Richard Dansky's Blog, page 19
January 20, 2012
For God's Sake, Don't Send In The Clowns
I did a panel at Illogicon last weekend on what makes scary horror, with M. James Blake moderating and a post-midnight crowd. This was roughly my umpty-teenth "what makes horror scary" panel, and from all those times sitting up in front of all those people at all those panels, I can draw precisely one absolute, unshakeable, definite conclusion:
Mentioning "fear of clowns" is the horror panel equivalent of Godwining. The only way it would be worse would be if it were clown Hitler, and Charles Beaumont covered that one fifty years ago. (Read "The Howling Man". Go on. I'll wait.) As soon as the clowns come out, it's over. Any useful discussion is done. It's all personal anecdotes and "I'm afraid of clowns, too" and people convincing themselves they were afraid of clowns when they weren't, and people refusing to believe that fear of clowns doesn't really show up anywhere until after Tim Curry's turn as Pennywise in the miniseries version of It. (Here's a hint, kids - if you were born after It was broadcast and you say, "But I've always been afraid of clowns", you're not advancing your argument.)
Mind you, before the clowns came out, the discussion was pretty good. Or horrible, if you prefer, but in a good way. And with that in mind, here's a couple of horror reviews. One is the Lansdale-edited Horror Hall of Fame , and the other is Ross Lockhart's Book of Cthulhu . Enjoy.
Mentioning "fear of clowns" is the horror panel equivalent of Godwining. The only way it would be worse would be if it were clown Hitler, and Charles Beaumont covered that one fifty years ago. (Read "The Howling Man". Go on. I'll wait.) As soon as the clowns come out, it's over. Any useful discussion is done. It's all personal anecdotes and "I'm afraid of clowns, too" and people convincing themselves they were afraid of clowns when they weren't, and people refusing to believe that fear of clowns doesn't really show up anywhere until after Tim Curry's turn as Pennywise in the miniseries version of It. (Here's a hint, kids - if you were born after It was broadcast and you say, "But I've always been afraid of clowns", you're not advancing your argument.)
Mind you, before the clowns came out, the discussion was pretty good. Or horrible, if you prefer, but in a good way. And with that in mind, here's a couple of horror reviews. One is the Lansdale-edited Horror Hall of Fame , and the other is Ross Lockhart's Book of Cthulhu . Enjoy.
January 18, 2012
Books and Stuff
So last year, I started tallying my reading a little more formally, mainly so I could keep track when it came time to nominate stuff for awards and whatnot. It's not exactly well-organized record keeping, and it's not scientific, and as a data mining setup it's roughly akin to one of those roadside pan-for-gems joints you find in western NC. But it's a little more information than I had before, and just maybe, knowing what I read last year will affect what I read this year.
Then again, maybe not.
And now, a few tidbits. Make of them what you will.
I read 111 books cover to cover in 2011. That includes graphic novel, but does not include books I started but did not finish, books I read part of for work, and anthologies where I read a couple of specific stories by specific authors and then passed on the rest. It's down 10 books from the previous year. I largely blame this on my acquisition of an iPad. This is not because I was watching movies or whatever on the iPad instead of reading. Instead, it was because valuable time that in years past would have been spent reading was instead spent engaging in lengthy sequences of frothing-at-the-mouth tweets about how I was stranded at LaGuardia Airport. Again.Of those 111 books, 48 of them were for review, either for Green Man Review, Bull Spec, Publishers Weekly, or Sleeping Hedgehog. That means that slightly over half of my reading material was of my own specific choosing. I'm not complaining - I can quit reviewing any time I want, or so I keep telling my therapist - just noting it, as something else that shapes my habits.I only read 13 books that would be classified as "horror" last year, and only five of those would be classified as novels. Considering the giant pile of books I brought home from WHC in Salt Lake City, that's kind of embarrassing.More than a third of the science fiction novels I read were by Kage Baker. So was one of the fantasy novels. I also read a ton of Joe R. Lansdale. My fruitbat reading percentage went way down, and my history reading went way up. This may be because I've read all the books about sasquatches that are out there already, or it may be because I got tired of the predictable flaws in "true ghost story" writing. Also, history books are generally beefy slow going, and thus serve well for long plane rides*.The best book I read in 2011 was Journal of a UFO Investigator , by David Halperin. The worst was a Sherlock Holmes pastiche. The most pleasant surprise was Flip Flop Fly Ball; the least pleasant was John Keegan's Fields of Battle . I read two biographies. One was about Forry Ackerman. The other was about Charles Fort.I read Maureen McHugh for the first time, and finally read A Man Called Intrepid . I finished a book I'd started to read five years go, and I had one night where I read four books. one after another.And this year? We'll see. More reviewing, no doubt. Perhaps an attempt to go back and finish the piles of half-finished reads around the house. And maybe something completely different. Who knows. In twelve months, I'll tally it up and find out.
*No, I generally don't make use of the e-reader functionality of my iPad. I prefer books, and I have my reasons. You can certainly disagree with me and make your own choices in the matter, and I certainly don't begrudge you the right. If, however, you've decided that since you've switched to an e-reader anyone who hasn't is a helpless, hapless, hopeless reprobate, you feel that everyone must enjoy literature in the exact same way you do, and you've equated choice of reading platform to some sort of moral standard, then you are a ninny**.
**Anyone who reads this and decides I was picking on them personally and specifically, and that this whole rant is about them in particular, is also a ninny.
Then again, maybe not.
And now, a few tidbits. Make of them what you will.
I read 111 books cover to cover in 2011. That includes graphic novel, but does not include books I started but did not finish, books I read part of for work, and anthologies where I read a couple of specific stories by specific authors and then passed on the rest. It's down 10 books from the previous year. I largely blame this on my acquisition of an iPad. This is not because I was watching movies or whatever on the iPad instead of reading. Instead, it was because valuable time that in years past would have been spent reading was instead spent engaging in lengthy sequences of frothing-at-the-mouth tweets about how I was stranded at LaGuardia Airport. Again.Of those 111 books, 48 of them were for review, either for Green Man Review, Bull Spec, Publishers Weekly, or Sleeping Hedgehog. That means that slightly over half of my reading material was of my own specific choosing. I'm not complaining - I can quit reviewing any time I want, or so I keep telling my therapist - just noting it, as something else that shapes my habits.I only read 13 books that would be classified as "horror" last year, and only five of those would be classified as novels. Considering the giant pile of books I brought home from WHC in Salt Lake City, that's kind of embarrassing.More than a third of the science fiction novels I read were by Kage Baker. So was one of the fantasy novels. I also read a ton of Joe R. Lansdale. My fruitbat reading percentage went way down, and my history reading went way up. This may be because I've read all the books about sasquatches that are out there already, or it may be because I got tired of the predictable flaws in "true ghost story" writing. Also, history books are generally beefy slow going, and thus serve well for long plane rides*.The best book I read in 2011 was Journal of a UFO Investigator , by David Halperin. The worst was a Sherlock Holmes pastiche. The most pleasant surprise was Flip Flop Fly Ball; the least pleasant was John Keegan's Fields of Battle . I read two biographies. One was about Forry Ackerman. The other was about Charles Fort.I read Maureen McHugh for the first time, and finally read A Man Called Intrepid . I finished a book I'd started to read five years go, and I had one night where I read four books. one after another.And this year? We'll see. More reviewing, no doubt. Perhaps an attempt to go back and finish the piles of half-finished reads around the house. And maybe something completely different. Who knows. In twelve months, I'll tally it up and find out.
*No, I generally don't make use of the e-reader functionality of my iPad. I prefer books, and I have my reasons. You can certainly disagree with me and make your own choices in the matter, and I certainly don't begrudge you the right. If, however, you've decided that since you've switched to an e-reader anyone who hasn't is a helpless, hapless, hopeless reprobate, you feel that everyone must enjoy literature in the exact same way you do, and you've equated choice of reading platform to some sort of moral standard, then you are a ninny**.
**Anyone who reads this and decides I was picking on them personally and specifically, and that this whole rant is about them in particular, is also a ninny.
January 17, 2012
How to Make Guarana At Home, If You're Really Patient And Not All That Interested In The End Result
Fill bottle with water.Attach bottle to carbonator.Give water a few shots of carbonation.Unscrew bottle of water. Say to yourself, "That doesn't look fizzy enough. Stick bottle back on.Give bottle a few more shots of carbonation.Fret that the instructions said "Three shots ought to do it." Realize you're up to 8.Unscrew bottle.Say out loud, "That doesn't look very fizzy."Screw bottle back on.Re-read instructions.Give bottle shot of carbonation until it makes a sound like a bantha getting its schwerve on.Unscrew bottle. Wait for bottle to fizz over. Be surprised when it did not.Go to fridge and get bottle of guarana syrup. Spend a minute trying to remember how old bottle of guarana syrup is. Remember bottle of guarana syrup dates back to trip to Brazil. Think about how long ago trip to Brazil was. Feel very old for a minute.Open bottle of guarana syrup. Sniff. Twice.Hand bottle of guarana syrup to nephew temporarily crashing in guest room. Say, "Does this smell OK to you?"Pour shot of guarana syrup into soda water. Sip. Decide it tastes like soda water. Hand sample to nephew. Say, "How does this taste?" When nephew responds, "It's missing something," reply with, "Yes. Flavor."Add more guarana syrup. Repeat previous step.Add more guarana syrup. Repeat repetition of previous step.Let nephew, who by now has really gotten into it, take over. Go play Settlers of Catan. Idly wonder if nephew is in fact going to pour entire bottle of guarana syrup into bottle of soda water.Trade two sheep for a wheat. Build city. Look up from terrible Settlers of Catan game when nephew wanders over with sample glass. Take sip. Nod sagely as he says "It's still missing something." Say, "Sugar."Watch him run back into the kitchen to add sugar.Listen to sounds of soda fizzing over as a result of having sugar added.Repeat previous step.Try final concoction. Decide it isn't bad.Have Sprite Zero with dinner instead.
January 13, 2012
Fizzy
Another kitchen safety tip:
If, for example, you were given a homemade soda-making kit by your family for the holidays, and if you were to put it together and scrupulously follow the instructions, and if you were to make soda doing exactly what they tell you to do in that instruction book...
...you'd get a lot of soda all over you when you tried to unscrew the bottle from the soda maker. I now smell like root beer.
If, for example, you were given a homemade soda-making kit by your family for the holidays, and if you were to put it together and scrupulously follow the instructions, and if you were to make soda doing exactly what they tell you to do in that instruction book...
...you'd get a lot of soda all over you when you tried to unscrew the bottle from the soda maker. I now smell like root beer.
January 12, 2012
Important Sorbet Safety Tip
When you are making blueberry-kiwi sorbet, you need to use a lot of kiwi. A LOT of kiwi. Otherwise, you're making blueberry sorbet with occasional crunchy bits.
Don't ask me how I know this. I just do, OK?
Thanks.
Don't ask me how I know this. I just do, OK?
Thanks.
January 11, 2012
The Ballad of Zombie Frog
A couple of years ago, my sister got me one of those plexiglass frogitariums they sell at Learning Express as a Hanukkah present. Inside the frogitarium, of course, were a couple of frogs - African dwarf frogs, to be exact. It was them, one plant, some purple rocks, one lump of green glass, and some water. The frogs, which were completely indistinguishable from one another, I named "Satchel" and "Nancy", as a nod to the late Buck O'Neill's recounting of the way he acquired the nickname "Nancy" from Satchel Paige. (If you haven't seen that, stop reading this and listen.)
Satchel and Nancy, and their frogatarium, moved into my office at work, where they made cheerful, low-maintenance mascots. I fed 'em twice a week, occasionally changed their water, and had a steady parade of folks who wandered by to see them, or who offered to feed them while I was on the road.
Eventually, I started going out on the road a lot, so much so that I felt bad asking people to continuously care for the poor little buggers. So before starting out on one three week excursion, I brought them home, put them in my office (on a high, hopefully cat-proof) bookshelf, and got Melinda to agree to feed them on a regular basis. Then I went out of town. Then I came home again. Then I went out of town again. Then I came home. You get the idea.
Fast forward six or so months. I go on the road again, this time for three weeks in Toronto. About a week and a half in, Melinda calls me. "I'm sorry, honey," she says. "The frogs are dead."
Which, to be honest, isn't a surprise. The African dwarf frog is a stubborn little bastard, but the literature that came with my frogatarium suggested that they had a life expectancy of about a year. Satchel and Nancy had beaten that by over 50%. As far as captive frogs in plexiglass boxes went, they'd had a good run. They'd been fed, been given fresh water, and at no point had they tried to eat one another, which is a common problem when dealing with these things.
"I'm sorry too," I told her. "Tell you what - they're in what's pretty much a sealed container. Don't worry about cleaning them out. I'll take care of them when I get home." After all, it's one thing to ask your wife to feed your African dwarf frogs, quite another to ask her to dispose of their post-frogular cadavers. And so we agreed that I would take care of the two ex-frogs when I got home.
I got home. I got busy. I dealt with things. And a few days later, Melinda said, "Have you taken care of the frogs yet?"
"I was just about to," I told her, and went to take care of the frogs. Near as I could tell, they'd been dead for about three weeks, and I was prepared for something pretty damn nasty when I opened up the frogitarium. I was not disappointed. The smell was...impressive. "Goodbye, little guys," I said, and went to pour them into the toilet, where all good aquatic pet funerals happen.
And one of them - I have no idea if it was Satchel or Nancy - moved. Swam around a bit. Demonstrated that he was emphatically not dead. The other one, yeah. If Monty Python had done the Dead Frog Sketch, he would have had a starring role.
I immediately put the frogatarium down and got some fresh water for the survivor. I rescued him, and he swam around unconcernedly as I dumped out his roomate and the rather funktacular water they'd been swimming in. And then I carefully re-hydrated his home and put him back. He settled to the bottom, sat there for a minute, and then started swimming, the master of his domain.
He is now well over two years old, still in fine fettle. Tomorrow, I will change his water, as is his due. And he is no longer known as Satchel, or Nancy. He is Zombie Frog, and he is, apparently, eternal.
Satchel and Nancy, and their frogatarium, moved into my office at work, where they made cheerful, low-maintenance mascots. I fed 'em twice a week, occasionally changed their water, and had a steady parade of folks who wandered by to see them, or who offered to feed them while I was on the road.
Eventually, I started going out on the road a lot, so much so that I felt bad asking people to continuously care for the poor little buggers. So before starting out on one three week excursion, I brought them home, put them in my office (on a high, hopefully cat-proof) bookshelf, and got Melinda to agree to feed them on a regular basis. Then I went out of town. Then I came home again. Then I went out of town again. Then I came home. You get the idea.
Fast forward six or so months. I go on the road again, this time for three weeks in Toronto. About a week and a half in, Melinda calls me. "I'm sorry, honey," she says. "The frogs are dead."
Which, to be honest, isn't a surprise. The African dwarf frog is a stubborn little bastard, but the literature that came with my frogatarium suggested that they had a life expectancy of about a year. Satchel and Nancy had beaten that by over 50%. As far as captive frogs in plexiglass boxes went, they'd had a good run. They'd been fed, been given fresh water, and at no point had they tried to eat one another, which is a common problem when dealing with these things.
"I'm sorry too," I told her. "Tell you what - they're in what's pretty much a sealed container. Don't worry about cleaning them out. I'll take care of them when I get home." After all, it's one thing to ask your wife to feed your African dwarf frogs, quite another to ask her to dispose of their post-frogular cadavers. And so we agreed that I would take care of the two ex-frogs when I got home.
I got home. I got busy. I dealt with things. And a few days later, Melinda said, "Have you taken care of the frogs yet?"
"I was just about to," I told her, and went to take care of the frogs. Near as I could tell, they'd been dead for about three weeks, and I was prepared for something pretty damn nasty when I opened up the frogitarium. I was not disappointed. The smell was...impressive. "Goodbye, little guys," I said, and went to pour them into the toilet, where all good aquatic pet funerals happen.
And one of them - I have no idea if it was Satchel or Nancy - moved. Swam around a bit. Demonstrated that he was emphatically not dead. The other one, yeah. If Monty Python had done the Dead Frog Sketch, he would have had a starring role.
I immediately put the frogatarium down and got some fresh water for the survivor. I rescued him, and he swam around unconcernedly as I dumped out his roomate and the rather funktacular water they'd been swimming in. And then I carefully re-hydrated his home and put him back. He settled to the bottom, sat there for a minute, and then started swimming, the master of his domain.
He is now well over two years old, still in fine fettle. Tomorrow, I will change his water, as is his due. And he is no longer known as Satchel, or Nancy. He is Zombie Frog, and he is, apparently, eternal.
January 10, 2012
Me! Me! Me Me Me! All About Me!
One of the things I'm really terrible at in this whole writing gig is self-promotion. Intellectually, I understand it's kind of important. As George Scithers once told me, the third key thing in writing is "say it to somebody", which is a nice way of saying "make sure that an audience can find it". And I've always had the unreasonable feeling that flogging my own stuff is bragging, or imposing upon you, gentle reader. The fact that - OK, this is going to sound like I'm chest-thumping - generally there's more than one iron in the fire, or more accurately, irons in multiple fires (fiction, reviews, game writing, conferences) to talk about always felt like it made it worse, because hey, look at all this cool stuff I'm doing.
And yet, hey, I'm doing this stuff, and I like to think it's pretty cool, or at least interesting, and it's a bit of a disservice to the folks I'm collaborating or appearing or whatever with on a project if I don't wave the flag. So here we go, and apologies if I ramble.
Cons and Conferences:
Illogicon - I will be appearing at Illogicon in Raleigh this weekend. I'll be doing a reading at 11 PM on Friday and a panel on horror immediately after, with other bits and bobs during the weekend. Check out the con site here - other guests include Joe Haldeman, John Kessel and Kij Johnson, so if you're in the area, there's much goodness to be had.
GDC - It looks like once again, I will be running the Game Writers' Round Table this year. If you're at GDC and you write for games, are interested in writing for games, or are just generally interested in what writing for games actually is, please join us. The discussion's always lively, the folks who contribute are sharp, and the notes are occasionally disseminated.
Fiction:
You're running out of time to vote for Haunted: 11 Tales of Ghostly Horror in the Critters poll for Best Anthology. Vote here and make a bunch of really great authors like Chuck Wendig and Jess Hartley happy.
Sold a short story to an anthology I can't tell you about...yet. I will say this one is wicked high up on the Creepymeter.
And it's not my fiction, but I read one of the stories in the recent flash fiction episode of Escape Pod. Click here to hear my dulcet tones take on "Rabbi Aaron Meets Satan", by the gentlemanly Tim Lieder. Big thanks to the mighty Mur Lafferty for asking me to read, and for her patient but stern expression of "Really?" when I threatened to do a practice run in Jackie Mason voice.
Games:
Outland, which I contributed story and writing to, got IGN's Best Playstation Network Game award for 2011. Congrats to the guys at Housemarque for making a fantastic game, and I appreciate the chance to have contributed to it. Outland also took Gamespot's Download-Only Console Game of the Year prize, and it's nominated for a Game Developers' Choice award.
Reviews:
Green Man Review just did a Where The Wild Things Are update, which resurrected my review of the film from back in the day. Check it out here.
And that's all for now. Or at least, all I can remember.
And yet, hey, I'm doing this stuff, and I like to think it's pretty cool, or at least interesting, and it's a bit of a disservice to the folks I'm collaborating or appearing or whatever with on a project if I don't wave the flag. So here we go, and apologies if I ramble.
Cons and Conferences:
Illogicon - I will be appearing at Illogicon in Raleigh this weekend. I'll be doing a reading at 11 PM on Friday and a panel on horror immediately after, with other bits and bobs during the weekend. Check out the con site here - other guests include Joe Haldeman, John Kessel and Kij Johnson, so if you're in the area, there's much goodness to be had.
GDC - It looks like once again, I will be running the Game Writers' Round Table this year. If you're at GDC and you write for games, are interested in writing for games, or are just generally interested in what writing for games actually is, please join us. The discussion's always lively, the folks who contribute are sharp, and the notes are occasionally disseminated.
Fiction:
You're running out of time to vote for Haunted: 11 Tales of Ghostly Horror in the Critters poll for Best Anthology. Vote here and make a bunch of really great authors like Chuck Wendig and Jess Hartley happy.
Sold a short story to an anthology I can't tell you about...yet. I will say this one is wicked high up on the Creepymeter.
And it's not my fiction, but I read one of the stories in the recent flash fiction episode of Escape Pod. Click here to hear my dulcet tones take on "Rabbi Aaron Meets Satan", by the gentlemanly Tim Lieder. Big thanks to the mighty Mur Lafferty for asking me to read, and for her patient but stern expression of "Really?" when I threatened to do a practice run in Jackie Mason voice.
Games:
Outland, which I contributed story and writing to, got IGN's Best Playstation Network Game award for 2011. Congrats to the guys at Housemarque for making a fantastic game, and I appreciate the chance to have contributed to it. Outland also took Gamespot's Download-Only Console Game of the Year prize, and it's nominated for a Game Developers' Choice award.
Reviews:
Green Man Review just did a Where The Wild Things Are update, which resurrected my review of the film from back in the day. Check it out here.
And that's all for now. Or at least, all I can remember.
January 5, 2012
Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows
Be warned: there are spoilers. Here's the first one...it's a terrible, terrible movie. I mean, sure, it zips along nicely when you're in the theater, dazed by the caramel-thick butter-flavored-lipid fumes wafting over from the next row, where some kid has taken the sucker plunge for the Super Giant Combo and spent a car payment on a tub of popcorn bigger than a Cooper Mini that contains maybe sixteen cents worth of ingredients. There are some funny moments. There are some one liners. And there are explosions.
Ye ghods, there are explosions. There are pointless explosions. There are bullet time explosions. There are curiously shaped explosions that devastate massive buildings but don't do more than scratch the people caught in the middle of them. But that's all right, because when you look at the Sherlock Holmes canon, what defines it more than anything, really, is explosions. I mean, in "The Adventure of the Dancing Men", shit blew up real good. And "Hound of the Baskervilles" wouldn't be remembered at all today if it weren't for fact that the titular hound had double back-mounted mortars with autotargeting.
I know, I know. It's a new millennium, and actual "detecting" in your movies about a detective is passe. I realize that there's a case to be made for reinventing and reinterpreting, and I am painfully aware that a painfully faithful adaptation of source material is, well, painful.
But at the same time, if you're going to adapt a property, it would seem to make sense that you keep some of the elements of that property that made it worth adapting in the first place. The first Sherlock Holmes flick, for all its steampunk goofiness, had at its core a mystery, and it kept Holmes a detective. Game of Shadows, on the other hand, is a picaresque, with Holmes and Watson tumbling from one set piece to another, occasionally with justification. Much is blown up, shot, stabbed with meathooks, or otherwise subjected to rude treatment. Very little is detected.
But what there is, in the movie, is clear evidence of other movies, a weird melding of Michael Bay and Lord of the Rings. Why? Because those movies made money, and yes, they do in fact sneak into Germany by way of Rohan. (And it doesn't help that Reichenbach Falls, as displayed, looks a helluva lot like Minas Tirith). It's jarring and it's unpleasant and it's a clear grab at the lemming-dollars they think are out there, and for all I know, they may be right. Then again, Game of Shadows was attracting business well behind its predecessor, and that's even with the inflated ticket prices of 2011. So maybe playing it safe and cramming a big budget movie with bits of every other movie, lest it accidentally exhibit some originality, doesn't quite work after all.
I'd say more, but really, what's the point. And I'll leave you with this: any movie that rips off the horrific Robin Williams vehicle Toys really needs to induce some serious soul-searching on the part of everyone involved.
Ye ghods, there are explosions. There are pointless explosions. There are bullet time explosions. There are curiously shaped explosions that devastate massive buildings but don't do more than scratch the people caught in the middle of them. But that's all right, because when you look at the Sherlock Holmes canon, what defines it more than anything, really, is explosions. I mean, in "The Adventure of the Dancing Men", shit blew up real good. And "Hound of the Baskervilles" wouldn't be remembered at all today if it weren't for fact that the titular hound had double back-mounted mortars with autotargeting.
I know, I know. It's a new millennium, and actual "detecting" in your movies about a detective is passe. I realize that there's a case to be made for reinventing and reinterpreting, and I am painfully aware that a painfully faithful adaptation of source material is, well, painful.
But at the same time, if you're going to adapt a property, it would seem to make sense that you keep some of the elements of that property that made it worth adapting in the first place. The first Sherlock Holmes flick, for all its steampunk goofiness, had at its core a mystery, and it kept Holmes a detective. Game of Shadows, on the other hand, is a picaresque, with Holmes and Watson tumbling from one set piece to another, occasionally with justification. Much is blown up, shot, stabbed with meathooks, or otherwise subjected to rude treatment. Very little is detected.
But what there is, in the movie, is clear evidence of other movies, a weird melding of Michael Bay and Lord of the Rings. Why? Because those movies made money, and yes, they do in fact sneak into Germany by way of Rohan. (And it doesn't help that Reichenbach Falls, as displayed, looks a helluva lot like Minas Tirith). It's jarring and it's unpleasant and it's a clear grab at the lemming-dollars they think are out there, and for all I know, they may be right. Then again, Game of Shadows was attracting business well behind its predecessor, and that's even with the inflated ticket prices of 2011. So maybe playing it safe and cramming a big budget movie with bits of every other movie, lest it accidentally exhibit some originality, doesn't quite work after all.
I'd say more, but really, what's the point. And I'll leave you with this: any movie that rips off the horrific Robin Williams vehicle Toys really needs to induce some serious soul-searching on the part of everyone involved.
January 4, 2012
Book reviews have sprouted
The first book reviews of the year are up. In no particular order, there's
Orcs: Forged for War
, and
Dancing With Bears
.
More will be coming along, I'm sure.
More will be coming along, I'm sure.
January 1, 2012
Happy New Year
Thanks for the company and the comments in 2011, folks. Here's wishing you all a happy, healthy, and not-actually-Mayan-but-now-the-loonies-have-a-hold-of-it-and-that's-all-you'll-see-on-History-Channel-this-year-apocalypse free 2012.
