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| august 15th 2005 so i grew up in a small town. granted, it had a university and all, but basically, it was tiny-town. casey visited it once, and declared it “children of the corn” meets “pleasantville.” my childhood entertainment consisted mainly of making dams in the street gutters, so when they flushed the system we could play “sea wars.” i also got in on the game of choice in our neighborhood, kickball, but since i was a girl my involvement was infrequent at best. mostly, i read a lot, and fought with my siblings. but lo and behold, one day early in my seventh year, i heard a phrase that would change my life. the circus is coming to town. my parents, being the proud but weary progenitors of five children as well as a struggling business, rarely had the time or money to take the whole brood out on the town. but i think they wanted this for us, a moment of unfettered childhood delight, and made the decision. we were going. we were going! i thought i was going to expire with anticipation. i checked out picture books from the library about elephants and tigers, and practiced my ringmaster skills in the privacy of my room. yeah, i’ve always been a dork. on the day, i could barely contain my excitement. my two older sisters, being 15 and 16, were completely teenage-blasé about the whole thing. my older brother, at age 9, was torn between the little boy and the macho man. i could tell he was out of his mind like i was, but trying to hide the hell out of it and be cool. my little sister, at age 3, had no idea what was going on. so we’re walking up to the coliseum, seven strange mormons in the middle of iowa going to the circus. my mother splurged outside the gate and bought me a glossy booklet from a vendor that detailed the performers and acts. this is why i love my mother. she knew i wanted it so badly, and though it cost some ridiculous amount of money, she bought it just to see the look in my eyes. i still have that program today, and flip through it occasionally. i imagine the look in my eyes is the same. as we bought our tickets, a clown came up to us and started trying to get my little sister to laugh. she, of course, immediately started wailing and burrowing herself into my mother. she’s still creeped out by clowns to this day. i, of course, thought it was magic. the clown, orange hair like electricity and covered in purple and yellow polka dots, asked my parents if any of their children would like to be part of the show. mouth agape, i could only nod as my mother pointed to me and said “this little one would.” the clown stuck a big orange sticker on my shirt, winked at me, and took off down the walkway, limbs akimbo. i thought i was going to burst. i heard a ringing in my head. then i realized it was because my brother walloped me in protest. he had wanted to be the one, but hadn't said anything; i think he was angrier at himself for not saying anything than he was at me for wearing my circus heart on my sleeve. my dad upbraided him and made him apologize to me. i didn’t care. i really didn’t. i was going to be in the freakin’ circus. we sat ourselves on the bleachers, which would have been uncomfortable had i not been standing practically the whole time in order to see as much as i could; the high wire acts, the tiger tricks, the clown skits and the dazzling ringmaster in his red sequined jacket and black silk top hat. i drank it all in, lapped it up like a thirsty pup. and then came the elephants. holy freak, they were huge to me back then. decked out in fluorescent rainbow feathers and fringe and flanked by showgirls whose headdresses were half as tall as they were, they trundled into the ring at the same time as the ringmaster called out to the children in the crowd with orange stickers. we were to come down and stand in the middle of the elephants. scared out of my mind, but determined to do this (i was always unnaturally stubborn) i waved goodbye to my family and headed down the steps to the ring, where clowns were stationed to lead us to the center. i noticed that some kids were crying, and had to be taken back to their parents. others had brought their parents along. i was alone in my fortitude, and i felt so proud of myself. i am cara, hear me roar. when we were all herded up, and in close proximity to the elephants, i noticed that they had contraptions strapped to them that formed a sort of six-seated saddle with guard rails on their backs. no way. no freakin’ way. uh huh. we all got hoisted up on the beasts, strapped in, and we started moving. i remember the surprisingly smooth gait of their walk, their leathery skin and bristly hairs, and the incredibly high view as we paraded around the ring a couple of times. it seemed an eternity of bright lights, calliope music and a little bit of vertigo, to be honest. willing myself not to be sick, i clutched tight to the rails and smiled until my cheeks hurt. i wanted to wave, but didn’t dare let go. and then, all too soon, we stopped. after getting lowered down and led back to my family, i watched the rest of the show in a strangely restless state. it all ended in a dazzling finale, but i can’t tell you much of what happened after my ride. i couldn’t sit still. i couldn’t focus. we walked back to the car amidst the throngs, and though i was still smiling, i also ached. it wasn’t until years later that figured it all out. the little girl in me had realized, high up on that elephant’s back, that the way she saw life was never going to be the same. that she would always be waiting to get back up there, and take a ride into the bright lights and lilting music of a life full of wonder and surprise. and that, most likely, it wouldn't happen again. i should never have let them take me down. the most amazing thing about this story is that it isn’t true. yes, i went to the circus as a kid. i don’t really remember much, though, and i certainly didn’t ride an elephant. everything else is a figment of this fragmented mind. but you trusted me, didn’t you? yeah, you did. did i betray that trust? maybe. it all depends on whether or not you liked the story. some would say that it doesn’t matter if you liked it or not. i still lied. i would say that truth is relative, and trust is rare. and forgiveness… well, forgiveness isn’t always possible. because you should never let them take you down. august 18th 2005 once in a great while, you come across a movie that is so breathtakingly, awesomely, stupendously bad, you must do everything you can to warn others away from it. enter alexander, directed by oliver stone. okay, so i knew it wasn’t going to be rashomon after seeing the trailers for it, but i held out hope that ollie would do right by me and the countless other history geeks out there. stone’s work, though at times inaccurate when dealing with matters of long ago, usually holds that indefinable something that grabs you and won’t let go and allows you to forget his little historical indiscretions. jfk, platoon, natural born killers… need i go on? so, i made the leap and, thanks to ollie, i landed in a huge pile of shit. please note that this review applies to the director’s cut, which is inexplicably 8 minutes shorter than the theatrical release. the script for a movie about one of the greatest conquerors ever born, rarely do you ever see alexander actually win a battle. most of the time is spent away from the field, which is odd when you realize that alexander was really only the sum of his conquests. the imagery is hokey to the extreme, with the recurring themes of birds and titans and a dead father that haunts his victories and defeats. places are identified by their ancient names, like bactria, which gives you no context for the scope of his travels. i mean, who the hell knows the geographic signifigance of bactria? the chronology is also seriously screwed, jumping back and forth in time so much that you’re never really sure when and where you are. this becomes severely anti-climatic, as you see the results of a long ago feud/event/relationship before you see the scene in which it began. and at over 2 hours in length, you just want him to die, already, and put us all out of our misery. the effects the battles consist of gallons of blood and the now-ubiquitous gladiator-style shaky/strobe camera work, which only served to make me queasy. the use of color is truly offensive; opening and closing sequences are done in blue, and made to look like water with stuff in it. blah. when alexander is speared through the chest, his vision turns red, but it’s an electric sort of red, and becomes the colour de shot for everything, even events that he wasn’t witnessing. and the birds shimmer with a yellow halo. duh, purity? whack me over the head a little harder, why don’t you? the actors colin farrell as alexander? gimme a break. unnaturally blond and displaying an annoying habit of whining about “freeing the people of the world,” he just doesn’t ring true. alexander was a mean sonofabitch intent on world domination, and farrell portrays him as a new-age kind of guy who just wants to be liked. not to mention his disturbing tendency to revert to his native irish accent. what? huh? i’ve seen him do some good stuff in the past, but i’m not sure he’ll ever recover from this one. angelina jolie as olympias, alexander’s mother, is atrocious. speaking her lines in a deep russian accent (yeah, ya got me there, i can’t even begin to figure that one out), she’s the archetypal smothering mother who's got a major jones on for her son and for power. weird, and not in a good way. val kilmer as philip, alexander’s father, spends the movie with a prosthetic scar over one eye, drinking, whoring and wandering around in dank dungeons muttering about the treachery of the gods. it was slightly comical, but more so embarrassing. you’re better than that, val. at least i hope so. jared leto shares top billing as hephaistion, alexander’s great love, but is hardly in the picture and has no backstory or presence whatsoever. much is made in the film about it being “natural and good for two men to lie together,” but when it comes down to their sexual relationship, all they ever do is hug. and they both seem slightly uncomfortable with doing even that. come on, guys. rosario dawson rounds out the headliners as roxane, alexander’s barbarian bride from persia. she does a pretty cool dance, but that’s about the extent of her involvement beyond looking exotic and slightly disgusted by alexander’s behavior. and it’s worth mentioning that although she has even less screen time than leto, she gets fully naked with farrell at the get go. so, to sum up: dawson's breasts okay, men kissing not. got it. next? that’s all you basically need to know. hopefully it’s enough that you’ll know to avoid it at all costs. note that i didn’t include a section about plot or story; there is none. there’s really not. if you still think it might be worth a look, read my ultra-condensed version (as condensed as i could make it, anyway) below, inspired by the lovely miss anna, which should dispel any lingering doubts. and if you still insist on seeing it, and god forbid, like it, i have only four words for you: you’re dead to me. and now, the horror that is alexander, as seen through the eyes of the bruce, a true warrior… anthony hopkins: i know i’m covered in liver spots and wearing a toga, but take me seriously, please. cadmos the scribe: (writes and looks attentive) anthony hopkins: i’m ptolemy, and i fought with alexander. he was the greatest man ever. (image of a bird) 12-year-old alexander: damn, hephaistion, you’re a good wrestler. but you won’t beat me again. 12-year-old hephaistion: (smirks) anthony hopkins voice-over: it was said that alexander never lost a battle, except between hephaistion’s thighs.* (image of a bird) angelina jolie in a russian accent: come pet my snake and lie in bed with me. 6-year-old alexander: okay, mom. val kilmer: whore! barbarian! sorceress! bitch! bring me more wine! (image of bird) christopher plummer: i’m aristotle. look on me as a surrogate father. i will teach you everything you need to know. the earth is round, and it's awesome to sleep with another guy. 12-year-old hephaistion: (smirks) 12-year-old alexander: cool. (image of a bird) 12-year-old alexander: dad, i’m gonna be so damn famous. val kilmer: sure, but watch out for the gods. they put a major hurt on people for no reason. 12 year old alexander: okay, dad. (image of a bird) colin farrell: i’m 20 now, and avenging my father’s death. die, persians! (image of a bird) jared leto: don’t let my pretty chestnut hair and warm doe-like eyes distract you, alexander. i’m a warrior too. a warrior who loves you. (alexander and hephaistion hug) colin farrell: you’re the love of my life. rosario dawson in a russian accent: you luff heem?!? (hephaistion looks soulfully at alexander and leaves) colin farrell: there are many ways to love.* now let’s get naked and procreate. (image of a bird) alexander’s troops: it’s been seven years, dude. we’re tired of india. and although we’re warriors and hardened men who have sired countless numbers of illegitimate children on this march, we really love our wives and children at home and we just want to return to them. colin farrell going crazy: cowards! arrest them! kill them all! alexander’s troops: hey! what the hell?!? colin farrell: i know i have long curly blond hair, but you must follow me anyway. alexander’s troops: okay, alexander. (image of a bird) colin farrell: i’m here to free the people of india! die, indians! (alexander gets speared) colin farrell: damn, that hurts. let’s go home. (image of a bird) jared leto: i’m dying of a strange disease from india. (alexander and hephaistion hug) colin farrell: you are the love of my life. (hepaistion dies) colin farrell going crazy: conspirators! arrest them! kill them all! (image of a bird) colin farrell: damn, i’m dying of the same strange disease from india. roxane: i don’t know why i’m upset, because we’ve hardly ever spoken, but don’t die! colin farrell reaching towards image of a bird: afterlife, here i come. (alexander dies) (image of a bird) anthony hopkins: yes, he was a titan. we killed him, because he was a dreamer.* cadmos the scribe: (writes and looks attentive) anthony hopkins: sorry. kinda. (image of a bird) *actual lines from film. i shit you not. grade for artistic value: f- grade for the inclusion of warriors with warm doe-like eyes: c+ |
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| august 05 blog |
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| it's always good to visit the past... i just wouldn't want to live there. |
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