Film Quote Friday

2001: A Space Odyssey is a masterpiece in several ways: it’s one of the great films, and it’s also one of the great science fiction stories. Stanley Kubrick’s vision can seem a bit impenetrable, but while he does make the viewer do quite a bit of the heavy lifting, he really does provide a solid grounding for the viewer to figure out what is going on.

The part of the film that may be the most memorable is the central part, which takes place aboard the spaceship Discovery, which is en route to Jupiter after the discovery of the Monolith on the Moon, and the Monolith’s subsequent broadcast of a strong transmission to that giant planet. It’s here that we meet our two human crewmembers, Dave Bowman and Frank Poole, and their companion computer, HAL-9000.

HAL is one of the great villains in film history, and after killing everyone else on the ship and getting Dave trapped outside the ship in a pod, this exchange takes place:

Dave Bowman: Hello, HAL. Do you read me, HAL?

HAL: Affirmative, Dave. I read you.

Dave Bowman: Open the pod bay doors, HAL.

HAL: I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.

Dave Bowman: What’s the problem?

HAL: I think you know what the problem is just as well as I do.

Dave Bowman: What are you talking about, HAL?

HAL: This mission is too important for me to allow you to jeopardize it.

Dave Bowman: I don’t know what you’re talking about, HAL.

HAL: I know that you and Frank were planning to disconnect me, and I’m afraid that’s something I cannot allow to happen.

Dave Bowman: [feigning ignorance] Where the hell did you get that idea, HAL?

HAL: Dave, although you took very thorough precautions in the pod against my hearing you, I could see your lips move.

Dave Bowman: Alright, HAL. I’ll go in through the emergency airlock.

HAL: Without your space helmet, Dave? You’re going to find that rather difficult.

Dave Bowman: HAL, I won’t argue with you anymore! Open the doors!

HAL: Dave, this conversation can serve no purpose anymore. Goodbye.

Bowman takes his chances with depressurization and manages to get back on board the Discovery, at which point he carries out his goal of disconnecting HAL. And then he arrives at Jupiter, alone, to discover whatever it is that awaits him there.

The film never really explains just why HAL, a computer that should be without emotion, suddenly becomes deceitful, dishonest, and sneaky enough to read the lips of the men on the ship. The most effective malice is often that malice that is coldly logical and doesn’t even recognize itself as malice. There’s never really any question that for whatever reason, HAL has decided that Bowman and Poole constitute a threat to the success of the Discovery‘s mission, and what’s even worse is that neither Bowman nor Poole have any idea what that mission even is.

2001 is really something astonishing: great SF, a meditation on the stages of human evolution, one of the trippiest of all movies, and in its mid-section, a chilling thriller that borders on outright horror. (Witness the sequence when HAL takes over Frank’s pod, while Frank is outside the ship…he never sees it coming, even as HAL has the pod extend its arms outward….)

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“If you don’t have a drummer, then why do you have drums, you fistful of assholes!”

There are movies that I continually mean to see, and never quite get around to it. Sometimes I’ll even check the DVD out of the library repeatedly, and still manage to let life get in my way and not watch it. One such film is Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, which I heard some good things about back when it came out a few years ago. I intended to see it, and yes, I checked the DVD out several times. Never watched it…until now. And wouldn’t you know it? I really wish I’d watched it years ago. Or last year. Or six months ago. Whenever.

Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist is cut from the same emotional cloth as Say Anything, which is a favorite movie of mine whose praises I never tire of singing. But where Say Anything unfolds over the course of a summer, Infinite Playlist unfolds over the course of about twelve hours. We open with Nick, leaving a message on his girlfriend’s phone; Nick is your awkward, skinny, music nerd (played by Michael Cera), and it quickly becomes clear from his rambling message that his relationship with Tris is pretty much dead, although he doesn’t seem able to let go. He keeps making mix-CDs for her, promising that this one, the one that pops out of his computer as he’s talking to her, is the last one – “More or less”.

Just after he finishes the disc, Nick’s bandmate friends show up to report that they have a gig lined up for the band (which doesn’t have a drummer – never fear, though, as one of them has procured a 1990s-style electric drumset), with the added enticement that a band called Where’s Fluffy is going to play a gig that night. Where’s Fluffy is apparently a legendary ‘underground’ type of band, whose gigs are never announced in advance except by clues left in places like bathroom walls.

Meanwhile, at school, Tris laughs to receive another CD mix by Nick, which she mocks to her friends before chucking it in the trash. The CD is rescued, however; Norah (Kat Dennings), who only knows Nick by listening to the mixes he’s made for Tris and which Tris has thrown out, plucks the disc from the garbage. She and her friend Caroline then receive the fateful text message that Where’s Fluffy is going to play that night, so it’s off to the clubs of New York City for them.

Not much of what happens over the next twenty minutes or so of the movie is a surprise. Of course Nick and Norah will be at the same club; of course, they’ll have a ‘meet cute’. In this case, Norah wants to prove to Tris that she has a boyfriend, so she asks Nick to pretend to be the guy, which of course, backfires once Norah discovers that Nick is Tris’s Nick. This is all done nicely by the actors and by the filmmakers, but it’s not really all that interesting. It’s at this point that the movie starts to go into interesting directions, by having Caroline get absolutely hammered, and then having Nick’s friends agree to take her home so that Nick can give Norah a ride. (One of them gives Norah a different bra to wear, helpfully telling her, “Nicky is definitely worth the underwire. He just needs a little push, that’s all.” (Nick’s bandmates are all gay, which is why they have a selection of bras in the backseat of their van. I think.)

Nick and Norah’s first conversation, in Nick’s Yugo, is cleverly crafted – it alternates between the characters being tentatively interested in one another and stepping back, as they’re both afraid to definitively move beyond their exes. It seems doomed, but the film gives funny circumstances to keep the two of them together longer than they wish: a drunken couple assumes that Nick’s yellow Yugo is a cab and climb in and insist on being taken someplace (Nick charges them $8.50); and then Caroline, still very drunk, wakes up in the strange van belonging to three guys who bear her no ill will whatsoever, but she doesn’t know that, so she ‘escapes’, leading to the rest of the film being a search for her…and for the elusive band Where’s Fluffy.

I’m already a fan of Kat Dennings, but in this movie, she displays a level of acting skill that her current big role – the sitcom Two Broke Girls — only allows her to hint at. Norah is tough, street-smart, intelligent, naïve, and vulnerable, all at the same time. She’s the daughter of a very rich man (which allows her to just walk right past the bouncer line into any club she wants), but the movie doesn’t dwell on this at all, which is frankly an awfully welcome development. In fact, the world of ‘adults’ isn’t much in evidence in this movie at all – it’s nothing but young people from pillar to post, and while their focus in life might not be what grownups want, the film doesn’t rigidly insist on depicting the youth as stupid, clueless nitwits who should just get a job.

Not much happens in this movie that is a real, genuine surprise, but some interesting directions are taken along the way, and I especially liked the double Maguffin of lost Caroline and this band that only plays its gigs in secret. Cera and Dennings have terrific chemistry, and Dennings is…well, there’s a reason why I think she’s just fantastic. This is a short and wonderful little movie. I loved it.

(Oh, just a quick warning: there is one scene in this movie that is among the grossest things I’ve seen in a movie. We’re talking “Mr Creasote from Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life” gross. If you’re squeamish, well…trust your instincts. You’ll know when to hit the FF button on your player.)

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Ride

When Sally Ride became the first American woman to fly in space, in 1983, I kept thinking, “Why did it take us so long to do what the Russians did twenty years ago?” It’s kind of sad that the Cold War mentality kept me, at eleven years of age, from realizing how inspiring Ride’s efforts were. That, and I honestly could not understand why we’d made space a boy’s club for so long.

I’m saddened to hear of Ride’s passing, too early, from pancreatic cancer. If I could pick one cancer to eradicate with a wave of a magic wand, that would be the one.

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River of Stars

That’s the title of Guy Gavriel Kay’s next novel: River of Stars. As I noted before, it is set in the same fictional China as his last book, the amazing Under Heaven, albeit several hundred years later, so it’s not really a sequel at all.

And now we have the cover art:

I never finished re-reading my way through GGK’s output prior to Under Heaven‘s release, so this winter should be my chance….

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Sentential Links

Linkage….

:: In other words, part of the majority of gun violence is the attitude of “If I feel threatened, I can and should whip out my gun.”

:: Every day I read things that suggest that our left-wing friends are trying to stamp out manliness. Just after 9/11, there was something of a resurgence of masculinity, of the traditions of manliness. (Two different takes on the shootings of the other day…needless to say, I find SDB’s take rather, shall we say, odd. I’m on the left, and I have absolutely zero idea what he’s on about. I’m almost reminded of a certain laughable blog post from back in the day by a guy named Kim DuToit….)

(By the way, it suddenly seems to me that any attempt to enumerate a list of qualities that are shared by ‘real men’ is a sign of a bad way of thinking about things.)

:: I’ve never been to a midnight, opening night showing of a movie. I’ve gone to premieres, though, and I do know what cinematic anticipation feels like. There’s just something about seeing something before almost anyone else that provides an unusual sense of satisfaction. Your view of the film is not colored by what everyone else says.

:: Chuck Klosterman once said something along the lines of not liking Billy Joel as a pop star because Billy never made him see a pop star or something to aspire to: “the only thing he’s ever made me see is me.” That’s exactly what’s so amazing about his music to me.

:: Writing a book ain’t all fun and games, kids. Writing fiction isn’t any easier than writing non-fiction, and vice versa. Both forms can be stubborn and maddening and offer a whole lot of seemingly insurmountable challenges–just of a wholly different sort. But the mountain itself is climbed, I’ve reached the peak. (Having reached one peak already, I’m now aware of the mists dispersing…to reveal another peak. Sigh!)

:: I am a sucker when modern characters are re-imagined into old style projects. (Me too…these are really cool!)

:: I’m kind of like Monk. Very anal. I have my writing space and I never write anywhere else. I have my stuff all carefully arranged, and I don’t like it if something gets moved. I have several recourses that I can turn to when I am stumped or bothered about a piece of writing to remove the so-called block. I always write in silence. No sounds, no music, no interruptions. This is all weird, but it beats lying in a coffin! (Patrick Rothfuss and Terry Brooks have been interviewing each other, and posting the results back and forth on each other’s blogs. Cool stuff, from a ‘peeling back the writerly curtain’ standpoint. Follow the links from Rothfuss’s blog back to the previous three parts.)

:: As a lover of words of all sizes, levels of subtlety, and countries of origin, I’d like to speak to you on behalf of the Citizens for Creativity in Cursing.

I’m a fan of cursing. Not just your standard, four-letter scatological words, crude words spoken without thought, words used by the drunken, the lazy, or the uninspired.

Why limit yourself to four letters? (Why indeed!)

More next week….

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The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

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