King vs. Kubrick: The Shining.

I picked this up when I was 7.

This isn't going to be easy; I feel like I'm having to choose between my parents or something. I love Stephen King; I love Stanley Kubrick. But I think this "discussion" is a worthy one. And please feel free to tell me your thoughts on this, too, I'd love to hear where everyone else stands. Here we go:

The Shining, 1977, by Stephen King.

Events: Jack Torrance, a writer and former schoolteacher, takes a caretaker job at a grand and mysterious hotel in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. His five year old son, Danny, has a very special talent that allows him to see visions from the past, forecasts of events to come, and into the minds of others---and straight away Danny senses the hotel, The Overlook, is full of secrets and demons.

During their stay, some of the topiary hedge animals seem to move; the hotel elevator begins to operate on its own, and one of the rooms (217) has its own particular franchise on The Overlook's sordid past (REDRUM). These events are at first subtle and would seem almost harmless or hallucinatory were it not for Danny's special gift. From the first moment he learned of The Overlook, Danny saw this stuff happening, he knows that it's real, and he's seen how it ends over and over in his nightmares! Most of the reader's concern involves sympathy and fear for the child, thrust in the middle of events that would make a grown adult soil herself . . . this story is not an easy one to handle: nightmares, lights left on, nightmares, did that book shelf just move? Fire hose, bathtub, REDRUM! REDRUM! I had about three seriously ridiculous nights of discomfort trying to shove these things from my mind and think happy thoughts!

 At the same time the hotel really gets going, tomfoolery-wise, Jack, who struggles with his own personal demons of Daddy Issues, failure, and alcoholism, begins to unravel. It's explained over and over in many ways just how meaningful and complicated Jack's relationship with Danny is, and as he tries to focus on his work, both hotel-related maintenance and his unfinished play, Jack finds himself having strange, angry resentment toward his family and becoming more and more obsessed with the hotel and its history. King said in an interview that many of the events in this novel were confessionals over feelings of anger and resentment a father (or mother) feels toward children, which can go hand-in-hand with feelings of intense love and adoration the parent also feels; it's a complex thing, but not invalid, you know? It's a pretty ballsy thing to do, not only writing about stuff that is taboo, parenting-wise, but then owning it honestly and admitting that it grew from actual feelings. Heavy. Jack Torrance in many ways is an extremely real character because of this, there are many chapters written from Jack's point of view and he's just as bothered and confused by it as we are!

Some might see this as a horror novel, and it is horrifying, but the most disturbing things are not the evil hotel or any of its twisted, rotting minions, but the almost casual subtlety of the evil, those moving hedge creatures scared me the same way the hotel room menu did in 1408: ("the menu was in Russian; the menu was in Italian; there was no menu,") and the documented descent of human beings who are flawed, but still people nonetheless. This is an extremely sad of bunch events, and it's the struggle that has real power here, not the end but the means to it that pack the greatest punch.

Writing: King has a genius ability to do two things in his novels, well, three if you count SCARING THE PISS OUT OF READERS, but that's actually not important right now. The first thing about King's writing that occurs consistently in all of his stories is the knack for telling and explaining things as if he is actually speaking it aloud, to you, personally (or making you feel as if he's your friend Steve, the storyteller). I don't know anything about Stephen King personally, have never met him, probably never will, but dammit, don't you feel like you know this guy? It's clearly due to the heart he pours into his characters, which of course, comes from his own, but seriously, I feel somehow connected to him just because of the way he writes, and that's probably the greatest compliment a writer can get.

Secondly: Humor and Sarcasm. Aces.

(Danny ponders a conversation his father had), " . . . but Mr. Ullman would probably do neither because he was a CHEAP PRICK. Danny knew that this was one of the worst epithets his father could summon. It was applied to certain doctors, dentists, and appliance repairmen, and also to the board of his English Department at Stovington, who had disallowed some of Daddy's book orders because he said the books would put them over budget. 'Over budget, hell,' he had fumed to Wendy---Danny had been listening from his bedroom where he was supposed to be asleep. 'He's just saving the last five hundred bucks for himself, the CHEAP PRICK."

(Jack is locked in the pantry) "Have to use your brain. The celebrated Jack Torrance brain. Aren't you the fellow who once was going to live by his wits? Jack Torrance, best-selling author. Jack Torrance, acclaimed playwright and winner of the New York Critics Circle Award. John Torrance, man of letters, esteemed thinker, winner of the Pulitzer Prize at seventy for his trenchant book of memoirs, My Life in the Twentieth Century. All any of that shit boiled down to was living by your wits."

Comparisons: All right, let's get to it. Is the novel better, or is the film better? The film (as you know from my past ramblings) is one of my very favorites, and is neater, cleaner, and obviously more visually and acoustically moving than the novel. But that doesn't necessarily make it better. I think the heart of the story was honestly about something bad happening to (mostly) good people, and you are only going to see that if you read the novel; the film has no love for any of the Torrances.

Whereas King's Torrance is clearly conflicted, Kubrick's Torrance seems to be destined for lunacy. He hardly shows any (sober) emotion at all to anyone, if you don't count Nicholson's arched-eyebrows grin to Ullman after hearing the unfortunate tale of Mr. Grady et al. The relationship with Danny and Danny as a person altogether hardly matter in the film. ("Dad? I'm hungry." "Well, you should have eaten your breakfast." The end).

You don't sense any emotion between any of the Torrances because Kubrick hardly has them speak to each other; there is a lot more conversation in the book, maybe even a bit too much, but they at least seem to matter to each other or explain what they're thinking. King's Jack was an interesting guy, funny even, and we mourn his metamorphosis into Crazy-Overlook-Jack because we lose touch with the real Jack and we care about Wendy and Danny. Not so in the film. Kubrick and Nicholson's Jack was almost like a man caught in limbo waiting to become Crazy-Overlook-Jack, and as viewers, we find this Jack infinitely more interesting. Where Kubrick is motivated by isolation and insanity, King is motivated by humanity and tragedy. Two very different themes. And while I will always-always-always consider The Shining one of my very favorite films, I'm more of a writer than a filmmaker, and I almost think Kubrick should have credited it "inspired by" rather than "based on" King's original work. I do not get the feeling of closeness to Kubrick that I do with King, and I get the feeling that Kubrick kind of likes it that way.

That said, I wouldn't have either of them change a thing (how's that for diplomacy?)

Tommy, Clint, and One More Book.

1. Briefly: Rescue Me, Season 2.
"Tommy! Baby and me want you to bring us some more Soup-y!"
"That better be the baby talking, because if it's you I'm gonna come over there and punch you in the face."

(in the middle of heated argument inside illegally sublet apartment where they must keep their voices down, Sheila writes furiously on a piece of paper) "YOU'RE AN ASS HOLE."
(Tommy writes back) "DUH!"

And no matter how silly and ridiculous Sheila is with all her whining, her silly-crazy dynamic with Tommy makes me laugh and she's literally a million times better than bitch-face (Harper) Janet.

2. Film vs. Book: The Bridges of Madison County.

Book by Robert James Waller, 1992. I'm not really going to say much about the book (other than it's not very good). Stephen King mentioned that it was bad in On Writing, and I agree that it is. I think the guy had a good idea for a story but completely cheesed the hell out of its writing, even for 1992: "The  watermelon was perfect. The beer was cold. The evening was blue. Francesca Johnson was forty-five years old, and Hank Snow sang a train song on KMA, Shenandoah, Iowa." (grimace).

Film directed by Clint Eastwood, 1995.
Written by Richard LaGravenes (screenplay)
starring: Clint Eastwood, Meryl Streep

"Photographer Robert Kincaid wanders into the life of housewife Francesca Johnson, for four days in the 1960s." (IMDB).

Now granted, this film is extremely cheesy. There are some scenes that are really hard to stomach, mostly involving the daughter and son reading the confessional notebooks, and some of the dialogue, even from Eastwood is a little . . . dorky. But there are some really nice, sentimental things that happen, too, and when compared to the novel, this film resonates. First off, I don't think that Meryl has ever looked prettier; secondly, Eastwood's Kincaid was like everyone he's ever played and no one he's ever played. A bit quiet, very subtle, but vulnerable. "I didn't want to need you." "Why?" "Because I can't have you!" Each time he came near Francesca (Streep), she wavered, or stammered, or held her breath, completely enchanted by him. I loved that; believe me, I've been there.  When she finally puts her hand on his shoulder after nearly two days' worth of obvious tension, it's amazing. The scene of him standing in the rain (yes, this is uncharacteristically sappy) turns me into a water works *every* time. It's almost too much, despite the fact that denied love in narratives is probably my favorite thing in the world.

So the film is worth seeing, definitely, but I think that even Sawyer would have pitched the book into the ocean, even with nothing else to read. (sorry).

3. Film and Literature: An Introduction and Reader, 1999, by Timothy Corrigan.
I think I picked this up at Half-Price last time I was there (getting Donald's gift card); it's a textbook, which is to say that it's not entertaining reading but scholarly reading mostly about film theory. Some people I went to school with really dug film theory; I really did not. Most of it is horribly long, hideously wordy (this from me, who loves words!), and *s u p e r* boring, times a million if it's been translated from French. I get the same feeling reading film theory that I do reading film reviews in City Pages, as in, HOW SMART DOES ONE NEED TO BE IN ORDER TO MAKE FILMS SOUND THIS LAME? If the word(s) post-modern comes up in a film review, sorry, I'm out.


My favorite chapters were on "Critical borders and boundaries;" themes, narratives, elements of style, and genres (15 pages). Out of the theorists (149 pages), only Eisenstein (whom I was forced to read, many times in school) didn't make me want to stick needles in my eyes. Kristin Thompson had an article in there toward the end, and I like her well enough (she's authored several film textbooks that are cool), but all in all this was just too theory-y. And call me immature, but I really only bought this because Emma and Clueless were pictured on the front cover---yeah, they each got about five lines worth of press inside:

"Does the fact that Cher knows Hamlet not via the presupposed Shakespearean original but only via Mel Gibson's role in Zeffirelli's movie signify her cultural illiteracy---or her literacy? Or does this exchange perhaps point us away from any presumptive original, be it Jane Austen's or Shakespeare's, and direct us instead toward a focus on just its mediating package, what might be called the Hollywoodization of Shakespeare in the 1990s?"

What a pisser.

News Events and American Psycho.

This month has already been a crazy one, and I'm trying to keep some semblance of organization going inside my head, therefore, you can consider this kind of a little newsletter/game plan post, as well as the send off to the Locked, Loaded, and Laid list, ended appropriately enough, with Patrick Bateman and American Psycho.

The biggest news this month is probably that I started officially writing (official, no-profanity) film reviews for Examiner.com! It's fun, so far, and quite a test of discipline since I've basically written first-person, foul-mouthed, devil-may-care "reviews" for four straight years; I had no idea how rusty I'd gotten at actual *writing.* Anyway, I'm still planning to keep up on Television Lady, here, but will be altering my format a little bit, just for consistency's sake. TL will still focus on television, and older release/cheese films, just like always, but new film releases will be covered on Examiner.com. Additionally, in order to keep local (which is what I've told them that I'll do), I'm going to be grabbing one film a week from Kowalski's Red Box and one from Washburn Library down the street, two places from my neighborhood. So I'm not leaving, I'm just . . . expanding. See you over there?

Also: I would like to open the floor to anyone who has anything to say, good films, bad films, television, guest blogging, and so on, let me know! Talk to me! Let's get something going, yeah?

And lastly: film vs. book.
American Psycho, 1991, by Bret Easton Ellis.
 Beginning on April Fools' Day 1989, American Psycho spans roughly three years in the life of wealthy young investment banker Patrick Bateman. Bateman, 26 years old when the story begins, narrates his everyday activities, from his daily life among the upper-class elite of New York to his forays into murder by nightfall. (wikipedia)

"These are terrible times." This obviously a very personal, very dark, hate-Valentine to the eighties from Ellis; someone just doesn't sit down and create a story like this out of thin air. If you were a child, like I was, during the eighties, it's possible that you too were unaware of just how bat-shit ridiculous the materialism and superficiality was, but clearly, it must have been massive. The descriptions of peoples' clothing labels, shoe and jewelry designers, costs of furniture, luggage, handbags, restaurant names, locations, menu offerings, costs, and fucking SKIN CARE ROUTINES literally go on for minimum, three pages each time there is a new setting and situation. The musical reviews (Huey Lewis, Phil Collins, Whitney Houston) also go on for days, but are somehow funnier than everything else because the artists are divorced from all the materialism, if you can imagine. As with any story with a million characters, some of who are mentioned once and never again, you start to filter out many of the names, but in this story, this faceless transparency business---everyone looking the same, everyone mistaking someone for someone else, and there being no real meaningful exchange about anything--is obviously the point of Patrick Bateman's issues. He wanted to fit in, but now that he has, he can't control his murderous rage at the world around him. And despite this, no one notices.

" . . . where there was nature and earth, life and water, I saw a desert landscape that was unending, resembling some sort of crater, so devoid of reason and light and spirit that the mind could not grasp it on any sort of conscious level and if you came close the mind would reel backward, unable to take it in . . . Fear, recrimination, innocence, sympathy, guilt, waste, failure, grief, were things, emotions, that no one felt anymore. Reflection is useless, the world is senseless. Evil is its only permanence. God is not alive. Love cannot be trusted. Surface, surface, surface was all that anyone found meaning in . . . this was civilization as I saw it, colossal and jagged."
Ending: THIS IS NOT AN EXIT. Fucking amazing.

American Psycho, 2000, directed by Mary Harron.
Written by Mary Harron and Guinevere Turner (screenplay)
starring: Christian Bale, Jared Leto, Reese Witherspoon, Justin Theroux

The film is a much different experience from the book, but a good one, too. Pretentious, violent, sexual. It's amazing to me just how much work it must have been for the screenwriters to cut into a novel like this (399 pages), sort through the meaty parts and then throw out a film that still seemed to capture what was at the heart of the novel. I dig Mary Harron, a lot. Bale was a great Bateman; everyone was actually well-cast. And you get that everyone is superficial, doesn't really have any loyalty to anyone else, mistakes names and faces constantly, and are silly tools with money, but the book explains this *way* more, like, to the letter. Regardless, the film had a very specific look to it---tons of blacks, whites, and reds; a really great soundtrack, and big hair!. The aesthetics were amazing, even above and beyond Bale's many, many skin scenes (FTW). There were a lot of little dialogue things that obviously weren't meant to be funny, but became funny just because of Bale's stiff, banana-in-the-tailpipe delivery: "I was probably returning videotapes." "No Lewis, it's not me, you're mistaken." "Do you like Phil Collins?" "Your name is Kristie. You are to respond only to Kristie."
Fun and ridiculous.

Eyes Wide Shut

 Eyes Wide Shut, 1999. Directed by Stanley Kubrick. Written by Arthur Schnitzler (novel) and Stanley Kubrick (screenplay).
starring: Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman, Sidney Pollack.

"A New York City doctor, who is married to an art curator, pushes himself on a harrowing and dangerous night-long odyssey of sexual and moral discovery after his wife admits that she once almost cheated on him." (IMDB).


So, here we are. At pretty much everyone's definitive for conventional pornography in mainstream cinema, right? All I heard about for years was how Stanley Kubrick was releasing a bona-fide porno, blah, blah, blah. PORN. And while we'll get to what I actually consider this film to be a bit later, I'm guessing it did change quite a few industry conventions (not the least being CG blockers); it's an important film. Almost everyone I talked to about this absolutely hated it. But almost everyone I talked to also were fans of Cruise and not Kubrick, (in 1999, anyway) and I think that makes all the difference. I loved it.


1. Stanley knows what he's doing. In terms of mise en scene (environments, locations, settings, etc.) I think he was (and still is) the best around. If for no other reason, watch this film for the lights and colors. Music also was great.

2. Stanley is crafty; he usually doesn't come right out and say anything bluntly, but many, many times he'll convey things visually, metaphorically that you have to really work hard *not* to notice. He could have said (of all his films) "This character is isolated; this particular space is all-consuming." There are so many interesting ideas in this film: Dr. Bill's inability to command or finish any sort of sexual exchange. Orange Walls (ala Ulmann's office or Mr. Grady's bathroom in The Shining) All those little yellow lights everywhere? They have to mean something; I'm going with virility or prowess, or whatever it is Kubrick is suggesting that Bill lacks. This is the most beautiful emotionless film full of meaning I've ever seen.

No, Bill, really. I'm totally into it. . . 

3. This film, while having kind of a lot of sex, wasn't erotic to me at all. Every review I read really hyped up the eroticism, and yeah, it's physically present, I guess, but completely cold, impersonal, and empty, therefore uninteresting to me. Like robots having relations with each other. For me, this was about marital discomfort from the very beginning. Bill and Alice have awkward conversations and he doesn't really even seem to know her or acknowledge her at all, at least the way she wants. It's hard to miss that look of utter boredom and disdain in her eyes during their love scene early on. The dialogues are extremely slow with many, many beats in between words. Characters' walking seems stretched out. Even when things are running smoothly, (doctor's office, interactions with the daughter, or virtually any other character), Dr. Bill brings nothing but uncomfortable tension. A few critics didn't like the thriller aspect to the film, but I think it was necessary; without it, this would just be one uncomfortable exchange after another---OH THOSE WEALTHY NEW YORKERS! AREN'T THEY JUST *SO* CRAZY AND #*$&ED UP? Who wants to see that?

LIGHTS! 

4. In terms of film vs. book, I'll take the film any day. The novel, Rhapsody: A Dream Novel, by Arthur Schnitzler, was first published in 1927 and in my opinion, was kind of boring. I'm sure it was quite a bombshell when it first came out, I'll give it that, but it really just proved to me that Stanley has the best knack, ever, for taking interesting or semi-interesting novels and turning them into unbelievable films.

5. If you are looking for any further reading on Kubrick or themes in Kubrick films, there is a really excellent book, A Cinema of Loneliness by Robert Phillip Kolker, that is very much worth checking out. It's unfortunately only current up to Full Metal Jacket, but many of the ideas translate to Eyes Wide Shut. (It also examines the themes of Penn, Scorcese, Spielberg, and Altman, so it's a fun, tape-your-glasses kind of film book to have).


6. Stanley is probably the best film director who ever lived, but the ending on this was a bit . . . unsatisfying. I don't know what would have made it better. Any thoughts?

Film Vs. Book: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson, 2005.

If you want an official description, look below on the film write-up; I've always been terrible at those. I enjoyed this, but I can't put it into the "blew my skirt up" category. Stieg Larsson was obviously a smart guy (read about him here). Stephen King in On Writing said that there are books with good writing, books with good story, and some books with both; this was a book with a good story. That said, it was an unnecessarily long story that took many hundreds of pages to get going. I imagine some readers may have given up, not only because of length, but the complexities of the damned Vanger family----did there have to be quite so many of them? It was difficult (and not worth the energy) keeping all of them straight until actual events began to unfold which involved them; before they were involved in the plot, I completely blew each random Vanger off. Once it gets going, though, it really goes. It's a compelling story and not exactly a lightweight subject matter. There are a lot of details and a lot of words, so I think you need to be a person who likes details and words in order to enjoy it.

Sometimes I feel like rape, incest, and sexual assault in general are topics that are just *too* explosive, too personal, and this was no exception. As a reader, I'm disgusted and upset by this sort of thing; I very nearly quit reading Gerald's Game (King) for this reason. It's touchy. And for writers, I completely understand the desire to create experiments in good and evil, to explore dark topics, and then to (hopefully) bring at least some sort of catharsis to readers; good and evil is part of life! They can say they took the dark journey, were disturbed by it, but can still sleep at night knowing that somehow, the good in the world is out there. I get that. I think it worked in this novel mainly due to Lisbeth's (the girl with the proverbial DRAGON TATTOO) character, her background, and her ultimate revenge (many times over). I can dig revenge. If you check out the Wikipedia page for Stieg Larsson and find the INFLUENCES heading, you'll know just why he chose to write about this sort of thing. It's pretty major.

It's worth reading. And I really liked the ending.

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, 2009, directed by Niels Arden Oplev. Written by Nikolaj Arcel.
starring: Michael Nygvist, Noomi Rapace.

"A journalist is aided in his search for a woman who has been missing -- or dead -- for forty years by a young female hacker." (IMDB).

I thought the film was better than the book. It was condensed, obviously, and in all the right places. They took some liberties with characters and chronology, all good ones. The actors looked *exactly* as I pictured them, and it's always fun when that happens. I've not been to Sweden, but it looked exactly as I pictured that too, or actually, just like Northern Minnesota and very cold. They seemed to drink a lot more coffee in the book, I kind of wished they had put that in because it made me giggle a lot at just how often they did it, and they axed my ending and did not explore that particular plot line---I wished they would have. Other than that, really excellent. Great instrumental music, awesome job showcasing still photography as a heavy part of the mystery--it actually really helped being able to put names to faces immediately, which wasn't possible in the book.
Nice work.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

The Book:


Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, by J. K. Rowling, 2005.

I remember reserving this at Border's and literally flying through the pages when it first came out. When it ended, I could hardly believe how excited I was for the final novel; I never, ever stopped believing in Snape. And I did cry at the conclusion, both then and now. As a reader, just as with being a film-viewer, I bring a lot of sentimentality with me--I'm not hard to please, really, I just need to identify with characters, even slightly, and I'll be with them till the end. This is why LOST resonated so fully with me (and probably millions of others), I care about these people, even if they're fictional. I think Harry Potter in general gets lumped into fad-ish, unimportant,  Tiger Beat fodder, but there is more than meets the eye, especially in considering the books as well as the films. And people can dog Rowling all they want, obviously she's not infallible, but she's a great character writer and I'm glad she's here.

Pleasing British Vernacular: "prat," (enormous idiot) "Wotcher," (what you up to?) and "ruddy," (an intensive). "I'm a ruddy teacher, aren' I, yeh sneakin' Squib!" said Hagrid.

Draco feels the strain. . .

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, 2009, directed by David Yates.

I didn't love this, but I think it was well done. Mostly I enjoyed Slughorn's ridiculous ding-bat smiles throughout, they're really quite funny. I thought Malfoy (Tom Felton) was spectacular, he looked shifty and pained pretty much the entire film, and his crying scenes were right on. The scene with Dumbledore and the Inferi at the lake looked exactly as I had envisioned it would; Dumbledore's death as well. The one thing that really stops me from liking this film very much is the ending. After Dumbledore has been killed, McGonagal steps out onto the grounds with the nurse and all the other students and immediately points her wand at the Dark Mark that is hovering over the castle, blasting it away with bright light and everyone joins her. It's supposed to be emotional and tender, the score is sad, but it pisses me off every time. In the book, I don't think the Dark Mark could be removed, or it was much harder than just a bunch of kids playing lumos with their wands; in any event, (and I rarely say this) it was too sentimental. Fade to black, show Hagrid carrying Dumbledore's corpse away, show McGonagal in a panic with the former headmasters' portraits, but don't everyone point their wands in the air, that was just cheesy and weak.

Don't forget Slytherin!

Deathly Hallows, coming up next. And not a moment too soon, either; I've been  d y i n g  to talk about Tarantino, it's almost bursting out of me.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

The Book:

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, by J. K. Rowling, 2003.

870 pages. (sigh). Some of my favorite things happen in this novel. I love the deeper insight into Sirius, James, and Snape; Weasley twins are always aces in my book. There are some topics that get a bit over-done, such as Quidditch, the house elves (again), and there is one thing at the near conclusion that is so ridiculous it literally makes me furious every time I read it (I've read this book a few times), and it's the stupid DANCING-LEGS curse that the Death Eater puts on Neville at the Ministry of Magic when all hell is breaking loose. I can't think of something less Death Eater-like than a curse that makes one's legs dance; how about simply removing the legs? Biggest critique of the entire series of novels is that. Ridiculous. Nonsense.

Moving on, pleasing literary bits?

1. British vernacular: rubbish, as in everything negative being described as, someone being "bang out of order," and "Jolly Good."

2. Descriptions of Dolores Umbridge's foulness were wonderful: ". . . they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. Harry was again reminded forcibly of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad," and Harry's statement to Sirius in a letter, Umbridge being "nearly as nice as your mum," (who is the screaming woman in the portrait, hurling insults to Mudbloods and Blood Traitors whenever they disturb her).

3. People are much crabbier in this novel. "'You know,' said Phineas Nigellus, even more loudly than Harry, 'this is precisely why I loathed being a teacher! Young people are so infernally convinced that they are absolutely right about everything. Has it not occurred to you, my poor, puffed-up popinjay, that there might be an excellent reason why the headmaster of Hogwarts is not confiding every tiny detail of his plans to you?'" (well said, mate).

I enjoyed it well enough. However, I think this book made for *the best* film adaptation, so when I think of the goings-on of The Order of the Phoenix, I prefer to really just think of the better, condensed, more cinematic version, if you want to read on.

The Film.


Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, 2007, directed by David Yates. 138 minutes.

A masterpiece, my favorite, favorite Potter. I find the entire film to be extraordinary, but as I'm a bit short on time, I'll spare you another drawn-out ramble and just say that this film has the best beginning and ending I've ever seen. The dry sun at the park quickly replaced by the storm clouds and darkness and THAT RUN DOWN THE FIELD BY HARRY AND DUDLEY? Beautifully thrilling, say nothing of the damned dementors just slinking into that tunnel.

And the entire sequence in the Ministry of Magic, starting with Sirius punching (my boy!) Lucius Malfoy right in the face? Dueling! The Aurors! Avada Kadavra! "You comin' to get me?" HBC as Bellatrix, killer!

OMFG. Right. On.

And Voldemort vs. Dumbledore? Utterly amazing, like a wizardy  Dooku vs. Yoda. The scene of Voldemort causing the power of Dumbledore's previous spell to ripple and build from his feet up to his chest and then flailing his arms out, BLASTING every surface in the Ministry to bits---this is my favorite scene from any film, ever. Hands down. It's fucking brilliant.

This film really just makes me happy. David Yates, you're aces. And there were wonderful high-quality images available for this, so enjoy!

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

The Book:

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, 2000, by J. K. Rowling.

734 pages, this was. And truth be told, many of them got a little bit winded, but the action in the book's last four chapters makes the entire, if longish, experience worthwhile. A good editor maybe would have axed everything the screenwriter eventually did (house elves, Crouch family back story, Voldemort's rambling explanation to the Death-Eaters, Rita Skeeter as a (beetle) animagus, etc.) but if you love the series, you can probably handle all the extra business in this book, I did.

1. Pleasing British vernacular? "LOT." I love this and it just keeps popping up, for instance:

Arthur Weasley: "You lot---get into the woods and stick together!" and "I think I'll take my lot back to the tent, if nobody's got any objections."

Mad Eye Moody: "Look at that, you lot . . . Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it!"
(I also dig Moody's little paranoid actions throughout and the CONSTANT VIGILANCE! he's always harping at the students.)

2. Last rant I had a little go at everything always happening to Potter, and it comes up. . .

"'Look,' said Hermione patiently, 'it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault,' she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously. 'I know you don't ask for it . . . but---well---you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous---he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many. . . .'"

3. Other completely random things that I dug were referring to Nagini (giant snake) as "some horrible travesty of a pet dog" as it curled up on the rotting hearth rug, and Dumbledore responding, "Quite Understandable. Continue." when Harry states that he had fallen asleep in Divination.

Fun book. Lotta ins, lotta outs. And someone somewhere would do good to write some sort of (scum) manifesto about explaining and defining the magical terms. As in, the differences between hexes, curses, and jinxes, as they seem interchangeable. And what differentiates a charm from an enchantment? Or a spell? A chart comparing Muggle remedies with Magical Potions. Firm perimeters of what can or cannot be summoned, reproduced, repaired, or transfigured. An entire outline devoted to means of travel, fireplace networks, apperating/disapperating, etc.

Yeah?

The Film:

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, directed by Mike Newell, 2005.

157 minutes. I don't really have much on this. It's my second-least favorite film, I think it's everyone's hair. Moody's scenes are the best, notably the turning of Malfoy into the ferret, telling McGonagal he was "teaching." This film suffers horribly from too-little Snape.

Zozia part 2.

This was very difficult to watch. I'm going to go ahead and caution anyone who has a daughter to definitely skip it. . . and obviously you don't have to have children for this to disturb you, but it's very, very awful. Screaming little girl being hauled away. . .


But I'm kind of glad I watched it, for a few reasons.

1. Seeing Kevin Kline play Nathan Landau was necessary in order to have any positive feelings for the character. It's easier to be repelled by a character in a book because if you don't want to go any deeper into them, you don't have to. His expressions (in the film), the way he was tender and concerned about Sophie, the way he looked completely crazy and was obviously fighting with his own crazy demons came across much louder than in the novel. Kevin Kline was mighty good in this one.

2. Meryl Streep is phenomenal. This was 1983, when actors were doing the work, not the editors. She spoke Polish and German very believably, and her Polish accent while speaking English was amazing. Half the film is a static camera stuck in her face, dead on--best actress in 1983? Damned right. The scenes are long and intense. The actors obviously had a hard job and they really pulled it off, Peter MacNichol included. They went really well together, which makes me wonder if they all had fun working on this project.

3. Film vs. Book? I'm going with film on this. The book was wonderful but it was just too long, all things considered, and very wordy. The condensed film version kept true to the story and eliminated superfluous background, even though it was also long. Bravo.

The Newman-esque neighbor in the Pink Palace has a doppelganger that comes into Starbucks all the time, usually chewing some crumbly item he picked up at Kowalski's and talking with his mouth open wide---Red Hooded Sweatshirt guy? Dead ringer.

Screenwriting. Shawshank.

So I finished reading that screenwriting book, Elements of Style for Screenwriters? I guess September just must be my month for picking bad books. Not that it was entirely useless, but it was set up like a dictionary of terms, you know, A is for "acts," B is for "binding" or "back to scene" (OR BONER-KILL).

Blah. What I'd really be interested in reading is some sort of inside edition of screenwriting, written by someone like Ari Gold (from Entourage), complete with scathing sarcasm, insults, and profanity. Speaking of Entourage, has anyone been watching it lately? Vinnie Chase with the cocaine and the porn stars and getting DeNiro-kicked by Marshall Mathers? He's off the deep end, y'all. Wow.

Anyway, skip the book unless you really don't know anything about screenwriting.

We watched The Shawshank Redemption last night, or McGillicuddy's Quest as Matt called it once, probably stoned, and unable to remember the real title. In a Film vs. Book smackdown, I'd have to go with FILM on this one. Stephen King has gone on record many times and said that this was a wonderful adaptation of his vision, one that he thought was right on, and I'll second it, even though what I think doesn't mean anything. The changes Frank Darabont made were good ones: the opera scene on the record player, keeping one, single, evil Warden throughout instead of many who came and went, and MORGAN FREEMAN (in the short story, Red was an Irish white guy). I think everyone was well cast in their roles, actually, but Morgan Freeman was beautiful. I love his voice. I think I even watched the Visa commercials he narrated during the Olympics, I love his voice so much.

One other thing that translated well from book to film was the relationship that developed between the two unlikely friends. I always get a little teary when Red finds the treasure at the end and then ends up on the beach. . . it would be so lovely if everyone could.

Which brings me to friendship, as a concept. I was forced to watch I LOVE YOU, MAN the other night. What an uncomfortable hour that was (I left when it got to be too embarrassing and my goose bumps began to hurt from all the clenching and grimacing). Now, I'm all in for uncomfortable humor (The Office, Extras, etc.) or even uncomfortable drama (Punch Drunk Love). I don't know why this film bothered me so much, I mean Paul Rudd's character was such a dolt I was demanding that his scenes be muted about three minutes in, but it was something more than that. The ideology of it, maybe. I have probably five close girl friends, and trust me, none of them know the days of my cycle or specifics of my sex life, nor will they, ever. I'm a Minnesota German, yes, and we can be distant and cold, especially when it comes to intimate details and emotion with others, but there are just some things I'm not sharing, you know? Some things are mine, no one else's. This film made it seem like all women share these things. It also made women look vapid, gossipy, not-smart, and annoying. If I want to watch chicks who are these things I usually just turn on Sex and the City. (STAY TUNED FOR RANDOM, ANONYMOUS COMMENTS THAT LABLE ME A HATER).

Also: you've been dating a guy for eight months who likes Rush and you've never even heard of the band? Dumb. I couldn't even consider marrying someone who wasn't my friend. How were these two even together in the first place? What a bunch of morons.

So if anything, I thought there were funny parts in the film, but there were too many other uncomfortable things for me to enjoy it. Here I am, a woman, critiquing a man-film for its portrayal of women, which was probably an accurate portrayal, just not one that worked for me. Should I be able to sit back and laugh at it anyway since I'm not like that? Should I be pissed off at the chicks who are? Fuck it. I'm Daniel Day Lewis, walking off the stage.

Yes. Me, me, me, I know.

I AM LEGEND.

1. I liked that dog, Samantha. In a world with no humans, that dog was a great companion, (this from a non-dog person). I cried a little when he had to, you know, kill her.

2. Despite not liking the ending at all, this is one of my favorite films. The director, Francis Lawrence, did BRITNEY SPEARS VIDEOS before this? Wow. The pacing, the effects, the flashbacks, the dialogue? All aces. Nice work.

3. This sort of story is seriously one of the greatest joys in my narrative life. Isolation? Memories? MANNEQUINS STRATEGICALLY PLACED ABOUT THE CITY? (my favorite!)

I have always strongly identified with protagonists like these, most of them men. I think my Daddy issues have contributed to my constant seeking of powerful characters and my disdain of weak, sappy female leads. I mean, I grew up wanting to be Betty Childs (cheerleader from Revenge of the Nerds) like many others, I suppose, but there was always something more appealing about the powerful guys, the strong guys, the guys that actually DID something. Will Smith very much DOES SOMETHING in this and I was mesmerized.

4. Speaking of Will Smith, WOW! (delicious!) I have always thought he was a decent enough actor, but something different was going on here. Is he getting a little gray? It very much works for him. And the pull ups in the doorway? What a body on this guy! He was doing a one man show for a lot of this film, and he nailed it, extremely. Conversing with the mannequins? Genius. ("Please say 'hello' to me. Please say 'hello' to me!" or "BOB? WHAT THE HELL YOU DOING OUT HERE? ARE YOU REAL?" etc.)

5. Film vs. Book? I really hate to say this, but I thought the film was better. I loved Richard Matheson's story, which was riddled with Vampires, not rabid, cohabitating Zombies, but the film somehow resonated more with me. For one thing, using mannequins always earns an A+. Also, that opening scene where he's hunting deer in the mustang in downtown Manhattan? Very, very cool. And while I kept waiting for Will Smith to actually say the words, "I am Legend," I'm okay with just being shown it rather than having it stated outright (the book ends with this final declaration by Robert Neville as he's about to die, which is almost the coolest fucking thing I've ever read.) That said, the book's ending was much more satisfying. Regardless, I'll say both are legendary (hee hee).

6. My new goal? To make that treadmill downstairs my bitch the way Smith (and his dog) made theirs.
And to always have extra bacon, just in case.

1408: Film vs. Book.

And before I get going with this, I don't want to hear anyone start in with that "book is always better" shit, I know all about this. Hell, I agree most of the time, but there are notable exceptions to this rule (hello, Twilight?) So chill, okay?

For the first time, I think I can understand a writer's frustration with what his or her original material becomes on the big screen. King seemed to dig the film adaptation all right, and maybe he's used to this by now, but in my opinion, they completely missed the fright effect that was in the book. John Cusack was fine; he obviously knows what he's doing, and most of the effects were fine too, but it just wasn't scary enough. I say this because for me, 1408 was literally the most terrifying thing I'd ever read of King's; I was very worried about having this all come to life on the screen (nightmares) but was kind of let down by it not being scary and not being at all true to the original.

What I did not like:

The back story (wife, daughter, issues with father). I get why they did it, they needed to make this a feature length, but it was tired.

Sam Jackson as Olin. I love Samuel Jackson, just not in this.

All the scary things the hotel did to him were too physical, too obvious. (toilet paper re-folding itself, chocolate appearing on bed, images of former guests offing themselves, etc.) Nothing subtle about any of that.

I'm still on the fence about the room itself. I know The Dolphin was supposed to be an upscale establishment, but something about the room itself was almost too Martha Stewart for me. Enslin's reaction to the room upon entering matched my own, "this is it? Woooo! Where's all the scary shit?"

The ending did not do it for me, not even a little.

What I liked:

John Cusack pulling off a one-man show. He had to act plenty crazy for most of this, and he did a great job. The scene where he's freaking out at the mini-bar? Probably my favorite. What a spaz! He had some great one-liners, which I didn't expect.

Speaking of mini-bar: a tiny Olin appearing inside it to berate him during all of this? "Is the room exceeding your expectations?" "YOU KNOW GOD DAMNED WELL IT IS!" Nice! I giggled.

Some of those images of the dead people coming at him were actually scary and jarring. That old dried up corpse, chasing him through the vents, and the way the feet were swinging and swaying and flopping all over the place? What was that, kabuki cage match in a vent? That was funny. Sometimes you need a little comedy in a scary film ("Please God Let it be Ding-dongs," and Dwayne Duke kissing Mother Bates' corpse, etc.).

The attempt to reach the next window only to discover all the other rooms have vanished. Bricks in the windows, map on the door shows only 1408. I dug that a lot.

The little trick of not really being out of the room, and how the post office just rips itself open to reveal that he's really still in 1408. So the room has a bit of a sense of humor? Cool.

The last bit on the telephone with the "operator?" Clock setting itself up for another hour of good times while the chick on the phone asks if Enslin would like to take advantage of the express checkout? (Noose drops sharply from above and follows him from room to room!) Then the whole "EIGHT! THIS IS EIGHT! FIVE, THIS IS FIVE! ALL YOUR FRIENDS ARE DEAD!" That was true to the original and that shit freaked me out. The phone melting afterwards was a nice touch, too.

What I liked about the book and wished they had included in the film:

The subtlety of it all, scary things CAN be subtle. In the book, he comments into his recorder about how something reminded him of his brother, and then adds, "My brother was actually eaten by wolves one winter on the Connecticut Turnpike." (this is not true.) They tried to be clever or true with this in the film by showing it in some creepy scrawl on the file of stuff he was carrying, but because nothing was ever addressed in regard to this brother, it meant very little. They did the same with "Burn Yourself Alive" written on the wall (the methods of burning and the consequent endings actually were quite different between the two).

The tilting of the doors and the sea-sickness it caused in Enslin just by looking at them. Then the way all the framed art changes inside the room once things begin to go awry. Fruit into severed head. Madonna holding baby grows fangs, etc.

"fuming oranges" and "it feels like skin, like old dead skin" little thoughts like this.

A lot of attention was given to the orange look and feel of the room, the light, one of the hanging pictures was of fruit, the coverlet of the bed which tinted everything else, etc. Proximity to fire? To evil? I don't know but it added something gross, for sure. The film room was too pretty or something, like I said before.

"He tried not to touch the coverlet, either, but the tips of his fingers brushed it  and he moaned. It was soft in some terrible wrong way. . . Nevertheless, he picked the menu up. It was in French, and although it had been years since he had taken the language, one of the breakfast items appeared to be birds roasted in shit. That at least sounds like something the French might eat, he thought, and uttered a wild, distracted laugh.
He closed his eyes and opened them.
The menu was in Russian.
He closed his eyes and opened them.
The menu was in Italian.
Closed his eyes, opened them.
There was no menu."

Why cut that from the film or avoid it altogether? That would have been great!

"'I have to get out of here,' he whispered, and blundered back into the sitting room.  He became aware that his shoes had begun to make odd smooching sounds, as if the floor beneath them were growing soft."

and

". . .  he could feel no fresh air against his face. It was as though the room were swallowing it. He could still hear horns on Fifth, but they were now very distant. Did he still hear the saxophone? If so, the room had stolen its sweetness and melody and left only an atonal reedy drone, like the wind blowing across a hole in a dead man's neck or a pop bottle filled with severed fingers or--
Stop it, he tried to say, but he could no longer speak."

This just really got to me, both times I read it. Very, very creepy. It was a great little story, and I think the word little is key. It was too short to be a great film, but I think they made it into an okay film.

Book wins, easy. But I did have to fight back a few images of the crazy vent-crawler when trying to get to sleep. . .