Cats and a Canary

MeOW!


It's Boxing Day, or December 26, as we call it here in the States. Yesterday was kinda' relaxed, Los and I were like two purring cats, warm next to the fake-log gas-fire fireplace. I cooked brekkie, then my family called from 'Bama. All four of us haven't been together on Christmas Day since Christmas 1996. I was happy to catch up with them though and always wish them well.

I just read for a while yesterday, contentedly purring, while Los tried valiantly to progress in his ongoing hunt for the mousy Diablo (II) on the computer. He cooked a late, late lunch/dinner which we ate while we watched THE LION IN WINTER, a longtime Christmas video favorite of mine, crackling with Yule dialogue to chill your familial bones. "What family doesn't have its ups and downs?" The great Kate rules.

Late in the evening, we snared a friendly canary from the sky at the airport when we met up with Los's friend, Brad, who had a two-hour layover on the ground here while flying from Providence on the East Coast to San Diego on the West.

Other friends of mine are in the States from Japan, but I won't be able to see them this time around. I miss all my ol' buds from Nihon and that whole gypsy existence catting around Tokyo, pocket full o' yen, making friends from all over the world. That was a nice three years, kinda' a second kittyhood for me since I missed my first one, hiding away from myself. Good time, good pals, cool cats.

A couple friends are in Phoenix from San Diego, but we haven't run into each other yet. Perhaps soon we'll meet up at the local scratching post.

Now, I'll just say it, been avoiding it. I DO realize that putting my old poems and quotations I like on here as a web-log entry is a bit of a cheat; but at least it gets me typing, if nothing else. Meanwhile, I still do get to share a bit of me with you. I apologize though and will try to keep it mostly original from now. I look at some of those old poems and think, "Did I really write that? Did I really feel so strongly?" It's cool though, and Ben and I are the best of pals now after a rough stretch from May to September of 1998. "Obi Wan" reflects the way I feel now, while, happily, the feelings vomiting forth from me during the writing of "Origins of War" have been abandoned to the past. It's like another person wrote those old poems, but it was I, I have to admit. I did try to write a poem back in July of this year, after feeling totally betrayed by a supposed friend. Oh, it was catty, catty, catty, vicious, the rhyming dictionary was chock full o' rhymes for "tiny-tooled, self-hating cheater."

Oh, I'm laughing out loud, just found the worksheet for the poem I just mentioned. The working title was "Croc Clerihews." Working sub-titles were "Cynical Crocs vs. Chirpy Crocs" [gag] and "Offensive vs. Defensive" [only a slightly smaller gag]. A clerihew is a poem type. The first line is a thing or person's name, the second line rhymes with the first, the third and fourth lines rhyme, and the second through fourth lines make a pointed comment about the thing or person named in the first line. For example, a portion of a poem I wrote a while back called "In the 25th Anniversary Year of a Television Show" or "Clerihews at Warp 9"...


The U.S.S. Enterprise
is a clever guise
for the human condition
shown as an adventurous five-year mission

where Captain Kirk
tries not to smirk
as the alien female
falls under his spell

[each character is decribed with a clerihew and then the poem ends with another clerihew]

STAR TREK
is a bizarre speck
of pop culture
that eats fans up like a maternal vulture. (August, 1991)


Anyway, earlier this year I went to write a similar poem about the disappointing break-up of my softball team and, in particular, the very disappointing ending of a personal relationship with one of my teammates. I've listed the team roster on the poem worksheet and have put X's next to the villains and O's next to the heroes. To be perfectly honest, my own name has an X and an O next to it. I was going to be very honest about my impact on the proceedings. I've listed one name and some rhymes under his name. After only thirty minutes or so of work, I abandoned the poem--it was gonna' be too chirpy, sing-songy, which was definitely not gonna' match my feelings, which were still too raw to mine a few months ago. Perhaps, I'll try again soon.

I really have been reading quite a bit though. Still enjoying the Highwater book and have picked up some old resource books on a comic-book favorite of mine. A fantasy story is bubbling to the surface--I think royalty, divine right to rule, leadership, and heroism will play a part. There will not be any car chases, no two guys carrying a window pane that is crashed into, and no villains/heroes running upstairs/to the top floor of a building to escape their pursuers. There very well may be a blood feud and certainly more than a bit of personal destiny involved. I'll keep you updated, along with a book report on the Highwater book.

Christmas Eve at Nino Eddie's was really cool. I love suddenly having a huge, new family. Now, "nino" does mean "godfather," but Eddie is also Carlos's real tio (uncle, great-uncle actually) as well. "Nino" takes precedence over "Tio" though. He, his wife, and daughter are really nice and showed us some wonderful holiday hospitality, as well as giving us some woooooooooooonderful sangria to get a bit tipsy on. I ended up actually telling the whole story about my uncanny ability to put female cats in loud, wailing heat--twenty-three documented cases thus far. Good God, a bit o' punch, and I tell the most embarrassing things. What else can you say though when a host's cats start rubbing against you while they (the hosts, not the cats) exclaim, "Oh, my God, they're never this friendly to anyone at first!"? You just gotta' say the truth. Truth--cats have absolutely not one iota of gay-dar.

What else can I say?

--Michael Adams
(All writing contained in the web-log entry above is COPYRIGHT 2002 Michael S. Adams.)

Netting the Future

RELYING ON MY HAMMY PAST


Happy Holiday! It's Christmas Eve here in Phoenix. Los and I are probably gonna' ride over to his godfather's, Nino Eddie's, later today. Unfortunately, a bid of bad news: another of Los's godfathers, his father's best friend, died yesterday.

My thoughts have been wrapped up in other's words the last few days, a nice, nice article at Salon.com by David Brin on the latest LORD OF THE RINGS film which reflects a bit of my thoughts on the film as well (see my review of the film, the December 19 web-log entry) and a book by Jamake Highwater called THE MYTHOLOGY OF TRANSGRESSION. So far, the book is just intensely right and powerful and thought-provoking. I'll share more as I read more.

So, to compensate for my shortage of words the last few days, I'll now share some densely-packed words with you now, some of my poetry. Some of you out there know some of the stories behind the poems, but rather than catch everyone else up, I'll just let the words stand on their own...


ORIGINS OF WAR
(or EROS HAS LEFT THE BUILDING)

Love once lived here, in Eros's masculine frame;
I'm the town where Love's waters flowed freely and tame.

But, it was in my port where poor Eros was drowned.
A Japanese dog and a traitor pulled him down.

The demon dog used his special tongue--cheated, lied.
"Love, please love!" were the last words that poor Eros sighed.

Aphrodite attended poor Eros's wake.
With each step she took through me, my buildings did quake.

Afterwards, Love left like she was running a race.

* * *
Now, shouting, here comes Ares at a fiery pace,

"Let's fill that fickle traitor and dog bitch with pain!
If Love can't live in here, let War begin his reign!" (July 26, 1998)


CHESS

My brother smirks behind
his white fortress, fumbles
with his mood ring (angry-
black as always) and laughs
at my obvious clerical ploy.
While I remove
my socks, he fingers
his bishop, and I
see the trap only
seconds before my horse
falls into it, thrashing,
dark blood flowing
from its sculpted nose.
I crush one
of evil's pawns
under the white
bloodless blade of my thumbnail.
He kidnaps my
queen. My cheeks tingle and
I scream until Mother moves
me
diagonally across
the carpet to the corner
of the room, places
my nose on the wall,
and says,
"Stay here 'til your daddy gets home." (August 15, 1991)


HUGGING SHADOWS
(or THE PALE PROCESS)

Peering
up the tree
whose limbs reach
down to me
but are too high
to climb, I stretch
up to two men
who are
both named
Randy D. Gadd,
who fly, with wings
one and six
years older than me,
over the leaves:

the pages in my photo album,
the names on the gravestones,
the angels I long for. (August 8, 1991)


CHIAROSCURO

You cast a Rembrandt
shadow on the wall
as fading sunlight flowed
into the room. The bedroom
became a dark masterpiece,
and I could smell you, could almost
taste you, as you whispered
something to the black window. I closed
my eyes and consumed the dark
art in the room; and when I awoke
an hour later, you finished
our portrait with light from the bright hallway. As you left,
you cast a Rembrandt
shadow in the hall. (1992)


GRIMACES IN THE DARK

Treasure youth.

It is full of small, green perceptions
Of grown-ups' ripened ills and perfections.

Laugh with your children.
It brings gold dust on the wind.

But, don't belabor innocence for reaching.
Make sure you practice what you're preaching.

And, never deliver blows
To the child who writes poetry.

Imagination
Is the world's most valuable spark.
Beatings
Only snuff it out and create

Grimaces in the dark. (May 7, 1989)


EASTWARD DESCENT

Teddy Johnson was a whole two months early
When he came into life in Mississippi.
Disturbing silence. Overwhelming Scriptures
Gripped his hushed soul and scarred his knees with worship.

He raised his head to the sky and beseeched
Whatever. He crawled through the Heart of Dixie,
Blind and trusting. No helpful benedictions
Were said. Teddy fled to the land of peaches.

Now, he wastes away on the Chattahooch.
He won't voice his woes to the deafened Lord.
As he drags his toes toward Atlantic's shore,
His lungs release mist and his face turns blue.

He plunges eastward and no sounds of hymns
Sing from the purse-proud priests. Teddy can't swim. (January, 1990)


TITANIC

I was huge, indestructible, the best,
My hard-headed prow far over the rest.
Wrapped in false armor, I sailed to the west
To find love's red rose--my new-outing quest;
But Passion booked passage, an unknown guest.

He strolled my cold corridors, lovelorn caves.
His fire warmed me, made me his steamship slave.
He cracked my compass; we were two blind knaves,
A pair of jacks outranking kings. He gave,
And I gambled he was the rose I craved,

But his flame faded; old ice cracked my chest...
Petals of blood flowed from my heart in waves.

I'm in a rose-storm of love now. I'm blessed,
But I sink into lost Passion's briny grave.

Take away these lead-weight roses. S.O.S.!
S.O.S.! S.O.S.! Please, please, save me! Save... (July 15, 1998)


OBI WAN

You raised me from the yellow sand,
sheltered me in the dusty land.

You bore me to a gully green,
showered me until I was clean.

You filled me with vast blue will power,
stood me up strong in your safe tower.

You healed me of hate's indigo scars,
took me outside into the stars.

You led me from night to orange day,
endowed me with force to cleave the haze.

You showed me red heavens to scale,
hoisted me up through the dank Hell.

You set me free with violet wings,
taught me to lift my arms and sing.

You left me feathers of many colors to try...

and I'm a rainbow now across a swelling sky.


Thank you, Ben (July 10, 1998)


Well, that's it for now. We're headed to Nino Eddie's. Have a wonderful day today and have a wonderful day on all your tomorrows.

--Michael Adams
(All writing contained in this web log, including the above entry with all of its poetry written throughout the last several years, is COPYRIGHT 2002 Michael S. Adams.)

A Review of THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE TWO TOWERS

PRESIDENT OF THE BALLOT BOXES: THE TWIN TOWERS


I will eschew, for the most part, the usual movie-review pattern of overall reaction, plot summary, critical analysis of the film’s parts, and graded-review ending. I’m gonna’ hit you with a lot of me in the review, imagine that; list the negatives and positives, in no particular order; and then there’s no telling what might happen. Hang on…

Around 11:15 yesterday, Wednesday, December 18, Los and I, in order to assure ourselves a nice seat, rushed over to the Christown 11 Cinemas, here in Phoenix, to buy tix for the opening day 2 o’clock showing of THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE TWO TOWERS (TTT) but got tix for the 3 showing instead, as that print was being shown on a bigger screen. The lady there assured us we needed to get back somewhat early to avoid the lines that had queued up that morning. I dragged Los back out of the apartment at 1:45 to return to the theatre, which is about ten minutes away. We got there, and, oh, my God, all the way around the block was an empty sidewalk. Inside the theatre lobby, more emptiness. Carlos growled at me and hasn’t spoken since. Thanks, Peter Jackson.

As I nervously sat in the darkened hall, next to my quiet, too-quiet honey, I recalled reading THE HOBBIT as a teenager and liking it. Soon after, I read THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING. After finally making it through that, I picked up THE TWO TOWERS and struggled to finish it, but I did. Understand, I loved, and still do, the fantasy genre, having read loads of more recently written ones before picking up the Tolkien books, supposedly the ones all the more-recent ones used as a blueprint, where there was certainly plenty there to copy, descriptions of a tree, for example, that go on for page after page after page, beautifully written, you understand, but endless, kinda’ like this sentence. Marion Zimmer Bradley’s DARKOVER series of novels springs to mind as books I loved back then, primo world-building as well as well-written. Anyway, as a teen, I finally crawled into the final book, THE RETURN OF THE KING, but never managed to finish it. I probably had to go outside and hit a tennis ball against the wall or something.

More recently, I got it in my head to read the great fantasy books to inspire some writing of my own. Of course, I picked up the old Tolkien books, begrudgingly, but figured I’d probably like them much more as an adult, a literature teacher even. A similar growth in appreciation had recently happened with Conrad’s HEART OF DARKNESS, which I hated when I was forced to read it as a youngster but which I loved upon rereading as an adult, power and intensity seeping from between the lines of the spare prose on every page.

I shipped the Tolkien books to Japan, by land and sea, then I flew quickly there, where the books joined me a couple months later. After settling in, I picked up FELLOWSHIP. Oh, my plan of appreciating them as an adult fell to pieces, it was agony, but I finished the first one. I never got past the first coupla’ chapters of THE TWO TOWERS. My point, I didn’t now remember the names or events of TTT as I awaited the lights to go down in the theatre, even though I had read the whole book as a child and had even recently reread a few chapters of it. It was all going to be new. I loved LOVED 2001’s FELLOWSHIP film, LOVED it. So powerful, what a moving version of the slow-paced novel. I sat in the darkness with great expectations as TTT was about to begin.

I quickly ran up the ramp to tell the manager I wanted all the doors, all EIGHT of them!!!, shut before the screening began, as far too much light was getting into the hall. I also reminded him to remind whomever that the light in the projector room was to be turned off. He agreed and actually followed through. Oh, yesterday, the whole getting there early, the light worry, the childhood reflections, the self-centeredness, I was in movie-watching mode, so so SO looking forward to TTT.

The first preview came up as two young boys, late teens, came in at the last moment, through the kindly shut doors, and sat next to Los and me. Now, I don’t remember what the first preview was, but, according the one of the gentle (i.e., loud) lads next to us, it was “Gay! How gay!” Figuring my homosexual boyfriend sitting next to me might break up with me if I throttled the obnoxious little shit, I restrained myself.

(I did, a couple hours into the film, have to shush a girl sitting about five rows back who could not stop giggling. Others had shushed her to no avail but had not sat up in their seats, turned dramatically, and heaved a Mike-SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH at her. She ceased her distracting giggling when I did so. I still don’t know what to do with phone-assholes. Three times during the film, three cell phones rang. During films past, I’ve rather forcefully told someone to shut his or her phone off, but those phones rang during the previews. I don’t know what to do during the film, because I don’t think a SHHHHHHHHHH will do it. And, anyway, SHHHHHHHH’s are just as loud as the original offending noise. I only want to make noise that will cease all noise once and for all and not further irritate any paying viewers. Any ideas?)

Anyway, moments of almost intolerable, irritable anticipation later, the film began. Now, as I’ve explained, I don’t remember the names of the characters so much, much less how to spell them, nor will strict chronological order have established itself squarely in my mind until about the fourth viewing. I’ve only seen the film once at this point. So, here’s a list of negatives and then positives for you to ponder. I assume you’ve seen FELLOWSHIP and that you have at least a small idea of what TTT is or might be about.

(BEWARE: There be SPOILERS here. If you don’t want anything given away, don't read from here to where I tell you the spoilers end.)
*** *** *** *** ***
NEGATIVES

The opening scene of Gandalf fighting the Balrog, a flashback to FELLOWSHIP, was disturbing because it appeared to me that the fire-whip wasn’t attached to Gandalf as he finally fell after uttering, “Fly, you fools!” which is why I thought he fell, the weight of the Balrog pulling him down. Anyway, after that slight disappointment, I liked the falling, falling, falling as they duked it out, finally allowing Gandalf to improve himself from an average grey to a more powerful white wizard. Nicely done, and a nice finish to McKellen’s performance in the first film. Sadly, the nice performance ended there, within the first moments of TTT.

McKellen lets his costume do almost all the acting in TTT. “Has everyone noticed, I’m wearing WHITE! Woo hoo! White, can you see? Even my beard and hair are no longer grey but WHITE, WHITE. And, do you like my new haircut? I took time out to get a nice do with all the dough we made on the first flick. Didn’t think the captive hobbits and harried other fellowship fellows would mind if I took a few minutes to work on style over substance.”

McKellen steps down in the acting department, but Sean Astin steps it up as Samwise. What a nice performance. A bit treacly toward the end, but that’s the script’s fault. Astin wants a second Oscar for his family. He seems really comfortable in the role. Good for him.

He looks extra good next to Wood, who struggles to show the ring’s gaining power over him. Wood gave a nice perf in FELLOWSHIP but isn’t given much to do here but look strained. Wood doesn’t do more than is asked.

Rhys-Davies’ Gimli takes over comedic duties in TTT from Happy and Gilmore, the second-tier hobbits in FELLOWSHIP. Rhys-Davies, whom I still don’t recognize under all that makeup from all the Indy movies, does a fine job acting, but Gimli’s dignity is nearly left in shreds, but Rhys-Davies salvages enough, with his acting, to come through in the end.

Unfortunately, Jackson likes Rhys-Davies, the actor, so much that he lets him also voice a new character, Treebeard. I could hardly understand a word that character said, wondering too loudly in my own head why Gimli was the voice of Treebeard. Did they run out of actors?

Astin’s stepping it up and his excellently-delivered (if treacly, nearly meta-fictional) end speech aside, the hobbits are, indeed, little characters in TTT. That’s unfortunate, the theme of FELLOWSHIP being no matter your size, you can make a difference. Happy and Gilmore try their best to put on grave, intense faces while riding around in a walking tree, not growing well out of the comedic requirements heaped upon them in FELLOWSHIP. Maybe next time.

Female characters are also given the shaft here as well. The Elf Queen has only one scene, a dreamy, telepathic conference with that villain from THE MATRIX. I guess she inspires him, but that’s all Cate Blanchett gets to do. Unfortunate. Don’t waste an actress of that power.

Liv Tyler’s lovelorn elf also gets to moan in elv-anglish about love and time. One note, one note perf. Perhaps the script is at fault here, struggling to find a place for male-female romantic love in the midst of the beginnings of war. I guess it might be to distract the audience from the longing looks Wood is beaming out at any male standing nearby. Struggling with the ring’s weight, my ass, methinks the boy is struggling with the late swing of that pesky closet door. Kidding aside, Tyler and Blanchett are wasted.

For that matter, so is the new warrior, horse-maiden, umm, princessy person. She looks great, her costume not quite as cliché as it could’ve been, I guess, and her clean-hair flying around, acting in the wind, surrounded by the greasy-headed locks of onlooking commoners, admiring their warrior horse-maiden princess’s shampooed locks. She tries to distract the character growing into the leader, but it all ends up being about nothing but a silly distraction between battle scenes. Perhaps, it’ll all mean something next round, December 2003. So much is made of her skills with a sword. Great! So later, they show her leading horses around and making goo-goo eyes at the kingy-to-be person, no sword swinging. “The women of Rohan can take care of themselves, brought up knowing what to do with a blade, blah, blah, blah.” Such dialogue is backed up, an hour later, with the women cowering in the caves, hoping their men take care of them. What the Hell was all the princess-can-kick-ass and women-are-great-here stuff? Again, perhaps I should be patient and wait until THE RETURN OF THE KING. It was just frustrating here, within this one film, which seems to let itself down.

Speaking of battle scenes, there’s a doozy at the end at a place called Helm’s Deep, which is suddenly interrupted by a battle going on somewhere else, somewhere with white buildings and the Dark Riders now riding horsy dragons. I think it’s probably the land where the King-to-be comes from, the guy that likes the elf-woman. Anyway, Frodo’s there with Sam, and there’s lots of speechifying, but can you say battlus interruptus with battlus confusious. Seems a bit of editing was needed around there.

Well, don’t get me started on the editing anyway. Three hours! What do you think the filmmakers thought as they watched the early versions when the slow parts dragged on? I guess they thought they should be included in the version we saw. I can’t fathom why. I say since they’re so into battle scenes, put a bit more explanation in so the battles mean more inside. It’s not super-hard to follow but can be hard if you’re not staring Gollum-eyed at the screen.

Just a few more negatives…

The powerful villain of FELLOWSHIP, Saruman, is relegated to the position here in TTT of standing over the crystal ball with his eyes closed and standing out on his balcony looking down at his land. Umm, oooh, scary.

The silly energy-crackly eyeball guy is still not doing it for me, scary-wise.

Plus, the super-creepy Ringwraiths from FELLOWSHIP have been replaced by stuntmen riding CG dragons in TTT, not generating one whit of creep-out coolness this time around.

And, finally, sort-of villainly-speaking, umm, letting the Wormtongue guy just walk out. Umm, stupid.

Since no real one villain stands up (or twitters part of his eyeball self) to be noticed, it makes the usual heroes, Gandalf and Frodo, less. Just less. Gandalf introduces us to his horse, who is the lord of all horses, by the way, and what should’ve been a commanding scene, a scene to make you anticipate feats of derring-do upon a powerful steed is reduced. Ooh, it’s an old man in a white, WHITE costume whistling for a ride, whose name unfortunately doesn’t survive with dignity into the twenty-first century, Shadowfax. I thought the horse was gonna’ gallop up with a Kinko’s banner on his side, or some such thing. ShadowFAX, hee hee, what a silly name.

As Gandalf rose valiantly aboard Shadowfax, hee hee, rearing and neighing powerfully, at a crucial point late in the film, I thought, “Umm, this is so deus ex machina, the god from the machine, so cheap, this literally is the cavalry riding in out of nowhere to suddenly save the day.” But, then I remembered the wizard saying something about being there on the fifth day, in the east, out of the sun, earlier in the film. How the Hell did he know that? The writing kind’ve made me feel awkward in my seat for a moment when I should’ve felt elated.
*** *** *** *** ***
(Spoilers end.)

POSITIVES

I’ve already mentioned my delight in Astin’s performance as Sam and with Rhys-Davies managing to salvage a bit of dignity powerfully acting through some unfortunate script choices. Plus, as I said, I was impressed with the Gandalf/Balrog struggle at the beginning. I’ll tell you now that THE TWO TOWERS feels great overall, as FELLOWSHIP did, all specific plot-point, movie criticism aside. It seems to resonate with the times. When FELLOWSHIP came out a year ago, it stated powerfully that even the smallest of us could make a difference. What a great thing to hear, post 9/11, with war brewing. With war now even closer, this film doesn’t feel too uncomfortable with all its war imagery but strangely comforting and inspirational, showing us characters growing into being able to make a difference even having to live through such difficult times.

I might not like Wood’s acting choices here, but I like the struggle his character is suffering through. Good stuff. Try to do the right thing. Try to do the right thing. Try to do the good thing. We all struggle to do that, even in a society that seems to aggrandize those that take the easy, wrong path, those that make might right even if it’s wrong.

Should I sneak out of Target with some needed medicine even though I don’t really have enough money to pay for it, or should I suck it up and do the right thing and pay for it. Would Flash pay for it? Would Daredevil? Would Frodo? I think they would. I’m happy I learned from them, even if society says comic books and fantasy movies are silly, childish trifles to be made fun of.

Society says it’s OK to make fun of people who read comic books but that it’s OK to stuff ballot boxes and steal the American presidency. Watching BABE and then actually seriously discussing the line “Christmas is carnage!” is just silly fan-boy stuff to be ridiculed but bombing a country, filled with human beings, Christians and non-Christians alike, back into the dark ages with weapons of mass destruction is fine.

We can learn from Tolkien’s LORD OF THE RINGS stories and from Peter Jackson and company’s film versions of them if we open ourselves up for the possibility.

In THE TWO TOWERS, several characters and the groups they belong to deliberate over getting involved in the coming war and debate war overall, its usefulness and cost. Which side should we belong to? Who’s right? Who’s good? What’s right? What’s good? It is worth discussing in our own lives, even if the discussion emanates from such a seemingly silly, seemingly meaningless place as the settings found in a fantasy movie.

***(SMALL SPOILER in this paragraph)***
Only in a "silly" fantasy movie though would we get the funny, funny scene of a giant tree man bending over to put out the fire raging through the leafy branches of his “hair” in a river of water flooding across a war-torn plain. Look for the scene, hilarious. I don’t know what the theme there is that makes our lives more understood or more meaningful, it’s just a funny scene. Maybe something about taking care of your hair. Thankfully, it’s not something I have to worry too much about with all the receding and the massive crew cut going on.

I might take issue with individual scenes and with acting choices, but I like the film’s rising themes. Industry versus nature. Evil versus good. A good leader can ease society’s way. Who can be a good leader? What should a good leader do and be? So many characters and groups in the film need someone to stand up and say, “Follow me! I know the best way to go.” It’s gonna’ be great when the king finally returns, in his own mind, and presents himself to the good populace of Middle-Earth in THE RETURN OF THE KING.

Yeah, this film, at times, seems only to be marking time until that happens, but we do get a moment to ponder our own Earth, our own industry, our own leaders or lack of leadership. We get a few well-done battle scenes to watch in the meantime, scenes that scream out about war and its cost.

When the orc and uruk-hai hordes leave Saruman's place, banners and spears raised into the air, it is quite impressive. A sense of danger actually arises.

Legolas, the blond elf, still rules, the elf warrior saving the day with a well-shot arrow, or volley of arrows, making his choices known, his voice heard in the democracy of battle.

I do like Happy and Sam coaching their good friends, holding them up or pulling them along, saying this is the right thing to do. Friends should communicate with friends. Otherwise, what good does it do to say that I have a friend at such and such a place in the world. Communicate as constantly as you can.

Nowhere is the battle of good and evil more soul-wrenching and moving here than in the character of Gollum/Smeagol. Andy Serkis originated the characters movments in real-time in front of the camera, and then his scenes were painted with wonderful computer-generated imagery. He also voices the character supremely well, never a moment in the voice where the viewer does not see deep into the character’s ring-ravaged mind. Unfortunately, the AMPAS people are gonna’ have to decide, hmmm, another Oscar for the Astin family or one for this powerful CG-masked performance, something they’ve never done. It bears thought.

That’s what’s so good here in this film, it bears thought. Of course, I must admit that that bearing originates in Tolkien’s own novels, which I struggled through. I never said there wasn’t beauty there, just for me there was too much description and too much repetition. I’m glad the novels have inspired such good films though. Go and watch THE TWO TOWERS. Definitely worth the cost. Go, see it, and then discuss it with me, tell me what you liked and disliked, how you agree with me or even disagree with me, if such a thing is possible. I’m at hamnettwo@yahoo.com. Put “ttt” in the subject line.

Some have seen Osama bin Laden in the character of Saruman, his mystic robes trailing, his ideas on how the world should be killing innocents and beginning wars. I see America in the movie, our real leader lost, nameless, somewhere out there striding the wilds, his or her own thrown usurped by Bush II and his cronies, Bush’s Sauron—
Enron and its brothers, his own Wormtongue—Trent Lott, his own orks and uruk-hai, (ooh, this is fun) the masses of Republicans.

Unfortunately, in the fantasy setting of TTT, kings are seen as having the divine right to rule. I think its key in TTT that the king-to-be actually IS the best person to lead. I, in no way, support such bloodline divine-right-to-rule lunacy. Bush II, yeah, he is the son of a former king, Bush I; but don’t think for a second there’re any wheels turning in that industry-warped mind, certainly not any wise trees either, as it is his wont to destroy such things as trees and lands and rivers and humans. Lunacy.

Yeah, it’s cool to trace Elizabeth II’s bloodline back through the dark ages (26-or-so greats grand-daughter of William the Conqueror) but silly to think that just because she can do so that she is the only person to rule. I’m happy to see that democracy has cut a few inches off that throne anyway on our own Earth. Perhaps soon, we’ll all understand the best ways to go, the best things to say, the best ways to be. Perhaps our own Aragorn will rise in our minds and lead us through the Gollum/Frodo struggle to become the powerful White Wizards of our own grey lives. Perhaps such a silly trifle of a fantasy film will get us started on that path.

I still ponder and worry about the situations that gave rise to the destruction of the Twin Towers, what some are mistakenly calling this film, but I look forward to the scene where the two towers from THE TWO TOWERS, evil incarnate, crumble to the ground as well, good keeping evil at bay for another well-lived day in THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE RETURN OF THE KING.

--Michael Adams
(All writing contained in this web log written in the year 2002, including this web-log entry above, is COPYRIGHT 2002 Michael S. Adams.)

Be Good!

IF YOU CAN'T BE GOOD, BE... BETTER.


I didn't get too much done today, other than a quick trip to Target to pick up some killing potions. A potion to kill a wart and a potion to kill a blister. I'm not feeling well. Here are some spells I find healing, some quotations I find inspirational:

Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood.
--Marie Curie

All art is a revolt against man's fate.
--Andre Malraux

Courage is grace under pressure.
--Ernest Hemingway

When you read a classic, you do not see more in the book than you did before; you see more in you than there was before.
--Clifton Fadiman

Every man who knows how to read has it in his power to magnify himself, to multiply the ways in which he exists, to make his life full, significant, and interesting.
--Aldous Huxley

Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.
--Theodore Roosevelt

It may be those who do most, dream most.
--Stephen Leacock

You grow up the day you have the first real laugh-- at yourself.
--Ethel Barrymore

Be good. If you can't be good, be... better.


I'll try to get to feeling better soon. Los and I are going to see THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE TWO TOWERS in the morning. It should be inspirational also. Have a good evening.

--Michael Adams
(All writing contained in this web log written in the year 2002 is COPYRIGHT 2002 Michael S. Adams.)

A Session on the Casting Couch

HAMNET TWO'S FAME STARTS HERE?


I just returned home from an interview at a casting agency here in Phoenix, Arizona, U.S.A. The casting agent said she really liked my look and that my face was younger than my stated age. This was before I even sat down in the red chair as I entered her photo-bedecked office. By the time my butt had reached the seat, she had also complimented me on my chosen attire and the fact that I had topped it off with a leather jacket, which evidently photographs well in black and white. I'm thinking, "Whoa! I'm really good-looking and dress really well."

She reeled off the money figures I could expect to make, starting with the extra's pay, which she insisted I'd never have to settle for, that I was meant for "more than just extra work;" and then she spouted the Hollywood-level money she knew I'd soon be getting. I'm thinking, "Whoa! It's like she really knows me and understands the gifts I have and can share with the world. I'm gonna' be a star."

She then explained to me how much cheaper it was to get my essential file photos done right there at the agency instead of elsewhere and her prices were certainly not like in California where the prices were just ridiculous and "we might as well get on this today. I've got several jobs in mind that you'd be great for." I'm thinking, "Just give me the scripts. I'm sure I'll just have the native empathy with the characters that only such a good-looking, well-dressed capital-A Actor could; and, hey, I'm really well-read, lots of life experience, a world traveler, oh, the prejudice I've felt deep inside; and, wow, I'm sure she's noticed how graceful and athletic I am, the wiry strength I have."

She then explained that the whole process could begin if I'd just write a check for nearly $300, a steal. Could I believe the great deal she was putting in my lap.

I woke up at that point, teacher mode back on and in high gear, that little section of my brain that can spot the classroom schemer, the "the dog ate my homework" B.S., and can tell who "did it" even with my back turned, even as my left hand noisily continues scratching the essentials of the Crimean War on the chalkboard so that Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade" might take on a bit more significance to the students in these times of political turmoil. I said, as my version of the Tom-Cruise mega-watt grin widened (just so she'd know what she was missing out on) as my star, which only moments ago had been sky-high, plummeted, "I'll have to get back to you after the Holidays." She assured me a credit-card number was just as good, just as easy. I'm thinking, "Should I change out of these ridiculous clothes before I fix myself a cheese sandwich later, of course, after I wash off as much of this malignant cologne as I can so I can actually taste it?"

Moments later, I was in my little car on the way to the bookstore to browse before lunch, where I read the latest ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY and PREMIERE magazines and dreamed of my good-looking, well-dressed picture being in there soon with article after article praising the depth and humor of my fabulous words.

--Michael Adams
(All writing contained in this web log written in the year 2002 is COPYRIGHT 2002 Michael S. Adams.)