Robert Ebert is a very smart man…

by Maria on December 11, 2009

in Televisión y Pelicula

From the first time I paid attention to him, over a decade ago now, I’ve thought he was genius. He has a way of seeing and interpreting movies that not many other people possess. Even when I disagree with him, I still see his points. And he’s right on with this answer from his Answer Man column about kids and film. I’m determined to make sure my girls enjoy all kinds, see all kinds. I decide what is appropriate for them, not the corrupt and ridiculous MPAA and most of what’s out for kids right now, in America, is crap. Entertaining crap, but crap nonetheless.

______________________________________

Q. My 8-year-old son Andrew has taken an interest in my movie collection. We’ve been watching movies atypical for someone that young: “Rushmore,” “Spellbound” (the spelling bee documentary), “The Right Stuff,” “Tell No One” (with subtitles no less!) and this past Friday, a movie near and dear to you: “Dark City.”

It appears that kids can handle complex characters and story lines better than we think. Very rarely do I have to explain what was going on, and his comments indicate that he is getting it (during “Rushmore”: “Sometimes Max is not nice, but I like him”; on the ending of “Dark City,” “He knows all about her, but she doesn’t know about him!”)

What strikes me the most is how “natural” cinematic grammar is understood by children. No one has to sit down and explain things like cutaways, flashbacks, dream sequences, POV shots and the passage of time in films. How do they learn this stuff? Also, do you think the thematic material in the movies I listed is too much for 8-year-olds, or can I continue to brag and bore my friends?
Mike Spearns, St. Johns, Newfoundland

A. Start bragging. IMHO, kids up until about the age of 11 are more open to good movies than they will be again for some years, unless they fall prey to the deadening effect of peer pressure. A kid knows, as any adult does, that “Twilight” is a crashing bore. I suspect many teenagers like it because they have been ordered to by their peers.

Younger children instinctively love a Miyazaki animated film more than the meaningless action of films like “Monsters vs. Aliens” or “Kung Fu Panda.” They’re open to the magic. Later, some seem to need to be battered by noise and chaos.

I’ve never met a preschooler who did not respond well to silent comedy. A film critic friend of mine and his novelist wife raised their daughter on nothing but good films, and so she developed such good taste that she never has been able to stomach visual junk food.

As for understanding the language, the grammar of film seems to have evolved directly from the instincts of the first filmmakers. It requires no theory to understand the difference between a closeup and a long shot, or that a dream sequence is a dream sequence. A good movie contains all the instructions you need about how to watch it. This is true of the greatest films. Only junk like “Transformers 2″ requires an instruction manual.

{ 2 comments }

And here's why you should shut up about Tiger Woods…

by Maria on December 10, 2009

in Celebrities, General Bitching

All of the news I’ve gotten about this entire debacle has been via Twitter and good Lord EVERYONE has had something to say about it. Which is cool, whatever, but some of what I’ve seen has really annoyed me.

He’s cheated on his wife. With a lot of women, apparently. Okay. That is awful of him, assuming that his marriage was a happy one and he’s just an insatiable horn dog. He decided that the hot piece of ass he married wasn’t enough hot ass. Bad, bad Tiger. Honestly though? You guys don’t know what happened. Their relationship is private, and you don’t know what their marriage has been like. Just like when they were first married and everyone made that grand assumption that because she was a nanny she’d hit the jackpot and married him for his money. You have absolutely no idea. About anything going on their life, besides what TMZ says. I mean of course we will all form opinions on it, and he should have been prepared for that, because he’s in the public eye – it’s what happens when you’re famous and rich – but it’s the finality of everyone’s opinions that bugs me. She should leave him, he should lose his endorsement deals, he’s a dog, she’s a saint, I hope he burns in hell and she takes all of his money – those sorts of things. Wow, I could have sworn that we’ve all made mistakes, we’ve all placed ourselves in situations that would make another person’s stomach turn. You wouldn’t think that by looking at some of the tweets I’ve seen.

BUT WHAT REALLY PISSES MY FUCKING GUTS are those that are laughing at what Elin Woods did, but if it was reversed would be boycotting golf itself until Tiger was banned. Those  same people that are counting off his women and wondering if he has an STD.  Or saying “whoa, that’s awesome of his wife,! I would have done the same thing! If my husband had cheated on me I would have gone after him with golf clubs too! I love it! Don’t lay down and take that, girl!” You are all some ridiculous fucking hypocrites. Seriously, so, like I don’t understand you AT ALL.

What if the situation had been reversed and Elin had cheated on Tiger, and then Tiger chased her out of their house, beating her with golf clubs, beating her car as she tried to escape him, even half passed out of pain pills for an injury, causing her to crash? Or what if he’d gotten out of his car after the crash to defend himself and hit her? With his fists or the golf club or a tree branch or a puppy or whatever? I doubt if ANY of you that are making light of what she did would be on his side.

Let’s put this in comparison with another high profile domestic incident of this year: Chris Brown and Rihanna. Chris Brown was boycotted, he was determined to be unworthy of any adulation, he was shunned by everyone, everywhere. He was a monster, a villain, there was no possible excuse for what he did, there was no reason, and even now many feel that there is no coming back from what he did. That he should lose it all.

Do you see the problem with that? I do. It was my issue all along. Now, if you keep up with black gossip sites, which most of you probably don’t, you’ll know that Chris Brown and Rihanna were rumored to have a really volatile relationship – before he whooped her ass. It was noted that she had jumped on him before, unable to control her temper, during public events, to which Chris responded by trying to escape or pushing her away from him. Which is why it never sat well with me that she never did anything at all to provoke his attack back in February, whether it was giving him herpes or hitting him first or whatever. I thought it must have been something, but that’s speculation on my part, just as it is everyone else’s. None of that mattered though: once it was revealed that he hit her, he was fucking lynched.

Why isn’t the same thing happening to Elin Woods? Why is no one saying SHE’S a monster? I mean, there’s something hilariously ironic about her going after the most famous golf player in the world with golf clubs, but other than that? There’s nothing funny about this. Can I see myself doing exactly what she did in that situation? OF COURSE. If you’ve been reading me for a while, you’ll know that I’ve done the same (fists not golf clubs) for a lot less reason. But do I think I deserved preferential treatment because I don’t have a dick or because I felt that I had good reason? NO.

If violence is always wrong, if it’s never justified, that should remain true no matter if it’s a woman scorned or just a guy with a temper doing the assaulting. You need to decide how you feel about domestic violence and fucking stick with it.

{ 28 comments }

Six.

by Maria on December 8, 2009

in The Bella

3841474350 b5ace5e4c8 Six.
Bella,

I’ve written to and about you quite a bit over the past year. I want to write to you again, right now, but words are escaping me. My thoughts are all jumbled up and confused, clouded by all the billions of i love yous floating around in my head that I haven’t yet said. They are all I can focus on. I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you. I don’t think I’ll ever make any lee way towards getting them all out, but I’ll continue to try and for this post, I think I’ll just run down the past year. How you’ve changed and grown, and stayed the same and blossomed.

3690662009 9cb5dbb5d4 Six.
You and I, we get along beautifully, as we always have. You’re becoming more and more defiant, but I believe that’s just you growing up. It’s odd, watching you develop into this little person, this real little person with serious thoughts and intense feelings and steadfast opinions. You’re still silly, you still can’t make up your mind whether you love or hate when I tickle you, you still tell knock knock jokes that make absolutely no sense but on top of that, you talk to me about children who misbehave in your class, you remind me of papers that must be signed and things that must be done before school the next day, you question my logic and reasoning in your own quiet way.

3864516261 d95ddc4e5a Six.
You love school, just as much today, three and one half months later, as you did on your first day. You love learning, you love practicing what you’ve been taught. You pride yourself on your perfect behavior chart and on how many words you can sound out and spell now. You adore your teacher, your classmates. You bring lunch some days, and some days you prefer the cafeteria. A couple of weeks ago you started riding the bus, which you’ve wanted to do all along. Every day when you get off the bus, you run across the street as quickly as you can and smack dab into me, throwing you arms around me. You enjoy it, although you’re ready to be solely a car rider again. You miss me coming to your class every morning, and waiting for you in the hallway every afternoon. I miss it too.

3883669037 a8b7c594b1 Six.
I flat ironed your hair on a very low setting one morning before school and I swear you walked so stiffly that you could have balanced a book on your head the entire day. You’re very much still that girly girl, the one who likes to look and smell nice, that chooses her outfit from hairstyle to shoes the night before. You have more clothes and pairs of shoes than most adults I know. You’ll probably always be a little prima donna, and I don’t mind. You’re you.

3840608135 01a97cc8b7 Six.
You work your ass off in physical therapy every week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You stretch and lift and catch and pull and do everything your therapists want, as many times as they want. Your range of motion is much better. It’s hard for me to watch, still. You want to play guitar, but you’ll never be able to. You’ll never be able to do a bicep curl correctly and I have this horrible vision of Freddie Rodriguez in Lady In The Water when I picture you working out when you’re older. You don’t care though, nothing will stop you or bring you down. You know that your arm has issues, but you’re working to make it better, as good as it can get, and I’m proud of you. Every week your therapist comment on how strong and resilient you are. And it’s true.

.sisters/daughters
You and your sister still get along better than any other pair of siblings I’ve come across. Of course there’s the rivalry and competition and you annoy the shit out of each other for no reason a lot of the time, but you’re madly in love with each other. You’ve become more mature, and you’re taking your role as an older sister much more seriously. You teach, you boss around, you care for her with ferocity. The simple things stand out to me, like when she falls asleep watching television, I find her on the floor with a blanket draped over her, and her dog under her arm: your doing. I sit and listen when you don’t think I am, to you two discussing your futures, our lives together, what ways you’ll torture Joey with the next time he comes over. You’re the leader, and I don’t mind her following you. I hope she always will a little, you set a pretty fine example.

Last year, on your birthday, I told you I was proud of you were. Today, on your birthday, that still rings true. So fucking proud. Happy Birthday Bella Bella Fo Fella. Here’s your survey for the year:

Name: Isabella Noel
Nickname: The Bella, Bella, Bella Fo Fella
Age: 6 years.
Birthplace: North Carolina
Heritage: German/Irish & Black/Mexican
Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius
Shoe Size: 2 – Youth
Clothing Size: 6/7
Rightie or Leftie: Right Handed
Innie or Outie: Innie.
Fears: Waterbugs.
Bedtime: 7pm

Favorite Song: “Hey Jude” – The Beatles
Favorite Movie: Spirited Away, The Spongebob Squarepants Movie, UP
Favorite TV Show: Spongebob Squarepants, iCarly, Tru Jackson, VP
Favorite Toy: Your sister’s easel, your Barbie dolls
Favorite Place: Monkey Joe’s
Favorite Person: Mommy, Goobie
Favorite Saying: ‘Classic’, ‘awesome’.
Favorite Book: David Gets in Trouble
Favorite Food: Fried chicken, pepperoni pizza
Favorite Animal: Kittens.
Favorite Store: Target
Salad Dressing: Ranch
Toothpaste Flavor: Cherry

Dislikes: cold weather, being too hot, cleaning up alone, not being able to wear what you want,
Likes: school, coloring, writing, watching tv, playing outside, going to the movies and eating nachos, shopping

—————-
Listening to: Zero 7 – Home

{ 21 comments }

My tendency to become overly invested…

by Maria on November 30, 2009

in Televisión y Pelicula

in television shows has become a problem.
I mean, not really – it’s a beautiful thing – but it drives me mad. Last week, Criminal Minds almost gave me a heart attack, and I was soaked in my own tears by the end of the episode. That’s not uncommon for me when it comes to that show, but this week was especially hard. I was actually really sad for the rest of the night, like something bad had actually happened. It was weird.

In a few days Monk will end, for good. I have had to wipe my eyes after every commercial for the s the finale that I’ve seen. It’s going to be hard. I feel like I’m losing a family member. I’ll be the same way if and when USA take Michael Westen (Burn Notice) and Shawn and Gus (Psych) from me.This shit is ridiculous.

I get sincerely invested in these characters and I either am strung along for years because I can’t let go as with some shows like Heroes and Nip/Tuck that needed to end a while ago but I can’t stop watching, or I get my heart ripped to shred when they are taken away from me, usually prematurely. The latter always kills me the most though, so I’d much rather have a show go on for so long that it pisses me off every time I watch it than be axed for low ratings when I’m still absolutely smitten.

Most recently, it was Eastwick that was canceled too soon.

eastwick 1 My tendency to become overly invested...

I happened upon Eastwick by chance; I saw it in an ad on Hulu and decided to give it a chance, having heard that it was the new place to find the hotness of Matt Dallas after the cancellation of Kyle XY (a show that I was also heavily invested in for two seasons until the suckiness of the third was just unbearable and I lost track of what was going on). I was in love with it after one episode, but I knew it was going to be a problem.

Eastwick obviously had very little financial backing: you could tell in everything from the set to the unable-to-act-even-nonchalantly extras, and the advertising budget was even more flimsy. I knew it’d be getting canceled, there was no doubt in mind. But I kept coming back for more, I couldn’t help myself, and by the third episode I was hooked.

I was in love with the women that story revolved around It’s three main characters were all wonderful and endearing in their own rights. Roxie, the hippie widow and single mom who realized she could see the future and whom the town believed was a curse. Kat, the nurse newly separated mother of 5 children with an asshole ex she’s been with since she was a teenager, who can control the forces of nature, and also heal. And then there’s Joanna, my personal favorite the clumsy, stuttery, understated in the beginning but absolutely blatant in the end sexy ambitious reporter from the newspaper that discovers an ability to hypnotize men with her eyes and later telekinesis.

And the supporting characters, Daryl and Penny and Will and Mia and Raymond…all of them had something about them that drew you in and made you give a shit when you really didn’t want to.

It was a show that took, in my heart, the place of my gone too soon favorite, that I’m still bitter over and may never forgive television for – Pushing Daisies – even though I knew Eastwick was headed no where and Pushing Daisies caught me and everyone else I know off guard. Eastwick, like Pushing Daisies, made you feel good. No matter how dark and dreary the subject matter was, you got up off of your couch and felt good. You were smiling, you were happy. It was just a feel good show. And after the final two episodes ABC airs in the coming weeks, it’ll be done. And without an ending.

This is just too much fore me. Fall premiere time is my favorite part of the year.  I pay close attention to all the shows and blogs and sites and lists, and I make lists of my own detailing my schedule and what shows I’m most interested in. But every year, I have to worry that I show that I love won’t be loved by everyone else and therefore get shut down. That was what I scared of when it came to shows like Community and White Collar who (LUCKILY) are big hits and I don’t have to worry ab(yet).

My obsession doesn’t happen with every show. For instance, I really enjoy Flash Forward and (after a few episodes) V. But if they get canceled, it really wouldn’t bother me. I feel very distant from everyone on them, so it’s not that serious. I would prefer that they not get canceled and that the stories are able to grow and change, but if they do, as long as I get an ending, I’d be fine. They aren’t really character based shows though: they are plot based. I’s the character shows that get me. Sucks that it’s usually the character shows that get canceled too.

Now, my fingers are crossed for Chuck.

—————-
Listening to: Whitesnake – Is This Love

{ 16 comments }

Rented: Hi.

by Maria on November 24, 2009

in blogging

“This is a rented post from a friend of mine who’s unable to post it on her own blog.”

You don’t know me, but you know my type: suburban stay at home mom with 2.3 kids, a mortgage, and a husband who works a good white collar job for good pay. We live within our means, sometimes with enough to go out to eat or buy something fun. From the outside, I have what every suburban-bred girl wants: the white picket life. In reality, I’m a fucking mess. I hate my life; I hate the rhythm in which I lead my life. I wonder every day where I went wrong, and how to get back to me, who I was, who we were as a couple. I can’t find him, but I know I’m here, and I don’t think he cares.

It didn’t always used to be this way. I had a happy marriage; an attentive, sexy husband who adored the ground I walked on, smart children, good friends. I still have the children and the good friends, but now…the husband is lacking. He can’t seem to figure out that a sex life after children can get better, not worse, and that five minutes of predictable, routine foreplay, forty-five seconds of fucking, and a premature ejaculation every goddamned time is not exactly orgasm inducing for a woman entering her second sexual peak. He also has decided I’m not worth his effort to romance or pleasure or even fucking understand and listen to—I’m the so-so nanny who he gets to bang once a month and this should be okay for me. He thinks I should not be complaining about it now. Umm, hello? Now, it’s a medical problem he’s seeking help for—it’s about damn time, it’s only been the better part of a decade and a half. Add in two years of indifference, treating me like an employee, lack of romance or even affection, and I’ve got one foot out the door, the other on the mat. Stuck, waiting.

So, being the woman I am, I wrote him a blueprint on what I needed and wanted from this marriage. I told him why, how, and how much—short, sweet, but to the point and direct. And…nothing. Meanwhile, something happened I could not have predicted: I met someone. Correction: I reconnected with someone from a long time ago, a friend who was only ever a friend. Someone who gets me; someone who understands a lot more of the struggles I’ve been dealing with, the personal demons I’ve battled. And I fell for him. Hard. Hard enough to wonder if this marriage is ever going to work, because I don’t feel the commitment from my husband that I expended every day for the past two years to keep it going, and I’m tired of trying. I find myself wondering if my husband even gives a shit about me as a person, and only wants me to stick around because of the kids.

Then, we add in the kicker: he admitted last night that he’s known I’ve been unhappy for the past eight months and he thought “it would work itself out.” Never mind the fact that he refused to seek counseling ages ago when I asked, now it’s the greatest idea ever. Gee, you think? It was a great idea when I suggested it last fall, when we had a similar argument. It took him the better part of three months to notice I wasn’t wearing my wedding ring. He’d rather focus on the kids, the house, the yard…but I was left to work it out. Just when I thought I couldn’t feel any worse, he drops that bomb on me. Now I feel even less important. But he claims he still loves me and he doesn’t understand why I find that hard to believe.

I wonder if I am sticking around because of the kids. It is so tempting to buy a plane ticket, to just go and see him. The other. The one who could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me or the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. The one who wants me for me, and not because I am always there, and he expects I always will be. If he asked me to, I would leave. I don’t know if I can find my way back to the marriage I had. I don’t know if I want to. I am afraid to be “that woman” but I don’t know if she gets a bad rap anymore from me, if she’s not dealing with the same things I am. If she feels the way I do, maybe she should pack it in and go. I am tired of this waiting, this limbo, this unfulfilled life.

{ 15 comments }

← Previous Entries

Next Entries →