishes it could sustain this level of intensity. When Aaron's eyes popped up in Veronica's rearview mirror...I knew he'd been listening in the closet. I knew he was going to be in the backseat of the car. But I still shrieked and fell off the bed. No, I'm not kidding. I plummeted to the ground because I was perched on the edge of the bed in my freakout. Hey, maybe that's what happened to my knee!

Lianne Mars is the worst mommy EVER. When Veronica's voice broke upon saying that she'd given her her college money, I bawled. When Lianne took the FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLAR CHECK that would have made up for that sacrifice, I screamed "Bitch!" at the TV.

Actually, I should clarify on that whole bawling and screaming thing. I was already in a state of emotional chaos at that point, and remained so until 11. I was sobbing with a manic grin on my face, and babbling. I think I freaked my mother out.

And now, NOW we have the entire summer to ponder who was at the door, and whether or not Logan and/or Weevil are dead or lying in critical condition in the Neptune hospital. Or perhaps they fought out their differences, discovered the truth before any serious damage was done, and drove to Mexico for a drink and a fuck. You never know. Anyway, it was all sorts of words that mean incredible, and Rob Thomas, Kristen Bell, and Enrico Colantini officially own me.

That's pretty much it. I watched "Two Brothers" for a second time, because OMG SO CUTE!!!!! plus Guy Pearce. Daddy liked it, as I knew he would. He also got the expected kick out of "National Treasure," which I couldn't resist buying, or at least talking my mother into buying for me while lying through my teeth about paying her back. Both movies just as much fun the second time around. And now, I think it's time for a little Star Wars before the grand finale.

But first! HAPPY BIRTHDAY damned_colonial! I wish you lots of historical slash and elegant snark.