The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer
Keeping to my new schedule of posting installments of Unidentified Earth on Sundays, we have the next installment below. The previous installment is still Unidentified, however, and I’ve noticed that very few guesses have been incoming. Hmmmmm.
Anyhow, here’s the new one:
Where are we? Rot-13 your guesses, folks!
Marching on in our re-examination of The Phantom Menace, we resume the Tatooine section of the film.
But first, a digression of sorts is called for. In comments to the last post, Jason opined that in TPM Anakin is too young, and should have been older: ten or eleven, perhaps. I’ve actually waffled on this quite a lot, and I’ve generally settled on these thoughts.
First: Well, the general thrust of this series isn’t to completely reinvent the Prequel trilogy, and recasting a major role would certainly be a significant step in that direction. My overall view is that the Prequels are unjustly maligned, and part of what I’m trying to do isn’t just to kvetch about the stuff I didn’t like, but also to call attention to the stuff that I think works very well in these movies. Aside from a couple of awkward line readings, I’ve not had a problem with Jake Lloyd as Anakin. (I have long held the view that given his long history of directing children with great results, if ever Steven Spielberg was going to direct a Star Wars movie, this would have been the one.)
Second: An underlying theme of the PT is that bad things can happen when people are forced into certain roles before they are ready to play them. Anakin’s not ready to be a Jedi, he’s not ready to be the greatest of all Jedi, he’s not ready to be a magnificent war leader, he’s not ready to be a personal confidant of the Chancellor of the Galactic Senate, and so on. He gets overwhelmed easily, and that’s a big part of why he falls to the Dark Side of the Force. And why does he get overwhelmed? Because he’s never really given a chance to mature. On that basis, I think it makes sense that we first meet him as a child. His love of Padme is never more than childish, and since that’s the main catalyst of his embrace of the Dark Side, that’s where it has to begin.
So yeah, I’d leave Anakin as he is in the movie. I can see the case for making him older, but I don’t think that enough is really gained in doing that to make it worthwhile.
OK. When we left off, we’d just finished “Dinner at the Skywalker House”, where it was decided that Anakin would race his new pod racer in an attempt to win the parts for the stranded ship. I actually like a lot of what follows, and I really wouldn’t change much of any of it at all. Qui Gon arranges the race with some cavalier betting with Watto in a very nicely done scene. There’s a good exchange between Padme and Qui Gon, where Padme attempts to use her royal rank to question Qui Gon without actually revealing her royal rank, and I’ve always assumed that Qui Gon had a good idea that Padme was really the Queen when he tells her “The Queen trusts me judgment, and you should too.” Then the bit between Qui Gon and Watto, which is another well-done scene. I particularly like this exchange:
QUI-GON: I have acquired a Pod in a game of chance. The fastest ever built.
WATTO: I hope you didn’t kill anyone I know for it.
Qui Gon’s knowing smile in reply to this is terrific.
Next we’re back at Casa Skywalker. Anakin’s building of the pod racer, Qui Gon’s discussion of Anakin’s nature with Shmi, Anakin’s growing fascination with Padme: I think that all of this stuff works pretty well, and about the only change I’d make would be to eliminate the bit with Jar Jar getting his hand stuck in the engine of the racer. (I’d keep the bit with his tongue getting zapped by the energy binders, because I actually think that’s kind of funny, as is C-3PO’s observation that “This Jar Jar creature is rather odd”.) I particularly like how open Qui Gon is with Shmi as to his suspicions about Anakin and the Force, as well as Anakin’s excitement when he gets his racer’s engines going. It’s scenes like this one, actually, that make me wonder just why so many people are so visceral in their loathing of TPM. There’s really lots of good stuff in the movie, if you’re willing to see it.
I would, however, make a small alteration to the dialog between Qui Gon and Shmi:
QUI GON: Where is his father?
Shmi hesitates.
SHMI: There…was no father.
Qui Gon cocks an eyebrow.
SHMI: I can’t explain it. I was not with a man when – I conceived him, carried him, and he was born.
QUI GON: No one said anything?
SHMI: I am a slave. No one ever says anything.
QUI GON: Does he know?
SHMI: No. He thinks that his father was a navigator on a spice freighter. He is smart…perhaps I would tell him, but I do not know what to say.
QUI GON: Nor do I.
I always liked the way Anakin’s birth was made mysterious like this. I remember some critics pooh-poohing the notion back when the movie came out, under the notion that it made Anakin’s story too Christ-like, but virgin births are not unheard of in folklore and myth beyond the tale of the birth of Jesus, and George Lucas surely knew that. All I wanted to add here, really, was to explain a bit of Anakin’s sense of who he really is. (And the lie as to his father’s identity mirrors the lie later told to Luke by Owen Lars. Yeah, that’s a little geek-moment.)
Then there’s the little night-time scene when Qui Gon takes a scan of Anakin’s blood and beams it to Obi Wan for a midichlorian count. What to do here? Well, we’ll get to the meat-and-potatoes of the whole midichlorian thing later on in another post, but for now, I’d have Obi Wan react with some surprise here:
QUI GON: Analyze this blood sample I’m sending you.
OBI WAN: Yes, master.
QUI GON: And I need a midichlorian count.
Obi Wan hesitates.
OBI WAN: Master – did you say that you need a midichlorian count?
QUI GON: Yes.
OBI WAN: But in the past you’ve said–
QUI GON: I know what I’ve said, but something is out of place here. Please analyze the sample.
OBI WAN: Yes, Master…scanning now…and the result is….
QUI GON: Obi Wan?
OBI WAN: This reading is off the chart. Over twenty thousand per million. That’s a higher concentration than in any other Jedi on record.
QUI GON: Even Master Yoda and Master Windu.
OBI WAN: What does this mean?
QUI GON: I’m not sure yet. Keep the ship safe. I will check in tomorrow.
OBI WAN: Yes, master.
What happens here is that I hint a bit that the midichlorians are a bit of an issue with Qui Gon, for one reason or another. I always liked how in this little scene Lucas left the midichlorians unexplained for later on, and I’d do the same thing. My issue is the way he ends up explaining them, later on, and we’ll get to that in good time. Note how I also give the reading result (“twenty thousand”) a bit more context by providing a secondary figure to establish the concentration.
(Meanwhile, Darth Maul lands on Tatooine and sends out his probe droids. I wouldn’t change this at all.)
OK, so now it’s the next day, and Anakin and friends bring the pod racer to the hangar bay before the race. Again, I like this scene as well, particularly the bit where Padme discovers that not only have they put their hopes on this boy in this dangerous race, it’s a race that he’s never even finished. Qui Gon’s cheating at the die roll is nice, too.
A bit of a digression here about the nature of the Jedi. I remember when the movie first came out, some people were disturbed that Qui Gon would lie to Anakin about the blood sample (“I’m just scanning for infections”) and that he would use the Force to rig the throw of a die. Basically, Qui Gon isn’t totally honest in situations that call for less than total honesty. There seems to be an idea among many that the Jedi aren’t just noble warriors, but that they’re basically, to borrow a bit of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons terminology, paladins. The Jedi are supposed to be pure as the driven snow, morally, and Qui Gon’s actions look bad in that light. Personally, I think the “Space Paladins” view of the Jedi is incredibly faulty: they’re not perfect individuals, by any means, and a recurring theme in the prequel trilogy is that the fall of the Jedi comes as much from their own failures at introspection as from the activities of the Sith. (This is actually a theme I wish Lucas would have pushed farther and harder, and it’s a theme I’ll be discussing in depth when this series finally reaches Revenge of the Sith.)
Well, anyway, we finally get to the central part of the whole Tatooine sequence: the pod race. Believe me when I say that there is exactly one major change I’d make to this entire chunk of the film. Yes, I’d remove the bit with Jar Jar and the flatulent eopie. I can’t imagine what made George Lucas think that was a good idea. But as for the rest, I’ve loved the pod race in its entirety ever since I first saw the movie on opening day in 1999. Those racers are impressive vehicles, and I love the entire idea, as an action sequence, and as a logical bit of Star Wars lore. Tatooine is depicted as a world fascinated with going at great speeds over its wide vistas, which makes perfect sense since there’s not much else to do there at all. Anakin’s love of pod racing is later passed onto his son; not pod racing specifically, but Luke’s own fascination with speed and accuracy. Pod racing is the clear antecedent for Luke’s bulls-eyeing of womprats in his T-16.
Anyhow, yeah: I love the pod race. I love how the sequence starts with the usual brassy music one expects from a John Williams score, but once the race itself begins, the music vanishes, only to return at the very end when Anakin and Sebulba are neck and neck and Anakin’s racer is succumbing to Sebulba’s sabotage. And the whole sequence is very nicely edited, as well; everything that happens is perfectly clear, and when Anakin has to make a repair while racing, it’s easy to see what he’s doing as he’s doing it. (First he snuffs out the fire, then he re-routes power so that he can fire up both engines again. It’s all handled with nothing but visual cues and no dialog; Anakin doesn’t start narrating his own actions for us.)
As the pod race ends, I’d make one small change: it’s not exactly clear why Sebulba’s racer fails spectacularly, especially on the DVD when the image is reduced to TV-size. His energy binders (those tendrils of electricity that keep the two engines aimed in the same direction) fail, but we don’t really see why. I’d add something here, maybe something like Anakin chucking a loose tool into Sebulba’s engine or something like that. In fact, I’d definitely make it something like that, or even have Anakin, in a moment of rage at Sebulba, inadvertently use the Force to snap off a key part of his opponent’s racer. Something to suggest a little bit of the Dark Side waiting in this boy’s heart.
So Anakin crosses the finish line, and the crowd goes wild. There’s a terrific little moment here that always makes me smile, even though I think the effect may not have been intentional on Lucas’s part. In Anakin’s pit area, his two buddies (Kitster, the human, and Wald, the Rodian) are celebrating, but if you watch, it’s terribly awkward. The two kids try to high-five, but they hilariously miss the coordination of it, and thus they end up slapping their hands into empty air while the other is standing there doing nothing. It’s pretty obvious that the actors here weren’t on the same page as to how they were doing their celebrating, and yet, there’s the shot, in the final cut of the movie. I can’t believe that this was Lucas being inept or bumbling; I suspect that he knew full well that he was putting a bad take into his movie when he made the final edit. Here’s the thing: if you go to actual sporting events and pay attention to the behavior of the fans in the stands, this sort of thing actually happens. I’ve seen lots of guys awkwardly try to figure out in the heat of the moment if they’re bumping fists or high-fiving or hugging or whatever when something really good befalls the side they’re rooting for. Maybe this is actually just a mistake in the movie that nobody caught, but to me, it’s totally true to life, and since Lucas made the pod race into an entire sporting event complete with announcer, I prefer to believe that this little shot is here intentionally.
As for the rest of the aftermath of the race, I think it, too, works pretty well. (I’d ditch the fact that Jabba fell asleep during the race, though.) Qui Gon’s brief talk with Watto, in which he collects his winnings, is very well done. (Very nice is that one of Darth Maul’s probe droids flies by in the background, and thus picks up the scent.) Also nicely done is the brief bit where Qui Gon meets with Obi Wan as the Queen’s ship begins preparations for liftoff and repairs. Obi Wan’s line, “Why do I suspect that we’ve picked up another “pathetic life form”?” would already be set up by the line I gave him earlier in the movie (during the submarine-through-Naboo sequence), and then Qui Gon goes to fetch Anakin.
This scene, however, is a bit problematic. Anakin’s decision to leave is handled way too quickly, and he should really be a lot more conflicted about it. We should see him agonizing for a few minutes about whether he should leave his mother or not:
ANAKIN: But Mom, I can’t just leave you here.
SHMI: Yes you can, my darling! My place is here. I will be fine. You know that aside from his gambling, Watto is a good master. And you know that this is the chance you have, right now, to leave this world and see the stars. There is a bright center to this Universe, Anakin, and this is the planet that it’s farthest from. Who knows if a chance like this will ever come again?
ANAKIN: But —
SHMI: No, Ani. You must go.
QUI GON: We must be underway now, Anakin. Our task is still urgent. Go and get what you need.
ANAKIN: I don’t have much.
He runs off.
QUI GON: I will look after him.
SHMI: I always knew that he would leave one day. I just didn’t think it would be when he was so young.
QUI GON: This is when it is best. When the world still has wonder for him.
SHMI: He will be a very powerful Jedi, won’t he?
QUI GON: He may be the most powerful of us all.
Something like that. (Shmi echoes a line that will later be uttered by Luke Skywalker.) Cut to Anakin’s farewell to C-3PO (another bit I like a lot), and his departure from his home. I’d limit the final goodbyes to just Shmi’s line, “Go now, and don’t look back. Don’t ever look back.”
(The original script has a small scene where, as Qui Gon returns to collect Anakin, he comes across Anakin fighting in the street with a Rodian who turns out to be a young Greedo. This scene seems to have some geek love behind it, but I don’t think it adds anything, so I’d leave it out. I’d also leave out some of the extended farewells Anakin has, such as the one with his buddy Kitster. I also recall vaguely – I might be completely wrong, actually – some fan speculation that Kitster would later grow up to become Boba Fett. Obviously that didn’t happen, and I wouldn’t make it happen here, either.)
OK. Qui Gon and Anakin are making for the ship when Darth Maul attacks them from behind. This scene thrilled my geek heart when I saw it, because a sequence very much like it was evident in a number of Lucas’s first drafts of Star Wars, way back in the early 1970s. This all works pretty well, although I’d draw out the fight between Qui Gon and Darth Maul a bit, and I’d retain something from the script, where after Qui Gon jumps onto his ship’s entry ramp, Maul would try to follow but only get knocked back to the ground as the ship lifts up and out into space.
In the final moment of the film’s Tatooine sequence, we have the introduction of Obi Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. This is yet another of those small moments in TPM that I love, and I wouldn’t change it at all, not a single bit. I always appreciated how Lucas didn’t take this portentous meeting and underline it with a huge magic marker for the audience; isn’t it true in life that the people we meet who later become so important to us are people we meet casually, so much so that in some cases we don’t even recall those first meetings at all? That’s great stuff. “By the way, Obi Wan Kenobi, meet Anakin Skywalker.” That’s great (especially Ewan McGregor’s expression of “Sure, hey, how you doin'”).
And with that we’re done with Tatooine. Next time we’ll check back in with the doings on Naboo and look at the Coruscant section of the film.
Some replies to Ask Me Anything! 2008 queries. Here we go:
Roger, who asked a ton of questions this time out, kicked things off thusly: How has the events of the past year figured into your faith journey, however you define that?
Tough question, this; very tough question. My “faith journey”, if it can be termed as such, is pretty much directionless. I’m not sure this is a bad thing, really, unless we take the concept of a “faith journey” to have a predetermined destination, and I’m not sure that I do, in the usual sense. Put it this way: if we define the destination of a faith journey as a specific physical location – say, Niagara Square in Downtown Buffalo – and we further define my personal journey as starting out from some other physical location – say, John O’Groats in Scotland, then what I’m doing isn’t so much trying to get from John O’Groats to Niagara Square as roaming the world starting with John O’Groats and seeing where I end up. If I get to Niagara Square, fine, but if I don’t but I see lots of the world and I make lots of friends and I learn a whole lot about the world, is it such a bad thing if I don’t make it to Niagara Square? Especially if, and here’s the rub, I either am not sure or simply don’t know if Niagara Square is where I should be heading at all?
This is why I have such a hard time, as I noted last week, with the sentiment expressed in John 4:6. Who am I to say that the faith journey undertaken by a person in Tibet, a person who lives his whole life in that country and lives his whole life under the precepts of Buddhism, is any less valid than that undertaken by me? And given my strong belief that religions are at least in part, if not in their entireties, formalized expressions based on the experiences of a certain group of people in a certain time or place, how can it be wise for me to assume that they are wrong, that in their time on this world they have learned nothing and that they therefore have nothing at all to offer a searching soul like me? So I can’t assume that.
This, I well know, renders my own spirituality something of a smorgasbord, and for now I’m fine with that approach. There are so many things in Christianity that draw me, and there is so much power in its narrative. Believer or no, I think it’s impossible to look at the life of Jesus, with his message and his act of self-sacrifice, and not stand a little bit in awe of it all. But I also see so many things in every other faith to draw me, and so much power in their narratives as well.
So, back to the original question: the events of the last year. The honest answer, even though it won’t satisfy, is that I don’t know. For one thing, the things that have happened in my life (and in those of my family) are still so recent that I can’t imagine to have any answers worked out right now, and even though out own personal circumstances are what they are, the question that rises at all times is not a new one at all. In fact, from my perspective, it may be this very question that gives rise to religious and spiritual thought in the first place. In our case, it’s “Hey, God, you let people who are complete jerks, boobs, ne’er-do-wells, and incompetents have beautiful healthy babies, and you visit beautiful, healthy babies upon people who don’t deserve them and who in some cases may actually contribute to the lives of these babies being nasty, brutish and short. So how come we, who play by the rules and do everything as well as we can, have a single living child who is outnumbered by her deceased younger siblings?”
This type of question, though, can be asked by anyone at all, can’t it? And with varying degrees of what we might call “seriousness”, but in the end, it’s the same type of question. “God, all we needed to do was get this space shuttle back onto the ground, so why did you let the heat-shielding tiles rip away and destroy us?” “God, couldn’t you have just nudged that stupid football over three feet, instead of letting it go wide-right?” “God, why did you make it so that the one day my husband doesn’t stop for coffee on the way to work so he could be in his office twenty minutes earlier was the day you let those guys highjack those planes so one of them could crash into my husband’s office!”
The questions come in reverse form, too, and we’d do well to never forget it. I was watching an interview the other day with David Crosby, and he pointed out, “I lived the same way that Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix did, and yet I’m still here and I don’t know why.” A coin gets tossed, and it’s Richie Valens on the plane instead of Hank Williams Jr. This house gets destroyed by the tornado; the one next door just gets all its windows broken. That editor’s looking to buy one manuscript today, and he reads this writer’s submission early in the morning when he’s still on his first cup of coffee, but he reads that writer’s work in the late afternoon, after he’s supposed to have gone home, sat through a bunch of useless meetings, and had a bad call from his ex. Does that matter? Maybe, maybe not.
So where am I going with this? Ultimately I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to say with a strong feeling of conviction, “I am a [insert religion here]“. It seems that any time one says I am this, there is an implied galaxy of I am not thats. I don’t know where my journey is leading me. All that I know (apologies to Messrs. Lerner and Loewe) is that I’m on my way.
:: Roger also asks: Have you forgiven me for rooting for the Giants against the Bills? If the Giants don’t beat Buffalo, they don’t get into the playoffs to knock off New England.
Heh. Nice logic, that: by losing that game, the Bills actually set in motion the series of events that later resulted in the Patriots falling short of Their Glorious Season of Conquest. OK, fine, you’re off the hook. I suppose I should also forgive Eli Manning for that tantrum he and his family threw back at the time of the 2004 Draft; if he doesn’t scream bloody murder and get himself traded to New York, Philip Rivers would have been the starter in that game. Not that would necessarily have been a bad thing, as the 2004 Class may go down as the best quarterbacking class in draft history. Four years into the careers of those guys, and the three quarterbacks taken in Round One of that year have sixteen playoff games, four Conference Championship Game appearances, and two Super Bowl championships among them. Wow.
(What’s that? You say there was a fourth quarterback taken in the first round in 2004? Nah, you surely must be mistaken.)
Interestingly, of the three teams that beat the Bills in the Super Bowl, the Giants are the one that I didn’t dislike at the time or decide to dislike after their win. Maybe I should have, since that Giants team gave the world Bill Belichick, but at the time, I didn’t hate the Giants for winning against the Bills. Also of questionable historical interest is to look at the coaching careers of the three head coaches who beat the Bills after those games. It turns out that beating the Bills in the Super Bowl would be, in each case, the last great thing those guys would ever do as head coaches. What does that mean? Nothing, really. It’s just mildly intriguing to me that within a year of beating the Bills in the Super Bowl, Bill Parcells, Joe Gibbs, and Jimmy Johnson were all out of coaching, at least temporarily, and when each one returned, none of them could win the Super Bowl with their new teams. (OK, it’s not that interesting. I just like to demonstrate my command of useless NFL trivia.)
Belladonna asks: My question should come as no surprise…how did the pie thing start for you?
Heh! What she’s referring to is a mutual interest of ours – well, one of several mutual interests, but definitely the oddest: we both take delight in that staple of slapstick comedy, the pie in the face. (She’s even made a birthday tradition out of it, and our mutual appreciation thereof has led her to put me on her own “bucket list”. I’m well and truly honored!)
Anyway, I remember seeing this funniest of fates befall people on many teevee shows I used to watch as a kid: Sesame Street and The Electric Company (example — yes, that’s Morgan Freeman on the receiving end), You Can’t Do That on Television (example), game shows like an incredibly goofy one called The New Treasure Hunt (example — hey, I was five when I was watching this stuff, and it was the 1970s anyway), and variety shows like The Mike Douglas Show (example featuring, appropriately enough, Moe Howard). I don’t know why, but a face full of whipped cream (or not — ouch!) really hits my funnybone on the sweet spot. Go figure. (Which is why I hated that “Ginger versus Mary Ann” ad from a few years back — not because it was gross or sexist, but because it wasn’t funny.)
Well, that was quite the range in topics in a single post, huh? From matters of faith and God to pie throwing. Wow.
(And yes, I’ve been pied in the face myself.)
I’ve made few bones here about the fact that I’m generally overweight, and have been for years. I’m not so overweight as to be unhealthy, but I am at an age where that does start to be a concern, so in recent months I’ve started to slowly move myself into a healthier kind of living. This starts with eating more fruits and vegetables, obviously, and it also involves more exercise on a regular basis. At first, exercising more meant going for brisk walks on a regular basis (four or five times a week).
Of course, the onrush of cold weather ruled out daily walking once the snow started flying, which is why my regular exercise plan fell by the wayside for a short while — until the first week of January, when we were able to activate our membership at the local Y (given to us by my parents, in one of the greatest Christmas presents they’ve ever given us).
So now we go to the Y three or four times a week, and I’m doing a combination of weight training and cardio work. I’ve been doing this for about six weeks now, and I’m feeling great: stronger, calmer, and less likely to take out my frustrations on my own fictional characters or on helpless pieces of scrap wood. I haven’t been so unfit as to be out of breath on a normal basis, but I’m noticing that it takes more work already to get my heart really racing. I’m also drinking gigantic amounts of water as many health professionals say to do. (Personally, I think that drinking lots of water is beneficial mainly because it forces you to walk more. As in, to the bathroom.)
So what’s with the picture? Well, I have no real way to quantify any weight loss I enjoy as I embark on my new “Sculpting A Better Me” focus. We don’t own a scale, and frankly, I don’t want one. Scales can be discouraging when you hit a plateau, their constant presence can lead to obsessive weight-checking, and on a sheer practical note, our bathroom is roughly the size of that video phone booth Heywood Floyd uses to call his daughter from the space station in 2001: A Space Odyssey, so there really isn’t room for a scale in the first place.
So how to know if I’m definitely losing weight? By the more-satisfying measure of how my clothes fit. Watching a number on a scale decrease over time is nice, but really, finding the shirts one wears getting bigger and finding other shirts that may have been uncomfortably tight a year ago now perfectly wearable is much nicer. Orders of magnitude nicer, actually. So is the fact that a week ago I had to buy a new (smaller) belt, because the old one simply had too much extra belt hanging off the end after I buckled it. And — ideally for me — is the fact that I’m having to shorten the straps on my overalls for the first time in several years. Huzzah!
So I’ll occasionally post another variant of this photo as I make progress reports, for comparison’s sake. I’ll have to use this one pair of overalls for this series exclusively, since I long ago discovered that the length of shoulder straps can vary between even virtually identical pairs of overalls from the exact same manufacturer. Here we go!
(By the way, I don’t know about other Y branches in Erie County, but the Southtowns branch is just a stunning facility. I just love the place, and the very best thing is that it’s all of 1.5 miles from Casa Jaquandor. Come spring and summer, I’ll be able to walk there and back again for my workouts. Life is good.)
It’s amazing how time slips away from you, isn’t it? I file things away in the back of my mind to blog about one of these days, and then I realize it’s been a couple of weeks. But hey, it’s also nice how since it’s my blog I can blather about what I want, when I want!
So, with all that said, it’s time for me to geek out a bit about the trailer for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
First of all, I know that they’ve apparently decided that every one of these tales needs to be titled along the lines of Indiana Jones and the [insert hazy reference to the story’s Maguffin here], but really, that’s an unwieldy title. Just as the very first ever Indiana Jones story for me will forever be Raiders of the Lost Ark, so too should this one simply be either Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull or Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
(Of course, this is all pretty much a useless point anyway; stand to one side of the theater box office when this opens, and what you’ll hear is “Two for Indiana Jones” all night. In fact, have you ever heard anyone approach the box office and refer to a movie with a long title by the entire title? Wouldn’t it sound weird to hear some one actually say “Can we get three tickets to the 9:15 showing of The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King? We use shorthand when referring to movies with long titles anyway.)
Where was I? Oh yeah, the Crystal Skull trailer. It’s a good trailer. Of course, most trailers are, but this one really seems to be an “Old School” trailer in that it just has little hints of what’s in the movie, as opposed to most trailers these days, where the approach seems to be “Tell the entire movie in two minutes and make sure to give away all the best stuff”. (The worst example of this I’ve ever seen is the trailer to The Perfect Storm. They just had to put the movie’s money shot, the Andrea Gail trying to surmount the unsurmountable wave, into the trailer. Oy.)
So what does the trailer say about the movie itself? Luckily, not much. It doesn’t have much dialogue at all, except for a couple of lines in the typical “Indy’s amazed at what he just did” vein, and the nice exchange where the kid (who may or may not be Indy’s son, according to fan speculation) says “You’re a teacher?” and Indy replies, “Part time”. (There’s a beat in the kid’s line, which makes me think the actual line in the movie is a bit longer and may contain an expletive.) And there are no references to the Crystal Skull at all! The trailer’s constructed of pure visuals. That being the case, what can we tell about the story?
The big revelations seem to be a quick appearance of the word “Roswell” (possibly referring to the Roswell Incident), and some derring-do that appears to take place in a Mayan pyramid. So maybe the movie’s archaeological Maguffin is the long-mysterious fall of the Mayan empire in Central America, and maybe the movie’s explanation involves aliens of some sort. I know that the previous Indiana Jones adventures have all dealt with mystical and religious themes, so a possible aliens-from-Space angle of the Erich van Daaniken variety may seem at first out of place. I’m willing to withhold judgment on this point; as Roger Ebert has said many times, “It’s not what a movie is about, but how it is about it”. There’s no reason why an aliens-and-UFOs story can’t involve religious mysticism; in fact, if you delve into UFO subcultures, you can’t really avoid religious mysticism. Indy has dealt with Old Testament relics, New Testament relics (well, kinda-sorta), and Hindu relics, each of which has very real powers. So maybe the mystical element will be present here.
Anyhow, I’m looking forward to this movie eagerly, and I actually think it’s got lots of potential to be good. What I’m really hoping for is a good adventure without too much of the “Indy’s getting old” subtext. Indiana Jones isn’t about depth; he’s about adventure and excitement. We’re supposed to trust him, even as we know that he’s making it up as he goes. My other big hope is that this film doesn’t reduce its recurring character from Raiders, Marion Ravenwood, to comic relief as Last Crusade did with Sallah and Marcus Brody. In fact, the treatment of those two characters in that movie is a big reason why it’s my least favorite Indy flick to date.
So bring on Dr. Jones!
Check out the cool photo Jason posted the other day: it’s the Thunderbirds (the USAF’s precision flying squad) doing a flyover of the launch pad of the Kennedy Space Center, with the shuttle on the pad. It’s a great shot.
(I did have to ask Jason for clarification as to why the boosters and fuel tank are visible but the orbiter itself is not, and as he explains in comments:
It’s there, it’s just hidden by the big gantry to the left of the main fuel tank and solid rocket booster. It encloses the shuttle as it sits on the pad, protecting it and giving the ground crews easy access to everything, then it swings out of the way as launchtime approaches. If you look on the ground around the pad, you can see a circular track – the moving gantry pivots on that.
You learn something every day! I figured it had to be something like that; obviously it would be kind of hard to get the orbiter mated to the booster rocket system when the rockets are already on the pad. But hey, you never know until you ask!)
Out I say!
OK, so I didn’t actually murder the King of Scotland last night on the questionable advice of three old hags who hang out in this creepy hovel out in the rocks and heather. Actually, I did a batch of tie-dying last night, a batch which was way overdue (we’ve had this pile of white clothes next to our bed for several months now), and I forgot to bring home the one essential item: gloves. Oops. So now my hands make me look like I have this weird blend of jaundice, anemia, and Columbo-itis (that’s the look of your hands after you’ve committed the bloody crime but before the good Inspector comes along and just-one-more-thing’s you into admitting your guilt).
Anyway, the clothes are now individually sealed in Ziploc bags. Later on tonight I’ll open them up, rinse them out, cut off the rubber bands, wash each one twice, and then hang them on the dryer rack. So in a day or two we’ll have new tie-dyed clothes! Wheeeee!!!
I’m most nervous about how two large swatches of fabric that The Wife asked me to tie-dye turned out. I’m hoping that even with all the folds in that fabric, the dyes still managed to get into the interior. If you’re not aggressive with squirting the dye into the folds, your resulting garments can turn out with large white areas that don’t have any dye on them at all. That happened with my first batch of home-grown tie-dye.
I’ll have pics of the new stuff in a few days.
Time for a couple of easily answered questions!
An anonymous reader asks: Whom do you prefer: Francis Crawford of Lymond or Nicholas DeFleury? Sadly, I have no preference, because I have not yet read any of the works of Dorothy Dunnett. This is a gaping hole in my reading life, I am ashamed to admit. I desperately need to get into her. (She is one of Guy Gavriel Kay’s influences, for one thing.)
Michelle (no link, so I’m not sure which Michelle) asks: What is your favorite time of day and why?
In terms of preferred times of day, I’m really pretty schizophrenic. I can pick reasons for liking every time of day. I used to loathe mornings, but years of getting up early have made me attuned to morning’s charms. There’s a crispness in the air on a fall morning, and on a humid summer morning, if you get up early enough, the mist hangs around the ground and dampens the sound of the world. I love watching the sky shift from night to morning light, and I love the stars early in the morning. A sunrise is as beautiful as a sunset, and sometimes, on certain mornings, I’ll be driving to work when I see a jet plane rising into the air from the Buffalo Niagara airport (about seven or eight miles more distant) in such a way that it catches the glow of the rising sun and shines like a sliver of new sunlight, arcing into the sky.
Besides, coffee smells the best in the morning, and that’s when waffles and maple syrup and eggs and bacon and sausage smell best.
Evenings and nights? I love them, too. These are times for delving into different worlds via books, when the moon rises and the stars shine again. Here in Buffalo we get wonderful sunsets. At night, steaks and pastas taste their best, and night time is when ales and lagers and rums refresh their best.
My problem is that I’m both a morning and a night person, which means that I end up burning that particular candle from both ends. So what does that mean as far as afternoons go? They’re for sandwiches and naps.
Oh, and every time of day is the perfect time of day for a good book and beautiful music.
Aaron asked, So, is Unidentified Earth coming back or what? Well, yes! And so far it appears to be a stumper. Apparently this particular hawk’s eye view is a difficult one. Hmmmmm!
More answers forthcoming!
Wow! Eighty movies down, and only twenty remain in my roster of One Hundred Movies That Only A Patriots Fan Could Hate. Which films shall be listed next! The tension! The anticipation! The blogger trying to fill up space at the top of his post!
20. Apollo 13
I’ve probably made this point before, but it’s my blog and I can make the point again if I want to. I think of my corporate life and every lame meeting I ever attended in which some HR guru or consultant or motivational-speaker-for-hire waxed poetic about teamwork and then made us all play unimaginably stupid games designed to “force” us to act as teams so we’d have some kind of epiphany about teamwork ourselves and all that rot, and I realize that Apollo 13 is a more effective illustration of teamwork than any management “Yay Team!” meeting ever held. Seriously; instead of a meeting, managers should just have everybody watch this movie. It’s a virtual primer on teamwork, with people working together without ever whining or questioning it or worrying about goofy turf battles because the job still has to get done or the three astronauts are going to die.
And yeah, it’s as exciting and riveting a movie as I’ve ever seen. I also consider Ed Harris’s loss of the Best Supprting Actor Oscar for this movie (to Kevin Spacey for The Usual Suspects, if I recall correctly) the single greatest miscarriage of Oscar justice in Academy Award history.
Signature moment: Any time that Ed Harris is on the screen.
19. Castle in the Sky
Hayao Miyazaki’s blend of steampunk and SF and fantasy adventure is loaded with sense of wonder. Here’s a movie with giant robots, a hidden city in the clouds, sky pirates, giant airships, a poor boy who dreams of following his father’s footsteps, a girl with a mysterious heritage and destiny, and dastardly villains. It’s also full of stunning visuals, as Miyazaki films always are. And that amazing score by Joe Hisaishi. Many rankings of Miyazaki’s films hold his later works to be greater, and perhaps they are, but this one is particularly near and dear to my heart.
Signature moment: The landing on Laputa.
18. As Good As It Gets
The romantic pairing in this movie seems odder and odder, the more I consider it: Jack Nicholson’s uber-curmudgeon Melvin falls for Helen Hunt’s down-on-her-luck Manhattan waitress Carol. When I first saw the movie, after the ending I wondered how long they could have possibly made it as a couple; but seeing it again a year or two later, I realized that a good deal of Melvin’s crusty act is just that: an act he puts on to keep himself from forming attachments he’s afraid to form. And besides, the movie is hilarious and full of terrific dialog.
Signature moment: I like how the movie flouts a lot of romantic comedy tropes. At one point, having had a fight with Carol, Melvin puts a mix-CD of love songs he’s made into the CD player in hopes of thawing her out a bit. A lesser romantic comedy would have this gambit work; in this movie, however, Carol lets the music get to about to seventh or eighth bar before ordering Melvin to shut it off. I love that.
17. Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones
Again, I’ve written a lot about this movie (look to the sidebar for details), and I’ll be virtually retooling it in the “Fixing the Prequels” series, so I won’t say a whole lot here. Suffice it to say that I continue to be flummoxed by the sheer amount of loathing directed at the Star Wars Prequel Trilogy. I watch this movie and enjoy the hell out of it every time I do. What does everybody else see that I don’t? (or more to the point, why doesn’t everybody else see what I see?)
Signature moment: Obi Wan Kenobi, Jedi Detective on Kamino. I love every one of those scenes.
16. The American President
Ahhhh, the days when Aaron Sorkin could do no wrong! How well I remember them. (Although I have heard good things about Charlie Wilson’s War, so it could be that Studio 60 was an aberration.) Michael Douglas as Andrew Shepard, the widower President of the United States who falls in love with lobbyist Sidney Ellen Wade (Annette Bening). It sets the tone that would later serve Sorkin so well on The West Wing. It’s just a great, great movie.
Signature moment: When President Shepard finally manages to give Sidney a bouquet of roses, she asks him how he got them for her (an earlier scene had him trying to order flowers himself and screwing it up), and he replies, “It turns out I’ve got a Rose Garden.” Ahhh, the days when Aaron Sorkin could give his characters good lines as opposed to having them recite speeches at one another!
15. Love, Actually
According to my list as compiled, this turns out to be my favorite romantic comedy of all time. Fancy that. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but I do unabashedly love it. I love its structure, in which it tells a bunch of separate love stories that are intertwined amongst a circle of characters who are interconnected in a very “six degrees of separation” kind of way. I admire that it doesn’t hold to a single definition of “love” for each character, instead having insight to recognize that what constitutes love may not be the same thing from person to person. I also think it’s a masterstroke that it doesn’t give each one of its mini-love tales a happy ending; one of them is actually pretty downright sad, and another seems to have no ending as such and is clearly a work-in-progress. I probably should flesh these points out in a longer post someday, but for now, Love, Actually always makes me smile and feel happy.
Signature moment: Geez, how to pick one! The movie’s one great moment after another. I’ll just choose the opening sequence, a montage of people greeting loved ones at the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport as Hugh Grant (who later on turns out to play the British Prime Minister) delivers a wonderful little monologue that manages to include the words of the film’s title. It’s as good an opening to a movie as I can recall.
14. Titanic
I swear, as long as I live I will never understand the ferocity of the backlash against this movie. One is more likely to get someone to admit to liking the flavor of braised puppy in dolphin sauce than to liking Titanic. Sure, some of the dialog is clunky, but it’s not that clunky; sure, the love story is fairly corny, but it’s no more corny than any other romance flick; in fact, I think it’s probably less corny than most these days. And of course, there’s that magnificent ship, steaming full-ahead toward its grim fate. I think the movie holds up just fine. So there.
Signature moment: The sketching of the portrait. It’s a great scene because of that wonderful solo piano rendition of the love theme that underscores the sequence. Oh, and because Kate Winslet’s nude.
13. Peter Pan
This is my all-time favorite Disney movie. Maybe it’s the pirate angle; maybe it’s the magic of the flying sequence. Yes, the telling of J.M. Barrie’s Pan story is sanitized a bit, but it’s still full of magic and excitement. The story’s notion that being an adult with no real memory of childhood is in no way preferable to remaining a child forever is a pretty sophisticated moral.
Signature moment: “You Can Fly”.
12. Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
The best of the Prequel Trilogy (and a pox on the house of the first commenter to mutter, “That’s not saying much”). For more on why I think so, see the review of the movie linked in the sidebar. I found the movie powerful, emotional, exciting, and a worthy conclusion to the cinematic Star Wars experience.
Signature moment: The Battle of the Heroes.
11. The Sea Hawk
Errol Flynn at the height of his powers as Captain Geoffrey Thorpe, one of the “Sea Hawks”, a group of privateer ship captains who pirated Spanish vessels as the threat of the Armada became more and more clear. I know that The Adventures of Robin Hood is the duly-admitted classic in the canon, but this film us actually closer to my heart. I still remember the first time I saw it: I was ten years old, in fifth grade, when Channel 7 in Buffalo ran it one Saturday afternoon, back in the days when one could catch up on one’s old-movie-watching via regular old teevee stations. I even remember the movie snack that day: a can of Planter’s Cheese Balls. (Hey, whatever happened to Planters Cheese Balls?) Anyway, all this movie needs, frankly, is a more charismatic villain.
Signature moment: “Strike for the shores of Dover!”
And there we are. Next time, we’ll wrap it all up with the Top Ten. Won’t that be exciting! It’s not every day that you get to see a series of blog posts limp to a conclusion, is it?
SamuraiFrog did this quiz a day or two ago, and though it doesn’t feature tagging, I’m grabbing it anyway, because it’s actually interesting and it’s a quiz. It’s about the Bible.
1. What translation of the Bible do you like best?
I’m always a bit amazed at the sheer number of Bible translations that exist, and the many ways in which the translations selected greatly impact people’s personal versions of Christianity. I can’t honestly claim to have a “preferred” translation, since I am only familiar with two – the two I own copies of, as luck would have it. Everyone agrees that for sheer poetry and beauty of language, the King James Version can’t be beat. My study Bible is the “Today’s New International Version”. I don’t really have an opinion on how it stands up as a translation or as a doctrinal document, and it seems pretty readable to me, so I’m fine with it. I bought this particular version more because of the additional materials it came with (maps, illustrations, commentary, and a nice concordance) than out of any allegiance to the translation.
But come to that, when I was shopping for a study Bible, I was struck by the sheer number of Bibles that are out there, the price that some of them command, and the fact that Bible publishers seem to want Bible-shopping to be difficult because more often than not the bloody book is shrink wrapped. There were several study Bibles that I wanted to thumb through to compare with the one I bought, but as those were shrink-wrapped and this one wasn’t, I made my choice accordingly.
Also come to think of it, here’s an interesting rant I found the other day on the topic of that incredibly thin paper Bibles are often printed upon. While I can see the point, I’ve never personally been bothered by bleed-through like this; in fact, I wish someone would print a Complete Works of Shakespeare on paper like this, so I could carry one around with me. None of my current three Complete Shakespeares are the kinds of books one wants to keep in one’s bookbag at all times.
2. Old or New Testament?
As far as what? The OT is always fascinating, of course, and it contains a great deal of stunning poetic language, especially in the Psalms and Ecclesiastes. But it’s also got all the blood-soaked material, which is fascinating in itself but not terribly inspiring in terms of morality, and it’s got all that incredibly creepy Law stuff in Leviticus. Frankly, the God of the OT is a very hard to swallow deity. The NT has the four Gospels, which of course contain the story of Jesus, which is surely one of the most compelling of all stories, whether you believe or not. Revelation is, of course, a pretty wildly trippy book. I haven’t made up my mind on Paul’s letters. Paul seems to vacillate wildly between sage wisdom and assertions that sometimes actually irritate me.
3. Favorite Book of the Bible?
The Song of Songs, which doesn’t seem to come up all that often in church. I wonder why.
4. Favorite Chapter?
Luke, chapter 2. It’s the most poetic of the Bible’s versions of the Nativity tale. This chapter is where the KJV stands above every other translation, in my opinion.
5. Favorite Verse?
There are a lot of verses I’ve come to love a lot since I’ve become exposed to the Bible, but for reasons of writerly admiration I have to cite the final sentence of the Gospel According to John (John 21:25):
And there are also many other things which Jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain all the books that should be written. Amen. (KJV)
Or:
Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written. (TNIV)
That’s a really good ending sentence, I think.
6. Bible character you think you’re most like?
Wow, I have no idea. I guess I’ll take the easy way and name Thomas, since I doubt stuff. A lot.
7. One thing from the Bible that confuses you?
Just one thing? I don’t believe a more confusing book than the Bible exists. When I read the Exodus story a few years ago, this passage from Ex. 4:21 hit me between the eyes:
And the Lord said to Moses, “When you return to Egypt, see that you perform before Pharaoh all the wonders I have given you the power to do. But I will harden his heart so that he will not let the people go. (TNIV)
Emphasis added. That little bit, right there, seems to imply that Pharaoh’s not the villain of the Exodus tale he’s always made out to be, doesn’t it? It almost implies that if the Lord doesn’t “harden his heart”, the conversation between Moses and Pharaoh would run something thusly:
And Moses said, “Let my people go.” And Pharaoh, thinking at length, replied “Go, please. Here’s a map, and make sure you pack enough sandwiches for everyone.”
OK, that’s a bit flip, but the ensuing chapters, in which Moses is able through the Lord’s power to visit upon Egypt all those plagues, repeat the stuff about the Lord hardening Pharaoh’s heart, so Pharaoh is reduced to being a mere pawn in some game of God’s, as opposed to being what he’s usually depicted as: a guy who clings to his old Gods to his detriment. Given that this hardening of hearts leads right to God slaying all the firstborn, what does that say about God’s nature? And come to that, if God is a loving God when Jesus comes along, why did God change?
While I’m at it, the tale of Sodom and Gomorrah bothers me. Two angels come to live with Lot, and when a bunch of men come to his house and demand that he send the angels outside so they can have carnal relations with them, Lot’s response is, in my eyes, pretty staggering. He basically says: “I’m not sending these men outside to have sex with you! Here, rape my two virgin daughters instead!” (This is in Genesis 19.)
8. Moses or Paul?
Moses, I guess. His story is a pretty amazing epic, all things considered.
(And here’s my excuse to use this pic, snagged from John Scalzi from a while back:
That totally cracked me up, first time I saw it.)
9. A teaching from the Bible that you struggle with or don’t get?
John 14:6.
Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
I’d honestly hate to think that good people who aren’t Christians in life will be turned away by God for this reason. I have a very hard time with this notion.
10. Coolest name in the Bible?
Is there any doubt? Nebuchadnezzar, of course!
11. What are you wearing right now?
OK, that’s not really on the original version of the quiz. It just seems like that question has to come up on every quiz, no matter what the topic.
The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer
