sigmastolen: (octopus)
so potter 7.2 was pretty great. i was basically only annoyed by the things that annoyed me in the books -- no new annoyances, yay! and there were a lot of things that turned up in the film that i really appreciated. and i shed many tears (as usual). so. good film, all told. i guess i'll sleep on it and see if i have more to say tomorrow?

it really feels like the end of an era.
sigmastolen: (dalek-o-lantern)
(Does this count as meta? idk mostly it's me ranting pseudo-intellectually)

In my newfound summer-break free time, I'm basically turning to Netflix to fill my brain with mush -- which is obviously completely different from what I do during the school year. I watched Dollhouse, for three main reasons: (1) I love Eliza Dushku, (2) I love Tahmoh Penikett, and (3) I wanted to see it for myself instead of letting meta discussions about Joss Whedon and feminism tell me what to think about it (yes: Echo and Adelle are both complex, strong characters. yes: it is always rape o'clock at the Dollhouse, and this is very troubling.). And I want to talk about it (though not as much as I want to talk about Angel ALL THE TIME), but the first thing I have to say is: Joss Whedon, I have Problems with Amy Acker's characters.

Okay. I don't have problems with all her characters. But I do have big big problems with the characters we're presumably supposed to like and identify with, and miss when they're gone, and because Amy Acker seems to represent Whedon's Ideal Woman (or at least her characters do) (given that he has said her face is the most beautiful thing he has ever captured on camera or something), it stands to reason these problems extend straight into Whedon himself.

SO MANY WORDS BEHIND THE CUT. AND SO MANY SPOILERS. )

In other news, I love Adelle best, because I am predictable.
sigmastolen: (bassoonists do it with their thumbs)
In which I critical media studies it up and end up panning Puccini. Oops. )

But yeah. Sumptuous set and stunning costumes, though with a preponderance of Generic!Asian details and the colour red (BECAUSE THE ONLY WAY WE'LL KNOW IT'S IN CHINA IS IF EVERYTHING IS RED); very well performed by orchestra, singers, and dancers alike (EXCEPT YOU, CHORUS. YOU WERE NOT SO HOT.); and enormous problems re: racism, sexism, consent. THANKS BUT NO THANKS, PUCCINI.

And now I have to be done because, damn, it's late, and my cat has dandruff.
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Bu which I mean, today is the first day of spring break, and to mark the occasion, I am apparently watching movies. At least, that is what I did today (you know, in addition to having rehearsal, practicing, and making reeds). (Netflix & Me: A Love Story)

In which I talk about movies: Black Hawk Down and Contact (and Shortbus) )
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My winter break in movie reviews. YAYE :DDDD

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, The King's Speech, Black Swan, The Fighter, and The History Boys )

A last note: Marvel has a few movies coming up that I'm pretty excited about -- Thor and Captain America for this year, and apparently The Avengers for 2010? I'm totally down with Thor (esp. since Chris Hemsworth (AKA GEORGE KIRK YES PLEASE) is totally gorgeous), and I'm super gleeful about Cap, but I'm a little weirded out that Captain America -- you know, super-wholesome 1940's All-American super-soldier beefcake -- is being played by Chris Evans, who is also Johnny Storm, the Fantastic Four's playboy Human Torch. I'm a little worried about this whole playing-two-characters-in-the-same-franchise thing (or closely-related franchises, at least), and I'm also concerned that I won't be able to stop seeing the Human Torch while he's supposed to be Cap.
.... Man, all this is making me want to watch Iron Man II again. You know, for the Thor & Captain America teasers. And also for Scarlett a little. Okay, a lot for Scarlett. I could almost watch The Spirit again, for Scarlett. Maybe if there was a good-parts version, with just Scarlett & Samuel L. Jackson's scenes. *sighs dreamily*

In other news: although Days Where I Don't Leave The House make me feel incredibly lame after they happen, they feel so good while they last. :D
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After my second viewing, I can safely say that I liked it (shut up you guys, you know it's hard for me to tell with the HP films! I'm still flip-flopping on the fourth one!).

(FYI: I am in Chicago, spending the Thanksgiving holiday with my dad's cousins who live here! They're super cool. One has a baby named Malia who is pretty much the best thing ever: 1.5 years old, adorable, loves music, and so, so smart. She blows me away. Pictures later, maybe. Also: Today the two babyless cousins took me to the Art Institute of Chicago, which. Amazing. Pictures later, definitely. But omg my feet. And all this after an extremely fruitful two-hour shopping trip this morning -- things I now have: a winter coat (OH THANK GOD); warm, fuzzy, tall boots that actually fit my calves omg)


okay now the movie )

Things for which I am hoping in HP 7.2:
-- lots of flashbacks to cover all the plot they've skipped in the films so far
-- lots of flashbacks of young Snape & other grownups <3
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Iron Man 2: MEH.

Scarlett Johanssen with red hair and green eyes, kicking ass and taking names VIA MUCH ANGULAR MOMENTUM: YES PLEASE. PLEASE SIR MAY I HAVE SOME MORE.

Gwyneth Paltrow as Pepper Potts: <3 FOREVER

Mickey Rourke's character's cockatoo: D'AWWWWWW

Hints at Captain Ameriva movie: HELL YEAH CAP

Hints at Avengers movie: Yeah, okay, cool.

Post-credits teaser for Thor: FUCK YEAH THOR

Netflix: CONTINUING WIN
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300? Yeah, I'm down with that. (Except for, you know, the uncomfortable sex and oracle scenes. And Gerard Butler's speech impediment.) I mean -- kickass fighting + epic historical setting + David Wenham + hordes of ripped, scantily-clad dudes. Duh. Granted, Zack Snyder is responsible for the movie and I have not yet read the graphic novel, but I've heard good things.

Sin City? Sure, okay. I mean, it's adapting his own graphic novel, which I liked well enough, and as much as it's not "my thing" as much as, say, superhero comic adaptations or Movies! In! SPAAAACE!, I totally dug a lot of things: how faithful it is to the look of the comic, the way the three stories aligned, via the bar and the farm, to take place in the same night (is it like that in the comic? I've only got the first one so far), the hordes of hot, kickass chicks (especially you, Rosario Dawson. You go, with your big guns and your BAMF sort-of-mohawk, and being the leader of all the awesome, deadly hookers), how utterly creepy Elijah Wood is, how we never in fact learn anything at all about Josh Hartnett's character. While I found the gratuitous violence torture porn distasteful, and I was really not all that into Bruce Willis and Jessica Alba's May-December romance, I did find myself really emotionally engaged with the movie.

But, oh god, The Spirit -- not so much. The comicification felt really stilted, instead of natural, the way it did in Sin City. And, sorry Will Eisner, but OH GOD THE NAMES WHY, WHY THE NAMES. "Silken Floss." "Sand Saref" (which I totally heard as "sans serif" for her first ten minutes in the film). Worst of all, "Plaster of Paris." GOD the Spirit sounds like such an IDIOT sensually murmuring "Plaster." I could almost go along with the hamminess -- it worked well for everyone except for the Dolans and Sand, and sometimes the Spirit started to take himself seriously and that jarred me out of it, too. Just.... oh god, it was so idiotic. Seriously, the bright spots for me were Samuel L. Jackson (because it's Samuel L Jackson, motherfucker), Scarlett Johanssen (because I will always love you, Scarlett. You complete me. The gorgeous hilarity of this role might even make me forget He's Just Not That Into You and Match Point (nope, sorry, Woody Allen, didn't like it. I think I'm just really not into infidelity. Because that was also what pissed me off about HJNTIY and Glee, although, oddly enough, I do love The Scarlet Letter)), the clones' shirts, and, most of all, that adorable tabby cat that follows the Spirit around. God, this movie was so... bizarre and nothing. It was totally a non-event. Except for Scarlett (and her phenomenal tits). Scarlett was definitely an event.

(I'd kind of like to know what real-life city Sin City's "Basin City" is a stand-in for. Because The Spirit's "Center City" is obviously Chicago, as Gotham City is obviously New York.)

To conclude: The Spirit = So mediocre it was bad.
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first: nature documentaries = BEST FOR REEDMAKING. I started watching The Blue Planet, and to discover I can simultaneously learn shit, be soothed by David Attenborough's dulcet tones, nerd out about how much I love the BBC's composers, and feel like I'm being a good little music major -- it's pretty damn great.

second: Tonight's feature presentation: Little Ashes, starring Javier Beltrán, Robert Pattinson (omg hahaha), Matthew McNulty, and Marina Gatell. According to IMDB, it's "About the young life and loves of artist Salvador Dalí, filmmaker Luis Buñuel and writer Federico García Lorca." Mostly it was about García Lorca being totally in love with Dalí, Dalí being crazy like a crazy jerkass fox, and Buñuel being, well, kind of a dick but ultimately not a terrible dude.

True confessions time: I put this in my queue because of RPattz's promotion of it in that GQ interview from a few years back, and because I like Dalí, and RPattz as Dalí was something not to be missed, obvs.

The jury is still out on whether I might actually have preferred to have missed it.

Okay so they're all at university in Madrid together. Federico is our protagonist, and thank god, because Javier Beltrán pretty much carried the entire film. Marina Gatell, as his fag hag lady friend & fellow writer and revolutionary, Magdalena, was also damn good. McNulty was decent but forgettable, and RPattz was of course unforgettable for all the wrong reasons. Luis calls Federico "bourgeois" and has a massive hard-on for Paris and is a big big homophobe. Salvador starts out as a dorky maladjust and then he gets a makeover and tries being a fashionable alcoholic revolutionary before apparently settling on moderately insane, moderately homosexual egotist. Federico doesn't quite fit in, at first, as tortured artist or as revolutionary student, but he hangs out with the cool kids anyway, has his Big Gay Revelation in the form of Salvador Dalí, suffers his Big Gay Heartbreak at the hands of Salvador Dalí, and then becomes a BAMF revolutionary poet/playwright Of The People! And then he stirs up a little too much trouble (which coincides, conveniently, with reunions with all the other main characters) and gets abducted by the government and shot. And his friends cry and drink to his memory, and Dalí covers himself in black paint, wears a cape, has a crazy mustache, and is a crazy motherfucker. Also, between the Castillian accents (hello, lisp!) and mumbly actors, this was one of the few things I've ever watched where I had to put on the subtitles just to understand the dialogue.

So.... what did I like?

- The costumes (oh god, 1920's period dress! The trilby hats, the waistcoats, the neckties, the trousers, the flapper dresses and fascinators... <3)
- The music (even though sometimes it was inappropriately prominent -- mostly when the movie was taking itself Very Seriously Indeed, you know, the high-drama scenes like Dalí and García Lorca's moonlit makeout sesh in the ocean) (and even though I wanted them to please step away from the Chopin Revolutionary Etude, because it is my favourite one and I would rather it not be tainted by memories of a meh film. I prefer to recall Raskolnikov when I hear it, thanks ever so.)
- Javier Beltrán
sigmastolen: (dalek-o-lantern)
. . . so I'm watching "Mystery of the Batwoman" on Netflix (a Batman: The Animated Series feature-length thing, I think -- or at least, it looks like the Batman I remember from my 90s childhood TV habits) and it appears that Bruce Wayne has a Kandinsky in his bedroom. Oh, 90s animators, you cared so much! <3

Exhibit A: Photobucket

Exhibit B: Kandinsky on Google Images. See for yourself!

(Shut up, guys, my dad's really into Kandinsky. We have prints in the living room.) (He's also really into Mondrian.) (. . . sometimes i like to pretend i know stuff about art, okay?)

Man, I miss the days when kids shows were quality. Kandinsky. Shit, son.

Here follows my running commentary. )
sigmastolen: (omgcrab)
Last night I joined for Netflix (the 31-day free trial, but I'll likely pay them their $10 a month afterwards). I have been signed up for less than 24 hours and I have already spent several hours browsing DVDs, rated 184 movies, added over 200 DVDs to my cue, and watched one movie on Instant Watch. THIS IS GOING TO DESTROY MY LIFE YOU GUYS.

Anyway. That movie was G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra, and it was epically, hilariously bad. It was literally So Bad It's Good*. It is, in fact, the first example on the So Bad It's Good: Film* page. And if I'd known this, I would have watched it so much sooner -- except I probably wouldn't have appreciated it as much before this exact moment in my life. I mean, the hilariously improbable plot and relationships between the characters and stilted dialogue and slightly impossible action sequences, yes, but OMG THE CAST which includes: The Ninth Doctor as the Fake!Scottish Big Bad, Arthur as the Evil Disfigured Mad Scientist, Gaila as the Hero Chick, Darth Maul (or Toad if you prefer) as the Silent Masked Ninja Hero, Governor Swann as the POTUS, Sienna Miller as the Hot Mind-Controlled Villainess Who Happens To Be The Protagonist's Ex, A Wayans Brother as the Sidekick, A Victoria's Secret Angel as the Hot Secretary, and oh by the way Brendan Fraser in an uncredited cameo during the Training Montage*??? I just. What. How could I possibly resist this movie? We all know I often sort of love things that are bad. Like Torchwood. And Cheetos and Mountain Dew, together, during D&D. And John Barrowman's ACTING!!!

I guess to make amends for how hilariously bad this movie was, and for linking to TV Tropes and IMDB so much in the preceding paragraph, and because I feel obliged to counteract the potential of the G.I. Joe movie to be Joseph Gordon-Levitt's Dethroning Moment of Suck*, have a video! This may actually be JGL's Crowning Moment of Awesome*... performing "Make 'Em Laugh" while hosting SNL. Complete with pratfalls and wall kicks! AWESOME.

WARNING: LINKS MARKED WITH * GO TO TVTROPES.ORG, WHICH IS LIKELY TO SUCK YOUR LIFE AWAY. IT HAS ALREADY DESTROYED MINE.
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I think Inception broke my brain.

The world always feels a little too bright, a little unreal when I leave a movie theatre. To have this happen when the entire movie has been about reality, or the lack thereof, is difficult to handle.

I have friends who are fascinated by lucid dreaming. I haven't remembered any of my dreams in months, maybe years.

At the end, all I wanted to do was cry for a long time.



eta 11 aug 12:48-ish

omg i love the internet. it has everything! because the arthur/eames was so obvious, and there are almost 400,000 google hits.
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HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
~W.B. Yeats (1865–1939)

In my quest to get through the stuff I've recorded on the DVR before I move out, today I watched a two-star movie called Equilibrium -- Christian Bale, Taye Diggs, Emily Watson, Sean Bean; post-apocalyptic dystopia in which war and crime have been eradicated through the suppression of all emotion. And, okay, yeah, the pacing was really weird and mostly it was about Christian Bale looking alternately blank and tortured, but I was pretty engaged, even with having to split it up into several sittings throughout the day.

I think Sean Bean was actually what pulled me in. I'm predisposed to love him because he made me love Boromir, but then he went and quoted the last three lines of the above Yeats poem and I almost cried. I got a little annoyed with Christian Bale's character's subsequent recklessness, and didn't always follow the movie's narrative leaps, but the dystopic setting worked for me the same way Gattaca, V for Vendetta, and Fahrenheit 451 (clearly a main inspiration here) work for me; also, the design is pretty awesome and there is lots of sexy posing with guns and oh, btw, Beethoven 9. And, you know, I guess, Christian Bale with no shirt? It's definitely not the worst way to spend 107 minutes -- you could be watching Eragon (DON'T).

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
sigmastolen: (omgcrab)
1) I finished and submitted the PACT today. Only 10 days past deadline! Shut up, at least I finished the damn thing.

2) It's midnight and the soundtrack to my next assignment-I'm-pulling-out-of-my-ass is Top Gear... which is sometimes too engaging but it's not as disruptive to my bullshitting as Star Trek, NCIS, or Doctor Who, so it can stay. (I don't like James May much, but the other two are all right.) This one has a firm deadline of 10 a.m. tomorrow and was actually due on Friday, so I really shouldn't be on LJ right now but I am. YAY

3) "Mirror, Mirror" might be the best episode of Star Trek I've seen yet. I mean. Spock with a beard! "I'm a doctor, not an engineer!" Evil Chekov and Sulu! Knife fight! Uhura is a badass (and RIPPED OMG)! Real Spock is totally in control! Masterpiece.

4) What rock was I living under when Ricky Martin came out? I mean, yeah, we all knew, but still. (I love that he jumped straight to the top ten on AfterElton.com's Hot 100 list.)

5) This was going to be a "Similarly, why wasn't I aware of x?" question, but now I don't know what it was about. EH WHATEVER

I guess I should do my homework, eh?
sigmastolen: (mallow)
Tonight I went to the most exquisite concert: Ian Bostridge singing Schubert's Winterreise in Royce Hall.

I just. He's so. Guh. I was transported -- I feel changed. I feel like I left my soul in a puddle on the stage at Ian Bostridge's feet. I'm still swooning.

Okay, so, first of all, E, Dory, and I all got in free. E and I were getting in line at the ticket window when some couple said they had two extras and just handed them to us, which was quite excellent of them. It turned out that the tickets were in the front row and E and I both felt like that was just too close, not to mention the sound is best in the middle of the hall, and we didn't really want all the music to project right over our heads, so we went back to the window and traded them in for tickets in row P, which was conveniently just barely out from under the balcony. Dory snuck in, which I have never figured out how to do (and never really had the desire to) and sat with us.

Mr. Bostridge is very very tall and very very thin. (Honestly, the piano came up to his hips. That is tall.) He also seems much younger than his 45 years -- I'm not sure how much of that is due to looking youthful, and how much is because I've only known of him for a couple years, so he is "new" and therefore "young" in my head. But, oh, when he sings! He sways, and bends, and at times it seems like his hand clutching the lid of the piano is all that is keeping him anchored to this time and place -- like he might otherwise float or be swept away. It seems like his well-tailored, skeletal form is but a conduit for the music; it flows through him and overwhelms him. And just... the way he shapes the phrases, and individual notes, the way he stretches the music and compels the ear to follow where he leads -- sometimes he swoops in very close to the piano, he reels you in for the most intimate murmur of music; and then! in the next moment he is barking out impassioned, strident German in a ringing voice that fills the hall.

The pianist, Julius Drake, was also pretty excellent. His command of line was fabulous. There were a few times, though, when he got too loud, too excited, for Ian, who doesn't have the biggest voice (but such character), and he could have followed better, particularly those times when Ian does swoop down and drop his voice for a more intimate attitude. It was a decent collaboration overall, though, and both men are such artists.

I think Dory put it best: this concert was a perfect moment in time.
sigmastolen: (omgcrab)
I LOVE THIS OPERA SO MUCH. SO. MUCH.

Long Beach Opera didn't do a bad job of it, either. This was my first LBO production (or, as I just typo'd, LOLBO (no srsly that just happened)), and I must say I was pleased with it. The singers were all of a respectably high calibre (and I'm not just saying that because three UCLA alums were in it (and two of those good friends of mine) -- two of Mao's secretaries and one member of the chorus), the production design was interesting, and the orchestra was very clean.

I did have a few qualms -- more now that I stop and think about it than I did while I was flailing about how much I love John Adams. The biggest problem, I felt, was that everyone was mic'd. That just shouldn't be necessary. The orchestra isn't so thickly scored that the singers couldn't sing over it, and anyway, the orchestra was mic'd, too. I don't know the acoustics of the Terrace Theater, maybe none of the sound was reaching the balcony or whatever, but to my ear the microphones only caused problems: everything sounds just that much tinnier, the sound goes in and out as the singers turn toward or away from their mics, and the sound fuzzes out whenever someone sings a really loud or resonant note -- this was especially evident in Madam Mao's aria, but it happened to everyone, with the possible exception of Mao. It also makes it more difficult for the performers to adjust balance and blend, which the ensembles definitely could have used.

Aside from the microphone use, my issues were really kind of nitpicky. ) I wish its run were going to be longer than two performances; not only does the opera deserve a longer run on its own merits, it would allow them to really work out those kinks.

A lot of things were absolutely fabulous, though. Like Kissinger. I loved Kissinger. And Madam Mao was, dare I say, crazy awesome? Seriously, though, she heaped on the crazy with a shovel, complete with waving of guns, grinding with Mao, and an evil cackle. And Chou En-lai was super good and Filipino :D :D He carries Chou's introspective and poetic role well and his voice is huuuuuuge.

Unlike the original, photorealistic production, this production went in a more minimalistic, symbolic direction, with mostly blank backdrops, giant orange armchairs, secretaries as lamps, wood cutouts for Pat's tour, and weird minimalist gestures for the chorus. The armchair scene -- the Act I quartet/septet with Nixon, Kissinger, Chou En-lai, and Mao (and his secretaries) -- was actually the coolest thing that happened, with the armchairs being pushed around the stage to facilitate private conversations and show conflict, climactically trapping Nixon in the seats of two docked armchairs with an enraged Mao. The rest of it looked more traditional, to varying degrees; it was the same kind of minimalistic-due-to-budgetary-constraints that LA Opera has made me so familiar with.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the greatest opera anyone has ever put on. But I loved it anyway. I mean, it's Nixon in China, John Adams and Alice Goodman did such a good job that you enjoy it no matter what. And Kissinger and Madam Mao are truly fantastic -- as are Leslie, Dory, and Peabody ;)
sigmastolen: (dalek-o-lantern)
So today I, um, watched Star Trek. Again.

Hey, Campus Events was showing it for two dollars. TWO. That is the same price as a cookie from the organic vending machine. Only twice as much as a bag of chips from the regular vending machine. And about 1/5 of what my dinner from Rubio's cost today.

I almost decided not to go, because, damn, I have so much shit to do. And I promised myself I would decide where to apply to grad school by the end of today -- which is looking unlikely. (I did have a good talk with Dan about grad school and other things today, though.)

But today kind of sucked -- tired the moment I woke up, frustrating practise, scratchy throat (o hai post-nasal drip), angry at work, dozed off in the stacks at work, didn't play well in a coaching -- and I decided that no, I needed to go to this movie. Because I need the future to be bright and shiny and beautiful and full of lens flares and french horn solos.

Seriously, this film has a great score. I hope the horn soloist got paid really well. And I love that they used the original theme for the end credits.

Honestly, Star Trek just gets better and better, possibly because now I've seen about 20 times as much TOS as I had when I first watched it. potential spoilers? )

BUT OMG I WANT SALT AND PEPPER SHAKERS THAT ARE SPACESHIPS. MOST ADORABLE PROP EVER. I CAN HAS?
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The kitties are lying in a T-shape exactly where my ass needs to be in order for me to sleep in my bed. I don't know what to do, they're all purring and sleepy and adorable and I don't want to move them.

We're observing at Santa Monica HS tomorrow morning. Google Maps says it should take me 15 minutes on the 10 in traffic but somehow I don't believe it. I might save my "easy walk 30 min" for the evening so I can leave at 7:15.

First lesson of the year, tomorrow at 3. I still haven't decided if it will be a playing lesson or a talking lesson. (Well, it'll be a talking lesson no matter what, I just don't know if I should subject Steinmetz to how unprepared I am in advance of my audition tomorrow at 8. Forewarned is forearmed? It might lower his expectations and then if I do better at the audition it will be much better in comparison? FEH.)

Watched NCIS S7 premiere during dinner. OMG, SHOW. OMG. MY HEART ACHES FOR YOU. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. GIBBS IS TOTES SLEEPING WITH VANCE. TONY/ZIVA FOREVER. EXCEPT FOR SOMETIMES TO ALLOW TONY & MCGEE TO HAVE MAN-DATES.

Post-practise (which was... half-okay, half-:c ) I watched the premiere of NCIS: Los Angeles. WTF, SHOW. WTF. I wish I had seen the episode(s) in which this show spun off from NCIS, because, WHAT. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN. I mean. WHAT. Someone in the comments to someone else's blog was all, "It looks like the creators watched Torchwood right before they made this," and I agree. Bizarre undercover base? Technological focus (particularly on tech that will be laughably outdated in a year)? Homoerotic undertones/banter (and okay, I know everyone so far is all, Chris O'Donnell/LL Cool J FTW!! but O'Donnell had a Look with Cute Glasses Techie during the obligatory INTRODUCE THE CAST scene and hey, that would be fine with me. Except Cute Glasses Techie seems to be kind of.... less of a player in the dynamic.) and really blatant "openmindedness" (because hey, this is LA, right??? The Navy intel guy can be gay lovers with the paratrooper if he wants! Except apparently not. BUT WE'LL TOTES TALK ABOUT IT TO SHOW HOW PROGRESSIVE WE ARE.)? I'm intending to keep a particular eye out for race!fail in this, with special attention to portrayal of hispanic people (part of this is politicized blogs I have been reading, and part of this is my new Social Justice Educator Goggles). So far, we have (1) people related to Mexican drug cartels and (2) gardeners. I AM WAITING FOR YOU TO IMPRESS ME, SHOW. And thus far, the only really favourable things are: Edna Mode (AHAHAHA srsly Linda Hunt is Edna Mode) and Hey Wasn't That Guy In Some Superhero Movie (Chris O'Donnell, formerly known as Robin/Dick Grayson in the 90's Batman films -- OMG JULIE REMEMBER HOW WE USED TO WATCH THOSE OVER AND OVER? THAT WAS GOOD TIMES) and Dude Did You Know LL Cool J Is Still Alive? Me Neither.

So yeah.

I guess I had a lot more to say about NCIS:LA than I thought I would.

The kitties have moved out of my way by now, at least. Baxter has been doing this adorable thing where he puts his front paws and his face on whatever of my body parts is nearest him, and then stares adoringly up at my face. IT'S THE BEST EVER. Well, no, maybe not, because as I explained to my bosses today, STRING is in fact the best ever. (Crumpled-up paper is almost as good as string, but not quite.)
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Dear The CW,

What is up with re-launching TV shows from when I was a child in the early 90s -- 90210, Melrose Place? Are there no more good ideas anywhere in the world? Also, what was with the name change a few years back? Your programming was much higher-quality when you still went by The WB.

-----------

Dear Fox,

Glee. Why? Whywhywhy? None of the characters are actual human beings. They all, every single one, embody frightening stereotypes -- overblown shells of people. Plus, as my roommate puts it, "Now everyone will think show choir is full of crazies!" (Not that I'm entirely sure it isn't full of crazies, but still.) The only one with any redeeming qualities is Jayma Mays as the germophobic counsellor, and I think I might like her solely because I loved her character Charlie in Heroes. (Oh btw, what is it with all the actors who were in Heroes that are in this cast?) And why all the cheating? Is there some secret campaign against fidelity and honesty going on behind the scenes? I am terrified of this show and terrified of its apparently positive reception.

P.S. USE LESS AUTO-TUNE. IT PAINS ME.
P.P.S. Wherever did you find Lea Michele? She looks freakishly like Idina Menzel -- so much so that my friend and I spent the entire first episode thinking she was Idina Menzel acting the part of a high-schooler superhumanly believably.

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