rebecca LANDO

topherchris:

or: I Tell You My True Feelings on a Little Movie Called Avatar.

It’s called unobtanium. The entire premise of the movie is that humans have travelled a great distance so they can dig up some material called unobtanium to save mankind. Jim Cameron thinks calling it unobtanium is clever. I think Jim Cameron is the Prince of Darkness.

Okay, so we have this tribe of tall blue monsters that seem to have a utopian society going on. My ass. I’ve never thought utopia could be so fucking boring. Where’s their art? The most exciting thing these creatures can do is fly their pet dragons around. Wow.

Is there any conflict in the world of the Na’vi? I can’t think of any. They have perfect unity and perfect understanding with their perfect surroundings. Why do they even bother to have tough-guy warriors? Other than to be dicks to Jake Sully in an obvious and trite plot point, I’m not sure what the hell they’re supposed to be doing.

EXT PANDORA - WIDE SHOT - DAY
  
The fucking mountains are floating in midair. Do you hear me?  
The. Fucking. Mountains. Are. Floating.

Do I have this right? Humanity needs something for survival that we somehow know is under a big-ass tree on an alien world, and in addition to sending out a mercenary army of soldiers, the company also sends a unit of super smart dudes who’ve cloned the aliens and allow humans to run around as said aliens and see everything from their vantage.

How does this make any sense?

How are these cloned freaks supposed to convince the Na’vi to do anything? True, it eventually turns out that Jake Sully made a great undercover operative, but that was merely an accident. I still don’t understand why they didn’t kill him. This corporation is sitting on some totally badass technology that would be better served in a different movie.

Pandora itself was my biggest disappointment. Okay, sure, it looked cool. It’s supposed to look cool. My biggest problem with the environment is that everything — every single thing we ever see — had a purpose that was made immediately clear to a dumbed-down audience. See some cool plants that look somewhat like drums? Well, what do you know: Jake hits them and they light up and look all cool. Flying jellyfish look all mystical? Every time they show up it means… something important and probably mystical!

All I’m saying is, when you’re creating an entire planet, it’d be okay to have some random stuff going on that makes no sense and that is never explained. The more you spoon feed it all to me, the less you’re letting me use my own imagination.

3D? Yeah, I’m not sold. The 2D footage I’ve seen in TV commercials looks more crisp and bright to me than what I saw in a theater. I don’t know if Jim Cameron was actually serious about trying to make digital 3D a mainstream format, but I cannot see how he succeeded. Personally, I think the entire emphasis on 3D projection was a shrewd PR move for an otherwise average movie.

Finally, those Mecha suits need to be shelved for a while. Apparently, human combat stopped evolving at Aliens.

Yep. I was also actually offended at the portrayal of the Na’vi as a cross-ethnic tribe of ‘noble savages’ whose traits (physical, philosophical, and spiritual) borrowed like a Benneton ad from pretty much every culture we whiteys have colonized. Was James Cameron/the movie trying to tell me that Native Americans, Africans, Indians, and Arabs are pretty much all the same peaceful, earth-loving, uncivilized-but-spiritually-advanced people? But, then again, that’s what makes the idea of the ‘noble savage’ offensive in the first place, so I guess so.

People are all impressed because Cameron spent 10 years making this movie. Okay. The special effects are nice. But it would have been nicer if, in those 10 years, Cameron had learned how to write a passably human-sounding line of dialogue or tried a little harder to make his world/characters/situation more unique. I get it - the movie plays to the multiplex heartland of America. From this, I infer that Cameron/the studio see modern day middle Americans as our own ‘native savages’: people worth the $10 price of a movie ticket (more, in 3D) but who are too dumb/uncultured to deserve a movie with brains, with a little weirdness*, with any innovation in the story.

Anyway, it’s like Fern Gully meets Land of the Ewoks, but Lite.

*Besides alien/avatar sex, of course.

Forgive me, but this review kind of cracked me up.

Rarely these days do I have time to read an issue of The New Yorker, let alone an entire novel. But Colson Whitehead’s Sag Harbor was at the top of my must-do list ever since I read an excerpt of it in The New Yorker last winter.

It’s always a thrill to read someone else’s perceptions of a place you know and love. Kit’s parents have a place in Sag and I spend 9 months of the year waiting impatiently for the few weekends we can get out there in the summer. The book takes place in the summer of 1985, but Whitehead’s descriptions, his comfortable but eager familiarity of places like the potato fields along Scuttlehole Road, the Haunted House by the town dump, the Hardware Store in Town, the paper plates at Conca d’Oro - this is exactly how we see, remember, talk about Sag Harbor. These are our places, too.

This sense of a shared, secret familiarity extends beyond the physical boundaries and landmarks of Sag Harbor right into the narrator, Benji Cooper’s, self-conscious view of the world and himself. Benji is a 15 year old black kid; I am a 26 year old white Jewish woman. But so often, when Benji talked about himself or shared his perspective, I thought, that’s me. A strange but comforting familiarity. You are not alone in the world, no matter how lonely, alienated, or outcast you feel. As Jonathan Lethem said in his review of Sag Harbor, it’s “a book that made me immediately feel less lonely.”

This sense of a lost, private familiarity extends beyond the location and descriptions of Sag Harbor, beyond Benji’s character and narration, and into Whitehead’s writing itself. He turns a phrase like a poet, making you appreciate not just the story, but the point of view of the writing, the words chosen and the visuals they conjured a perfect mix of unique and known.

Sag Harbor isn’t a long novel, and I devoured it over the course of a plane ride and a few spare bedtime hours. In June, when I head out for the first Sag Harbor weekend of the year, I’ll take it with me and reread it, then take a walk around Benji’s Sag Harbor and see if the novel’s sense of familiarity permeates into modern-day reality. I have a feeling it will.

filmosophy:

A FREUDIAN NIGHTMARE OF BLOODY CAVES

by Letitia Trent

A nice, simple review of a really good movie. Check it out and then go see The Descent, if you haven’t already.

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urbanfoodie:

The one-hour drive up to Napa Valley from San Francisco was filled with anticipation. My friends and I were meeting up with some other friends who I had not seen in a couple of years. The plan was to meet up in Yountville for brunch at one of my favorite restaurants - ad hoc. Ad hoc is the most casual of Thomas Keller’s three restaurants (the others being The French Laundry, Bouchon, and also Bouchon Bakery) all within half a mile of each other on Washington Street. Originally, ad hoc was meant to be a temporary restaurant as another restaurant was in development (supposedly a burger place!). Ad hoc was a hit and became a fixture in September 2007. The prix-fixe menu changes daily, featuring a four-course dinner for $49 and a Sunday three-course brunch every week for $34.

What I love about ad hoc is that it is fine-dining quality food in a setting that evokes a sense of “home.” The dark wood decor, accented with mirrors and the occasional chalkboard surface to note the daily menu represent a no-fuss ambiance that is more Pottery Barn than you would expect from a restauranteur and chef with seven Michelin stars (thanks AJ for the correction!). All the food is served family-style and in generous fashion (psst: you can even ask for seconds of anything, though you likely won’t have room for it). The servers, clad in their casual brown Dickies uniforms, are friendly and even patient in the face of the legions of food nerds who come in and photograph every course at varying angles. One of the servers was even super nice enough to take a number of photos of my friends and me outside the restaurant in various spots of the garden, all on his off time. Nice fellow, wish I remembered his name.

My previous visits to ad hoc were overall quite positive. Their braised short ribs made me believe in beef again, and the now-famous fried chicken is officially Last Meal status. I once had a meal that was so-so (too fatty and salty, is that possible?), but 3 out of 4 times have been great. For all my fond memories and expectations, this meal did not disappoint.

Almost immediately after we sat down, a large wood board displayed three types of quickbreads: lemon-blueberry, raspberry, and carrot cake. Each of the fresh-out-of-the-oven mini-loaves were light and moist inside, with a crisp outer layer and a dusting of powdered sugar. My favorite was the lemon-blueberry, citrus and berries being a winning combination for me. I also had a watermelon-mint sangria that was, frankly, watery and pretty forgettable. I didn’t even drink the whole thing, which means either I’m getting to be an old lady, or it just wasn’t very good.

The quick bread starters were served with a lime zested citrus yogurt and another bowl of marinated pineapple, white pomegranate, and apples. Although butter was also on-hand, I appreciated the tang of the yogurt as a refreshing condiment for the slightly sweet bread.

Next up was the main attraction: Eggs-in-the-basket (which, I swear I’ve seen listed as eggs-in-a-hole elsewhere…). A heavily buttered piece of thick brioche toast was filled with fresh canadian bacon, two poached hen eggs, and a whole grain mustard soubise (read: a bechamel sauce with onions). The eggs were perfectly poached, yielding a luxuriously fresh, creamy yolk that is sopped up by the dense toast. The canadian bacon provided a smoky point without being overwhelmingly salty, and the soubise was so light yet bursting with savory flavor that it made me want to lick my plate. I only wish that I had asked for more soubise on the side. Believe me, hollandaise has nothing on this sauce. If you’re not into eggs, I suppose that this might not be an impressive meal. Fortunately, I have a major thing for poached and soft boiled eggs, so this was a great dish for me. Two sides accompanied the egg baskets: one pile of haricot verts from The French Laundry garden, cooked with piquillo peppers and another heap of simple roasted, buttery fingerling potatoes.

By the time the dessert came out, I was stuffed and grateful for my choice of a knit dress (by no coincidence). We had baked lady gala apples with housemade vanilla ice cream, butterscotch, and pecans. From my experience, ad hoc fresh fruit desserts are much better than their baked goods and other desserts. In fact, on my first trip to ad hoc, I fell in love with mixed berries and cream.

Could I make this at home? I guess. Especially with the new ad hoc cookbook out. But could I make it like this with this detail and these ingredients? Ehh, probably not within my graduate student means and schedule. This is the essence of why I love ad hoc. It has all the elements of my favorite kinds of meals: delicious food that has a sense of familiarity, simplicity, and lack of pretension - executed with class and care. Overall, it was a lovely, satisfying brunch made more wonderful by the company of friends. It was even more special because I had introduced Susannah and Arnold to each other a few years ago via their respective personal food blogs (though these days Sus mostly writes about food through her YumSugar moniker), and this was their first time meeting in person. We spent the rest of the afternoon visiting Bouchon Bakery and checking out The French Laundry’s garden, and then some of us went on to taste some bubbly at Mumm winery. Though the weather was a bit cloudy and cool, the idyllic Napa experience was alive and well in the spirit of the day. Thanks for brunch and a great trip, guys!

I want to go to there so very, very badly.

filmosophy:

by Letitia Trent

Let’s get this out of the way: Meryl Streep is wonderful in Julie and Julia, as you have probably already gathered from reviews and previews of the film. I have no idea if she actually captures anything but the outward tics of the real Julia Child (her booming voice, tipsy posture, and goofy sense of humor), but Streep creates somebody who I hope existed.  Her Julia is lively, funny, bawdy, and adventurous.  She’s also lusty - the scenes between Child and her husband Paul (played by Stanley Tucchi) are full of, well, sex, or at least hints of sex, which you don’t often see in films about marriage or middle-aged couples.

Streep’s Julia springs to life minus the tedious flashbacks and psychologizing that usually accompany any famous figure in a movie, which is a credit to writer/director Nora Ephron, who certainly could have given a 6-foot-tall woman, who remained a virgin until almost 40, some deep dark psychological hangups. Thankfully, the movie doesn’t try to construct any great moments of humiliation, loss, or challenge to pin Julia’s ambitions on: Julia sets out in creating her book almost by accident; her great passion seems to be for the joys of life, not the rewards of a writing or cooking career.

So, yes, the parts of the movie about Julia Child are delightful in a light, fun way. Unfortunately, the entire movie isn’t about Julia Child. It’s also about Julie Powell, a thirty-year-old writer working a miserable deskjob who, in 2003, begins to blog her way through Julia Child’s French Cookbook.  The movie crosscuts between Julia - and her budding career as an expert in French cooking - and Julie, as she cooks through the book and, in turn, gets her own book deal and learns something about herself. Or so I suppose that is what we are supposed to get out of it.  The film offers a few misty moments where Julie thanks Julia for “saving her” (giving her something to do after work?), but it’s never clear exactly what Julie was saved from - not ever getting a book published? Working a crappy job?

This general fuzziness around Powell’s character is the primary problem of Julie and Julia.  It’s hard to know exactly who she is.  The viewer is supposed to believe that Powell is self-centered, neurotic, and domineering.  It’s hard to believe this, though, when Powell is played by an actress like Amy Adams, whose big-eyed adorableness belies almost all of her attempts at annoying us with her supposed self-obsession.

The “Julie” part of the movie also has a loving married couple at its center: Powell and her husband, Eric (Chris Messina).  Although neither Adams nor Messina are bad in the film (in fact, they both have some lovely moments), they just don’t make sense as the characters they are supposed to be.  Messinna is the saintly husband who bends over backwards for Powell despite the stresses of her project, but I had a hard time figuring out exactly how she was more neurotic and self-centered after beginning the project, since pre-project she seemed equally whiny and self-centered (if in a generally affable and adorable way - we are talking about Amy Adams here).

When Eric does finally stop being the most agreeable husband in the world, he chooses a strange moment to let loose - right after Julie misses out on an opportunity to do an interview with a New York Times columnist about her blog.  Frankly, it seemed like a pretty good moment for her to act whiny and defeated.  In a scene where we are supposed to sympathize with Eric’s anger, the audience is left confused - and these moments happen throughout the movie. At one point, when Julie’s friend agrees that she is a “bitch”, I actually had to go back and think if I’d missed some scene in which Amy Adams had acted like a bitch. But no, this was yet another part of her personality that simply didn’t come through on screen.

Although Adams and Messinna do their best, it’s clear the writing just isn’t there to give them any real characters to play, and any characterizations they try to offer up don’t quite fit the formulaic plot of the movie, which seems to necessitate some big bust-up between the lovers at the eleventh hour.   This is another primary problem with Julie and Julia- it tries to fit within the conventions of a romantic comedy without actually being a romantic comedy. Part of the reason why the Julia scenes work so much better than the Julie ones is that Julia’s story doesn’t allow for this kind of plot.  Streep and Tucci express their various dissapointments and uncertainties in ways that ring true to actual experience. Julia’s struggle to get her book published doesn’t involve a dramatic argument or Julia breaking down in tears in the street of Paris - she smokes, she complains to her friends and husband, and she lives her everyday life despite a real disappointment.

This is a movie that doesn’t need a big moment of tension or a “make or break” scene. It could have been a lovely meditation on frustrated modern ambition being overcome by a sheer love of life, and the art that can pour out of it.  The lesson here is that Julia enjoyed her life, even before she had a book. To make Julie, the polar opposite of Julia, a real character, Ephron should have put more time into giving her some context.  How long has she wanted to be a writer? What does her husband do for a living? Who are her favorite writers? We don’t really learn anything about who Julie is aside from the telegraphed indications of what kind of person she’s supposed to be.

I was ready to go into the movie rooting for Julie. After all, I’m a writer who hasn’t managed to publish a book yet. I’m almost thirty. I have a copy of the Julia Child cookbook and love French food. I’ve had many a crappy desk job. And I even have a saintly husband. Still, I couldn’t quite root for Julie and spent most of the modern-day scenes waiting for Meryl Streep to come back on screen.

Letitia Trent is a writer, poet, and teacher living in Vermont. Her chapbook, The Medical Diaries, was recently published by Scantily Clad Press.  She keeps a baking blog here.

My thoughts exactly.

I didn’t care about Julie’s storyline; the film didn’t give me a reason to care and I found a lot of her storyline to be contradictory (when her friend calls her a bitch) or unfounded (Eric calling her selfish - she’s no more so than your average young American). But the Julia Child story, I could have watched a full film just on that. The Julia part of the movie was like the real story, the grown-up movie. Whenever it cut back to the Julie story, I felt like it was kiddie time.

Also, did anyone else feel like Julie and her friends spoke, look, and acted more like they were hitting 40 instead of 30? I’m in my late 20s, a lot of my friends are already 30, and none of them are anything like the Julie people in this movie at all.