Smallville

We all need our guilty pleasures don’t we. I’ve begun watching the fifth season of Smallville. Alfred Gough and Miles Millar, the producers of this series, seem to miss no opportunity to have fun with both the Superman tradition and the acting pasts of their actors. Making Annette O’Toole, of Beach Blanket Bingo fame Clark’s very straight-laced Mother, if nothing else, shows that even pinup girls grow up some day. That John Schneider, half the law-breaking good old boy team of Dukes of Hazard fame, is Clark’s rock solid, upstanding Father is just plain irony.

Last night, however in Episode 6 entitled, “Exposed” Tom Wopat, John’s partner in the Dukes, makes a guest appearance as a US Senator. Neither is the sexy hunk they were in those days of youthful delinquency, but Wopat is barely recognizable; except for the souped up hotrod in which he arrives in a four-wheel skid. Gone is the horn that played “Dixie” but in a bow to their past Tom somehow manages to maneuver his ample creaking frame into the passenger seat through the open window.

This series may be about the young man who would be Superman played by the achingly handsome former model Tom Welling and his school mates; but the adults who surround him are no mere props--their characters are fully developed. It is with some bemusement that I admit that occasionally a series I admire manages to survive and in this case is entering its sixth season.

Annapolis

Annapolis is set in the Naval Academy of that name in Maryland. As with the images in the promotional poster above the characters are so air-brushed that they are barely recognizable as the people they represent. It was Jake’s Mother who instilled in him the motivation to assay an appointment to the academy—since this relationship was so instrumental in driving the plot I’d have liked to have met this lady in flash-back. Seeing Jake share a smoke with her as he sits beside her gravestone doesn’t seem enough. I’d have also liked to have seen a bit more interaction between Jake and his union-boss father and older brother.

As with most movies involving military training I get hung up on the brutality, degradation, racism, and verbal and physical abuse that still appear to be part of it. Apparently it’s contrary to his human rights to refuse entry to a grossly overweight plebe but it’s alright to demean and humiliate him because of his lack of physical fitness. As I’ve said before, if this is how the military treats its own; is it any wonder that atrocities get perpetrated against the enemy. Again we run into the honour code and are shown how any law can be perverted to serve the ends of those who manipulate it.

One way or another boxing occupies a majority of this film. As a metaphor for character building I find it a stretch—that learning the discipline to succeed in the ring will carry over into a military career seems overly hopeful to me. But then so does breaking down a man’s dignity to mould him into a member of the unit. Finally, no matter how many candy bars he consumed, Jake doesn’t appear to be in the same class as the massively muscled behemoth he meets in the ring. On the other hand, the buff physique that James Franco displays in this film is almost enough to make one go out and hire a personal trainer. Somehow I don’t think he gained it by eating sugary treats.

Brick

I watched two movies yesterday, the first being the illusive Brick. The brick of the title is compacted white powder—cocaine? The target audience for this movie does not include the writer of this commentary; all the characters are either just about to get out of high school or just did so with the exception of a couple high school authority figures—no matter, adults are incidental to this plot anyway. Not being an expert on the film noir I can’t comment on how this movie riffs on the genre; what I can say is that storyline is definitely not linear and plot elements are suggested, not made clear. We are give cryptic glimpses that puts one in mind of attempting to put together a picture puzzle without knowing what scene one is trying to assemble; being given disconnected pieces one at a time. The sparse dialogue which gets spattered at us in often throw-away lines is so au courant that it was probably passé even before the movie was released on screen in California.

There are no good guys here; our guide through this maze has a past as a drug peddler and slouches through most of the scenes as if he hadn’t quite come down from the previous evening’s high. Even though Brendan seems thoroughly familiar with the drug scene in his community; he meddles in it and shakes it up as if he personally were invulnerable. He allows himself to be used as a punching bag on numerous occasions but when the ‘muscle’ is finished he just picks himself up and walks away—the lad seems to be able to take a punch; and when he wants to, he takes out one notable bully with a single punch.

The movie ends with cross-piles of bodies of Shakespearian proportions but I’m left wondering what the point was. The dead girl we are shown as the movie begins was once Brendan’s girlfriend and may or may not have died three months pregnant with his child; but he displays no outward expression of that attachment beyond the investigation into the circumstances of her death that drives this movie. There is no one in this movie I can identify with or would want to meet and I was not sufficiently engaged that I would want to spend the time watching it again in an attempt to unravel the plot elements.

A Bruce Trail Trek

Every Expedition begins with preparation. Hiking the Bruce Trail means one either arranges for the return trip or does the return journey afoot. We opted to return by bike so that meant checking out the bike and pumping up the tires. Then there's the pack, camera, binos, lunch, water bottle, rain clothes, and boots.

After the drive are the logistics of finding safe drop-off locations for the bikes and parking spot for the car. Finally we got underway at Decew Falls. The care exercised in restoring the mill is quite evident.






















The falls are largely hidden by the trees but one can certainly hear them.



















One of the many joys of a walk in the Fall Woods are sightings such as this fruiting Jack-In-The-Pulpit.



















The yellows of the goldenrod contrast with violet asters under scudding clouds.

Bruce Trail Continued

The marsh is preparing for colder climes.



















Cloudy with sunny patches. A tree about to turn colours is caught in the spotlight.



















Broad-leaved Goldenrod along the trail.



















Artist's Fungus high up a tree.



















Fellow travelers preparing for migration.

Editing Movies

Having time on my hands, I’ve been looking for new challenges.  For the last couple days I’ve been experimenting with video editing.  I’ve come to understand that certain videos will only play on their default software but I’d never really stopped to consider just how many video formats there are. 

 

Within formats there are video and audio compression codices, bit rates, screen sizes and ratios, frames per second, resolution…  So far I’ve just been playing with the software but if I get serious I’m going to have to read the directions!  So far I’ve figured out that as with most things there are no rights and wrongs; just decisions as to which compromises you want to choose.  If you want to produce a movie with no compression you’d better have terabytes of disc space. 

 

I have the software provided by ULead, Nero Vision, and Windows Movie Maker—if the latter is as user-friendly as other Microsoft products I’ll pass.  Guess I should have gotten Adobe’s Video programme when I bought Photoshop Elements 4.  Any advice out there?

 

 

Eight Below

It would seem that I’ve been selling Paul Walker short all these years. In all his movies he’s come across as a soft-spoken huggable teddy bear; not the six-foot-three-inch grandson of a pro boxer who could plausibly be a physical threat to Vin Diesel. Which brings me to Eight Below. Until I did my research the idea of Paul surviving in the brutal Antarctic cold seemed laughable.

But then this is a Walt Disney Movie, (which probably explains the over-inflated price), shot in British Columbia, Greenland, and Norway, written by Japanese authors, and costumed with the latest in hi-tech name-brand arctic-wear in the most brilliant of never-dirty colours. Homage to Paul Walker aside, this movie is about the eight dogs of the title and the devotion they bring forth in their owner—who interestingly is named Shepherd.

These are working dogs, not pets; that sleep outdoors even in Antarctica; must be approached with extreme caution; and run like the wind. Unlike their human masters they don’t wear hi-tech designer ware and they don’t use makeup—they may get their fur coats brushed mind you. In many ways this movie reminds one of March of the Penguins in it’s portrayal of the brutal reality of life on an ice sheet.

Although there is a happy ending here this is not a cuddly bedtime story for children. Some of the heroes die and some are severely injured. The movie makes a point of showing that this is not a hospitable environment and that even with the best that science has to offer—“if you have anything you don’t want to freeze, take it to bed with you.” Even with the latest in hi-tech gadgetry there are times when this place is inaccessible; or even when it is, going back to basics is the best policy. One is reminded of Scott who starved to death because, unlike Amundson who used dogs, he could not eat his gas-powered sleds.

Grand Neice Eva

This entry is about my first Grand Niece. This morning I’m feeling extremely avuncular.

Eva was born Sunday, September 17 at 12:42 AM—Liverpool England time I’m assuming. She weighed 8 pounds and 4 ounces. The proud Grandparents are about to go winging across the pond. When I’ve finished my other chores I have some E-mail to write.

The Ten Commandments

I’ve just finished watching the president of the NRA play Moses in the Ten Commandments. I suppose there was at least one commandment he didn’t honour as highly as some of the others.

Laying that issue aside, this is movie-making of another era, when movies began with Entrance Music, had Intermission Music and Exit Music. GONE WITH THE WIND and Doctor Zhivago come to mind. Just as the music that accompanies it the action proceeds at a majestic pace, the cast of thousands is costumed in brilliant colours, and the screen is filled with people. It makes one think what it would cost to produce such a spectacle today. Of course, the crowd scenes would be computer generated.

Among the more spectacular special effects is the parting of the Reed Sea. Some of the other scenes such as the burning bush, the pillar of flame and the mist of death are not cheesy but make one wander how they would have been handled with CGI. I will say that the audio people did a fantastic job of restoring the sound track and the colour is brilliant throughout.

Who'll Stop the Rain ?

It would seem the hurricane stalled off the east coast is responsible for our weather. What was supposed to have been a sunny day has remained overcast, with mist and fog.

I’m still working my way through the Iliad and have encountered two sections not included in the latter-day Brad Pitt opus. Something about Achilles battling with a river which appears to have a mind and consciousness of its own. More particularly the encounter between Achilles and Hector begins with the latter being chased three times around the walls of Troy. Considering the size of that city it’s a mystery to me how those men had any energy left to fight one another after running that many miles.

I’ve also made some progress reading Harry Potter—the Half-Blood Prince. The innocence is gone. The difference is like onto that between Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience in William Blake. It’s not so much that the world has changed and people and places that were present of old are gone; it’s the loss of positive outlook on events on the part of the teenagers whose lives we are following. There’s a feeling of foreboding and menace that encircles these young people to such a degree that even they can’t slough it off. That the book begins with a revelation that we’ve suspected for the previous 5 books but is only now made known to us and the disclosure that one of his classmates may be out to destroy Harry adds little comfort to the reader. Hanging over all is the prophesy revealed in that last book that ultimately Harry and “he who must not be named” cannot both survive. Taken overall this read is more nightmare than fairytale.