It is even harder to keep coming up with article ideas when writing about local museuems than you might think. I won't say the well has done run dry but it certainly could use a little rain. Black History Month was a wonderful time to start writing these but now it is time to branch out a bit and take the column in a slightly different but still oh-so-sexy direction.
Stay tuned, subscribe to my Examiner posts...read the lastest one. Do stuff that makes me smile. I don't smile much these days...
Friday, February 26, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
My Column.
http://www.examiner.com/x-38609-Detroit-Museum-Examiner
You can find my articles at the link above starting either this week or next.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Addendum to Previous Post
Since I chose not to burn bridges with the woman whose job I refused to do in order to have a reading/book singing at the college where she works, she actually sent an email leaving the door open for Fall if I'm still interested.
I am nothing if not a hardball player when it comes to a professional sleight, and so I chose not to respond. After all, my previous reply had been a signing off and disengaging of the conversation. I was not going to grovel. Let her wonder what might happen in Fall, although judging by her disconnected attitude, I doubt it remained in her mind long enough to register a complete thought. She is already onto the next thing designed to make her college look good.
In the meantime, I wound up at a writing workshop and book signing this past Saturday where I did indeed sell a few copies of "Dreamers at Infinity's Core" and gather some useful information. My colleagues and I (y'know, the ones I was supposed to pester for their alma maters in order to be granted the opportunity to appear at mine?) made some good connections as well.
Perhaps I will revisit the idea this Fall, although it will be done on my own terms if I do. I have other avenues to explore there and just might do that before dealing with this individual again.
Life goes on and I keep writing about it~
I am nothing if not a hardball player when it comes to a professional sleight, and so I chose not to respond. After all, my previous reply had been a signing off and disengaging of the conversation. I was not going to grovel. Let her wonder what might happen in Fall, although judging by her disconnected attitude, I doubt it remained in her mind long enough to register a complete thought. She is already onto the next thing designed to make her college look good.
In the meantime, I wound up at a writing workshop and book signing this past Saturday where I did indeed sell a few copies of "Dreamers at Infinity's Core" and gather some useful information. My colleagues and I (y'know, the ones I was supposed to pester for their alma maters in order to be granted the opportunity to appear at mine?) made some good connections as well.
Perhaps I will revisit the idea this Fall, although it will be done on my own terms if I do. I have other avenues to explore there and just might do that before dealing with this individual again.
Life goes on and I keep writing about it~
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
WRITERS- THE DISPOSABLE PROFESSIONALS.
There are two professional sleights that seem to go along with being a writer the same way massive indifference seems to accompany deliverymen: The first is how everyone seems to think we should be so thrilled to see our work in print that we will forego monetary compensation or accept a pittance in return. The second is that we are a disposable lot, easily dismissed when conditions are not convenient. This post deals with the second point.
Nobody seems to think writing is work until they have to write something. Nowhere was this made more evident than when a “friend” who had long dismissed my writing as a waste of time suddenly needed me to help him write a research paper. I did more than help, however, and the paper wound up placing in a statewide contest, thereby upping the level of expectation for his future papers. Then and only then did he confess that he thought I was full of it until he realized he might have to stand before an audience and act as if he wrote what was, I must admit, one hell of a paper on the moral implications of human cloning.
More recently, I received one of those professional sleights that make any writer want to hurl his or her laptop or PC across the room. I was recommended
as an alumni for a certain college to possibly have a book signing/reading as part of the alumni speakers series. The woman in charge jumped at the idea, claiming she’d wanted to do something like that for quite some time, and requested that I give her a call. She just wanted to make sure there was no cost associated with the appearance.
“No cost.” It bothered me a little that she seemed ignorant of the way book signings worked as no one charges for the chance to sell copies of their novel, but the opportunity was a good one.
After a couple weeks of failed attempts to get her on the phone, I decided to send an email, to which she replied within twenty-four hours. She apologized for not having returned my calls due to several obligations occurring at once and wrote the following:
“I would like to have you come out some time in March first or second week for a reading and signing. Thinking around 6p- on a Monday. Just note that in the past these have been sparingly attended. Hopefully we will garner more interest by billing it as an “Alumni” speaker/reading series. Its something I have been wanting to do for a while.
Do you have any other colleagues that are...Alum that I can throw in for Fall to start doing more of these?”
Note the passive final sentence of the message. From this email, I gathered that this event was a go and wrote:
“The second week of March would be perfect. It would give my publisher time to ensure I have a fair amount of copies available and for the event to be publicized. Trust me, I'm aware of the sparsely attended book signing thing no worries LOL I will check and see if I know any other...alum interested in speaking and get back to you.”
A week passed before I received another email. I’d begun wondering if I needed to contact her since I still hadn’t received a confirmed date. Just as I was planning to do so, she sent another email”
“HI Chris,
Any word yet from other...colleagues? I would really like to do this event only if I can get more than one person that is an alum reading…”
Now I was confused. Had she not previously written that she was all for the idea? If one re-reads her previous email, her request for other “alums” is a rather passive one regarding possibly adding them to whatever series she was planning, not a requirement for me to be able to speak. I replied (with edits):
From the email you sent prior to this one, I got the impression that my date was pretty much all set. I know you stated that you were looking to create a series of readings/speaking engagements but is that to say mine is contingent upon the recruiting of other alumni? The odds of locating someone I know personally who not only graduated from (that college) but is also a published fiction author are low. However, the best bet might be to contact the creative writing professors
I figured my reading would be similar to the one I attended at the (other) campus a few years ago where a British author of a book regarding the Roswell crash spoke in the auditorium to a small group.
I thought the reading would be a mutually beneficial arrangement as I am not only an alumni and a former employee but I am also multi-racial, which covers not only an association with the school but diversity as well. It seemed a great idea not only on my end but also as positive publicity for the college.
I would love to still speak (there) so I do hope we will still have the opportunity to work together. My publisher and I have already started making preparations for the event so please advise.
Looking forward to hearing from you~
-Christopher Nadeau
Apparently my lack of willingness to do her job for her resulted in a rather scathing reply:
“As I explained in the previous email, I would really like to do this, but would rather do it as an alumni collection or series. You said you would see if you know any other...alums and get back to me. That was the last I heard. After thinking more about it, I have already booked my events for the 09-10 calendar year (we do this one year in advance starting in March) so sliding your reading in would have to fit within my outcomes/goals in Student Life events that we were lacking. As it is, I am sliding this into an already hectic schedule as well- I booked entirely too many things for the year, and I am going on maternity leave in April. So to justify doing this event, I really am going to have to do it in a way that makes sense for Student Life’s goals where we have “event holes”, which an alum series would do. If I do this as a non-alumni series of events, I would have to get a full time English faculty to back it at my campus to go the creative writing route. Do you have a professor who would endorse you (i.e. bring his class) that is at AH campus? I can’t justify doing events to my dean unless I know I will have attendance/faculty support.”
What the bloody hell was she talking about? Not only did she not explain in the previous email that she would “rather” do this as an alumni series (she said she hoped to garner more interest by billing it as such) but the idea that this was riding on whether or not I served in a non-paid recruitment role to seek out other “alums” to complete her little pet project! Then she somehow laid it on my shoulders to obtain an instructor’s endorsement. That would’ve been perfectly acceptable had she not already agreed to do the reading. Apparently, it’s also my responsibility to ensure there is attendance at my own signing! This was far too many professional ass-kicks to stomach and I nearly wrote a rather hostile reply telling her to go to hell and stop trying to organize things she didn’t understand. Instead, I took the high road after some consultation and simply wrote:
“Unfortunately, having never attended (your) campus, I don’t have the connections there that I would at, say, the (other) campus. It was very good corresponding with you and I wish you all the best with the upcoming birth of your child.
Regards,
Chris Nadeau~”
For once, the writer disposed of the idiot rather than the other way around.
Nobody seems to think writing is work until they have to write something. Nowhere was this made more evident than when a “friend” who had long dismissed my writing as a waste of time suddenly needed me to help him write a research paper. I did more than help, however, and the paper wound up placing in a statewide contest, thereby upping the level of expectation for his future papers. Then and only then did he confess that he thought I was full of it until he realized he might have to stand before an audience and act as if he wrote what was, I must admit, one hell of a paper on the moral implications of human cloning.
More recently, I received one of those professional sleights that make any writer want to hurl his or her laptop or PC across the room. I was recommended
as an alumni for a certain college to possibly have a book signing/reading as part of the alumni speakers series. The woman in charge jumped at the idea, claiming she’d wanted to do something like that for quite some time, and requested that I give her a call. She just wanted to make sure there was no cost associated with the appearance.
“No cost.” It bothered me a little that she seemed ignorant of the way book signings worked as no one charges for the chance to sell copies of their novel, but the opportunity was a good one.
After a couple weeks of failed attempts to get her on the phone, I decided to send an email, to which she replied within twenty-four hours. She apologized for not having returned my calls due to several obligations occurring at once and wrote the following:
“I would like to have you come out some time in March first or second week for a reading and signing. Thinking around 6p- on a Monday. Just note that in the past these have been sparingly attended. Hopefully we will garner more interest by billing it as an “Alumni” speaker/reading series. Its something I have been wanting to do for a while.
Do you have any other colleagues that are...Alum that I can throw in for Fall to start doing more of these?”
Note the passive final sentence of the message. From this email, I gathered that this event was a go and wrote:
“The second week of March would be perfect. It would give my publisher time to ensure I have a fair amount of copies available and for the event to be publicized. Trust me, I'm aware of the sparsely attended book signing thing no worries LOL I will check and see if I know any other...alum interested in speaking and get back to you.”
A week passed before I received another email. I’d begun wondering if I needed to contact her since I still hadn’t received a confirmed date. Just as I was planning to do so, she sent another email”
“HI Chris,
Any word yet from other...colleagues? I would really like to do this event only if I can get more than one person that is an alum reading…”
Now I was confused. Had she not previously written that she was all for the idea? If one re-reads her previous email, her request for other “alums” is a rather passive one regarding possibly adding them to whatever series she was planning, not a requirement for me to be able to speak. I replied (with edits):
From the email you sent prior to this one, I got the impression that my date was pretty much all set. I know you stated that you were looking to create a series of readings/speaking engagements but is that to say mine is contingent upon the recruiting of other alumni? The odds of locating someone I know personally who not only graduated from (that college) but is also a published fiction author are low. However, the best bet might be to contact the creative writing professors
I figured my reading would be similar to the one I attended at the (other) campus a few years ago where a British author of a book regarding the Roswell crash spoke in the auditorium to a small group.
I thought the reading would be a mutually beneficial arrangement as I am not only an alumni and a former employee but I am also multi-racial, which covers not only an association with the school but diversity as well. It seemed a great idea not only on my end but also as positive publicity for the college.
I would love to still speak (there) so I do hope we will still have the opportunity to work together. My publisher and I have already started making preparations for the event so please advise.
Looking forward to hearing from you~
-Christopher Nadeau
Apparently my lack of willingness to do her job for her resulted in a rather scathing reply:
“As I explained in the previous email, I would really like to do this, but would rather do it as an alumni collection or series. You said you would see if you know any other...alums and get back to me. That was the last I heard. After thinking more about it, I have already booked my events for the 09-10 calendar year (we do this one year in advance starting in March) so sliding your reading in would have to fit within my outcomes/goals in Student Life events that we were lacking. As it is, I am sliding this into an already hectic schedule as well- I booked entirely too many things for the year, and I am going on maternity leave in April. So to justify doing this event, I really am going to have to do it in a way that makes sense for Student Life’s goals where we have “event holes”, which an alum series would do. If I do this as a non-alumni series of events, I would have to get a full time English faculty to back it at my campus to go the creative writing route. Do you have a professor who would endorse you (i.e. bring his class) that is at AH campus? I can’t justify doing events to my dean unless I know I will have attendance/faculty support.”
What the bloody hell was she talking about? Not only did she not explain in the previous email that she would “rather” do this as an alumni series (she said she hoped to garner more interest by billing it as such) but the idea that this was riding on whether or not I served in a non-paid recruitment role to seek out other “alums” to complete her little pet project! Then she somehow laid it on my shoulders to obtain an instructor’s endorsement. That would’ve been perfectly acceptable had she not already agreed to do the reading. Apparently, it’s also my responsibility to ensure there is attendance at my own signing! This was far too many professional ass-kicks to stomach and I nearly wrote a rather hostile reply telling her to go to hell and stop trying to organize things she didn’t understand. Instead, I took the high road after some consultation and simply wrote:
“Unfortunately, having never attended (your) campus, I don’t have the connections there that I would at, say, the (other) campus. It was very good corresponding with you and I wish you all the best with the upcoming birth of your child.
Regards,
Chris Nadeau~”
For once, the writer disposed of the idiot rather than the other way around.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
AN INTERESTING ELECTRONIC OPTION FOR READING:
Although I still have a strong opposition to reading electronically, this does make more sense than the Kindle. It has a wider screen and serves more than one purpose.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100127/ap_on_hi_te/us_tec_apple
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100127/ap_on_hi_te/us_tec_apple
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
CBC News - Books - Spenser crime series writer Robert B. Parker dies
CBC News - Books - Spenser crime series writer Robert B. Parker dies
A master of minimalism and dialogue, Parker was one of the few authors of tough guy fiction that added an extra dimension to his character. I read many of the Spenser novels and was a huge fan of the 1980's TV series.
It saddens me as a writer that we have lost someone of Parker's caliber. I can still remember him on the Oprah Winfrey show in the early 1990's looking at Elmore Leonard as if he was insane for confessing that he liked to act like the characters in his novels.
Parker was blunt and to the point and his relaxes style and humor will be sorely missed~
A master of minimalism and dialogue, Parker was one of the few authors of tough guy fiction that added an extra dimension to his character. I read many of the Spenser novels and was a huge fan of the 1980's TV series.
It saddens me as a writer that we have lost someone of Parker's caliber. I can still remember him on the Oprah Winfrey show in the early 1990's looking at Elmore Leonard as if he was insane for confessing that he liked to act like the characters in his novels.
Parker was blunt and to the point and his relaxes style and humor will be sorely missed~
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
AN EXCERPT FROM 'Kaiju Soul" (Working title)
Ray Vargas never thought he would find himself looking forward to Monday morning, but here he sits doing that exact thing. It’s safe to say this has been the longest day of his life. Three days ago he was just good old Ray Vargas, the office wiseass with bowel problems and a love for the ladies that are easily impressed. Now he’s...what? He isn’t sure what he is, actually. All he knows is he’s seen some crazy shit these past few days and now he’s hiding out in his boy Jason’s basement, watching some old movie about supposedly forty year old ex-biker gang-members trying to save a campground run by that fine chick from “I Dream of Jeannie.” She’s older in this but he’d still love to take a big bite out of that ass of hers.
The TV movie provides the perfect background noise to what’s occurring inside Ray’s head. To say he is afraid would be doing a disservice to the concept of true fear. There is no part of him that isn’t in danger of shutting down or imploding. Though he tries over and over to reconcile what he has seen as somehow rational in the brand new context of a world filled with monsters, all he can seem to manage is borderline hysteria and shaky hands.
Maybe he would have been fine after what he saw in the bathroom at work if it had been the only thing that happened. He could have told himself there is a demon out there living inside the likeliest candidate and he maybe could have called a priest or something. But once Kareem turned out to be involved and he saw that light that sucked him up into it...well, that was about all he needed to piss his pants.
And then there’s Walter Henderson’s crazy-ass plan. Ray isn’t sure he can go along with it when the time comes. Hell, how could it possibly work without letting everybody know what is going on? Walt always struck Ray as a pretty subtle dude but this time it seems like he wants to set off fucking fireworks for all the world to see and Ray isn’t so sure he’s down with that.
Whatever. Either way, it should hopefully be over tomorrow and that’s all that should matter right now, right?
Ray squints at the screen as a young Patrick Swayze makes a pass at the divine Miss Eden and smirks. This movie is so lame it’s good.
Ray jumps as he hears what sounds like a glass striking the hardwood in the kitchen upstairs. He calls out for Jason a few times, at once terrified and unsurprised by the lack of response. Slowly, he reaches over and picks up the TV remote control, opting to lower the volume rather than completely mute it. He gets off the couch as silently as possible and tip-toes to the edge of the stairs leading to the upper portion of Jason’s house where he cranes his neck and listen for any other strange noises.
Nothing.
But Ray is far from easily satisfied. He knows better than to let his guard down so soon. Without another thought, he takes hold of the baseball bat Jason keeps near his storage closet and holds it at his side. If there’s anybody up there ready to start shit, they’re gonna have to come down here if they want him so badly.
He thinks he hears what sounds like a brief, high-pitched noise, almost as if someone is trying to speak but can’t quite get the air necessary to form words. Ray feels that funny sensation at the back of his knees that usually results from standing too close to the edge from a high point. His palms run slick with sweat and he nearly drops the bat.
“Well, ain’t this a lovely shit sandwich we got here?” he mutters.
He scans the basement for signs of a makeshift exit, eyes coming to rest on a window near the furnace. It’s not very wide, definitely not wide enough for the average adult male, but Ray’s skinny and pliable. His homies used to call him “Rodent” because of the way he could flex his muscles and contract his bones to get under and between shit most people could never access. He chuckles; this would be the first time he uses it for a good reason, though.
He trots over to the furnace, his footfalls light and barely creating any noise. He carries the bat at his side, striking the basement floor once by accident in such a way that he is convinced will provoke whoever is upstairs from coming down. Behind him, the TV movie drones on at a low level, just loud enough to make it seem as if no one has adjusted it. He wishes he could just turn the fucker off but that would be like lighting a fire leading right to his scrawny ass.
Ray kneels down and goes to work on the window which is, of course, stuck shut due to probably decades of no use. He puts his entire weight behind the effort, trying like hell not to make much noise as he does. Now he regrets having turned the TV down at all. After a few more pushes, the stupid window finally gives enough to slide outward with a low grinding sound. He allows himself to rest for a moment, gratified that his efforts have paid off when Jason’s voice comes from upstairs.
“I don’t know what you want!” he screeches. “What do you want?”
This is followed by a scream that is so primal and loud it literally echoes into the basement. Ray feels himself lose a little bladder control as he suddenly renews and doubles his efforts to get that goddam window open. So what if it makes noise? He needs to get out of here now!
Poor Jason. All he did was try to help his friend out and now…No, don’t think about that. Deal with that later. Just get out.
The window opens with a creak and Ray slides out and into the front yard of Jason’s house so fast he actually rolls a bit down the slight hill before coming to a halt along the fence line. He jumps to his feet, realizing he’s forgotten the baseball bat, and quickly convinces himself not to go back for it. Behind him, he hears a door swing open. He doesn’t want to look but something seems to take hold of him and force him to do so
He thinks he sees three people standing there, all of them Asian; Two guys and one chick. The guys look like twins and not in that “I can’t tell them apart” way some Americans claim. They literally look like clones of each other. Somehow he gets the idea that they’re actually triplets.
“Who are you?” Ray hears the panic in his voice. He repeats the question a moment later.
If the three of them hear him, if they even understand what he’s saying, they give no indication. They simply remain in the doorway, standing and…no, they’re not standing at all. Ray’s jaw drops as he realizes they’re floating in mid-air.
“Oh, Jesus!” he yells.
He tries to turn away, to run like hell from these people that aren’t people at all, but he can’t seem to send the message to his feet. A moment later, he sees what appear to be purplish light beams coming from the three of them, snaking across the lawn toward him like snakes. Then the house explodes and everything goes white.
*If you enjoyed what you read and haven't done so already, don't forget to join my Facebook fanpage- Together, we can make a difference! I don't know what that has to do with anything but join anyway!*
http://www.facebook.com/inbox/?ref=mb#/group.php?gid=96749012614&ref=ts
The TV movie provides the perfect background noise to what’s occurring inside Ray’s head. To say he is afraid would be doing a disservice to the concept of true fear. There is no part of him that isn’t in danger of shutting down or imploding. Though he tries over and over to reconcile what he has seen as somehow rational in the brand new context of a world filled with monsters, all he can seem to manage is borderline hysteria and shaky hands.
Maybe he would have been fine after what he saw in the bathroom at work if it had been the only thing that happened. He could have told himself there is a demon out there living inside the likeliest candidate and he maybe could have called a priest or something. But once Kareem turned out to be involved and he saw that light that sucked him up into it...well, that was about all he needed to piss his pants.
And then there’s Walter Henderson’s crazy-ass plan. Ray isn’t sure he can go along with it when the time comes. Hell, how could it possibly work without letting everybody know what is going on? Walt always struck Ray as a pretty subtle dude but this time it seems like he wants to set off fucking fireworks for all the world to see and Ray isn’t so sure he’s down with that.
Whatever. Either way, it should hopefully be over tomorrow and that’s all that should matter right now, right?
Ray squints at the screen as a young Patrick Swayze makes a pass at the divine Miss Eden and smirks. This movie is so lame it’s good.
Ray jumps as he hears what sounds like a glass striking the hardwood in the kitchen upstairs. He calls out for Jason a few times, at once terrified and unsurprised by the lack of response. Slowly, he reaches over and picks up the TV remote control, opting to lower the volume rather than completely mute it. He gets off the couch as silently as possible and tip-toes to the edge of the stairs leading to the upper portion of Jason’s house where he cranes his neck and listen for any other strange noises.
Nothing.
But Ray is far from easily satisfied. He knows better than to let his guard down so soon. Without another thought, he takes hold of the baseball bat Jason keeps near his storage closet and holds it at his side. If there’s anybody up there ready to start shit, they’re gonna have to come down here if they want him so badly.
He thinks he hears what sounds like a brief, high-pitched noise, almost as if someone is trying to speak but can’t quite get the air necessary to form words. Ray feels that funny sensation at the back of his knees that usually results from standing too close to the edge from a high point. His palms run slick with sweat and he nearly drops the bat.
“Well, ain’t this a lovely shit sandwich we got here?” he mutters.
He scans the basement for signs of a makeshift exit, eyes coming to rest on a window near the furnace. It’s not very wide, definitely not wide enough for the average adult male, but Ray’s skinny and pliable. His homies used to call him “Rodent” because of the way he could flex his muscles and contract his bones to get under and between shit most people could never access. He chuckles; this would be the first time he uses it for a good reason, though.
He trots over to the furnace, his footfalls light and barely creating any noise. He carries the bat at his side, striking the basement floor once by accident in such a way that he is convinced will provoke whoever is upstairs from coming down. Behind him, the TV movie drones on at a low level, just loud enough to make it seem as if no one has adjusted it. He wishes he could just turn the fucker off but that would be like lighting a fire leading right to his scrawny ass.
Ray kneels down and goes to work on the window which is, of course, stuck shut due to probably decades of no use. He puts his entire weight behind the effort, trying like hell not to make much noise as he does. Now he regrets having turned the TV down at all. After a few more pushes, the stupid window finally gives enough to slide outward with a low grinding sound. He allows himself to rest for a moment, gratified that his efforts have paid off when Jason’s voice comes from upstairs.
“I don’t know what you want!” he screeches. “What do you want?”
This is followed by a scream that is so primal and loud it literally echoes into the basement. Ray feels himself lose a little bladder control as he suddenly renews and doubles his efforts to get that goddam window open. So what if it makes noise? He needs to get out of here now!
Poor Jason. All he did was try to help his friend out and now…No, don’t think about that. Deal with that later. Just get out.
The window opens with a creak and Ray slides out and into the front yard of Jason’s house so fast he actually rolls a bit down the slight hill before coming to a halt along the fence line. He jumps to his feet, realizing he’s forgotten the baseball bat, and quickly convinces himself not to go back for it. Behind him, he hears a door swing open. He doesn’t want to look but something seems to take hold of him and force him to do so
He thinks he sees three people standing there, all of them Asian; Two guys and one chick. The guys look like twins and not in that “I can’t tell them apart” way some Americans claim. They literally look like clones of each other. Somehow he gets the idea that they’re actually triplets.
“Who are you?” Ray hears the panic in his voice. He repeats the question a moment later.
If the three of them hear him, if they even understand what he’s saying, they give no indication. They simply remain in the doorway, standing and…no, they’re not standing at all. Ray’s jaw drops as he realizes they’re floating in mid-air.
“Oh, Jesus!” he yells.
He tries to turn away, to run like hell from these people that aren’t people at all, but he can’t seem to send the message to his feet. A moment later, he sees what appear to be purplish light beams coming from the three of them, snaking across the lawn toward him like snakes. Then the house explodes and everything goes white.
*If you enjoyed what you read and haven't done so already, don't forget to join my Facebook fanpage- Together, we can make a difference! I don't know what that has to do with anything but join anyway!*
http://www.facebook.com/inbox/?ref=mb#/group.php?gid=96749012614&ref=ts
Sunday, January 10, 2010
REVIEW: AVATAR
The most vital question we must ask ourselves when watching a film like “Avatar” is: Would I rave about this film if not for its impressive visuals and pounding musical score? If the answer is yes, we have a film that transcends mere blockbuster status and is well on its way to classic status. If we say no, well you can probably figure out the rest.
There’s nothing remarkable or ground-breaking about the tale told in “Avatar,” that’s for sure. In fact, it’s safe to say the plot is a by-the-numbers exploration of corporate greed and the Great White Hope who will save the defenseless savages against exploitation. It’s Flash Gordon on a lush tropical world that is the ultimate eco-system. Yawn.
While “Star Wars” used archetypes and Joseph Campbell’s theories on mythology to tap into something that spoke to our inner children, Cameron opts to preach his not altogether incorrect belief in the sanctity of indigenous people and their lands. He does this by presenting the worst kinds of bad guy stereotypes; the greedy and unfeeling corporate bureaucrat and his violence-loving military stooge, both played with great effectiveness by Giovanni Ribose and Stephen Lang as they slum in under-written roles not befitting great character actors.
The plot of “Avatar” can be summed up in one sentence: Bother of dead scientist has suitable DNA to take over brother’s experiment pretending to be alien in hopes of getting them to like us so we don't have to kill them for some new metal resource whose purpose os barely discussed so as to avoid cheesiness.
Naturally, he goes native a la’ “Dances With Wolves” and tries to convince his new people, the “Navi,” to leave their Hometree, the source of their connection to their world and each other.
Cameron always gets good performances out of his actors, even in the stunningly awful “Titanic,” and this film is so exception. The visuals are wonderful, often seeming as if they will leap off the screen and enter the theater even in 2-D. The homeworld of the Navi is rendered flawlessly. Images of winding and twisting trees hurl past the eye faster than one can keep track and floating mountains fill the screen in a rich, lush tapestry. But again, without those visuals, what is “Avatar” really?
Sadly, it's yet another product of the Cameron Cliché Factory. There is absolutely nothing original in this film. Much like “The Terminator,” Cameron has again mined the ideas and concepts of science fiction writers and passed off things that were done twenty years ago as his own for people who don't know any better. Back when he wrote and directed “Aliens,” Cameron confessed a desire to make Robert Heinlein’s “Starship Troopers" into a film,” settling for that film instead. Since Paul Verhoeven beat him to it, he has instead made another version of the humans as aggressors tale, this time just in time for Earth Day.
Aside from the great visuals, it’s the same old story of the young, damaged hero in over his head who sees how things really are just in time to make a difference. Oh, and there’s yet another love story tacked on as well as the proud and angry native (or Navi) who initially hates our Great White Hope but then proudly stands with him in battle. Not to mention the crusadingscientists who are the only decent people minus one token military pilot and a bunch of complete dumb-asses in uniform acting like mindless lunatics. And of course, we have the virtuous and spiritual people of the land whose struggle culminates in a giant bloody battle.
That battle is necessary, contrary to some idiotic reviews I’ve read condemning it. After all that melodrama and speechifying, it’s the one pay-off that makes the film worthwhile. A more intelligently written screenplay might not have required an extended action sequence, but a more intelligent screenplay wouldn’t have preached at the audience for three houre either.
*** out of *****
There’s nothing remarkable or ground-breaking about the tale told in “Avatar,” that’s for sure. In fact, it’s safe to say the plot is a by-the-numbers exploration of corporate greed and the Great White Hope who will save the defenseless savages against exploitation. It’s Flash Gordon on a lush tropical world that is the ultimate eco-system. Yawn.
While “Star Wars” used archetypes and Joseph Campbell’s theories on mythology to tap into something that spoke to our inner children, Cameron opts to preach his not altogether incorrect belief in the sanctity of indigenous people and their lands. He does this by presenting the worst kinds of bad guy stereotypes; the greedy and unfeeling corporate bureaucrat and his violence-loving military stooge, both played with great effectiveness by Giovanni Ribose and Stephen Lang as they slum in under-written roles not befitting great character actors.
The plot of “Avatar” can be summed up in one sentence: Bother of dead scientist has suitable DNA to take over brother’s experiment pretending to be alien in hopes of getting them to like us so we don't have to kill them for some new metal resource whose purpose os barely discussed so as to avoid cheesiness.
Naturally, he goes native a la’ “Dances With Wolves” and tries to convince his new people, the “Navi,” to leave their Hometree, the source of their connection to their world and each other.
Cameron always gets good performances out of his actors, even in the stunningly awful “Titanic,” and this film is so exception. The visuals are wonderful, often seeming as if they will leap off the screen and enter the theater even in 2-D. The homeworld of the Navi is rendered flawlessly. Images of winding and twisting trees hurl past the eye faster than one can keep track and floating mountains fill the screen in a rich, lush tapestry. But again, without those visuals, what is “Avatar” really?
Sadly, it's yet another product of the Cameron Cliché Factory. There is absolutely nothing original in this film. Much like “The Terminator,” Cameron has again mined the ideas and concepts of science fiction writers and passed off things that were done twenty years ago as his own for people who don't know any better. Back when he wrote and directed “Aliens,” Cameron confessed a desire to make Robert Heinlein’s “Starship Troopers" into a film,” settling for that film instead. Since Paul Verhoeven beat him to it, he has instead made another version of the humans as aggressors tale, this time just in time for Earth Day.
Aside from the great visuals, it’s the same old story of the young, damaged hero in over his head who sees how things really are just in time to make a difference. Oh, and there’s yet another love story tacked on as well as the proud and angry native (or Navi) who initially hates our Great White Hope but then proudly stands with him in battle. Not to mention the crusadingscientists who are the only decent people minus one token military pilot and a bunch of complete dumb-asses in uniform acting like mindless lunatics. And of course, we have the virtuous and spiritual people of the land whose struggle culminates in a giant bloody battle.
That battle is necessary, contrary to some idiotic reviews I’ve read condemning it. After all that melodrama and speechifying, it’s the one pay-off that makes the film worthwhile. A more intelligently written screenplay might not have required an extended action sequence, but a more intelligent screenplay wouldn’t have preached at the audience for three houre either.
*** out of *****
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