CBR13 #2 - A Book of Luminous Things - Edited by Czesław Miłosz

 I don't think I've read a poetry anthology since college -- and even then, I mostly just read the poems we were studying and ignored both the commentary and all the other poems. A Norton Anthology of Poetry can be a very intimidating book, after all.

I didn't actually intend to read one this time, either. However, I happened to come across a poem by Eastern European poet Czesław Miłosz which I liked, and when I googled him I discovered he'd edited this anthology. I figured it might be nice to branch out and experience some new poets, so I picked it up.

When I started reading, I really appreciated what Miłosz had to say about the poems, why he'd included them, and how they related to each section of the anthology. He had some really great stuff to say about how poets over the centuries relate to nature, and why he like and had selected each poem. The selection leaned pretty heavily on Eastern European and ancient Chinese poets, but since I really like EE poetry and don't have a lot of experience with ancient Chinese poetry, I figured that would be a nice broadening experience.

After a while, I began to wonder if maybe Miłosz should have just done an anthology of Chinese poetry instead.

Still, I read on.

Then there came the chapter entitled "Women's Skin" which was ostensibly about women. 

Except only maybe a third of the poems were BY women. And of those that were, Miłosz was...somewhat uncomplimentary? As I read, I began to get a very distinct feeling that Miłosz was not super fond of women, or very interested in their work. His little descriptions and notes about the poems felt almost snide in their dismissiveness. 

After that, while I finished the book, I no longer trusted or appreciated Miłosz's observations.

It's a shame because I really did enjoy some of the poems. I probably would still even enjoy Miłosz's poems, but there are other places to find those. 

I would not recommend this book -- if you're interested in Chinese poetry from the 700s, you could probably find an anthology by a Chinese author that would be better, same with the modern Eastern European poets. 

In Which Your Author Gets Stoned and Watches "Vera Cruz"

 So today I decided the best use of my time would be to take an edible and then liveblog this 1954 tale of the Mexican Revolution.

Here are the results. 

Cooper’s kind of a stuffed shirt, but Lancaster is 🔥

Ohhhh, Cooper’s not a stuffed shirt, he’s just DRY.

This film continues to improve. Jack Elam is in it!

Ooh, also Ernest Borgnine!

Is that a very young Charles Bronson?

Wow, research suggests Gary Cooper was kind of a dick in real life. Then again, research also suggests he was on so much pain medication when this movie was shooting that his didn’t work, so I guess I can see why he might be crabby.

Did tooth bleach exist in the 50s? WTF was Burt Lancaster doing to make his teeth look like that? They practically glow in the dark. 

Oh noooooo, they brought in one Black guy, just to use him for a racist dance bit?!

I’m starting to think I’m not actually supposed to be rooting for Burt here. Oops. 

Oh, Cooper’s not dry, he’s just an asshole. 

This is like a very, very slow heist movie. It could definitely use more chase scenes. I hope later there will at least be some explosions.

I can’t tell if Lancaster’s supposed to be so creepy...like, I get that he’s an anti-hero scoundrel type, but the line between “charming jerk” and “dangerous sociopath” is getting a little smudgy here. 

Hooray, there’s another racist dancing bit. 

Okay, so upon investigation it turns out that Archie Savage (who plays the Black Union soldier Ballard here) was a “pioneer of African-American dance.” I guess that sort of explains all the dancing? But, like, why is this character there? I’m obviously not saying they shouldn’t have a Black dude in the movie, but like...they didn’t HAVE to—this was the 50s—so what is the purpose of adding this character? The dancing feels like a weird turn in tone every time it happens. 

Cooper’s character would be a lot more sympathetic if he were a former Union soldier, rather than a former confederate being sad about his lost plantation. 

Seriously, those teeth! Were they using ultraviolet radiation on them?

This is like the anti-slash as far as manly man films go. Unlike Wayne and Mitchum in El Dorado, there is NO sexual energy between these two at all. Well, Lancaster is shooting sexual energy everywhere indiscriminately (but it’s verging on rapey, kind of?) while Cooper is resolutely anti-sexual. If “plexiglass bathtub” were a sexuality, then that’s what Cooper’s got going here. 

This bit where the characters more or less come right out and say “I am double crossing everyone!” directly to the camera before a cut-away is...not subtle. 

I’d kind of like the two women to shoot Cooper and Lancaster and then run away with the money. Doubt that’s going to happen, though. I suspect Cooper will somehow come out on top. His romantic subplot will most likely be pleased to be finished with those terribly awkward, passionless, lip-squishing kisses he keeps planting on her. 

This bit where Lancaster is freshening up in front of the fancy French lady is deeply unsettling. Worse, I can’t tell if it’s supposed to be. I’m not sure whether the original audience of the time would consider it “charming rogue” or “secret serial killer.” I’m still uncertain if I should be rooting for his character, or if the fact that I pick him over Cooper is indicative of a character flaw on my part. 

Oh, well now of course he’s slapping the fancy French lady around, as you do. 

So probably meant to be unsettling, then. Well, but now she's kissing him, so it could still be charming rogue territory? After all, there's a perfectly acceptable Dean Martin/Nat King Cole song from the same year that advocates slapping your wife into submission (in a very swingy way, of course) if she gets annoyed with your gambling or reckless spending. (I really liked "Open Up the Doghouse" until I actually listened to the lyrics.) It was a very different time.

“I don’t trust him. He likes people and you can never count on a man like that.” Fair enough, Burt. But DOES he like people? Because so far, in this film, the main indicators that he likes people are that he 1. Shot a horse 2. Did not think that massacring a group of children or raping a lady in the main square were acceptable behaviors. Apparently, the threshold for "liking people" in Lancaster's world is very low.

This movie is awful. 

I think maybe I’m rooting for the Juaristas?

Nope, Lancaster is definitely the bad guy. I mean, aside from the French. 

At least I'm finally getting the explosions I wanted.

Yay! Macho bullshit seems to have proved fatal. 

Wait, why is Cooper crying? Clearly, I’ve missed something. This ending is both anti-climactic and baffling. 

I can see why the Mexican government got so mad about this film they insisted any movies shot there in the future make the Mexican people look good. They do not come off well here, is what I’m saying. 

The French don’t come off super well either, to be honest. 

In fact, pretty much everyone in this movie is awful, except maybe Gary Cooper, who is both awful AND self-righteous. 

So when it comes down to films about running dangerous errands during the Mexican Revolution, I’m going to declare Two Mules for Sister Sara the undeniable winner. 

CBR11 #4:Pretending to Care - The Pretenders (Cemetery Girl #1) by Charlaine Harris and Christopher Golden

I wanted to like this, but...I just didn't. I don't know if it was too short, or whether it would have more appeal for a YA audience, but I was just kind of bored.

 Calexa Rose finds herself dumped in a graveyard, with no memory of her identity, and only the knowledge that someone tried to kill her. She can also see ghosts. She makes herself at home in the cemetery, trying to hide out from whomever tried to kill her, while attempting to find out who she is. She steals some stuff. She develops uncomfortable friendships with some old people. She spends a lot of time running around, leaping over stuff, and wearing a veil. One night, she witnesses a crime. Then she has to decide what to do about what she saw. Can she manage to see that justice is done without exposing herself? The antagonist characters are extremely one-dimensional, as well as kind of stupid. Their motivations don't really make any sense. And while this is in theory a ghost story, there was only one ghost, and even she was boring. How does a cemetery only have ONE restless ghost? Maybe the format doesn't allow for much expansion, and I should have waited for an omnibus, rather than reading this book as a stand-alone, but it did nothing for me. The art was fine, but nothing stunning or particularly unusual. I really like both Charlaine Harris and Christopher Golden's other work, so this was a major disappointment.

CBR5 #3: Where the Heart Is by Billie Letts

I wanted to like this book. I really did. In my attempts to read things that are not all dripping gore and supernatural monsters, I picked out a nice little selection from Oprah's book club. I figured that the story sounded slightly intriguing, and the reviews seemed pretty good.

By the time I got half-way through, I was praying that a zombie horde would crash through town, eating nearly all the characters and laying waste to the country-side.

Novalee Nation is seventeen years old and seven months pregnant when the novel opens, traveling west with her boyfriend Willy-Jack. They stop at a Wal-Mart in a small town in Oklahoma, and while Novalee is in the bathroom, Willy-Jack drives away. So what does Novalee decide to do? The only thing she can do--move into the Wal-Mart! She meets some quirky, lovable small-town residents who eventually become her friends. The book covers several years of her life, and all the wonderful, valuable lessons she learns about friendship and love and strength and independence. A few serious and/or sad things happen, but mostly they flash by quickly and are basically forgotten shortly after they're revealed. Then the book has the audacity not to tie everything together in a neat bow at the end. Really, you're going to lead me prancing through every cliche in the chick-lit genre, and then not bother to at least satisfy me with the traditional happy-ever-after cliche? That just seems mean and unnecessary.

Novalee has a voice very similar to that of Sookie Stackhouse, though Sookie (while not especially bright) seems like a Fulbright scholar compared to Novalee. I get the whole "simple southern girl" thing, but there are several occasions when Novalee is just plain stupid. Poor and southern does not equal stupid, dammit. I did like a few of the supporting characters, though most of them were basically animated caricatures. Friend who is always dieting, and always getting knocked up and then abandoned! Noble elderly black man who points Novalee on the path to her future! Feisty grandma figure! I actually would have liked to a see a lot more of those characters, and find out what made them tick, instead of focusing on how they served Novalee's life. But no! And periodically,without warning, we drop in on Willy-Jack (a character I could happily have left in chapter one, never to be seen again) just to see how life is gut-punching him as a karmic punishment for the way he treated Novalee.

I hope Wal-Mart paid the author a nice chunk of change for all the favorable product placement. The Wal-Mart in my home town would not be nearly as friendly as this fictional one (also, it'd be hard to live in because where I'm from, Wal-Mart doesn't close at night.)

And the damn woman names her daughter Americus. Americus Nation. I almost through the book across the bus at that point, but I didn't because those other bus passengers didn't deserve to be punished for a fictional character's poor decisions.

Once again, I wish I could like this. It's not an offensive book. It's just good-heartedly dumb. I'll probably watch the movie if I see it available on Netflix Streaming or OnDemand because I am a glutton for punishment.

CBR4 #25: The Grin of the Dark by Ramsey Campbell

On its surface, this book sounded like something I would like. A movie critic/historian sets out to write a book about Tubby Thackeray, a silent-era film star who has been all but forgotten by the modern era. Unfortunately, it turns out that things would have been a lot better if Tubby had stayed forgotten.

The problems I had with this book were probably mostly personal. I didn't like the narrator at all--I found him to be something of a spineless twerp--and none of the other characters appealed to me either. Frankly, I was a bit disappointed that Tubby didn't crawl out of the screen Ring-style and eat everybody in the first 100 pages. Plus, I am very iffy about unreliable narrators. Although sometimes the effect can be used really well, in this one I found it extremely obvious and therefore a bit lame.

Some of the imagery was good, and I did appreciate the tone of ever-rising paranoia and tension, but there were long bits that consisted of the narrator arguing via message board with an anonymous commenter...who spelled terribly.  I know it was intentional, but as a word nerd, that just irked me no end. I got what the author was going for, I just didn't like it very much.

Allegedly, this book is very Lovecraftian. I don't know about that, as I haven't gotten around to reading any Lovecraft yet. I'll just say that while others might enjoy this book, it wasn't for me.

CBR4 #12: Johnny Gruesome by Gregory Lamberson

(Here thar be spoilers, me hearties. Though if you read this review and are still tempted to read the book, I've clearly done it wrong.)

You may have noticed in the course of the hundreds of reviews I've done over the past few years that there have been very few books to which I've had a strong negative reaction. Mostly I can find SOMETHING likable about each story.  If a story has something going for it -- interesting plot, relateable characters, gripping language--I am willing to overlook a lot. I can suspend my disbelief if I think it might be worth it. I can even appreciate things that are bad, as long as they are bad with aplomb. (Hence my Nicolas Cage obsession, obviously.) Even things that I don't particularly like, I mostly feel pretty "meh" about. I don't get worked up into Lewis Black-style rage.

Johnny Gruesome is the rare exception to that rule.

Eric is a senior in high school, and his best friend is Johnny Grissom. They have been best friends since elementary school, even though Evan is more traditional and Johnny is a bit of a rebel and trouble-maker (He likes heavy metal music and has LONG HAIR!) One night, Eric and Johnny are out with Johnny's girlfriend Karen and their friend Gary, and there's a car accident. Johnny gets a little crazy, and Gary kills him, despite Eric's somewhat pathetic efforts to the contrary. The three teenagers decide to make it look like an accident, so they push Johnny and his car into the freezing river. Then he comes back and starts killing EVERYONE!

This is the basis of the plot. There are some minor subplots that go nowhere, but for the most part it's just Johnny killing people he doesn't like. And Eric doping around not knowing what's going on for 90% of the book.

Let's look at some reasons this book is bad:

1. Plot: Most of the main characters are in no danger most of the way through. They're barely even threatened for the first half. Johnny instead spends some time changing his clothes and hanging out before heading out to kill a bunch of characters we've perhaps seen once. Johnny kills the local priest who apparently maybe molested him. He kills some of the guys on the wrestling team who were douchey to him when he was alive. He kills everyone who works at the funeral home, as he felt they violated him somehow while preparing him for his funeral. He sexually assaults his home room teacher. He murders Eric's girlfriend, whom he liked when he was alive. He kills Karen and Gary. And then he tries to kill Eric. Luckily, Eric manages to escape with the help of the home room teacher and her husband the "acting" police chief (a big deal is made about how he's not really the chief, but it's one of those subplots that goes nowhere). Then he traps Johnny in the river because he read on the internet that ghosts can't get out of flowing water. Seriously. That is the plot. Johnny spends the majority of his time in his room at his house being pissed off, going out occasionally to kill people and get moisturizer to keep his skin from all rotting off (I AM NOT KIDDING).

2. The writing is bad. This book is written like it's a YA novel, except the dialogue, drug use, sexual situations, and graphic violence make it totally inappropriate for children. It's not a stylistic choice, as far as I can tell. I think the author is just kind of dumb. I mean, he's happy to describe a woman having her head pulled open with a crowbar, but expressing any true emotional impact or interesting extraneous detail is apparently beyond him. Actually, the only time he even makes any real attempt at description is when he's going for a gross out--whether it's stuffing the local rich jerk's decapitated head in a deflated basketball, the aforementioned crowbar assault, sodomizing the priest, or Johnny trying to kiss the homeroom teacher with his rotting tongue. Perhaps if he'd put even a smidge of that energy into creating a passable environment or believable dialogue or subtlety of emotion he might have ended up with a better book.

3. The characters were poorly fleshed out. Their motivations didn't make sense, and sometimes were directly contradictory. Before death, Johnny was a rebel, but a good-hearted one. He was tough but loyal to his friend, difficult at school but not mean-spirited. Then he suddenly becomes evil. I mean, I suppose it's because he was killed, but I just didn't buy the about-face in personality. There was no conflict in him. As a reader, I couldn't wrap my head around the transformation, and the author did nothing to help. Eric is merely dull and useless. He wanders through the story suffering generalized anxiety, pondering at the spree of horrific murders. Eventually he confides in the teacher, who insists he go to the police. Then later he decides to go ALONE out to the icy river to confront the murderous wraith...which is how he ends up almost drowning in an ice coated river. The women in the story are even worse. One is a junkie, one might as well be named "Doomed Romantic Interest", and one is both a hysterical victim and also such a dope that she nearly shoots Eric while trying to rescue him. The minor characters conform to their particular stereotypes--arrogant jocks, asshole rich jock, sad alcoholic dad, half-witted former athlete, creepy funeral home family, sleazy drug dealer--without adding anything at all new, different, or interesting.

Clearly, this book wanted to be Stephen King's Christine. The difference is that Christine has SUBTEXT. Christine, at its heart, is about the destructive effect that addiction can have on relationships. This book at its heart is a direct-to-DVD slasher film starring a former porn start and some 80s sitcom actor who just got out of "Celebrity Rehab."


This book was goddamn stupid. Every single facet of it was poorly planned and poorly executed. Frankly, I find it INSULTING to my intelligence. It gives me a pain in the middle of my forehead, like any moment blood is going to start shooting out my nose. If any of you still feel the need to read this abomination after what I've said about it here...well...I'm not sure we can be friends anymore.

CR3 #72: Lights Out in Wonderland by DBC Pierre

(This book was graciously sent to me for free by W.W. Norton & Co. via Goodreads.com. I think they're going to wish they'd sent it to someone else.)

I hated Catcher in the Rye. I know it's supposed to be some kind of iconic book about about teenage angst or something, but to me Holden Caulfield was just sort of a whiny twit who created most of his problems himself. Boohooo! My parents don't understand me and my lack of effort is resulting in poor school performance and OMG SOMETIMES ADULTS LIE ABOUT THINGS! I tell you this because Lights Out in Wonderland is like all the worst things about Catcher in the Rye combined with a book Chuck Palahniuk might write after a serious head injury.

Gabriel Brockwell is twenty-five. He comes from an upper-class British family, and at the beginning of the book, finds himself in rehab. Deeply unsatisfied with his life, he decides that the best solution is to kill himself. However, before he does that, he feels that he should have at least one brilliant party first. From there, he travels around the globe, inadvertently fucking things up for almost everyone he meets. In between, he whines about how his daddy wasn't nice to him and his job was unfulfilling, and how people liked his friends more than they like him (unsurprising, really.) He has no direction in life! Things have not turned out the way he hoped/expected! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

The writing was not terrible -- there were some interesting descriptions along the way. However, it was often repetitive, but not in an interesting, witty, Palahniuk-type way, but in a repetitive way. Not to mention the mind-numbing, self-indulgent, and wholly unnecessary footnotes. YOU ARE NOT DAVID FOSTER WALLACE.

I'm sure there are a lot of people who might enjoy this book. I am just not one of them.

Random Things That Are Not Book Reviews

For that four of you out there who read this blog on a regular basis, you must be getting exceedingly tired of my endless book reviews. I'm not going to STOP with the books, mind you, but I thought at least today I could talk about something different. Besides, I also watch MOVIES!

1. Cannonball Fail #1: Before I get into movies, I have to make mention of my first Cannonball Fail. I tried to read Jane Austen's Sense & Sensibility, but after about 100 pages, I just had to throw it against the wall and give up. I couldn't stand any of the characters--I wanted to take every single person in that story out behind the barn and beat him/her unconscious with a rock. They were all so snooty and archaic. Anyway, I very very rarely give up on a book--sometimes I take...very long breaks, but I nearly always come back and finish--but I couldn't do it. I don't really understand my problem, either. I know several bright, interesting people who truly enjoy Jane Austen's work. And I enjoyed the film based on this book (though I felt that Emma Thompson would have made a much better couple with Alan Rickman than with that stuttering ninny Hugh Grant.) Oh well. Can't win them all, I guess.

2. I am really disappointed by this whole "Congressman Weiner Sends Photos of His Junk to Young Women" scandal. It's a shame that someone who could have been such a beneficial force for the democratic party turned out to be a slave to his penis. Seriously, dude. Have you learned nothing from...every celebrity who has been caught in one of these stupid scandals since the internet began? Don't you know that the girls are GOING TO SELL THE PICTURES? They may weep about how intrusive everyone is and how their lives will never be the same and oh woe is me, Gloria Allred, why has this happened to me? Why won't the media leave meeeeeee alooooone? What they will NOT do is delete the damn pictures and then be like "What pictures?" Do not ever think they will delete the pictures and keep their mouths shut. There is no money or trashy tabloid fame in that. "Ohhh, I just had to tell my story!" Why? How exactly are you enriching the national discourse? ARGH! I am so annoyed by the whole situation. Just once I'd like a politician I like to turn out NOT to be a pervy hobbit-fancier*.

3. The Boston Bruins are in the Stanley Cup finals. I would like to believe it is possible for them to win, but in my (admittedly limited) experience with them, they are really just trying to find the most frustrating and heart-crushing way possible to lose. I have to say I do love when one of the local teams is in championship contention, because the whole city gets excited about it. Total strangers are talking to one another in bus stations, and wearing their related gear with great city pride. I've been pretty lucky since I moved here--the local teams have been having a rather impressive streak of successful seasons. Even someone who was totally anti-sports (like yours truly) can't help but be swept up in it all.

4. The other night, Netflix finally had a copy of  Death Race 2000 to send me (the darn film has had been listed as "Long Wait" for about a year). Turns out it is one of the cheesiest films I've ever had the good fortune to be exposed to. For those who are unfamiliar, this is NOT the Jason Statham version but rather the original, where the Death Racers are out on the open roads, trying to both cross the country first AND kill the most pedestrians. David Carradine stars as the masked driver Frankenstein, and he can strip down to his wee speedos all he likes, Jason Statham is going to beat him every time in that competition. Also, he doesn't really measure up in growly witticisms or intense glaring. The whole movie was a cheese fest, and the cars were like something out of Wacky Races. The second best part of the whole thing was that a movie made in 1975 could predict (to an almost eerie degree) our current world of reality TV and government-by-media-based-terror. The best part was that Sylvester Stallone was in it, back before he had the clout to demand that he not appear short in movies. Plus, he spends most of the movie dressed as a gangster (except a notable scene wearing only a towel) and smears cake on people's faces. Good show.

5. On a related note, after finishing up Death Race 2000, I felt the need to continue into a "Sylvester Stallone Marathon." Here's another embarrassing fact about me: I love Sylvester Stallone. I love him almost as much as I love Nic Cage, and for many of the same reasons. First off, they both started out hotter than all hell. Come on, you can't tell me that early 80s Stallone was not attractive! Hell, even in the early 90s he was still doing all right. Okay, yeah, then he stuffed his face full of botox or plastic or wombat glands or whatever and had his eyelids sewed to his forehead and did every steroid in the universe and now he's kind of scary like a Michael Myers Halloween mask. But still! I'm not a fan of the Rocky movies, and I found Rambo rather upsetting to be honest ("That man needs to be in a hospital being treated for his PTSD! It's not right that he's been left to wander the roads alone without any psychiatric treatment!"). Where it's at is definitely Stallone's comedies. I adore Demolition Man and Tango & Cash. I like Judge Dredd a lot. I even giggle at Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot! Something about his whole "muscle-bound--but still intelligent!--jerkface in an upside down world" scenarios tickles my funny bone. And his voice just makes it that much better. The Boyfriend does not get the appeal, but I think that's because he is totally immune to the draw of camp. I keep hoping that one day, Stallone and Cage will share the screen somehow. Should that happen, I might just explode with joy.

6. Another thing I've been enjoying recently is the BBC show Sherlock. The first season is currently available via Netflix OnDemand, and so far (two episodes in) I've been very impressed. The relationship between Holmes and Watson is just as I always pictured it to be--less combative, as in the recent film version--and more of a symbiotic and occasionally truly affectionate friendship. Benedict Cumberbatch (is that not the most British name you could possibly imagine? I think the only one I can make up that even comes close is Second Leftenant Percy Q. Hufflefufshire, which, BTW, is what I am going to name my dog, should I ever get one) makes a great Holmes--you can often see the wheels in his head actively turning. Martin Freeman (whom I really enjoyed in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and look forward to as Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit) is also quite good as Dr. Watson. He's a slightly more complex character than Watson was originally written in the stories, and he does a great job showing both the frustration and the awe that dealing with Holmes on a daily basis inspires. If you have the technology, I highly recommend watching these. There's only 4 episodes in series one I think, so it's not a giant commitment.

So yeah. Apparently I had a lot to say and didn't even get to half the movies I intended to mention, as well as my obsession with NBC's The Voice and the reasons I hate watching Rafael Nadal play tennis. Guess I will have to save those for another entry.




*"Pervy hobbit-fancier" is the invention of the hilarious Cassandra Clare in The Very Secret Diaries. If you have time, and enjoy Lord of the Rings, you should read them. I laugh until I snort every single time.

Dude, it's time to fire your stylist. Even if he/she DID see you stuffing a hooker in your trunk.

Really? ARE YOU SERIOUS? Why do you do this to me? It's beginning to feel deliberate. The live snakes are coming. I'm sure of it.

An Angry Consumer

Dear Old Navy,

Listen, mostly I really like you. I appreciate that you keep your prices reasonable, have a decent selection, and most importantly make plus-size clothes (I mean, you don't make them available in your stores, because after all, there's not really enough space to display the fat-fat-fatty clothes, but you at least have them on your website, and that's awfully nice of you). I am generally a fan, but today I am so angry with you that I can barely stand it.

Last Thursday (note: nearly a week ago), I placed an order with you. I ordered several items (in order to take advantage of free shipping for orders over $50). Two of these items were Christmas gifts for The Boyfriend, as he also enjoys your clothes and appreciates that you carry styles for the big and tall gentleman. One of these items was an orange (excuse me..."Autumn Log") performance fleece jacket. The Boyfriend needed a new fleece, and his favorite color is orange. I was so excited.

Then, today, I got an email from you explaining that "while processing [my] order, [you] found that the item(s) below are no longer available." The item, of course, being the orange fleece. You refunded my money, which was nice. You also offered me a 10% discount coupon, which was nice, too.

Here is the problem: I ORDERED THE SAME GODDAMN ORANGE FLEECE FOR THE BOYFRIEND LAST YEAR AND YOU DID THE SAME FUCKING THING TO ME! PERHAPS YOU SHOULD KEEP BETTER INVENTORY, IF IT TAKES A FUCKING WEEK FOR YOU TO DISCOVER THAT SOMETHING I FOUND ON YOUR WEBSITE, PURCHASED, RECEIVED A CONFIRMATION FOR, AND PAID FOR NO LONGER EXISTS!

And thanks a lot for your bullshit coupon. To order one more item, I'd have to pay like $8 in shipping, which is likely to be nearly what the item I wish to order is worth after your coupon.

I sent your customer service email a short note, explaining as politely as possible my frustration, and also explaining that since this is the second year in a row this has occurred, I from now on will be taking my holiday shopping elsewhere. After all, I'm already not good enough to shop in your store, now you're telling me you can't be bothered to stock items you've already sold me?

Thank you for all your wonderful help. I guess I will just have to take my lucrative lounge-pant business back to Target.

The Caustic Critic

Careful Or You'll Be Bored to Death!: Scare Jessica to Death

This past weekend, The Boyfriend was out of town and I happily had the place all to myself. Obviously, what I did was hang out, eat pizza, and watch terrible movies OnDemand. One such movie that I found was Scare Jessica to Death. (In case you are thinking of watching this movie--which I don't know why you would, but some people are funny that way--there are going to be some spoilers. Be warned.)

First of all, there's the most important factor: 1971. Yes, this movie was made in 1971, and it was NOT a high budget blockbuster. In fact, when watching it you may suspect that the director simply rounded up a couple friends, his grandparents, and a video camera to put this thing together. Also, he may have written the entire script in two hours while he was stoned. You know the kind of stoned: the kind of stoned where you're like "Hey, let's order a pizza!" and everyone's really psyched and thinks it's a most excellent idea, and then an hour later you're all like "Hey, where's that pizza?" only to have the most sober member of the group point out that you never actually ordered it, instead you went to the 7-11 and bought 12 packages of Swedish fish and a Slim Jim. That is the kind of stoned that produced this movie, I think.

The second thing is that you keep thinking things are going to get more interesting, but they don't. For all the 'Music of Creepiness and Great Forboding' not a lot really happens. The story sort of drags along for most of the movie, with the occasional "ooh, that's sort of weird" moment. However, if you're paying attention, the movie's twist should slam you in the head about half an hour in. Then the last 15 or twenty minutes a bunch of stuff happens but none of it is particularly interesting or scary. You're mostly left wondering just how stupid this particular bunch of people are.

For those of you who might still be interested, the plot is as follows: Jessica has just been released from a mental institution, and her husband and their random hippy friend Woody decide the best thing for her is to pack up and move to a creepy-ass house out in the middle of Buttfuck-Nowhereville, where they plan to live off of selling any heirlooms left in the house and Woody's doubtful farming skills. When they get to the house, they find the locals distinctly unfriendly and a beautiful squatter named Emily living in the place. Things kind of go to hell from there, with Jessica struggling to understand what's going on while not giving the impression that she's still crazy. Of course the mysterious Emily is not what she first appears (although can definitely rock the lute) and the town is even less friendly than it first seemed. Throw in a cheating husband, a mute girl in white, some drowning, a vampire (one who appears to have no problems at all with sunlight), and some elderly zombies and you have...well, I don't know exactly what you you have. You have this movie, I guess. It sounds like a lot of excitement, but trust me, that explanation was probably more exciting and enjoyable than the actual film.

I don't recommend this to anyone. There are thousands of horror movies out there, and even most of the "bad" ones will be better than this.

Dear God, Why?: Before The Devil Knows You're Dead

Tuesday was The Boyfriend's birthday, and he wanted to go to the movies. He'd been wanting to see Before the Devil Knows You're Dead since it came out, and as it was playing at the Somerville, he chose that for his birthday movie. Having read up on it, I KNEW that I wasn't going to like it, but it WAS his birthday...turned out that he hated it too. As did the other three people who came to the movies with us. I discovered the only thing worse than a relentlessly depressing movie in which none of the characters are likeable and all the decisions are bad is a relentlessly depressing movie that continually LOOPS BACK on itself, so you actually end up watching the SAME depressing scenes over and over again. Maybe I liked it less than I could have because I hate non-linear story-telling. Or, as I said, it could be because I felt about it the same way I did about Chicago, in that I found all the characters to be shitty people whom I didn't care about. OR it could be that it opened (and when I say "opened" I mean literally the very first scene in the film) with a graphic scene featuring a naked Phillip Seymour Hoffman banging Marissa Tomei doggy style. (Admittedly, everyone DID enjoy Marissa Tomei, who spent most of the movie wandering around topless and looking pouty.) Naked PSH is not something I ever felt a desire to see, and everything just spiraled downhill from there. Definitely not a good date movie, or a film to see with your parents. Not to mention that it's very long, and the first hour or so draaaaaaaaaaags on forever. Maybe I'm just not artsy enough, but the whole thing just sucked hardcore in my opinion. Everyone in the theater seemed to feel the same way--when it was over (the ending is rather abrupt) someone said aloud in the silence "Jesus Christ! Thank God THAT'S over!" and there was laughter and applause from the, like, 12 other people in there. Do yourself a favor--instead of seeing this movie, just take a meat fork and jam it into the side of your head.I told The Boyfriend that this definitely makes him even for the movie I picked out a while ago which turned out to have all the ass-raping in it.

A Letter to Bobby Flay

Dear Bobby Flay,

I hope that one night soon Gordon Ramsay and Anthony Bourdain pull you into a dark alley and kick the ever-loving shit out of you.
CC

P.S. Putting three different variations of chipotle sauce on a dish does not make it interesting. It just makes you a pretentious douchebag.

Just pay the man already: Rent

I tried to watch Rent the other day. I know I'm supposed to like it because it's about the freedom and struggle of the artistic life and blah blah blah, but I have to admit that...I hated it. I mean hated it so much I couldn't even finish watching it. I found myself sympathizing with the villain, who just wanted to clean up the neighborhood and build a nice studio. While all the main characters were whining about paying the rent, I was sitting there thinking "Well, if you can't afford to pay rent on your really shitty apartment, maybe you should stop strumming your guitar and go get a job at Kinko's or something!" I thought most of the characters (except for Angel and Tom Collins) were more annoying than charmingly bohemian. Seriously, Maureen and her "performance art"? Give me a break! And although I liked the music, a lot of the songs went on waaaaaaaaay too long. I mean, how many choruses of "No Day but Today" did we really need? I was really surprised, because I know a lot of people who swear by this show, but I was totally unimpressed. Maybe it would be better on the stage? Or maybe I'm getting old and my Republican side is showing.


Bonus: I also watched Howl's Moving Castle which was pretty good for a kids' movie. I think I may have read the book when I was a child, because it seemed very familiar. The voice acting was pretty good (I didn't even think TOO much about Christian Bale being the voice behind Howl...though his voice IS awfully sexy) although the actress who played the lead as a young girl could have been better. The animation and backgrounds were extremely well-done, as I've come to expect from Japanese anime-type movies. All in all, it was certainly a movie I'd recommend for children (not very young children, but maybe in the 8 - 11 range?), and it's not unpleasant to watch as an adult, either.

I have Mysterious Skin from Netflix right now. I just have to find a time when The Boyfriend isn't home to watch it, since crazy male street hustlers are not really his bag.

OnDemand is not to be trusted: Mean Guns and R.S.V.P

So I watched two movies today. One was pretty good, and the other sucked ass.

We'll start with the one that sucked ass. It was called Mean Guns, and I'm not sure why I decided to watch it in the first place. I suppose because I saw that Ice-T was in it, and I like Ice-T. However, it turns out that Ice-T has made some poor movie choices and this was certainly one of them. Basically, the premise is that a mob boss has called together in an empty prison 100 criminals who have betrayed him. He hands out guns and bats, and says the last 3 survivors get $10 million. Therefore, the entire movie is mostly people shooting and beating each other to death. It's not a bad premise, but it was really REALLY badly written AND acted. I have seen two films with Christopher Lambert in them, and both made me wonder how he manages to stay employed as an actor. I've seen high school kids act better than that guy. Hell, there was an 8 year old in the movie who acted rings around him. Even Ice-T was bad, and as I said, I generally find him enjoyable. All in all, it was extremely terrible, and that is an hour and a half of my life I will never get back. I'm kind of bitter about it, actually.

The second movie, called R.S.V.P. was much better. It's not GREAT, but after Mean Guns it SEEMED Oscar-worthy. The premise of that one is that this guy invites all his friends over to a party they'll never forget. I don't think it would be as good if you haven't seen Hitchcock's Rope, which it references heavily (though since it actually mentions that film and stuff, it's not the rip-off I thought it would be.) The guy who played the lead (a no-name whom I've never heard of) was pretty good. It's Glenn Quinn's last film before he OD'd (he's best known for playing the Irish guy on Angel) and he also turned in a great performance. However, I was most excited to see Jason FUCKING Mewes! Yes, Jay has had other acting jobs! Admittedly, he pretty much plays Jay (a hardcore stoner dude) but I was still happy to see him employed. I can't really say much more, because I don't want to give away the plot, and to say much beyond what I already have would give it all away. I think a double-feature of Rope first and then R.S.V.P. would be an interesting evening. It's not exactly brain-food, but it's fun.

"Don't have unrealistic expectations.": Art School Confidential

I watched Art School Confidential the other day and have mixed feelings about it. In some ways I thought it was hilarious, but it kind of failed overall. I'm not even sure everyone would find amusing the stuff I did, because my laughs had a lot to do with having gone to an "arty" school. There is a part in the beginning when one of the characters goes through and points out the stereotypes in the class, and I immediately was like "Yes! I remember those people! The blow-hard! Yes! That idiot who doesn't ever get it! The person whose work everyone else is cooing over and I'm sitting there like 'I don't understand why anyone would think this is good.' I remember all of this! The professor who doesn't really give a shit about teaching but needs to pay bills until his 'great work' gets picked up!" Atmospherically, it was very, very close to perfect--in my opinion. Ethan Suplee's filmmaker character in particular was dead-on. However, the problem I had with the film was...well, everything else. I found the main character dull, particularly when compared to all the side characters (disclosure: this is something I have been accused of in my own work--making the straight man so straight he fades into the background. See also: Pirates of the Caribbean.) The love interest also had all the charisma of a rotting corpse. The plot was ludicrous, and continued to get stupider as the movie went on. By the time the end of the picture rolled around, I was sitting on my couch yelling "Oh, for Chrissakes! Stupid, STUPID, STUPID!!!" and throwing Frosted Cheerios at the TV. In conclusion, if you're an art school person, you might want to check this out for nostalgia's sake. If you aren't, don't bother.

A Letter to Sienna Miller

Dear Sienna Miller,

You are untalented and badly dressed.
I am sick of looking at your smug, pointy face.
Please go away.

CC

P.S. Those of us who are FROM Pennsylvania can (and do) use the term "Shitsburgh." We're not big on other people using it, though. I'd be really careful using terms like that in a place where roughly 85% of the population could kick your ass.

P.P.S. Banging Jude Law doesn't make you special. It just means you have a vagina.

A Prayer

Dear Lord,

I come, humbly before You to discuss rectifying a situation I consider to be of Your making. You decided to drop that monsterous slab of concrete out of the ceiling of the Big Dig, and it squashed a seemingly perfectly nice woman to death. Now had You dropped that hunk of poorly made concrete on a pedophile, or a crack dealer, or Ann Coulter, or that lying sack of shit Dr. James Dobson from Focus on the Family, there probably would have been some rejoicing and then life would have returned to normal, everyone convinced that God was looking out for all of us. Unfortunately, by choosing some ordinary woman to crush to death, You've instead convinced everyone that You may not be watching as closely as they'd hoped. So now, the communters who are usually busy blocking up the highway with their SUVs and Hummers have decided the wise thing would be to take the trains. Mind You, I think it's a great idea for people to take public transportation (have You seen that Al Gore movie about global warming? Wait, of course You have--one of the benefits of being omnipotent, I suppose) but I was wondering if perhaps make the process easier for everyone. Bless them, Oh Lord, with the knowledge that they should wait until those exiting the train get OFF before trying to elbow their way on. And enlighten them, Good and Merciful God, with the urge to KEEP FILING IN to the train car, instead of walking through the door and then suddenly stopping. Barring that, I ask You, in your infinite power, to visit upon them brain aneurysms and heart attacks as they stand on the platform shrieking "MOVE IN! EXCUUUUUUUUSE ME! MOVE! MOVE!" at an impossibly packed car. Lord, I ask these things in the name of expedient and convenient commuting. Amen.

P.S. Lord, if you do not see fit to grant me these things which I humbly ask of You, I ask that You instead please provide me with a consolation prize. I prostrate myself before You and beg for a British Three-Pack--please send me Vinnie Jones to protect my person, Gordon Ramsay to cook me delicious victuals, and Clive Owen to stand around all the time being brooding and manly--when they're not busy satisfying my carnal desires. I promise I will ask You for forgiveness for these lustful thoughts at my earliest convenience.

P.P.S. I kid with You, oh Lord, because I am sure that You have an excellent sense of humor. Please do not smite me.

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow

The other day, The Boyfriend and I watched Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow.

The Boyfriend liked it.

I thought it was A MONSTEROUS PILE OF CRAP.

First of all, I think the whole retro-fuzzy-filter thing is gimmicky, not cool. But my main problem is with Gwyneth Paltrow's character. She is a scheming, lying, ambitious bitch and I wanted her to die. Not to mention that this is yet another movie where the heroine can't run more than ten feet during an emergency without falling down. And when the giant robots are smashing down the street, does she evacuate with everyone else? No, she has to stay and take pictures. So here come the robots, stomping down the street, smashing everything in their path. Does she run off into an alley to avoid being crushed? No, she staggers around in the middle of the street trying to take pictures, only to fall down and cower under the decending foot of a robot until Jude Law comes along and saves her. If you're going to be an ambitious bitch character, you can't also be a wimpering pussy. It just makes you extremely unlikable. Not to mention that every time the opportunity presented itself, she made THE STUPIDEST DECISION POSSIBLE. I felt strongly that Jude Law should have dumped her out of the plane over the ocean somewhere along the way--would have made his life significantly easier. Plus, Angelina Jolie and Giovanni Ribisi (the only two reasons I even watched the movie in the first place, since I hate Jude Law and am not crazy about Gwyneth) were only in the movie for a combined total of probably 20 minutes. Actually, I thought Angelina should have killed both Jude AND Gwyneth and gone after Giovanni herself. She probably would have done it a lot more efficiently. ALSO: if you're a mad scientist and determined to build a spaceship to sail away and incinerate the earth, do you build escape pods into the ship? Why would you? You'd theoretically have nowhere to escape TO. To sum up, it SUCKED. Unless you like tacky special FX and bickering banter that was done 934579347593874592374957395 times better fifty years ago by Katherine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart in "The African Queen", just skip it. You know, I have always hated Jude Law (not as much as I hate Russell Crowe or fucking Dame Judi Dench. Still, that leaves a lot of room for hating...), but I was beginning to like Gwyneth. Too bad.

Cold Mountain, Harold & Kumar, Spongebob Movie

Friday I watched Cold Mountain. (If you haven't yet seen this film and don't want to know what happens, just skip on down to the next entry.) Frankly, I thought it sucked. The only people in the movie worth paying attention to were Renee Zellweiger and maybe Jack White. I could happily have lived without just about everyone else. Particularly Jude Law. "I'm walking, I'm pouting and sullen, oh, does she love me or not? Oh, what is war for?" Yeah, shut up. And Nicole Kidman was alright in her interactions with Renee, but otherwise it was a lot more "Oh, woe is me! Does he still love me? When is he coming back? Oh, weep weep I'm so weak and I don't know WHAT I'll do!" Yeah, shut up. And you spend all that time with the two lovers writing sappy letters to each other and mooning around, and in the end (LOOK OUT! HERE THERE BE SPOILERS!) he fucking dies anyway. Why didn't he do that an hour and a half earlier and save us all a shitload of grief? I grow ever closer to adding Jude Law to the list of actors whose movies I simply will not watch, a list which already includes Russell Crowe (whom I loathe with a passion undying) and George Clooney.

We also watched Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle which was a RIOT. Aside from being a funny movie with guest appearances by Neil Patrick Harris (Doogie!), Ryan Reynolds (Grr!), and CHRISTOPHER FUCKING MELONI (WHOOOOOT!), Harold and Kumar remind me a lot of myself and Darling Hacking Cough (and not just because Kumar is Indian, either.) The dynamic between them is so very similar sometimes to the way that Darling Hacking Cough and I interacted. You know,
DHC: "Let's go and do ____________!"
Me: "I don't know. I don't think it's a good idea. I mean, __________ could be dangerous. We could die or be arrested...it's just not safe."
DHC: "Okay, you're probably right. Now put on your shoes and let's go."
Me: "But...I don't know. Death! Injury! Legal repercussions!
DHC: "Come on, seriously. Put on your shoes and let's go or we're going to miss it."
Me: "But..."
DHC: "Don't be a ninny."
Me: "Oh, all right. But if we die, don't say I didn't warn you."
DHC: "Right, whatever."

In conclusion, if you have not yet seen this movie, I suggest you go and rent it right away.

Oh, and we also rented the Spongebob movie. It was all right, but very weird. Also, Scarlett Johannson is not much of a voice actor.