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The first sin is in the promo shot. We see war machine against...Robert Downey Jr? What exactly is going on here? Are they fighting? Did Iron man just decide to flip up his mask to be hard core? No, in this promo picture Iron Man flipped up his mask to remind the Ticket Buying Public that Robert Downey Jr. is in this movie and therefore you should watch it. They did the same thing with Judge Dredd so many years ago. What is hilarious is that Stallone's jaw was *genetically perfect* to play the lower-half of Judge Dredd's face, yet they found it necessary to take his helmet off for 3/4 of the movie. Hollywood has some sort of fucking obsession with breaking every single story they translate. Don't make me talk about Scooby Doo. Don't make me. I have been threatening to write about Scooby Doo for several years, and I have avoided doing so because I honestly have several pages to write about how they fucked up Scooby Doo. Permalink to this post. |
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First things first. This book is the literary version of a gore movie. This book grossed me out pretty badly, and this is coming on the heels of reading American Psycho - a book where the protagonist shoves a starving rat into a woman's vagina and watches it eat her insides. If you can get past the first couple of chapters, you're OK. It's really St. Gut-Free's story that got me. After that I got my second wind and was able to bear the gore. But that one...Whooo boy. Here's what I wrote about it just after reading it: I looked up from my book and around the front of the plane. Everything seemed unreal. My hearteat was quick and my breathing was labored. Was this really happening? Was I going to puke? The guy next to me was playing his Playstation Portable - PSP. Earlier, he told me he gets three hours of battery life on a good day. I knew it. I knew that thing would get shitty battery life. But that was 30 minutes ago. That was when I was playing Golden Sun on my Gameboy Advance and secretly gloating at my 10+ hours of sweet sweet battery life. Right now I was wishing I could un-read what I had just read, or at least have read it slower. Paced myself. Maybe 20 words a day. Let it soak in a bit. I had already read the first 90% of this chapter of Chuck Palahniuk's Haunted somewhere on the web. What I had previously read already made me cringe. Sometimes I would accidentally think about it while jacking off and go completely limp. God forbid I use it as a trigger image and appear impotent. But this last part. Yeah, I was almost asleep here in my hotel room just now until that image flooded my mind. I tried to think of anything - anything at all to ease my mind and un-pucker my butthole. Nothing helped. The last few pages of the Saint Gut-Free chapter are pretty damn vile. A lot of the rest of the book (I have almost finished it) are kind of trying to hard to be gross and/or shock, but that first one, while still probably trying too hard, was so freaking vile I couldn't summon the clarity of mind to judge it. Instead I literally almost puked on some poor dude's PSP. This book is a collection of short stories. But, being a Chuck Palahniuk book, he couldn't just write a bunch of short stories and call it a day. He had to add a twist. The twist is that the series of short stories are supposed to be written by many different authors on a writer's retreat. Tbe underlying story of the book is that roughly 18 writers sign up for a 3 month writer's retreat cut off from society. Upon entering the building, they discover they are actually prisoners with no means of escape. They have no choice but to write their masterpieces in the next three months. They slowly go crazy, fantasizing about how marketable this story will be - the story of their incarceration. To spice up the story they will eventually tell they begin to starve and abuse themselves. This spirals out of control until they are cutting off their own fingers and feasting on one another's flesh. Peppered throughout this underlying story are the short stories these writers supposedly told during their stint in this prison. Most of these short stories are good, and some of them are fucking great. I have always been a fan of the short story, and these are great ones. The problem with this book is that the "main" story is kind of contrived. It feels forced and it tries too hard to be shocking. Also, it isn't really believable. I really can't believe that any group of people would really act that way in this situation. Sure, I can definitely see 18 genetically identical Chuck Palanhiuk clones all going crazy in exactly this way, but not 18 different people. The stuff they do is just too out there. And as good as the short stories are, they are all clearly written with Chuck Palahniuk's voice. Each story feels like, "This is what a reflexologist chick would be like -- if she had Chuck Palahniuk's brain," or, "This is what a Native American on a reservation would be like -- if he had Chuck Palahniuk's brain." So, I've picked some nits. You see my reservations about the book. But, ultimately, the short stories are worth the read. They are gripping and varied. And I read this book in two sittings. This doesn't happen with a bad book. Permalink to this post. |
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I saw the movie adaptation of American Psycho before I read the book. It was a pretty faithful adaptation, but somehow managed to come across with an almost totally different feel and conclusion. (Spoilers in the next sentence) The movie seemed to heavily imply that all of the violence was in his head. There were clues throughout, and I was left with the definite opinion that he imagined everything. The book, however was very ambiguous. It was hard to really know exactly what happened. Second, you got a much better sense in the book of just how crazy this guy was. From his obsessiveness, to eating handfuls of sand, to imagining park benches chasing him, the guy was a nut. In the movie it seemed that his insanity was highly focused on violence. Other than a few allusions to material obsessions such as the business card scene, the character didn't seem as comprehensively crazy. Enough comparison. Right away in the first chapter I was jolted by the odd writing style. The text was laced with run-on sentences, odd comma placement, and rambling. I think he was trying to capture the manic nature of Patrick's thoughts, but it was still a bit hard to process. These fast-paced and jumbled chapters were contrasted with very neatly written, short chapters. Several chapters that were essentially 80s album-reviews were placed just after particularly intense chapters. These reviews were very well written and seemed to be very deeply considered. And they came from out of the damn blue. The book starts out very stark. Patrick seems obsessive, but other than that relatively normal. The book continues this way for a good number of pages. You are given detail upon detail. Every stitch of clothing worn by everyone he sees. The components of every meal. What was on TV. Every once in a great while you are given a flash of something ominous. The foreshadowing is very good. A blood stain is mentioned in passing and completely forgotten. As he is leaving his house he mentions the kid's bloody coat in the closet. As the story progresses these little allusions increase in frequency and intensity. He mentions women in college he raped, people he hurt. There are a few incidences of violence in the first half of the book, but they are pretty spaced out and not described in too much detail. After the first half of the book things accelerate rapidly. The violent acts increase in frequency, intensity, and the detail of the author's description. And then you are shown intense contrast. One page he is mutilating a woman, and the author literally ends the chapter in midsentence, bringing you abruptly into banter between Patrick and his friends at a posh restaurant. Which brings me to something I'm not too sure I dig about the book. I don't like to read too much into books and try to figure out what the author is trying to say. I try to just take it at face value as a story. But with this one I couldn't help but feel that the author really believed he was saying something important. The book is set quite firmly in the late 80s, and contains many references to the values of the late 80s. Corporate culture, conspicuous consumption, and Donald Trump. I couldn't help but feel that the author was somehow trying to tie this lifestyle in with Patrick's psychosis. That somehow society was to blame for this monster. This was a really well written book, so I didn't want to allow my personal disagreement with its "message" to interfere with my reading, but it was difficult. Also, the violence got really hard for me to stomach toward the end of the book. And this is coming from someone who has been in email wars with people trying to find pictures that "out-gross" their friends' pictures. If you are easily disgusted or offended...hell, if you're EVER disgusted or offended, this isn't the book for you. Ultimately, this one really stuck with me. The ending left me with a very ambiguous opinion of what actually happened, and I find myself trying to piece together many things. I don't think there really is a definitive answer, but rather the point was to make the reader process all of this. Although who knows, maybe I'm a pedant. Permalink to this post. |
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It started out OK, but I immediately felt that the giant robots were a tad inappropriate for the whole "steampunk" feel. I was willing to forgive them, though, because at least the robots looked old-timey and mechanical. For those of you not familiar with this genre, the steampunk concept is essentially an alternate present (or future) where technology continued along the lines of steam power, propeller driven planes, and other early 1900s technology. As the plot progressed I got the definite feeling that it was put together by Hollywood guys shouting, "Ooh! And we need a giant flying aircraft carrier! And lasers!" Science fiction doesn't necessarily have to be realistic, but at the very least it needs to be internally consistent. You can't have propeller driven, WWII era planes on the one hand, and complex robots with prehensile appendages and lasers on the other. They just can't exist in the same world, fictional or not. As the movie unfolded, it just got more and more insane. Let me walk you through the crazy. Giant robots start invading cities and stealing power plants, large machine parts, etc. Sky Captain flies his WWII era propeller driven plane to fight the giant flying robots. He shoots bullets at them which promptly bounce off. The giant flying robots have no discernable method of propulsion, but one could argue that they are jet driven. They at least follow some sort of physics. If jets exist in this world, I don't know why Sky Captain is flying a crappy prop plane. Oh, and the robots had heat rays. Sky Captain's X-Girlfriend is a reporter. She happens to be in one of the cities being attacked. Sky Captain manages to see her from his plane and literally saves her from being stomped by one of the robots. From his plane. Later they meet Sky Captain's scientist friend who has a laser gun. Methinks that would be a very convenient device for the plane in place of bullets. Robots attack their base, and Sky Captain needs to get into his plane to fight them. His wisecracking girlfriend won't let him lift off without her, and we are subjected to some of the most inane sarcastic babble ever imagined - while he's fighting off robots. The scientist buddy gets kidnapped by robots with long prehensile tentacles. At this point, any suspension of disbelief within me is destroyed. Why is a guy flying around in a WWII fighter when there is apparently the technology available to build magic robots? I know that the technology disjoint is part of the style, but at least make it stylistically consistent! Wild Wild West had a similar disjoint, but the art director made the technology at least look consistent with the Old West theme. Later, Sky Captain and his girlfriend fly his single prop plane from New York to Asia. Without refueling. At this point I couldn't help myself. I audibly groaned and started complaining about the movie. They land in Nepal or something, and end up going into a giant uranium mine. I really don't remember why, but I do remember that there were two bad guys waiting there to ambush them. Later, they run into an old man who was horribly mutated by the experiments performed by the mad scientist behind all of this. The old man wants the mad scientist killed, and agrees to help Sky Captain. So he gives Sky Captain his walking stick which contains a riddle as to the Mad Scientist's whereabouts. Apparently his desire for revenge wasn't strong enough to just say, "Hey, the scientist is over at the Taco Bell." No, he had to give them a riddle. After solving the riddle, Sky Captain and Ho fly towards the Mad Scientist's lair. They run out of gas. What? You can't have a guy shoot a 9MM pistol for 45 minutes and then say he ran out of bullets. Either go for realism or ignore it, don't just stick refueling into the story to have an excuse to introduce Angelina Jolie. Angelina Jolie is the captain of a flying aircraft carrier. Yes, you heard me correctly, a flying aircraft carrier. It gets better. It is held aloft by a series of propellers. Somehow this thing managed to get from England to Asia in time to refuel Sky Captain. As the impossible behemoth approaches the Mad Scientist's island, they are attacked. Sky Captain, Gwynny, and Jolie get in some planes and fly underwater. Wait, I didn't mention that? Yeah, their single prop planes transform into submarines. OK, what happens next is so ridiculous that you probably aren't going to believe me. When Sky Captain and Co. arrive in the Mad Scientist's domed grotto, they find dinosaurs. Yes dinosaurs. As they adventure through the Land of the Lost, Sky Captain drops his pistol into a canyon, forcing them to run from all of the dinosaurs, monsters, and robots. Remember this. They finally find the master source of all of this trouble. The core lair of the mad scientist. In it is a giant rocket ship with hundreds of conveyor belts leading into it. On the belts are boxes carrying various animals. "He's building an Ark!" exclaims Sky Captain. What? Who? What in the hell are we talking about? It turns out that the mad scientist thinks humanity is doomed, and so is building a rocket ship that will hold two of every animal on earth. He plans on blasting this space ark out and nuking the earth. OK. Robots find Sky Captain and Blondie. Floating robots with no visible means of propulsion or levitation. We are no longer even remotely close to the initial technological style of the movie. We might as well be watching The Matrix. Just as they are about to be killed (because, remember, they are not armed), their scientist buddy from earlier in the movie shows up on a floating platform (also with no visible means of propulsion) and saves them. "I escaped," he explains lamely. They finally reach the Mad Scientist's abode. There are two giant robots protecting it. With no explanation of how he obtained it, Sky Captain kills them with the laser gun from the beginning of the movie. Sure, I remember him picking it up in the beginning of the movie, but why then did they run from everything after he dropped his pistol? Why have they been defenseless for the past 15 minutes? And the scientist buddy couldn't have had it because he was a prisoner. Sky Captain and Sweetycakes must now enter the SpaceArk/DoomsdayMachine and turn it off. There is, of course, not enough time for them to go in, turn it off, and leave. It's more dramatic this way. As they walk the catwalk to the ship, they are attacked by the Asian assassin from earlier in the movie (whom I have not mentioned yet, don't worry, you're not missing much). They kill the Hot Asian Assassin and Lo! She is a robot too. Let me remind you that the world's savior has been flying around in a single prop plane. They enter the rocket, which lifts off. As they approach the edge of the atmosphere, SassyGirl presses the big red button to stop it. No failsafe, no confirmation, nothing. The whole rocket begins to abort the doomsday mission which took 50 years to plan. All of the animals are ejected from the rocket ship and then the very best happens - every single animal's box has an individual parachute. Thousands upon thousands of animals rain down from the sky. Sky Captain and Pumpkin jump into a pod and parachute into the ocean. And they lived happily ever after. With about fifty thousand pissed off land animals who are floating in the ocean. I realize that what I have just written is slipshod and disjointed. But I honestly do not think it humanly possible to relate the experience of this visual turd spectacle in any way other than a rant. Fin Permalink to this post. |
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Almost invariably I forget. So I have just read the first two pages of "The Rum Diary" by Hunter S. Thompson and I felt compelled to write. Already in these two pages he has proven to me that I don't just like him because Johnny Depp looks cool in a funny cap. In two pages he has pulled me into...something. A time and a place that in clumsier hands would be so much mundane drivel. In two pages I have met sweaty Puerto Ricans and Turks who want to rip the world in half. Already I am hooked. And I have now finished the book. The magic of text! Between this and the last paragraph, time has passed. Unfortunately, due to a severe video game addiction, almost two months have passed since I started the book! I read it almost exclusively on the toilet and while riding my exercise bike. At least this way no one will want to borrow it from me. The book is a little over 200 pages, and the first half of it is mainly setup. One complaint I have is that so many characters are introduced so rapidly that it is difficult to sort them all out in your head. Sanderson, Sala, Segerra, Moberly, Yaemon, they kind of blend together. After a while I had a firm grasp of the big guys like Sanderson, Lotterman, and Yaemon, but the other characters remained a sort of amorphous blob. The first half of the book is largely setup of the tone. Not a whole lot happens. But this sleepiness augments the effect when things start to accelerate. Throughout the book, the narrator casually mentions drinking rum. Rum at dinner, rum for lunch, rum to make you sleep. He impassively relates his experiences stumbling around and passing out drunk. There is an odd detachment from what is normally considered unhealthy living. Eventually they are drinking rum with their breakfast. Bad things start to happen. And that is when the book really gets interesting. Toward the end of the book it reached a point where I was compelled to read and not put it down. Probably my favorite thing about this book is the reflective musings on how it feels to be 30 and unsure of your life. This has resonance with me for obvious reasons. There are these beautiful paragraphs that make you say, "I know exactly how that feels!" These things are not necessarily happy or sad, but just...things. They are these things that truly communicate the human condition, how it feels to be alive and alone in the world. Those reflections, more than anything else, are really what I liked about this book. Here and there in between the madness are poignant pictures that are a reflection of my own sense of failure, or peace, or lust, or whatever. I started to mark them down in an attempt to remember them for quoting in this review, but then I gave up. Outside the context of the book they don't have the same impact. They need the backdrop of the Caribbean heat and lifestyle to capture their tone. That is why you should read the book rather than listen to me blab about it. Permalink to this post. |
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