SYTYCD faves

It took me a while, but I've finally decided on my favorite dancers. Though no one's really wowed me yet, I've settled on Kayla as my favorite of the girls, and Jason from the boys (how cute is he?!).

The skill level this season is phenomenal, which almost makes it harder to watch, because no one really stands out as incredible. I'm not hooked yet, but I'll tune in next week just to see what's going on, I think.

Get UP and see it!

Why do I love movies that make me cry? Or that make me angry, upset, or really contemplative? Don't get me wrong--I like an action-packed, massive entertainment flick as well as the next person, but there's just something about movies that can make me cry. It's usually because the characters are so beautifully developed that they seem real; or it's because what's happening to them strikes a very personal chord with me. Either way, it's a sign of a job well-done on the film maker's part. Oh, by the way--Up made me cry.

The story follows the life of the elderly Mr. Frederickson and the rambunctious young boy scout, Russell, who is trying to earn his last badge by assisting the elderly. In an effort to have the adventure he's dreamed of since youth, Mr. Frederickson ties thousands of helium-filled balloons to his house and flies it to South America, and unwittingly brings Russell along for the ride.

I originally thought the movie was going to be another fun-filled afternoon at the box office, something akin to The Incredibles or Finding Nemo. And while Up didn't fail to deliver in the laughter department, it also had a somewhat finer element to it. It was touching, really, and I can't think of anything to call it but unexpectedly beautiful. I'm not sure that young children, the film's intended audience, will be able to grasp the more serious thoughts, but it'll still be enjoyable for them. This may be one of those times I'll use that "incandescent" word.

Well done. A zephyr.

Wicked, Indeed

I wasn't sure whether or not I should post a review about this one, because I didn't actually finish it. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the fact that I couldn't force myself to step it up to the finish-line was as much a comment on the novel as any snippy remark could be.

Wicked, by Gregory Maguire, is one of the most beloved and renowned novels of recent history, and the rather brilliant plot is to thank for that. Or so I thought. How could I resist learning the untold story of Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West? What makes a person green--and what makes a person so wicked?

I can't begin to express to you my disappointment. This novel is nothing more than a contrived, poorly executed attempt to write "a great novel." Now, I would like to point out that there is nothing wrong with writing a "great novel"--but there is a subtle difference between simply producing one in the course of telling a story, and sitting down with the sole intent of writing one. Everything in this work is forced and overly-worded; it is a mimicry of the brilliant writers of centuries past. Part of the elegance of classic novels is that they were written for their time in relevant prose so stunning that even as it fell out of style it remained embraced and lauded.

Maguire's beautiful turn of phrase scarcely masks his overt attempt at being deep and symbolic. Blah. I couldn't stand it. I can't get much more in depth and critical of the story itself, because I couldn't force myself to finish it. Plus, the story had just barely started by page 300--seriously, Maguire--pretentious much?

And seriously, all you adoring fans--do you even know what the novel's about? Do you even grasp the concepts? Or do you simply think you should like it because so many other people do (and they made a Broadway play out of it)?

Blech. Poison ivy.

Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet

First of all, how great is this title? Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. It's the kind of title that jumps out at me, and makes me want to read before I even know the basic plot (aside from the obvious theme of the bittersweet dishes life usually serves). I'm glad to report that author Jamie Ford's debut didn't disappoint; his take on the U.S. internment of Japanese citizens during World War II (told from the point of view of a 12-year-old Chinese boy) is poignant and utterly unique.

The story begins with Old Henry Lee, a Chinese-American gentleman, standing at the entrance of the Panama Hotel, a formerly grand building that in its heyday stood at the juncture between Japantown and Chinatown. For Old Henry Lee, the hotel also stands at the juncture between his past and present, and the novel moves between boyhood flashbacks and present-day occurences that remind him of those turbulent, yet somehow incredibly sweet, days.

As a child Henry Lee's father makes him wear an "I am Chinese" button to his mostly-white school every day, but children mock him and call him "Jap" or "Jap-lover" regardless. When Keiko, a pretty young Japanese girl, enrolls in the same school, Henry is surprised to discover in her a true and beautiful friend. He hides the friendship from his father, who bitterly hates all people and things Japanese, and must also come to grips with the fact that Keiko and her family are to be taken without reason and sent to a "prison" camp far away. Henry struggles with questions of love and loyalty, hope and despair, reason and injustice; who is he, and who is Keiko? What draws them together, and what makes them different? Even more important, what makes them the same?

Ford's writing is succinct and clear, yet encompasses a level of depth and thoughtfulness rare in modern American fiction. Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet is more than a story, and will instill in readers the knowledge and sense of thoughtfulness that are hallmarks of a work of literature well-done.

An oak.

Star Trek Lights Up the Box Office

It's so nice to not be disappointed. I waited eagerly for the release of this one, and then I didn't see it for, oh, a month or so. What can I say? Sometimes I'm busier than I think I am. The point is that I finally did have the pleasure of viewing this flick, and I enjoyed it immensely! I'm not a Star Trek fan. I've never seen any of the old TV shows, and have only seen one movie at the request of my cousin Jeremy when we were 11, and the "save the whales" track of it was a bit too much propaganda for me. Don't get me wrong--I think we should save the whales. I just hate it when movies people view for sheer entertainment value (come on, we're not talking Life is Beautiful or Schindler's List people) have a blatant, "underlying" theme. For example, I loved the movie Ferngully as a child, but when I watched it recently (hey, my sister and I were going through a nostalgic phase--sue me), I was pretty annoyed with the whole brainwashing side of it. The movie's not even about fairies! It makes me feel like the movie producers are trying to manipulate me, which is truly irking, especially when I already agree with the idea they're trying to get across. Then I don't have the luxury of rolling my eyes and proclaiming them an idiot.

Sorry, major tangent. What I meant to say was:

I didn't care for the Star Trek movies of the past, which just shows how masterfully done the trailer was for this one because I was excited to see it. Even with zero knowledge of Trek history, the movie was easy to follow and thoroughly entertaining. Fast-paced and with a twist of comedy in all the right spots, the film made me forget that whole plan to go get my free refill of popcorn. In addition, Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto light up the screen with wild, youthful charisma, and leave me hoping that another installment will find its way to theaters. Major orchid.

And You Know You Should Be Glad

Sometimes, when I'm at work and the mindless monotony becomes unbearable, I read every single article on CNN's homepage. Most simply reiterate the same stories I heard on the radio during my morning commute, and some offer snippy, sarcastic points of view about things that don't really matter. While the articles are well-written and informative, I seldom feel enriched after one of these news cram sessions, but feel rather bogged down and disgusted with the world. On occassion, however, I come across a rare golden nugget amidst the sludge. One afternoon as I was reading an article (I confess I no longer recall the actual topic), I was surprised to realize that I really liked the article. I liked the writer's style and his voice, and I liked his view of the world. I wondered if he'd ever written any books, and a quick Google search told me that he had--several, in fact. I stopped at the library on the way home, and this is what they had in stock.

And You Know You Should Be Glad tells the story of Bob Greene, the author, and his life-long best friend, Jack Roth. Both men are older at the story's beginning, and throughout the book Greene recounts various moments they shared during their lifetimes. Jack is dying, and it causes Greene to really ponder the ideas of friendship, love, and life in general. The book undoubtedly reminds readers of the friends in their own lives, which can be a bittersweet experience. Without any contrived or superfluous wording, the book highlights some of the sweetest aspects of the human condition.

It's one of the best works of non-fiction I've read in a long time, and I definitely recommend it. I think this one's an oak.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

I don't think there's anything I can say about American Idol that hasn't already been said elsewhere, so I'll skip it entirely save for this: Kris is amazing in his own right, and Adam is as well. They're apples and oranges, and to compare the best orange with the best apple is ridiculous. Obviously, some people have their favorite fruit, but neither is inherently better than the other. I adore Adam and Kris as well, and America did not 'get it wrong.' Okay, done. Onto a book.

I'm actually not sure how I feel about this one. There's a lot of hype going around about Swedish author Stieg Larsson and his international best-selling series, which starts with The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I was intrigued by the Swede (ho hum, I'm so funny with my rhymes), and am the first to say that Larsson's work is anything but juvenile and sub-par.

I just don't know if I actually liked it.

The story is a tantalizing little mystery, wrapped up in tales of violence and crime. It's too long and complicated to spell out, but the story is, on a most basic level, about Mikael Blomkvist, a once renowned financial reporter who has fallen from grace and earned himself a cozy spot in prison for libel against a big time financial guru named Wennerstrom. After this rather heavy blow, Blomkvist is surprised to receive a telephone call from Henrik Vanger, the former CEO of the Vanger Corporation, which in years past was a major player in Swedish industry, who hires Blomkvist to investigate the disappearance (and probable murder) of his niece, Harriet. Harriet vanished from the family's island home decades ago, and the incident seems to be a "locked room" case (if at this point you think I'm being long winded, then this book is not for you). Blomkvist takes the job, and eventually works with investigator/hacker Lisbeth Salander, the girl with the dragon tattoo, to crack the case. Dozens of little side-stories and innuendos crop up throughout the novel, all eventually interrelated, including a bit of a disfunctional love story. Phew. Got it all out.

I want to choose my words carefully, because this is definitely the work of a mature writer. The characters have been painstakingly, succinctly developed, and while at times this is borderline maddening, it is actually necessary for the flow of the story. It's clever. The crime and disappearance of Harriet Vanger herself is fascinating, as is the search for her killer. While some "twists" were predictable (what can I say, I watch a lot of crime TV), there were still some major shockers that dragged my jaw down to the floor. Parts were graphic, and plain gross; parts were boring; parts seemed irrelevant (but perhaps they'll come into play in the next book?). It was addicting--I couldn't put it down. But when I closed it, it was with a sense of tremendous relief. What am I to make of that?

I suppose the best I can do is present the facts. It's a tough read if you're not familiar with Swedish names, places, and pop culture history. (BTW, Lisbeth Salander is supposedly based off the character of Pippi Longstocking--I'm sorry, I don't see it). It addresses heavy issues, including murder, fraud, and sexual abuse, so don't mistake it for a cozy mystery or a light read.

The best I can come up with is that I respect this work, but I don't especially like it. I don't plan on reading the follow-up. I'll give it a puddle.