Another (typically) unremarkable Academy Award year

I love films. No-strike that-I love MOVIES. As anyone who reads this blog with any regularity can attest, I look forward to films like no one else does. I track my favorite productions and decide on whether they will be "opening night" necessities or Saturday morning movies. I watch a lot of movies every year, and I think that I can trace my love affair with movies to my senior year in high school. That summer brought the first "Batman" film, "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade," "Lethal Weapon 2", "Parenthood," and "License to Kill." The previous year's Academy Award winner for Best Film was "Rain Man," a film that I did not see until the May after the Awards season. I still remember being blown away by Dustin Hoffman's performance as Raymond.

My move to college brought an even greater love of film. I discovered the wonders of independent cinema at the Vinegar Hill Theater in Charlottesville. I remember seeing EVERYTHING when it came out, no matter how bad ("Wired") or how good ("Born on the Fourth of July") they were. 1990 was also the first year that I started watching the Academy Awards. I had reached an age where I could see the films before they were released (Mom and Dad never allowed my brother and me to watch "R" rated films, so I had to wait until I was 17-seriously), and "Born on the 4th" was a great film for a kid who had just started college.

It lost to "Driving Miss Daisy."

Now, don't get me wrong, "Driving Miss Daisy" is a perfectly good film, but BEST PICTURE? Sure, if you were voting on the movie of the week. Thus, my love-hate affair with the Academy voters began. There were years where their selections made perfect sense ("The Silence of the Lambs" in 1991, "Unforgiven" in 1992, "Schindler's List" in 1993, and "Forrest Gump" in 1994. Even "Braveheart" in 1995 was acceptable, as it is a film that still stands the test of time (with my only beef being how the film plays fast and loose with the facts on William Wallace).

1996, however...YUCK. See, 1996 was where the great campaigns of the Weinstein Brothers, then the heads of Miramax, first began. For the Weinsteins, the film was secondary to the marketing. If you could market the film in a way to convince everyone (even those who had not viewed the film) to vote the film Best Picture, it was worth a few million dollars at the box office. 1996 was the year "The English Patient" won Best Picture. Huh? Yup, this piece of tripe beat out "Fargo", the film that deserved Best Picture. I blame Harvey Weinstein.

1997 gave us "Titanic," and I think that the Academy really had their eye on the world's reaction to this film. The Awards show that year set ratings records as the millions of fans who made the film the highest grossing film of all time tuned in to see it clean up in awards..but no in any of the acting categories. That would have been ludicrous. Sadly, the film beat out both "L.A. Confidential" and "As Good as It Gets" for Best Picture. The other 2 nominees were "The Full Monty" and "Good Will Hunting", thereby establishing one sad fact-the weakest of the 5 films won that year.

1998 was the year the fit hit the shan. That was the year that "Shakespeare in Love" won Best Picture. I guess that Harvey figured that he lost on "Good Will Hunting" the previous year because he had not spent enough cash to buy the votes. Here, the Miramax machine pulled out all stops to make John Madden's film the winner. Once again, the weakest of the 5 films won. Spielberg, the director of the best film that year, "Saving Private Ryan," had to be content with winning Best Director. The other 3 films? Roberto Begnini's film "Life is Beautiful", "Elizabeth", and "The Thin Red Line." I put it to you that, of these 5 films, only "Saving Private Ryan" stands the test of time.

In 1999, the Academy got it right. "American Beauty" won. 'Nuff said.

What I noticed over the years is that the Academy ebbs and flows with its Best Picture winners. For every deserving winner ("The Return of the King"), we are faced with films that are utterly forgettable ("Million Dollar Baby"). While the films that win may be OK in their own right, not all rise to the level of "timeless classics". Does this mean that filmmaking quality is going down? Does it mean that we, as an audience, are satisfied with less?

I mean, look at what audiences in the late 1960s and early 1970s had as their choices for Best Picture:

1967:
Bonnie and Clyde
In the Heat of the Night
The Graduate
Guess Who's Coming to Dinner
Doctor Doolittle (OK, a weak one)

1971
The French Connection
A Clockwork Orange
The Last Picture Show
Fiddler on the Roof
Nicholas and Alexandra

1972
The Godfather
Cabaret
Deliverance
Sounder
The Emigrants

1974
Chinatown
The Conversation
The Godfather Part II
Lenny
The Towering Inferno (the only "huh?" movie of the bunch)

Do you see what I mean? Let us conclude this with 1975

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
Jaws
Nashville
Barry Lyndon
Dog Day Afternoon

In one year, you had Lumet, Kubrick, Spielberg, Altman and Forman as the directors of the best films. Wow. What happened to years like that, where all of the films were destined to become classics. I predict that within a few years, few people will remember "No Country for Old Men." it simply is not remarkable to the same level as a masterpiece like "Chinatown", a film that LOST the Best Picture award to another masterpiece, "The Godfather Part II." Maybe we will see a return to the days when masterpieces, those films that stand the test of time, will fill every slot for Best Picture. I hope so. There is a reason why this year's awards had such low ratings-people just did not care enough about the movies. Has Hollywood lost touch with the audience? Stay tuned...

Note, of the 5 films nominated for Best Picture, I saw 4 of them. I do not consider any of them classics, but I enjoyed "Juno", "There Will Be Blood", and "Michael Clayton". I recognize "No Country for Old Men" as a technically amazing film that is incredibly well acted, but I still think it fails due to a weak final act.

Customer Service???

Whatever happened to excellent customer service? Is the failure of workers in service heavy industries more of an indictment of the industries or the servers themselves? When did it become OK for servers to demand tips for merely doing their jobs? I will regale you with 3 examples of what I consider good and bad customer service.

Part One: A Portrait of the Blogger as a Young(er) Man

When in graduate school, I was gainfully employed at Toys R Us. I worked there for 6 years, enough time to get vested in their 401 K plan! Employees at TRU at the time did not receive discounts, worked long hours, and exerted their efforts for pay that was close to minimum wage. We had to endure screaming kids, the parents who spoiled them and let them run wild in the store while they berated us, and piped-in music that seemed to repeat every 4 songs (if I heard "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" once during a shift, I would hear it 20 times..no exaggeration). The employees even turned off the speaker in the breakroom, as those fleeting moments were the only ones where we could enjoy a brief respite from the music.

Even then, the one thing that I would enjoy was trying to make a kid and/or their parent happy. It was not because there was a monetary reward for doing it and it was not because the parent or child was a friend of mine; it was a chance to see joy on someone else's face for a job well done. I was the guy who would crawl throughout the storeroom to find that last EZ Bake Oven during the holidays. I was the one who would counsel kids on which Star Trek figure to buy based on the difficulty of finding certain ones. I would counsel parents on which video games were appropriate and seek to educate myself on the games themselves in order to better serve them. The customers took notice of this, and soon they started seeking me out even on days where I was not on duty. They tended to buy more, and when we were out of stock they would actually wait until we were restocked in order to buy from our store. Everything was done with a smile, and never was there a tip taken (although numerous tips were offered). The reward was the knowledge that I was doing my job. There was no sense of entitlement, nor was there ever a feeling on my part that I was put upon. We all have choices; if we do not like our work, we should QUIT. No one is entitled to anything. During my time at TRU, I received numerous merit raises and customer service citation pins (keep in mind that I was only a part-time worker who was attending graduate school full time!). When I finally decided to quit, my manager sat me down and asked me what he could do to make me stay. I was flattered, but at the same time I was confused. I mean, everyone sees customer service as I do, right?

Part 2: Aaron's adventures with Best Buy

My friend Aaron loves his Xbox 360. something that I purchased for him a few years ago from my (then) favorite shopping outpost, Best Buy. Do you remember that Circuit City commercial? The one that starts off in a nameless parking lot with the wife telling the husband "we are only going in to get [batteries]. Nothing else, OK?" and the husband silently nods in agreement-only to start giggling like mad upon entering Circuit City and running down the aisles excitedly while the wife just shakes her head in exasperation? Well, that was me in Best Buy. When I bought the XBox for Aaron, I also purchased the replacement plan, which provides for an automatic replacement of your system at the store in the event something goes wrong with it. In retrospect, I was being pretty smart about it, as the "red rings of death" phenomenon (you Xbox owners know what I am talking about) was not yet widely known. Aaron's system died this past December, and he took it to his local Best Buy, the one located in North Olmsted, OH (do NOT shop there). He was informed that the systems were out of stock due to the holiday season. Aaron understood. For a solid month, he dutifully went there to try to get his system-only to be told each and every time that they were out of stock. But Artful, you may ask, why didn't they just hold one for him when they arrived? Because they told Aaron, a loyal BB customer, that it was against STORE POLICY to do this (nevermind that we had purchased the plan). At one point, he was told by an employee to return the system to Microsoft! WTF??? Were they going to refund the plan he had purchased? NO! The Microsoft return was the manufacturer's warranty that would result in 4 weeks without his system while it was being repaired, but he was entitled to a new system. The personnel never tried to special order a system for him nor were they able to offer suggestions. They refused to hold the systems when they were in stock, and they refused to call him when they arrived.

Last week, Aaron called other Best Buys and was told that there was one system left in the Parma store. He was in his car and at the store within 15 minutes. As he entered the store, someone was walking out of the store with the system tucked under his arm. WHAT? Aaron, my friend and pastor, and to his credit, lost it. He went in and raised heck with the manager, and the manager, to his credit, finally DID HIS JOB. HE called around to all Best Buys to find a system for Aaron and had it shipped directly to the store. My hope is that Aaron is playing with the system as we speak. Still-7 weeks to fix an issue, and the reason was that Best Buy's customer service, in general, has started to fail. A shame, really. They used to be so awesome. Where has customer service gone.

Part 3: Tip jars at service counters.

AAARGGH!!! What the heck is up with these? Fast efficient service with a smile is what these ppl (baristas, fast food clerks, etc) are paid salaries for. What is up with the tip jar? I hate the virtual "holding the hand out" that accompanies my visits to Starbucks. Truth be told, I would be more inclined to give tips where there was NO tip jar. I have also never witnessed anyone adding anything significant to the jar save a few pennies.

Customer service, people! We should demand it!

Now, excuse me while I place a coffee mug for tips on my desk....

Kids are Stupid

When I was young, I used to revel in the wonder that was winter. I looked forward to snow days, building snowmen in the yard with my parents, and that wonderful sensation of feeling bitterly cold while outside and then walking into the warmth of the heated kitchen, a cup of hot chocolate waiting for me on the table. My brother and I would get into snowball fights and try to maneuver our 10-speeds (God I am old) through the thick snow (1"-hey, we were in Southern VA) that covered our little cul-de-sac. Winters were great, I thought. So different from the bugs and mugginess of summer. I loved being able to "see my breath" because I could pretend I was smoking with none of the unhealthy aftereffects.

This morning, it took me 10 minutes to yank open my car door (frozen). I then had to put the car into first gear (manually) because of the ice under the car that had accumulated, and I still ended up rocking the car free for about 5 minutes. The interior windows of my car were crisscrossed with ice lines, and my interior did not warm up until I reached work, at which point I had to exit the car into subzero windchills. As I waited to cross the street, with the icy wind chilling me to the bone, I "saw my breath" and was reminded of happier times when, as a child, I thought winter was awesome!

Kids are stupid.

This must be meme week...

Hello all..wow, 2 posts in as many days. I must really have a lot of time on my hands, huh? Actually, I have been "tagged" by Daisy to participate in the meme. What is a meme? From what I can gather, it is like a chain letter for bloggers. The rules are:


The blogger must post about the meme and link back to the person who tagged them. The blogger must then peruse his or her archives and link to 5 favorite posts pertaining to 5 delineated topics.

Link One: must be about family
Link Two: must be about friends
Link Three: must be about yourself
Link Four: must be about something you love
Link Five: can be anything you choose.


Hmm..most of the best stories about my family deal with the misadventures my older brother and I had while growing up (2 brothers + small town = boredom). I think the best illustration of our adventures and the reactions of Mom and Dad can be found here.

As for my friends, I tend not to blog about their adventures too much. First of all, many of my friends are bloggers themselves, so the internet audience already gets a taste of our collective adventures. Secondly, many of my friends who do not blog happen to read the blog, so I rarely write for fear of violating "friend privacy." At the same time, I try to recognize my friends for their many acts of kindness on my behalf. First and foremost are my friends in Cleveland.

Something about me...well, I tend to be a bit of a bore, but I sometimes try to be insightful. I am not very good at self analysis. When I do try self analysis, what results is something that may overlap with the other categories herein. For example, this post...

Something that I love..well, that covers a lot of territory. I write about movies quite a bit on my blog, so this entry and the next will probably cover the same territory. For example, my Superman Returns review received quite a bit of attention but no comments (strange). It was my first attempt at combining my interests in comics and film, and what resulted was a piece that I edited several times before publishing. It remains my 2nd-most favorite entry. Even if you did not care for the movie or comics, you might like it.

My favorite post? Well, that would HAVE to be the post that received the most comments from those who are not within my circle of friends. This post combined my memories of family times, the development of my love for movies, and a movie review all in one. It is also an entry that I still re-read from time to time. You can find my favorite entry here.

Sadly, this part of Daisy's chain (heh heh) must end here, for all of my blogger friends have been tagged for this particular meme by others. I was thinking of tagging Lucy, but she has just started blogging. Consider this a plug for her site then!

Happy reading, all!

A few of my blogging friends

With the addition of Legal Lucy to my list of fun blogs to read, I thought that I might use this opportunity to acquaint you all with some interesting blogs that might help you procrastinate-er-pass the time in between the long stretches where I have not blogged.

First of all, we have the queen of the blogosphere, Daisy from Legally Blonde Ambition. Daisy is a dear friend of mine who I met in law school. She has a great sense of humor and deals with every day issues with a sigh and a determination to make things better for herself and for those around her. She has a big heart, and her devotion to her friends is second to none. She is my movie going buddy during the summer, she works for a Big Professional Law Firm in Chicago, and she will be graduating law school with me this year. She and her friend Scarlett started their blog many moons ago, and while Scarlett has had to move away from blogging, Daisy has doggedly kept the blog going. She has devotees from New York to LA, and her entries are wonderful takes on the human condition and the little things in life that should, or should not, matter. I highly recommend her blog with your morning coffee.

Next, we have the Namby Pamby, Attorney-at-Law. The Namby Pamby is living the dream. He graduated from law school, passed the bar with flying colors, and is an attorney here in the city. I became acquainted with his blog site through Daisy's and had the opportunity to meet the man in person soon after. He is one of those guys who everyone wants at their get togethers. Great stories, great sense of humor, and insightful beyond his years. His blog entries are short observations on the absurdity of the human condition, and most of the time he is the one who is suffering from the absurdity. His blog is best enjoyed during the morning coffee break/in between classes, as it provides a much needed mid-morning pick-me-up.

Following the Namby Pamby, I must mention the Wayward Esquire. Like the Namby Pamby, the WE graduated law school, passed the bar with flying colors, and is living the dream as an attorney in Chicago. The WE is a devoted sports fan, an avid sailor (who has some amazing stories of his adventures), and a dude who always wants to learn and always wants to teach. I kind of think he would make a pretty darned good law professor some day. I met the WE during a dinner party last summer, and though I hardly see him, we have great conversations when I do. He is a pretty cool dude. His blog features stories that he has gathered from around the world wide web, thereby giving his blog a "ripples in the pond" effect. When you want some interesting insight on what is going on in our world, visit the Wayward Esquire.

My next goto blog is run by my friend and sometime dining companion Anonymous Hottie (Daisy coined the nickname, and who am I to change it?). Her thoughts can be found on Murphy's Law. Murphy is the name of AH's amazing black lab who has a fondness for Fat Tire. AH is the champion of the downtrodden, the one who looks out for those rights that we all take for granted. She a fellow law student and a non-radical feminist (meaning a feminist who does not frighten people but educates them). She has a bohemian outlook towards life, and she has a great "let me see where the day takes me" attitude about live. Usually, those days take her to her sofas in the evening, where she can be found watching reality TV while noshing on champagne and brie. Like Daisy, AH is a very attractive blonde who is not snooty about it. She can hang with the guys and the girls. While many of her blog entries are light and airy, a few of them deal with more serious issues. My recommendation is to make AH an evening read so that you can take in the serious nature of some of her blogs. When she features her "Song of the Day," it should be read in the morning right after Legally Blonde Ambition.

Through AH, I because acquainted with her friend Eddie. I do not know why, but I feel a certain sense of camaraderie with Eddie. I think it is because he and his wife live in Baltimore, my stomping grounds of most of the 1990s. When Eddie is regaling us with stories about the city streets, I can visualize those same streets. When AH visits Eddie, I am always loading her down with lists of restaurants where she and Eddie MUST dine. Eddie's blog entries, like mine, are more substantial than most, and they cover a whole litany of subjects. His blog, I feel, is best enjoyed in the evening as well or early in the morning to start the day (if for no other reason than to have the time needed to really take in the entry). He is a relative newcomer to the blogosphere, but I have already put him on my daily "must-read" list.

This brings me to the final member of my circle of blog friends, Legal Lucy. As with Daisy and AH, LL is (shockingly) an attractive blonde law student. I first met Lucy the fall of my first year of law school, but we did not become friends until the spring. I met Linus at that time too, and I must say that they make a wonderful couple. They balance each other out quite well, have many of the same interests, and have a wonderful outlook on life. Lucy is a great person who is just as comfortable hanging out with the guys watching the NBA (she is a Pistons NUT) as she is hanging out with the girls having cocktails. She is also quite intelligent, and if that Fortune 50 company she works for is smart, they will give her a permanent position soon. I am glad that she is blogging, as we have not hung out together as much as we used to. Her first blog entry was a winner, and I hope that she continues to blog.

Happy Reading!

Super Bowl Observations

As with many people who reside outside of the Northeastern United States, I am not a fan of either team. For many people, this means that their Super Bowl viewing consists of watching the latest and greatest commercials rather than on focusing on the game at hand. Me? I try to root for a team with an intriguing storyline. My choices this year were the New England Patriots and the New York Giants.

First of all, I analyzed reasons why I should root for the Patriots. Rooting for the Patriots in football has come to be synonymous with rooting for the Yankees in baseball. It is EASY to root for them because you kind of KNOW they are going to win. There is no danger of your heart being yanked out and pummeled so long as the coolly efficient Tom Brady is under center and Wes Welker, Randy Moss, and Kevin Faulk are on offense. The Patriots were 18-0 going into the Super Bowl, and when my father called me on Super Bowl Sunday, I told him that, though I was rooting for the underdog Giants, it looked to be an impossible task for those Giants to win. I told my father, confidently, that the Patriots would win. My father, on the other hand, an individual who does not follow football at all, opined that the Giants would prevail. I kind of dismissed his assertion, but I was most surprised by my own reaction. I had not realized until that moment that I was rooting for the Giants. All I knew was that a Patriots win would finally make Mercury Morris and the rest of the overrated undefeated 1972 Dolphins shut up-I mean, that would be worth it for the Patriots to go 19-0, right? The Giants were not that much of an underdog, were they?

Actually, they were. No team in the NFC had ever won 3 games on the road as a wild card to win the Super Bowl. No wildcard NFC team had EVER won a Super Bowl, as a matter of fact. These Giants lost their playmaking tight end, Jeremy Shockey, to a broken leg during the regular season and their all pro running back, Tiki Barber, to retirement at the end of last season. Michael Strahan, their marquee defensive end, was on the decline. Eli Manning was the younger brother of the best QB in the NFL and years away from seriously contending for a Super Bowl title. These Giants had lost 6 games in the regular season, many of those (including the season finale to these very same Patriots) at home.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the playoffs. The Giants defense started to play like the defense of the '85 Bears. Eli gained confidence and starting leading the team. Rather than just being told to minimize mistakes, Kevin Gilbride, the Giants offensive coordinator, started trusting Eli to make plays. Eli rediscovered Amani Toomer and renewed his productive relationship with Plaxico Burress. The Giants were eminently watchable during the playoffs. They played smart and dominating football. They defeated the best teams in the NFL on the road. They played like a team. Maybe getting Shockey and his "me first" mantra out of the locker room helped. Maybe removing the unmotivated and disinterested Tiki Barber helped. Maybe Tom Coughlin's change in coaching philosophy this season helped. Maybe the emergence of Bradshaw and Jacobs as a potent 1-2 rushing combination helped. Maybe the emergence of Boss as a goto tight end (who may just be better than Shockey) helped. Definitely the emergence of the defense as a suffocating force helped. I think that a combination of all of these aforementioned elements culminated in a perfect storm that started at 6:25 EST.

At game time, the Giants were 12 point underdogs. During the game, the Patriots came out tight and the Giants came out confident. Although the game remained at 7-3 for the longest time, in retrospect the outcome should never have been in doubt. What teams successfully held the Patriots to numerous 3 and outs during the regular season? None. What teams kept the Patriots to a single TD in a half (with that TD aided by a pass interference call)? None. Who knew that Eli Manning could rise above the New York media and rabid fan base to turn into the second coming of Peyton? I doubt that even Peyton could have scrambled as Eli did in completing that 35 yard bomb in the 4th quarter on 3rd and 5 (and Tyree deserves a LOT of credit for pinning that catch to his helmet on his way down to the turf).

In the end, the Patriots were a part of history. This is: the first time that 2 brothers have been Super Bowl MVPs, the first time that 2 brothers who were QBs were Super Bowl MVPS, and the first time one brother was a Super Bowl MVP the year after the second brother was a Super Bowl MVP. I guess that was a history the Patriots did not want any part of, but history is history.

Oh, and most 4 year olds are better losers than Bill Belichick. Grow up, dude.

Random thoughts from a snowy walk to work in the Windy City

One feels a small sense of victory when one runs into freshly shoveled/blown sidewalks the morning after a 12" snowfall. At the same time, one curses those lazy people who did not get up at 6 AM to make your morning walk to the el a bit more manageable. For shame, people!...

Curses to the cab drivers in the city who continue to speed down side streets-regardless of the fact that such speeding sprays sludge on innocent pedestrians standing YARDS AWAY.

Tile sidewalks are slippery when wet.

Damn Starbucks! They are phasing out their awesome breakfast sandwiches.

In the future, when there is a major snowstorm and I have to sit in on a deposition in the morning, I will be sure to call the managing attorney to make sure that the dep is, in fact, actually happening. That would prevent me from lugging a garment bag through snowclogged streets and onto the El, irritating several El passengers because of my bulky bag, and changing in my office (just to keep the suit nice). Thanks, Rich!

I would much rather be home playing Stranglehold on the PS3.

In Brightest Day....

Sorry for the long delay in posting, everyone. I was suffering from some writer's block, but now I have decided to write about anything that I might be currently obsessing about. Today, I am thinking about comic books. As many of my friends and family know, I am a comics and science fiction fan. Those of us who enjoy comics and science fiction are often (unfairly) painted with a broad brush as being uncool, strange, and out of touch with real life. I put it to everyone who has ever made fun of a nerd-what is the definition of real life? Are my interests any less important to yours? Have you ever picked up a comic in recent years (and NO, watching movies starring comic characters does not even count)? If you took the time to look through the collection of graphic novels at your local Barnes and Noble or Borders, you might be surprised at what you find. By their very definition, comics represent graphic serial storytelling. It is an artistic medium that, like most media, have its shares of highs and lows. The problem is that many choose to focus on the lows. I shall endeavor to educate you on some of the highs, starting with my favorite comic character, one who may not be familiar to most of you.

Hal Jordan.

No? No recognition? Well how about this name:

Green Lantern

Ahh...I can detect a faint glimmer or recognition, but do you know who he is and what he is all about? Do you know what drives him? Do you know why he is the most famous (and infamous) of all of the Green Lanterns (yes, there are others)?

Hal Jordan was a test pilot, a fearless (this is important) and sometimes reckless (also important) member of the Ferris Aircraft Corporation. Hal's father was also a test pilot for Ferris, and Hal, as a boy, witnessed his father's death when the plane he was flying crashed, but only after the elder Jordan had remained at the controls to make sure that bystanders were not injured. One day, the adult Hal was in a flight simulator when, suddenly, it was yanked from its stationary moorings and propelled into the desert (somewhere in California) to the site of a crashed spaceship. Hal, being the fearless person that he is, entered the spaceship to investigate. Inside, he found Abin Sur, an interstellar policeman assigned to Sector 2814, which included the planet Earth. Abin Sur told Jordan that Sur's power ring, under programming that triggered when its wearer was near death, had scoured the planet for a worthy replacement, a man without fear. The ring had chosen Hal Jordan. Abin Sur told Jordan of the Green Lantern Corps, the band of policemen who patrolled space to protect the innocent. He told Jordan that the ring's power would only last for 24 hours, at which time it had to be recharged using a power battery that always remained with its Green Lantern. Furthermore, the ring had only one weakness-it was powerless against any items within yellow spectrum. All 3,000 + Green Lanterns report to the Guardians of the Universe (now, I wonder if they gave themselves that name? What hubris!!), the blue skinned denizens of the planet Oa. Oa was the center of the universe, the headquarters of the Green Lantern Corp, and location of the Central Power Battery, the power source that imbued the Lantern's rings with their powers. With that, Abin Sur died and Hal Jordan's adventures began.

Why is Green Lantern my favorite character? There are myriad reasons. First of all, no fewer than 4 individuals have been the ring bearer for Sector 2814: Hal Jordan, John Stewart (who, along with Black Lightning, is DC Comics longest-lived African-American super hero), Guy Gardner, and Kyle Raynor. Secondly, the power ring is the single coolest item in comics (and yes, that includes the Batmobile). The power ring can create green energy forms of anything its wearer visualizes (elephants, bats, wolverines, giant fists, buzzsaws, etc). The power ring also allows the bearer to fly and protects the bearer from physical harm. While the power ring is powered by the central power battery, the "on/off" switch for the ring is the bearer's will power, and it is here where the ring depends on the individual. Not everyone can be a ring bearer, for the amount of will power that it takes to activate the ring is far greater than that possessed by normal individuals. So, the ring gives you the powers of Superman but only if you can handle them. Third, the storylines. Although the "Oan" Corps has been around since the Silver Age of comics, continuity in the storytelling (aided by some inventive ret-conning) has been a hallmark of the Green Lantern comics. Indeed, in one storyline, Hal Jordan turned evil and went on a killing spree that left many fellow ring bearers dead. Rather than ignoring this storyline that was very unpopular with fans of the series, writers such as Geoff Johns embraced it as a challenge in their effort to resurrect Hal Jordan as the greatest of all Green Lanterns. Finally, Hal Jordan had the COOLEST villain of all, Sinestro of Korugar, an individual who was once viewed as the greatest of the Corp until Jordan uncovered the fact that he had used his powers to become a despot on his own planet. Sinestro was banished to the anti-matter universe of Qward, where the Weaponers of Qward fashioned another power ring for Sinestro, one powered by fear and whose energy was...YELLOW in color. You can see why this was so cool. Sinestro was, and is, a complex villain. He does not see what he does as something bad because all he wants is to bring order to the universe. He counts among the only two friends he as ever had Abin Sur and his replacement, Hal Jordan. Sinestro has been Jordan's adversary in many of the best Green Lantern stories.

Now, many of you who read this blog will not have any interest in learning more about the character or even reading the seminal graphic novels that have recently been released by DC Comics. If, by some chance, you do decide to learn more, might I recommend:

1. Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn
2. Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn II
3. Green Lantern: Emerald Twilight
4. Green Lantern: Rebirth
5. Green Lantern: the Sinestro Corp Wars.

Even though the aforementioned stories are amazing works of fiction, they still cannot do justice to the rich tapestry of stories that make up the Green Lantern universe. I even love the oath; it always sounded cheesy to me, but the fact that Hal continues to speak the oath when charging his ring reminds me of happier and more innocent times:

In brightest day, in blackest night
No evil shall escape my sight
Let those who worship evil's might
Beware my power-Green Lantern's light

Find out more about Green Lantern here.

Odds and Ends: November 20, 2007

A brief interlude again…and I promise that I will regale you all with my favorite story from my childhood (The Broken Closet Door Incident). Since this is supposed to be a blog from a law student, I thought that a law school centered post might be in order. In 2 weeks, classes will be over and I will enter my final semester of law school. It is hard for me to believe that the end of the trip is almost here. I often joke with my (much) younger classmates that I have been an eternal student. I tell them that I can just pay off my students loans with the SS checks I will be collecting soon after graduation, that my next stop is business school for my MBA, that an LLM would not be a bad idea. The truth is that I have reached the end of my educational goals. The goal of law school was formulated when I was in my second year of graduate school. While I knew that I enjoyed the scientific aspects of what I was doing, I also realized that society is not kind to scientists with respect to lifestyles. The career scientists I knew were married to their bench tops, and the competition for research dollars was frightening. When I considered that few grants ever get funded, and the government’s allocations for science spending (already shrinking prior to the military actions and military occupations of Afghanistan and Iraq) would only be getting ever smaller, I started to look for another way.

I enjoy patent law. It provides me the opportunity to engage the science part of my mind while at the same time providing me with a more secure occupation. I have found a wonderful firm to work for. I enjoy the atmosphere, the mentorship, and the assignments that I receive. I cannot describe the elation that comes with FINALLY being able to do what I enjoy. Before law school, I had no idea that I would enjoy the work as much as I do. Now, I look forward to a lifetime of becoming a better patent attorney.

So what is ahead for me? Well, I am now looking for places to live after law school. My (VERY GENEROUS) older brother allowed me to live in a garden apartment in a building that he owns rent free while I was in school. I am looking for my first real home. Not an apartment, but my own space. I have the job that I want, so I know where I want to buy my home. While the collapse of the sub-prime market has not been kind to many people, it has opened the door to people like me who can now buy less expensively in a depressed market. I will also continue to clerk at my firm until I finish school. I only have 2 more classes to complete before the end.

Should I continue the blog after graduation? I will leave it up to you. Leave feedback! If I do not see feedback on this blog, I might just have to start another one under a different name.

Daisy and the Red Cups

Daisy is right.

Now, those of you who frequent Daisy’s blog may not always agree with that statement, but I must say that frequently, mixed in among the daily angst that is being Daisy, Daisy also offers a lot of insight into the basic fragility of the human psyche. To wit: Daisy’s fascination with the red cups.

Now, I am a scientist-turned-law student (soon to be lawyer). I try to always be on the side of reason and I try not to let myself be manipulated by such things as the commercialization of every single real and made up holiday. Christmas has always been different, and for this I blame by buddy Aaron. There is just something about Christmas that makes everyone cheerful even if the season consists of exams, a rapid last minute grab for presents for the loved ones, frantic trips to the airport, family in-fighting and the like. In spite of ALL of that, the season just seems to cheer people up.

This brings me back to Daisy. Daisy had enormous insight into the importance of the red cups. Now, at first, upon reading of Daisy’s obsession, I was much like Charlie Brown in the classic “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” I mean, what could represent a grosser example of Christmas commercialization than the idea that the color of the cups from a coffee colossus now signals the beginning of the holiday season? I chuckled when I read Daisy’s column (as I often do), but then I reflected a bit on her excitement over seeing the red cups. I am proud to say that I now understand and, like, Daisy, have been converted into believing in the value of the commercial Starbucks red cups.

It is not so much that I embrace the commerciality of it all, but it has more to do with finding joy in the smallest places. Daisy’s ability to find pockets of happiness from no more than the color of a coffee cup is a reminder that we should all be so quick to find joy in what is often a cold world. This morning I was on my way into the firm, and I noticed a person walking out of a Starbucks with a red cup. I felt a flush of happiness, and with my heart racing (literally..I know, weird..but I had a rush of happiness) I entered the Starbucks to find it decorated for Christmas, the menus converted to the Christmas offerings, and the workers joyfully going about their business. I immediately ordered a fat free egg nog latte (YES! Here until New Years!), and I was thrilled to see it delivered in a red cup. I do not know what it was, but EVERYONE in the Starbucks today seemed to have a little more joy in their step. Could it be that the red cup, signifying the advent of Christmas, was solely responsible for this infectious cloud of happiness on a chilly Chicago morning? I would like to think so. It was the perfect way to begin my day, and I think that it will be a great one because of it.

Thanks, Daisy. Your little post about your joy in finding red cups has made me believe that a little injection of commercialism into the Christmas spirit can supersede that commercialism and become something more in the hearts of those of us who want to find a little happiness where we can.

A New Movie Review: "Across the Universe"

I grew up in the time of the LP. LP means long playing record, and I feel that I must describe it as such for all of my classmates born in the 1980s (yikes!). My parents had their collection of LPs (Andy Williams, Wayne Newton, Glen Campbell, and various movie musical scores), and as my brother and I were growing up, we started to look for LPs of our own. At the home of one of our parents’ friends, we noted some really COOL LPs (Village People, Doobie Brothers, the “Saturday Night Fever” soundtrack (hey, it was the 1970s!), but the coolest of the LPs was a double LP with a red border that had, as the photo on the cover, a group shot of some young men. The album was “The Beatles: 1962-1966”-the eponymous “red album.” It served as my introduction to the Beatles. From “Love Me Do” to “Yellow Submarine,” the Beatles red album was instrumental in introducing me to the world of classic rock music by the #1 band of all time. I was able to make my own cassette recording of the red album, and my brother and I listened to it until we wore the tape out. When the tape wore out, my brother requested a copy of the red album for his very own. Now, to this day, I do not know if my parents knew what they were doing when they “messed up” and bought the “wrong album,” but that mistake was going to introduce me to the Beatles during their most imaginative and inventive years. They decided to buy “The Beatles: 1967-1970”-the “blue album”.

All these many years later, I can still remember my brother putting the album into the huge console stereo, and the sounds of “Strawberry Fields” emanating from the mono speakers. As a youngster I preferred the more upbeat or hi energy tunes, but I recognize now that I did not understand many of the songs’ lyrics. I loved “Penny Lane,” “With a Little Help From My Friends,” “Revolution,” “Something” (a little slow, but I LOVED the bridge), “Let it Be,” “Across the Universe,” and “Hey, Jude.” I still remember being confused by some of the lyrics of “I Am the Walrus” (Sitting on a cornflake? What is an eggman anyway?). I remember that each LP was packed in a sleeve that had the lyrics for each song printed in order. While I was confused by the lyrics, the MUSIC really moved me. The Beatles were constant during my adolescent years even though my formative years were marked by Madonna and Michael Jackson in the beginning, U2 in the middle, and Pearl Jam and Nirvana near the end). As I grew older, I read more about the Beatles and I came to understand some of the lyrical choices that they made. I was also amazed with the quantum leaps the Beatles seemed to make from their earliest albums through their later ones. I can only imagine the excitement with which the release of “Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band” was greeted. I remember thinking it poignant when I found out that McCartney had written “Hey Jude” for Julian Lennon (originally called “Hey, Jules”).

Life went on, and my musical tastes varied, but the songs that I had listened to so many times had become ingrained in my mind. In retrospect, I suppose I did listen to the blue album many many (many) times during my formative years. The reason for this was that my brother’s and my LP collection at the time consisted entirely of 3 albums: the blue album, Kiss: Alive II, and Elvis Sings Hits From His Movies. I am not kidding. So my childhood was marked by constant listens to THOSE…THREE….ALBUMS. Thank God for the Beatles.

Since my childhood, there has not been a day where I just kicked back and listened to the Beatles. After my experience last Friday night, I am happy to report a change in my listening habits-a change that will now include daily doses of the Fab Four. In honor of her birthday, my dear friend and fellow blogger Jess and I went to see the new Julie Taymor musical film, “Across the Universe.” Jess is a HUGE music fan. As a matter of fact, she is to music as I am to movies (for all of you SAT fans who are missing the now defunct analogy section). I suppose the best way to describe the film is an amalgamation of “Moulin Rouge” (love story) with “Forrest Gump” (following characters during one of the most turbulent times in our nation’s history-the 60s). How could such a creation possibly be held together? The common glue turned out to be the music of the Beatles. However, this was not just a matter of the Beatles lending their songs to the production-this was a film where the characters sang the classic tunes, and the songs were woven into the tapestry of the story itself. I was into the film from the opening shot of the main character, a Liverpudlian named Jude, sitting on a beach singing. From the names of the characters (Jude, Lucy, Jojo, Prudence), I could kind of tell which songs were going to be used, but I did not know exactly when. Equally as fun was trying to guess WHICH of the songs from the Beatles rich musical catalog would be used. I heard many of my favorites as well as some songs that I had never heard before. One of the highlights of the film (for me) was a psychedelic rendition of “I Am the Walrus” by a character played by a famous pop star of today. No, I will not tell-for that would be spoiling, but wow..what a performance.

I am struggling with the review, because the Beatles songs were what made the movie, but part of the fun of a first viewing is not knowing WHICH songs will play and WHEN the songs will play. I can highlight the major plot as a love story between a wandering Liverpudlian shipworker and the daughter of a privileged American family during the 60s. The film, however, is much, much more. To be sure, there are weaknesses. Julie Taymor intersperses strange moments of “alternate reality” throughout the film, much like Baz Luhrmann did in Moulin Rouge with his “Green Fairy” sequence. Thankfully, these strange sequences are few and far between as they proved to detract from the central story. Taymor also succeeds by having the principle actors actually sing the songs in the actual scenes without any looping. I also appreciated the fact that the cast was not populated with well known actors who might have otherwise distracted from the story in an “Oh, look, Nicole Kidman is singing a Beatles song” kind of way.

In the end, I thoroughly enjoyed this film, and I cannot wait to see it again. Of course, this is coming from a casual Beatles fan. If you are not a Beatles fan, I would still encourage you to check this movie out. You might change your mind by the end.

The Adventure of Sam the Siamese Cat

So after a long respite, the tales of Artful and his older brother continue. The setting? 1980 or thereabouts (geez..I am really getting up there). The place? Our childhood home in Suffolk, Virginia. The Event? The Adventure of Sam the Siamese Cat.

Our childhood home was built somewhere in the 1950s. I remember it being rather dark (no skylights or anything) and being spread out in a ranch style way. Our house was situated at the end of a cul de sac. A large man-made pond was near the front of the house beyond our patio and front lawn. The back of the house was severely sloped, and the slope ended in the waters of Lake Meade, a large and meandering lake in Suffolk that was dammed off from the Nansemond River. Because of our location, our yard was a breeding ground for wild creatures. There were numerous birds nests, rabbit warrens, gopher holes, and beaver nests situated all around our yard. When we ventured out into the yard or in the neighboring areas, we had to be careful lest we step on a snake. Yes, we had lots of snakes on the property, and I am not just talking about the harmless ones. We were just as likely to run into a water moccasin or a copperhead (BAD snakes) as we were to run into a black snake or a garter snake (good snakes). In addition to the wildlife outside, the warmth of our attic made it an attractive gathering place for squirrels and mice (and the occasional snake, judging from some of the skins that we would find up there).

To combat the growing number of mice in the attic and the basement, my parents tried mouse traps galore, but none seemed to work. They then decided that the only way to defeat the pests was by getting a cat. Now, we had only had one other pet up until this point, Sandy the German Shepherd, who had long since departed the premises. My brother and I were excited over the prospect of getting another animal. We had been quite close to Sandy, and we were glad that our parents were lifting their edict against more pets. The day arrived for picking up the cat. We went to the local A.S.P.C.A. and looked over the offerings. Both my brother and I found cats that we really liked, ones who were friendly and liked us as well. Unfortunately, my parents had decided to get a Siamese cat that was also there.

Have you ever seen “Lady and the Tramp”? Unless you are a rich dowager, you should not get a Siamese cat. At least, that is my opinion.

For my brother and me, however, it did not matter. We were excited over the prospect of getting the cat (any cat). Sam the Siamese (my parents were not terribly creative with their naming of the cat) arrived at our home, and we did everything we could to make sure that the cat was welcome. We put out the cat toys, put him in the litter box to make sure that he knew where it was (in the utility/laundry/furnace room), and made sure that Sam would not irritate our parents in any way. There was one thing we found out, however, rather quickly. Sam was sick. Now, he was not sick in a “dying, poor thing” kind of way. He was sick in a “chronic diarrhea/vomiting” kind of way. It was intestinal, and he had a sensitive stomach. Back then, however, there was no Iams or Science Diet. There was just Purina Cat Chow. We could not adjust his diet to make him feel better, and my parents did not know he was sick. My brother and I thought that, if they knew, he would go away. We, therefore, did everything we could to cover it up. But we were kids..how could we cover it up? I mean, Sam was pooping and vomiting everywhere in the utility room. It was only a matter of time.

The answer came in the form of an old school canister vacuum cleaner. Back in the days before the Oreck XL and the Dyson, vacuums had POWER. They could do anything. You still had to periodically clean out the canister, but otherwise, they could clean anything. We had 2 vacuums in the house: a newer Electrolux that was my Mom’s pride and joy and an older one that was kept-you guessed it-in the utility room.

Yup, my brother and I vacuumed up all evidence of Sam’s intestinal problems. Every…single….TIME….for a week.

Eventually, however, my parents realized that Sam was sick. I think that my brother and I, worried for the health of the poor cat, finally told my parents. My parents were upset that the ASPCA would send a sick cat home to 2 children, so they immediately (over the protestations of my brother and me) took Sam back. Sam was never to return.

Is this the end of the story? No, there is a little postscript. A few months later, our family was doing some spring cleaning. Mom had her Electrolux vrooming in the bedroom areas, so Dad decided to help out with the vacuuming in the common areas by using the older canister vacuum in the utility room..the one that had not been used since my brother and I had vacuumed away the evidence of Sam’s sickness. My brother and I watched silently as Dad wheeled it out, and we both breathed sighs of relief when it started working with no problems. Dad vacuumed for a while before the suction started to give out in the vacuum. Dad muttered something under his breath, and my brother (as smooth as can be) asked “Dad, what is wrong with the vacuum?” Dad responded that this old one would get clogged with dust regularly, and this was the reason why they had purchased the Electrolux and then….

My brother and I watched in silent horror as Dad proceeded to unscrew the housing cover for the canister, dip his hand into the capture area, and clean out the area. Did my brother an I say anything?

What do you think?

Did Dad figure it out? Let’s just say that my brother and I learned a lot about the masking qualities of vast amounts of dust and particulate matter.

You may commence with the dry heaving….now.

Childhood Story #1: The Great Sockball Incident

My brother and I were extremely close growing up, and we remain so to this day. Our close relationship could be attributed to a myriad of factors, but the most important factor would probably be the absence of extended family during our childhood. The families of our friends always seemed to have a congregation of grandparents, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, cousins, grandkids, second cousins, third cousins (now, what the heck IS a third cousin, anyway), etc. visiting, and to this day, my parents bemoan the fact that my brother and I were denied that particular experience. As I already mentioned, however, the result of this was the close bond that was forged between my brother and me. Please do not misunderstand-things were not always smooth sailing between us, but in any relationship, there are bound to be ups and downs. I always knew, and I still know, that my brother has my back when the chips are down, and that kind of knowledge is EXTREMELY reassuring in an uncertain world.

I have promised to share with you all some of our (mis)adventures from our childhood, and today’s story will be the Great Sockball Incident. I wish that I could remember our exact ages at the time, but let’s just say that I was 8 and my brother was 12. Until my brother left for college, we shared a bedroom. The bedroom was painted a bright powder blue with matching light blue shag carpet (ahh the 70s). When you entered the bedroom, you were on my side of the room. The right and left wall each had large windows, and our twin beds were in the middle of the room. There was a nightstand in between the 2 beds where our solitary alarm clock sat. My job was to set the alarm and wake my brother (truly ironic since now, as a physician, my brother is programmed to wake up in the odd hours of the morning). There was a significant amount of space between the 2 beds, and this factor resulted in a game that had tragic (and comedic) consequences for all parties involved in the mayhem that I will now recount.

My brother and I had our chores, one of which was folding our laundry. This meant that I folded the laundry because I was the younger brother (you younger siblings know EXACTLY what I am talking about), but my brother was cool in that he kept me company while I worked. My brother is also great at coming up with fun ideas. Only now do I realize that these ideas usually ended up with the two of us in hot water, but at the TIME they were fun! On this particular day, I was folding socks. For some reason, we always ended up with loads of single socks, but instead of tossing the socks away, we would put them back in the laundry pile and wash them again. Maybe we were expecting the lost sock to magically reappear and join its mate in the laundry, but whatever the case, it never made any sense. My brother looked at the pile of single socks (a significant pile of multi-colored socks), and decided that we should just combine all of them into a single large sock ball. That made sense to me, as I was sick of dealing with them every time I folded laundry, and my brother’s idea would get them out of the way once and for all. We started to sift through the laundry pile to find the single socks, and as we discovered them, we would add them to the sock ball. By the end of our task, the sock ball was of a significant size and weight. My brother remarked that it was almost as large as a volleyball. At that comment, 2 identical lightbulbs exploded in each of our heads, and we decided that it was PERFECT for volleyball. The only problem was that we had no net, we were inside, and we were to remain inside per Mom’s orders. What to do?

My brother came up with the ingenious plan of indoor volleyball. Remember that space between the beds that I talked about? Well, that space became the “net” and the floor near the opposite windows became the opposing sides. My brother and I started a rousing game of indoor sock volleyball. We were tossing it back and forth, leaping and diving to make saves, and generally having a great time. We would alternate serves, but we were not worried about breaking anything. I mean, it was a sockball, right? Soft, malleable, and harmless!

Wrong.

After one of my brother’s serves, I tried to hit it back and I couldn’t. The next thing I heard was the sound of shattering glass behind me. I did not look behind me but at the horrified expression on my brother’s face. He said nothing. I kept calling his name. He remained silent and pointed at the window behind my head. I turned around and saw a GAPING HOLE in the middle of the window, with jagged cracks radiating out from the hole in all directions.

Thought #1: A SOCKBALL did that? COOOOOOL!

Thought #2: OH CRAP! WE ARE SOOOOOO DEAD.

There was no way to hide our problem. All of the windows were tied into the burglar alarm that would be activated in the evening, so my parents had to be notified. We slowly went to Mom and told her that we needed her. She entered the bedroom and immediately saw the broken window. Her Mom instincts click in, and she immediately was concerned that my brother and I were hurt by broken glass. Once she realized that we were unharmed, however…umm…..

[as I maintain a reader friendly blogsite, I will (to paraphrase Sam Clemens) draw the curtain of charity upon my mother’s rage]

When the yelling stopped. my Mom asked my brother and I how it happened.

My brother: “We were playing volleyball with a ball made out of single socks and it went through the window.”

My mother: Silent. The corners of her mouth were twitching, but she maintained the “Mom glare.” She asked my brother to repeat what he said.

My brother: “We were playing volleyball with a ball made out of single socks, and it went through the window.”

My Mom (the corners of her mouth still twitching): “Tell the truth and you will not be punished as much.”

I asked to be excused and then quickly ran outside to retrieve the sock ball. My parents always held my brother responsible for any such mishaps (this is the BENEFIT of being the younger sibling), and my Mom proceeded to read my brother the riot act about lying. I then returned to the bedroom, sockball in hand, and wordlessly handed it to Mom. She took one look at it, turned around, and walked (sockball in hand) out of the bedroom and into my parents bedroom. She then closed the door. My brother and I were terrified. WE WERE SOOOO DEAD. WHAT WOULD DAD SAY?

My Mom stayed in their room until my Dad got home. We heard him enter the house and go to the room to change as usual. We then heard my parents in urgent conversation, with words such as “window” and “socks” being thrown around. We held our collective breath. What would Dad do to us? What would Mom do to us?

To this day, I can still remember the peals of laughter from both of my parents that emanated from their bedroom door.

The Bourne Ultimatum: My Choice as the Best Studio Film of the Summer

In 2002, the spy genre was in dire straits. After the Cold War, it seemed as if Hollywood had given up on crafting intelligent stories with smart action and engaging characters. The James Bond films, the films that had set the standard in the 60s and started the whole “spy craze,” had become a sad caricature of itself, with “Die Another Day”, the 2002 spy installment, featuring an invisible car. The summer movie season looked grim as well, as there were relatively few big budget films that appeared to have the requisite level of story crafting and special effects to challenge an audience. Of course, this was the summer of “Spider-Man,” “Star Wars: Attack of the Clones,” “Signs,” “The Sum of All Fears,” “Austin Powers in Goldmember”, and “Men in Black II.” Amid the chaos, however, Universal Pictures quietly released a little film based on a best selling novel first published in the 1980s. The film had had troubles on the set, and there were doubts as to whether Doug Liman, the director, could really handle a big budget action film. Matt Damon, the star, was more known for more personal and intimate films. Could he really pull off an action film?

“The Bourne Identity” changed the rules for spy films and for Hollywood’s habit of treating the movie going audience with such derision. With John Powell’s music setting the scene, we witnessed a body floating on the water in the middle of a thunderstorm at sea. This was our introduction to the cinematic incarnation of Jason Bourne. Over the next 2 hours, we were thrust into the world of Jason Bourne, and as Bourne found clues, so did the audience. Although Bourne was a bit of a superhero in that he survived many incredible scrapes, this superhero was worse for the wear. Beaten, bloodied and bruised, the audiences final shot of Bourne (before his happy Greek reunion with Marie) was limping down the street as the last of the Treadstone assassins dealt with the treacherous Conklin (Chris Cooper) at the behest of Conklin’s superior, Abbott (Brian Cox). By itself, the film was a fine stand alone movie and a worthy addition to the collective works of the spy film genre. This was the thinking-person’s action film, one that begged for repeated viewings. The audiences agreed, and “The Bourne Identity” became one of the surprise hits of the summer.

The success of the first film led to a sequel, directed by Paul Greengrass. Thankfully, screenwriter Tony Gilroy was back to continue the story of Jason Bourne and Marie. In expanding the backstory of Treadstone and the not-so-pure motives of Abbott’s operations with the CIA, Gilroy again created a taut thriller that was a worthy follow-up to its predecessor. Although Paul Greengrass was an able enough director, his choice to use handheld cameras for most scenes was not very well thought out, especially for a film that, to a large extent, depends upon an audience’s appreciation of a sense of place. Where the audience would have loved to see what a high-speed chase through the streets of Moscow looked like, the director instead treated the audience to flashing images of Bourne shifting gears and close ups of his face. Granted, such shots did establish the immediacy of his sense of peril, but they left a lot to be desired with respect to establishing that all important sense of place. I mean, why bother with the expense of mounting a chase scene in Berlin or Moscow when the audience will not be treated to shots of those cities? The overall effect of “The Bourne Supremacy” was that it made the viewer a little motion sick, but because Tony Gilroy’s script was so tight and wonderfully constructed, the shortcomings of Greengrass’s technique were overcome. Damon again delivered a tour-de-force performance as Bourne, and the film was a worthy sequel.

Now it was time for a new film, one that Damon promised would be the last of the series. This film would answer all of the lingering questions from the first 2 films, but it would involve the same team. A lot had changed since the first Bourne film was released. The studios had finally caught on that the summer audiences would go out in droves to see smart thrillers. James Bond received a new lease on life with the release of “Casino Royale.” “Batman Begins” rebooted a moribund franchise and did not even show the Dark Knight until almost half of the film was done. Would Bourne still be able to meet the standards set by the first 2 films?

I saw “The Bourne Ultimatum” today, and with the opening strains of John Powell’s music playing over the Universal symbol at the beginning of the film, I was immediately thrust back into the world of Jason Bourne. Gilroy’s script did a wonderful job establishing a sense of time, as 3 years have elapsed since Bourne fell victim to amnesia and Wambosi’s bullets in his back. We see Bourne running in Moscow in the aftermath of the tunnel chase from the previous film and then see a reporter who has been piecing together the story of Bourne. From their, Bourne meets the reporter, and Bourne begins to piece together the missing fragments of his memory. Gilroy continues to amaze with his latest script. Having already written 2 screenplays where much of the action is set in dark computer rooms with official-looking people yelling orders at one another, Gilroy kept the premise fresh by injecting dissension in the ranks as Landy starts to question whether the Agency deserves her loyalty. In a wonderful bit of ret-conning, the final coda from the last film was rewritten as happening in real time with the current film. The attention to detail is what is remarkable. I must also note that, just prior to watching "The "Bourne Ultimatum", I revisited "The Bourne Identity" on HD-DVD. At the end of the first film, where Abbott is in front of the finance committee, he dismisses Treadstone as a game program that failed. However, his next project (and the one that the audience hears him explain as the scene dissolves into the coast of Greece for the finale) was a project called Blackbriar. Gilroy really brought everything full circle, as we learned in this film that Blackbriar was the replacement program for Treadstone. What could have been a throwaway scene from the first film was of some import to the running backstory of the films and rewards viewers who have an an attention to detail!

With regard to "The Bourne Supremacy's" major weakness, Greengrass fixed the shortcomings of the camera work in that film; now, even though some of the fight scenes are still a bit disorienting, there is definitely a sense of place during the numerous chase scenes in the film, including a particularly thrilling nailbiter involving Nicky (Julia Stiles), an assassin, and Bourne through the rooftops and streets of Tangier. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I was most impressed with how Gilroy revealed Bourne’s history.

When “The Bourne Identity” came out, I remember thinking that it was the best film of that summer. Granted, this summer, I have not had the chance to see some of the smaller independent films in theaters, but I have watched all of the big blockbusters (“Spider-Man 3,” “Shrek the Third,” “Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End,” “Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer,” “Ocean’s 13,” “Live Free or Die Hard,” “Ratatouille,” “Transformers,” “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,” and “The Simpsons Movie”). There were quite a few enjoyable films in that bunch, but once again, Bourne must come out on top. This was the best film of the summer (in my opinion). I can’t wait to see it again.

The Simpsons Movie...was it any good?

“The Simpsons” are an American icon, but much has been made about the perceived decrease in the show’s quality over the last 18(!) years. I suppose this is normal. Most people have a perception of “the good old days” in some way, shape or form. I myself always bemoan the lack of quality music when compared to the variety that made up the musical tapestry that was the 1980s. “The Simpsons,” in spanning 3 decades of poking fun at anyone and everyone, has at times struggled to stay relevant, but in my opinion, the hits far outnumber the misses. My friend Aaron and I agree that, where an episode focuses on Bart, Homer, or Burns, the episodes usually succeed. The weakest episodes are usually Lisa-centric, and I think that the preachy Lisa episodes are the ones that most easily come to mind when one identifies weak Simpson episodes. I, however, have always been a fan. “The Simpsons” debuted during my first year in college. Every Sunday evening, my fellow dorm denizens and I would hunker down in front of the lone TV on the premises (hard to believe that most dorm rooms did not come with TVs back then) to watch “The Simpsons.” At the time, Homer’s character was not even close to being fully realized, and Bart was the real star of the show. Thankfully, the show grew beyond Bart and found its niche poking fun at all of pop culture with a rich cast of characters. Back then, Moe, Barney, Bumblebeeman, Duffman, Burns, Smithers, Carl, Lenny, Krusty, and Grandpa were simply background characters who were there for the sole purpose of being sounding boards for the various Simpson family members. This, however, served the show well because we knew so little about the family itself. Over time, the characters became more fully fleshed out, and the writers looked beyond the family for story inspiration. As the stories focused more on external characters, the supporting cast started to look a lot more interesting than the stars of the show. Of course, Homer could always be looked to for comic relief, and Bart still had his moments, but for the most part, the denizens of Springfield were often more interesting.

I think that “The Simpsons Movie” admirably rectifies that situation and reminds the audience why it is that Marge stays married to Homer. The writers brought it back to basics by having a simple story of Homer royally screwing something up and the family being forced to flee Springfield. During their flight, they uncover a nastier plot (with clues from Tom Hanks, of all people) that threatens all of Springfield, and it is up to the Simpsons to save the day. That, in a nutshell, is the plot. What is missing is the multitude of jokes and clever humor that had the auditorium where I saw the movie in stitches. One watches “The Simpsons” for the clever jokes and comments and the visual gags. The “sketchiness” of the stories works to the writers’ advantage in that it allows them to cram in as many jokes and references as they possibly can. I laughed loudly and I laughed often while watching this film. It was well worth the 18 year wait, and I hope that the writers have another one in them.

The Order of the Phoenix

During the spring of 2000, I emerged from the haze that was my dissertation to find that there was a hubbub surrounding a series of books about someone named Harry Potter. As I was always seeking things to read, I perused the first few pages of “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” at my local Barnes and Noble. I was hooked. That evening, I ordered the 3 available books in the series from Amazon, but only the first book and the third book arrived. At the time, I was living with my buddy Aaron and his wife Julie in Baltimore. I left the books on the kitchen table, figuring that the second book would arrive soon enough and then I could read all three in order. The next day, Aaron exclaimed how he started flipping through the first book the night before and ended up reading both book 1 and book 3 because they were so entertaining. He started after me to let him read book 2 as soon as I got it, but in my infinite cruelty, I made him wait until I had read the first 2 (but it was not a long wait, as I, like Aaron, am a fast reader). With that experience behind me, I became a huge Harry Potter fan. I did not care that the books were touted as “children’s literature.” They were fun to read and intricate in their references that wove tapestries between and among the books in the series. I remember Hagrid delivering Harry to the Dursleys the first night, claiming that he borrowed young Sirius Black’s motorcycle for the task. I did not know at the time that Black would play such an important role (more fully explained in “Azkaban”). I loved the series, and I pre-ordered “Goblet of Fire,” staying up all night to read it. The first of the films was released in the fall of 2001, and I was amazed at how the magic and the places in the book had been so wonderfully translated to fit the large screen. Of course, there were some problems with the earlier films. Chris Columbus is a cookie cutter director, one who is better at coloring in the canvas rather than creating a sketch from scratch. It was not until the cinematic adaptation of “Azkaban” that the Potter film series really took flight. With each successive film, the directors have been more and more willing to discard the less vital elements of each story in a manner that still allows for some of these things to have been going on in the background but just not on screen. The success of the films has really peaked with the latest film in the series, “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.”

Having watched “Azkaban” at the IMAX theater 3 years ago upon its release, I was already excited over the fact that this newest film would similarly be released in the IMAX format. When word was leaked that the last 20 minutes of the film (with story that entailed the exciting climax) was to be in IMAX 3-D, I knew that seeing the film in IMAX (or experiencing it, as it were) was a must. I organized a viewing party of 16 people and purchased tickets the day that they were released-3 weeks before the film came out! The nice thing about Navy Pier’s IMAX theater is that all seating is reserved. I was careful to choose excellent seats at the time of purchase (middle of the rows, but not too close to the screen) for the viewing party. Including in the party were Daisy, Jeff, Kate, Mike, Elese and more than a few other friends. The film began without any previews or warning of any sort, and the audience was at once in the world of Harry Potter. We follow Harry, alone in his thoughts, as he is interrupted by Dudley and his band of bullies. The Dementor attack soon follows, and we are whisked away to Sirius Black’s home in a thrilling broomstick ride through London at night. This is what IMAX was made for! Writer Michael Goldenberg and director David Yeates wisely streamlined the story to maintain the focus on Harry and his efforts to train his friends and companions in the Defense Against the Dark Arts. The result is a tight film that is the shortest of the films, all the more remarkable when one realizes that the book was the longest of all the Potter films. The three principle actors, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, and Emma Watson, have really grown into their roles. I, for one, envision these actors as I read the Potter books. More importantly, the interaction among the three seems less forced and more natural, as if the audience is looking in on a gathering of real friends rather than watching actors falter through some forced humor. A key example of this is the Gryffindor common room sequence where Harry, Ron, and Hermione have gathered in front of the fireplace as Harry recounts his first kiss. The audience is treated to a wonderful scene of friendship, complete with gentle ribbing and laughing.

What else worked in the film? The following scenes illustrate why this film was able to supersede the wonders of the magical world with some well directed character moments: 1) the arrival of the kids at Hogwarts and Ginny’s expression upon seeing Harry’s interest in Cho, 2) scenes where Harry is angry at Ron and Hermione for not understanding his pain over what he has endured and Ron and Hermione’s angst at not being able to understand, 3) Harry’s scene with Luna where she explains that Voldemort would most likely want Harry to be separated from his friends as it would make Harry an easier target, 4) the quick flashback to Snape’s time as a student and as an object of ridicule at the hands of James Potter, 5) Neville’s recounting to Harry of the death of his parents and Harry’s words of comfort, 6) Fred and George comforting a young member of the DA crying from Umbridge’s tortuous punishment, 7) changes to the betrayal of the DA by one of their own, 8) Trelawney’s firing and Dumbledore’s response, 9) the final battle sequence, including Harry and Sirius fighting side-by-side and the showdown between Dumbledore and Voldemort. There were very few ill-conceived moments in the film. I suppose the only weakness might have been the shoddy CGI of Grawp (Hagrid’s brother), but the stunningly rendered centaurs more than made up for it. I was also struck with the busy-ness of the battle in the Hall of Mysteries, as the audience is witnessing a full on battle among good and evil wizards and witches.

In the end, the film surprised me because I usually find film adaptations of literary works to be incomplete at best and incomprehensible translations at worst. This film, however, transcends the normal shortcomings of cinematic adaptations, and this transcendence resulted in my failure to realize what, exactly, was missing. In the end, I decided that nothing was missing. This was the perfect film to whet my appetite for the final Potter novel, and I am pleased that Yeates will be back to direct the next film in the series.

Suresh’s rating: Wonderfully Entertaining and the best of the Potter films