Neil Gaiman is a genius. Now that I have declared my bias I can tell you how much of a work of genius American Gods is.

The work is a modern fairy tale that ties together the mystical world of Gods an humans and explores that space that many of us have forgotten about. It goes back to the original ideas of gods and spirits and adds an uniquely adult spin to traditional tales.

I don’t want to give too much away and I fear that if I write more and talk about the themes etcetera that I shall spoil it for those who have not read it. So I urge you all to go out and buy/borrow/beg/steal American Gods with all haste.

Five tortoises!

A good movie makes you think about the situation it depicts and preferably challenges your preconceptions of how you think you would react in similar circumstance. Tomboy does this beautifully.

Tomboy is the story of Laure and her struggle to find her identity. Or is it his identity? Laure is prepubescent tomboy who calls herself Michael. After moving to a new apartment block she pretends to be a boy.

Through the beautifully shot scenes we see Laure navigate the difficulties of maintaining the facade of boyhood. Little things like playing football, shirts versus skins, swimwear, how a boy pees throw up challenges.

The biggest challenge is of course is the hegemony of gender stereotypes. You see Laure. You see Michael. You see A child who is confused, hurt, and who cannot be who she wants to be. 

Tomboy is a reminder that childhood is a pretty fucking tough time and that trying to find yourself is the most important thing. It makes you think critically about gender stereotypes and how you treat people who chose to live their lives outside of them.

After the tumultuous crescendo of Michael being discovered to actually be Laure, a ray of hope shines. We end with a half smile that seems to say that in the future we can treat people who chose to not conform to gender stereotypes with the respect and dignity they deserve. Four tortoises.

Source Code is an interesting concept with a totally unexpected nature. It is another Jake-Gyllenhaal-time-travels-mind-fuck-and-saves-the-girl in the same vein as Donnie Darko. Jake is a bit older now and the concepts of Source Code are more pronounced but the same: quantum physics and human ethics.

Whereas Darko was more paranormal and mystical, Code tries to science-ify parallel dimensions and give it a clinical feel which is just not as endearing.

It’s a good movie, well worth the watch. It twists, it turns: there is plot development, character development, and even a love story. It’s emotional and forces you to think about an unlikely situation. In short: it’s a perfectly watchable movie, three tortoises.

Despite the impressive cast the movie fails to impress. The story line is shonky and makes little sense. Anyone who knows even a little bit about virology will see right through some of the bizarre premises. Simply, Soderbergh tries to do too much. The intertwinging stories don’t match up and at the end of the movie you’re left wondering why you paid $15 to watch it and to be left with gaping plot holes, nonsensical dialogue.

Soderbergh disingenuously tries to do too many things. What’s the point of the movie, one is left asking oneself. You could read that it is a deconstruction of the human spirit, but there is no clear answer. But it doesn’t seem like thats the reading Soderbergh was trying to develop. You could also read it as an attack on the medical system, homeopathy, financial markets, the American way of life. There is simply too much happening with no plot clues to make sense of where you’re supposed to end up. Some directors can do this in a good way to make you doubt your faith in humanity or whatever thing it is they’re critiquing — leaving you with a black hole where you once had a firm moral standing.

You won’t experience that with Contagion. What you’ll experience is confusion, facepalmery, and a desire to not actually facepalm because your hands work as a vector for transmission of the super virus.

(The best part of the movie is Marion Cotillard and her character).

Just finished reading Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov for the first time.

I think it needs to be reread to full interpret the deeply psychological nature of the book.

Some preliminary thoughts however:

• The book is brilliantly written. Nabokov’s flowing prose is delightful to read. It describes without too much detail letting the reader build mental pictures in the way the author wants you to, but without the reader realising Nabokov’s tight reign on control.
• The deep psychological nature of the text is somewhat disturbing. You find yourself semi-sympathising, yet at the same time being disgusted, with the protagonist.
• I wonder how the book could ever translate into a movie. The rambling journal-like way the book is written adds to the story but would be hard to capture on film. Will have to rent it out at some point.

Additionally it was the first full book I have completed reading on my Kobo e-reader. It’s been a lot more handy than a book for just tossing into my satchel.

I just watched Avatar for the first time. Great movie. I can’t really add much to what has already been said about it.

There are a few different interpretations of it: allegory for what Westerners did to Native Americans, ecological fantasy about the web of life, the awakening of the proletariat masses who cry for an eco-socialist revolution, and many other meaningful dissections of the film.

These are probably all very good aims — they are well-worthy stories and critiques of history and society. They all have a moral and a point that we as a culture and a species can learn from.

There is however one aspect of the movie that absolutely disgusts me: the obviously blatant placement of cigarettes.

Avatar is set 140 years from now in the future. They’re on an alien planet breathing an artificial environment. Then, only 11 minutes into the movie, Sigourney Weaver’s character, Dr. Grace Augustine, comes out of an avatar session and angrily demands a cigarette (the above pic).

James Cameron as writer and director should be ashamed. There really was no need to have smoking in the film at all. It wasn’t a vital plot device, it wasn’t historically necessary, it didn’t add anything to the film except the sick stench of Big Tobacco.

It is as if Nick Naylor from Thank You for Smoking walked into Cameron’s office and said “Oh, cummon James. Just put cigarettes in there for me, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal.” The rest of the conversation could’ve been lifted straight out of Thank You:

Jeff Megall: Sony has a futuristic sci-fi movie they’re looking to make. 

Nick Naylor: Cigarettes in space? 

Jeff Megall: It’s the final frontier, Nick. 

Nick Naylor: But wouldn’t they blow up in an all oxygen environment? 

Jeff Megall: Probably. But it’s an easy fix. One line of dialogue. ‘Thank God we invented the… you know, whatever device.’

At this point Nick would’ve quietly slid a briefcase full of tobacco money across the table to Cameron.

Cameron didn’t even dignify the presence of smoking in Avatar with that one line of dialogue. His defence of the scene is a pitifully weak argument.

This form of product placement is insidious. While I do not go as far as some people and call for cigarettes and smoking to be banned from movies, blatant and unnecessary product placement of these toxic products in a blockbuster movie, done in a way which trades the noble aims of an otherwise fantastic and meaningful movie for cash, or at least free advertising for the tobacco industry, well… it makes me quite angry.

Joel and Ethan Coen are probably my favourite writer/directors. They make smart movies with smart stories. Unfortunately their remake of The Ladykillers lacks their usual touch of magic.

I watched the original 1955 version of The Ladykillers and found this to be a superior film. The Coen’s version is just repacked with up to date jokes.

In saying that, the Tom Hanks does do a good job in his role of Professor Dorr but I cannot for the life of me stand any movie with Marlon Wayans in it. He is the kiss of death for a movie.

Where these remakes fall down is the insistence to try and do better than the original. The Ladykillers falls down there as does Peter Jackson’s King Kong, and Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

I haven’t seen True Grit (also a remake) yet, but hopefully it is better than the Coen’s last attempt at remaking a movie.

Spirited Away is possibly my favourite movie of all time. No idea why. It just is. I love the story. The animation. The fact that Cliff from Cheers provides one of the voices. The magic and the mystery.

So here are some of my favourite shots from the movie to celebrate it’s awesomeness.

Back in the days before computer generated image technology, the use of miniatures, models, and amazing painted backdrops provided us with astonishing and believable props for all sorts of cinematic adventures.

Some of the amazing models from Alien (like the one pictured below) are breathtaking in their intricacy and authentic feeling.

This brings me to what I consider the main theme of Alien: workers’ rights. 

Yes, that’s right. Alien is about workers rights. After being treated to eight or so minutes of the beautiful models and miniatures of the Nostromo spacecraft, the first real topic of conversation is about whether Parker and Brett (the guys in the main picture) should receive full shares of whatever it is that the crew has been mining.

It is obvious that the inequality of income between these two lowly ranked members and the rest causes tension in the crew. Dallas — the Captain of the Nostromo — shuts down all talk of this quickly. The Science Officer, Ash, reminds them later that if they don’t respond to the distress signal they forfeit their share of profits. Even Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) has a go at Parker and Brett when they harass her about getting paid more for fixing the ship when they’re stuck on the alien planet.

In another scene where Ripley and Dallas are arguing about whether they trust Ash.

Dallas: Look, I just run the ship. Anything that has to do with the Science Division, Ash has the final word.

Ripley: How does that happen?

Dallas: It happens, my dear, because that’s what the company wants to happen.

After the death of Dallas you find out that Ash — the dipshit that let them a) Bring Kane and the Alien back on board and b) not kill the alien when they had a chance — is a company plant, a robot, that put finding Alien life ahead of the life of the crew. The perfect allegory for the multitude of consultants and razor gangs that companies bring in to help them downsize.

In the end the movie really boils down to what are your rights as a worker?

• Did you read that clause in your contract that says you have to respond to an alien emergency distress signal in the middle of the galaxy?
• Do you have to adhere to your company’s quarantine policy when someone’s life is at risk because an alien being has become fuck-buddies with your crew mates face?
• Is it okay for the company to plant a robot, which is disguised as a human, into your crew so as to try and drive profits up?
• Is the company trying to screw you over?

The answer to that last one is of course: the company is always trying to screw over workers rights. 

I’m reminded of the scene in Clerks where Dante and Randal are discussing contractors on the Death Star:

Randal: A construction job of that magnitude would require a helluva lot more manpower than the Imperial army had to offer. I’ll bet there were independent contractors working on that thing: plumbers, aluminum siders, roofers. 

Dante: Not just Imperials, is what you’re getting at… 

Randal: Exactly. In order to get it built quickly and quietly they’d hire anybody who could do the job. Do you think the average storm trooper knows how to install a toilet main? All they know is killing and white uniforms. 

Dante: All right, so even if independent contractors are working on the Death Star, why are you uneasy with its destruction? 

Randal: All those innocent contractors hired to do a job were killed - casualties of a war they had nothing to do with. 

[notices Dante’s confusion] 

Randal: All right, look-you’re a roofer, and some juicy government contract comes your way; you got the wife and kids and the two-story in suburbia - this is a government contract, which means all sorts of benefits. All of a sudden these left-wing militants blast you with lasers and wipe out everyone within a three-mile radius. You didn’t ask for that. You have no personal politics. You’re just trying to scrape out a living.

It also brings back memories of Moon, where the Sam Rockwell’s hapless clone is fooled into thinking he has a wife and family waiting for him all so Lunar Industries can turn a profit.

But on a serious note, spare a thought for all those model and miniature makers who have gone out of business over the past thirty years because of a growing reliance of CGI to create effects.

They’re a dying breed, but at least they’re being killed off because of old-age and not some horrible space beast.