VANCOUVER - Infrequent Flyers Unite

I decided to do some research on air miles (long story). Here's the most fascinating of the many facts about the aviation economy;

There are around fourteen trillion air miles in circulation. Fourteen Trillion.

There's some debate as to how that equates to monetary value. In my experience; an air mile varies in value from airline to airline (for the difficulty of earning them from British Airways or Cathay Pacific, you'd think they were priceless where as, in fact, they just don't want tourists to earn any) but The Economist had a stab by putting an arbitrary amount on them. Five cents.

In that equation; the value of the world's air miles is $700 billion.

To put that in perspective, that's more than all the US currency in circulation in the world today.

If that seems rather a lot; it's because it is. There are far more air miles in circulation than there are eligible seats for them to be redeemed. If everyone in the world who had accumulated miles were to cash them in all at once; it would take 25 years to get through the backlog.


Be afraid, American Airlines. We're coming for you...

Does this seem like a bit of a problem to anyone else? That the world's airlines have created a system of currency which has left them with an impossible liability? Not really. The potential for such a crisis to occur is, after all, fairly small. And even if all the miles in circulation were to be eventually cashed in; airlines have over the years been gradually squeezing more and more clauses into their redemption.

American Airlines, for example, informed me a few months back that the expiry date on the miles I had accrued during my trip around the world had jumped forward from 2009 to the end of this year (yes, all air miles have an expiry date attached to them. Typically you need to post activity to your account every eighteen months or so to keep them active) There's also the possibility to squeezing the value of miles by limiting the types and times of flights they can be redeemed on.

In other words, and just like any other type of currency, air miles are prone to inflation and will become increasingly worthless as time goes on. Therefore, the sensible thing to do would be to spend them whilst they still retain something of their value. Especially if you're an infrequent flyer, since yours will become the most worthless most quickly. In fact; let's all do it together and force an air miles meltdown!

OHIO - The Sense of an End

As I'm sure you were all expecting, it's time for the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows review. As I'm sure you were not expecting; it shall be short and contain no spoilers. This is because I have just one point to make. It's about endings.

Broadly speaking; there are three ways to end a series. Typically, I find that people have a particular favorite and, therefore, a good ending is one which fits in with their view on what endings should look like and anything else is, therefore, a disappointment.

You can tell a lot about a person, I think, by what sort of ending they prefer.

The first type of ending is the completely open kind. One which takes us out of a story right in the middle of the action; sometimes literally mid-scene. Good examples of this type of ending are Joss Whedon's Angel which left our heroes standing in front of an impossibly large army and said 'Let's go to work' and David Chase's The Sopranos which left our anti-heroes in front of an impossibly complicated meal and said nothing. This sort of ending really doesn't turn up in literary series very much and tends to court controversy whenever it rears its head in TV and the movies. Those who enjoy these endings typically point to the fact that series are about ongoing threads and that, just because we will no longer be viewing events, does not mean they are not occurring without us. Life goes on; there's no such thing as an 'ending.' Those who loathe these point out, of course, that they're not necessarily proper endings at all.

The second is the one I call 'winning the battle but still fighting the war.' Victory has been achieved on one level and the central struggle of a drama has ended. However, the larger over arching conflicts remain unresolved. The characters, though, will not be left the face the coming onslaughts with the same frailties and flaws they have suffered in the past. Something has fundamentally changed underneath and, somehow, we know that the tables have turned. Whedon's Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a fine example of this type of ending (I choose to ignore his entirely unnecessary "Season 8" graphic novel nonsense) as are the closing moments of Chris Carter's The X-Files as Mulder and Scully realise they've pretty much *lost* their war, but are probably more invested in fighting it than they were at the start of the series. These endings are enjoyed by those whose imagination is sparked by the idea of ongoing adventures and stories happening of which they have no knowledge but which keep their favorite characters alive. This type of ending is loved by those who find endings traumatic, and who like to still have a sniff of a potential sequel to ease the pain of their favorite series passing; but others point out that this sort of ending is surely reserved for episodes in the middle of a series (the endings of Harry Potter 4, 5 and 6 all fit the bill, for example) and to put it at an end is rather anticlimactic.

And then there is the third type of ending. The 'happily ever after' ending, or maybe the 'ten years later' ending. The battle, the war and the story are all over. We are now given assurance by the author that we have witnessed the most significant parts of their characters' lives. Of course, those lives go on and we may find ourselves brought in at a later point to see where everyone has ended up and who married who and what they named all their children etc. etc. We are safe in the knowledge that we have not missed anything, and that our characters are no longer in danger. Obviously, this is often the chosen ending to fairy tales but other great series have utilized it to great effect. Tolkien saw fit to tie up each and every dangling thread of The Lord of the Rings; and when he couldn't quite squeeze it all into the main text he provided a whole raft of appendices just to make sure that the finality of the ending was not undermined. Similarly, C.S. Lewis saw fit to end the Chronicles of Narnia by ending Narnia itself. Interestingly, Lewis actually acknowledges that the characters' stories won't end simply because he is not writing them, but he leaves us in no doubt that the story is most definetly over. It's really rather good, so I'll quote it:
And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
This type of ending is, of course, loved and loathed in equal measure. The need to see a story through to its very end is seen as deeply romantic and effecting on the one hand, and as sentimental twaddle on the other. 'Happy enders' are typically portrayed in criticism either as people who know nothing of the tapestry of life; or people who appreciate it far more deeply and profoundly than those who clamor for troubling or abrupt endings.

I guess that I'm unusual, then, in that I enjoy all three types of ending. When, of course, each is used in their right context. I equally enjoyed the endings of Buffy, Angel and Narnia

I do, however, have a favorite type of ending. Everybody does.

Deathly Hallows probably isn't the best of the Harry Potter series but its problems are irrelevant. The only thing that matters about Deathly Hallows is how it brings to an end the Harry Potter series. Not just in its final pages; but throughout the story. It's a great one. A really great one.

And obviously; it's my favorite type of ending.

WASHINGTON - The Bitch is Back

Another month or so of silence and then the blog returns. Apologies, as usual, for the delays but the end of term squeeze for youth group matters followed by quick trips away and then relentless reconfiguring of my brain for summer camps has rendered me almost incapacitated as a blogger... And, at the end, a review of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix; a film which has puzzled me more than any other this year.

But firstly: Desolation Peak.

Of the many joys about living in the Pacific Northwest, none is more joyous than the fact that just a few hours away in every direction there is wilderness (well, an awfully wet kind in some directions...) and incredible glacial landscapes waiting to be explored. Over the long weekend, three of us headed down from Vancouver to the small town of Hope (where they filmed Hope Floats, Colin Firth fans!) and then south along gravel track across the US Border to Ross Lake on the northernmost point of the North Cascades.


Brown bear by the side of the road on the way to Ross Lake. Brown bears are the dangerous ones, but this one didn't seem too bothered by three hikers in a car. On the bear intelligence scale, he's obviously a little closer to Winnie than Yogi.

The aim of the weekend's hiking was Desolation Peak; a charmingly named outcrop surrounded by such cuddly named features as Starvation Ridge and Nightmare Camp. Obviously someone had a pretty lousy experience or two in the region at some point in their life (so much so they even named one of the other mountains Jackass) But, for some, isolated wilderness is not just something for the weekends but a real way of life. On top of Desolation Peak's two thousand or so metres of elevation there sits a lookout hut. Like many around the US, it's home during the summer to a park ranger whose job it is to look out around the surrounding area for fires. Unlike others, though, which are often towers in forests, this is one of the most isolated in the country. It's a four hour hike up on a good day; meaning that if you decide you need to get hold of someone it's a seven or eight hour round trip and there's no guarantee of encountering anyone without another eight hours hike at the bottom back to civilisation.


The shack at the top of the world.

For some, then, hiking up to such a place is a way of life. To others, something to aim for during a strenuous hiking trip. But for many it's a type of pilgrimage as this shack was once home to Jack Kerouac; who spent a season as a fire lookout on one of his many Beatnik travels. And then wrote a string of books and poems about the experience. Depending on which you read it was either the greatest, or the worst, experience of his life.

Purely from a hiking perspective, the experience is nothing but rewarding. From the gradually widening views of the lake beneath you on the way up, to the deer quietly munching beside the path to the awesome views of the craggy landscape as you break out into the alpine vegetation; there's plenty of incentive for the walk itself. The final ascent up the pillar of rock which houses the hut feels almost designed to inspire achievement, especially early on in the summer when you may have just spent five minutes trudging through still heavy snowdrifts in the blazing sun and wondering how fresh the bear prints and bloodstains are... And then there are the moments you can spend wandering around the lookout hut and the summit and viewing the snow capped peaks in every direction. It's a landscape which one might find lonely, but impossible to see as empty.


Jack's shack

Although lugging a backpack two thousand metres isn't always hilarity; it's worth making camp up on the mountain for the night. As the three hundred and sixty degree sunset gives way to starscapes (and, apparently, the Aurora Borealis over Mount Hozomeen according to Jack. We couldn't see it, though) the sense of the world being closed off around is palpable. Yet what remains in the darkness is no less enchanting; especially as when you're living in the city you miss so much of it.

One of the questions about Kerouac is why a man who spent so much time with and writing vividly about living life with a host of colourful characters would want to spend such extended periods of time alone and in such complete isolation from the world. Modern personality testing might provide some of the clinical explanations. But spending a night up on the roof of the world is how you can really begin to suggest some answers.

And now, onto Harry Potter.

Funny thing; when I first saw this poster for Harry Potter:



I was immediately reminded of this one for Alien 3:



... Which, for those who remember such things, is probably the closest cinema has ever come to producing a truly nihilistic film. From the opening minute culling of the remaining supporting cast of Aliens through to Sigourney Weaver's suicidal plunge in the closing moments; Alien 3 is an almost relentlessly bleak story of ever increasing loss against a seemingly unstoppable series of foes.

I then forgot all about that until I saw the film. Harry Potter 5 is great. It's the best of the series by far. But it is also incredibly grim. Cold, remote and unrelentingly dark from beginning to end. It may not be nihilistic; but it's certainly the most hard going film I've seen for a good couple of years. And most of those weren't marketed towards children. Like I said right at the top of this post; this film *really* confused me.

Harry Potter 5 is a fascinating lesson in the process of adaptation. The film's greatest strength is that it takes a pretty poor, overly convoluted book and turns it into an incredibly tight piece of character storytelling about how Harry, trying to cope with the darkness of film 4, sees himself at a crossroads between giving into anger and revenge or embracing his friendships and human connections. It's really the only one of the films to have a strong emotional arc for Harry which makes sense. And the credit for that belongs to new screenwriter Michael Goldenberg because those threads were all lost in the mess of the original novel. The storyline is outstanding, Dan Radcliffe's performance as Harry is mesmerising and David Yates carries on this series' fine tradition of making each entry grow up along with its characters. Prisoner of Azkaban hit the raging hormones of thirteen year old life spot on, Goblet of Fire successfully showed the change to fourteen with the utter confusion of relationships and Order of the Pheonix gets fifteen completely right with mood swings and a sneaking mistrust of all authority added to the mix. And, for once, the film makers have done it better than J.K. "CAPTIAL LETTERS TO SIGNIFY EMOTIONAL RESPONCE" Rowling. Order of the Pheonix is the best cinematic adaptation of J.K. Rowling's work.

All good, right? Here's the problem: Order of the Pheonix is also the worst cinematic adaptation of Rowling's work. Because, despite the ever growing sense of darkness and insecurity in Harry's world, the Potter world has never been so unrelentingly grim as it is during the two hours of this film. We begin with scenes of horror, progress to witch hunts (figurative and literal), take a quick stop at child torture before a trip into mental illness and, finally, some more torture and a good dollop of death to top things off. Pheonix may have gotten away with a PG certificate on this side of the Atlantic but I'm not sure I'd want anyone under the age of fifteen watching a scene in which a children are physically tortured and mentally abused by sadistic authority figures, as happens at least half a dozen times in this film.

All of this comes, of course, from Rowling's original novel. But that's not all there was in that book. Although the physical and emotional torture was at the centre of Harry's story; there were plenty of brighter passages to lighten the load. Characters like Tonks and the Weasleys provided comic relief and subplots like the "Weasley is our King" Quiddich saga lightened the load between he tragedy. The problem was that, without any sense of an editor's pen on the manuscript, Rowling's book was too unwieldy for cinematic adaptation. The film makers were right to focus on Harry's story (it's the film's greatest strength) but the price they've paid is to suck all the heart from the original story. And, more worryingly, to create some really rather problematic characters.

Take Luna Lovegood. Easily my favourite character from the books; Luna is from the Emma Woodhouse and Cordelia Chase school of characters who are present in the text to say all the uncomfortable things which usually remain in the subtext. In the books, Luna is a delightful character who has a kookiness and paranoia which allows her to operate on a different level to the emotionally repressed teenagers around her. She brings a childlike innocence to exclaiming and dwelling on home truths, which Harry eventually realises make her an authority... In the film, though, there is no time for Luna to be a speaker of truth. She is a kooky cipher who throws out non sequitors which all serve plot exposition rather than humorous asides. We learn quickly that she's a victim of personal loss; and Harry continually identifies with this side of her. Barely anyone else interacts with her. As such, there is no other conclusion to draw from the character of Luna in the film than that she is a terribly emotionally damaged young woman who cannot deal with the pains of the real world and so decides to live in a self created fantasy. She is a symbol of madness which Harry could become; rather than a loveable kook. It's wrong, it's unsettiling and it deeply bothers me.

So is it the best of the series? The worst? Or something in between? So much of myself tells me that it is the best; it's certainly the first time I've ever become emotionally invested in Harry's character, for example. And, coming from such a poor novel, that's an outstanding achievement. Yet (and speaking as someone who is a firm believer in the vital importance of carefully used darkness in children's books and films) I can't possibly recommend something so unrelentingly grim and horrific which clearly is advertising itself to children. If it were for adults, I might not have a problem (although it's *still* a dark film, even then) but it's not. And I do.

Ultimately we have to go back to Alfonso Cuarón's Prisoner of Azkaban to answer this question. Possibly the most important children's film of the decade; Azkaban is the perfect blend of darkness and levity. It redefined the series by basically picking up Christopher Columbus' first two efforts, shaking them violently and yelling 'grow up!' until all those starched school uniforms loosened. Its production design was second to none (and, indeed, it's interesting to note that Pheonix has taken a step back from Goblet of Fire and looks and feels almost exactly the same as Azkaban. All Cuarón's contributions to Hogwarts are revisited multiple times, from the courtyard set to the covered bridge, pumpkin patch and fabulous Clock Tower. Note that Mike Newell's Owl Tower is nowhere to be seen) but I've always had a lingering suspicion that the script wasn't quite as good as it needed to be. The greatest moments of Azkaban come from off-the-cuff interactions and pure comic improvisation which make it an *hilarious* film, as well as a dark one. So although the script is weak, the necessary story beats are all there and there is plenty of time for cinematic flights of fantasy on the side. As such, it was the definitive cinematic interpretation of Rowling's work.

Order of the Pheonix beats Azkaban on the script and performance front but chooses to confine its adaptation of Rowling's world to the grim side. As such, it is a wonderful, wonderful horror film and a great adaptation of The Order of the Pheonix, but a lousy adaptation of Harry Potter

Random points which need making:

1) Having moaned that Voldermort's return in Goblet of Fire wasn't scary enough, I was pleased to see that David Yates went in completley the opposite direction this time and made him utterly, utterly terrifying. From appearing in suits on Platform 9 3/4, to a surreal shot in which he takes over the eleven year old Harry's body (a terrific bit of referencing to his original plan in Philosopher's Stone) he is truly the stuff of nightmares. At last. Although I'm not keen on some of the other darkness of the film I do firmly believe that the Lord of all Evil should be, y'know, actually evil rather than pantomime...

2) ... On the other hand, Imedla Staunton's Umbridge is just demonic and I suspect the film makers didn't quite realise just how scary it is watching a woman in pink and her cat pictures all smile whilst a teenager is (basically) self harming. The trappings don't lighten the tone. As Rowling well knew when she created the character, these things make her *more* scary.

3) Another example of how topsy turvy the film's tone is: Harry and Cho's super sexy kissing scene is ended with a lingering shot of blooming mistletoe; a confusing image to say the least; given that mistletoe is a symbol of death if ever there was one. It's like Yates and team took every possible light moment and said "now how can we make *this* one horrible as well?..."

4) Alan Rickman and Maggie Smith, bless them, continuing to mine whatever they can from their half a dozen lines and minuscule amount of screentime. Rickman's "obviously" is wonderful. Helena Bonham Carter, meanwhile, continues her career with another barmy performance. For those who follow such things, Bonham Carter has two performances within her: corseted or MAD MAD MAD!!! Needless to say, this is one of the latter.

5) Do try and see the film in Imax if at all possible. The 3D sequence at the end rocks beyond all measure.

Basically; it's Alien 3 for children. And, as much I love both that film and this one; I don't think that's a good thing.

VANCOUVER - The Movies Sucketh

I'm mildly irritated by the almost uniform awfulness of everything I have seen at the cinema for the past month. I feel I need to vent; and this is my favourite exhaust pipe to the world. Now this isn't a "I hate sequels, I like art" rant. I love blockbuster films; I think genre films are almost always more satisfying cinema going experiences and back in my journalistic days I was always "Hollywood defender" when some precocious first year film studies student wanted to publish yet another rant about how brilliant Scorpio Rising was; purely on the basis that they'd watched it in their previous week's lecture. I live and breathe big budget nonsense. And, yet, even I must conceded that the cinema of summer 2007 is in a dire state. Let's rundown the usual suspects and worth out why:

Spiderman 3: So, okay, I wasn't crazy about the first two. The interesting thing about the Spiderman series is that it's the only successful comic book franchise which has remained truly close to its original source material and style. Batman and X-Men quickly ignored their brightly coloured roots and went straight for the modern gloominess and heavy philosophising. Spiderman was all about the colour, the thrills and the fact that it really might be quite fun to be a superhero. Trouble is that when you're painting adolesents with such bright colours you don't really get to any psychological depths. So Spiderman for me has always been a little disposable. Like the OC with action scenes.

And Spiderman 3's problem is not just that it's the same as the others but that, this time, there isn't anything left to say. Here's where movie franchises have big problems (and we'll come back to this in every review): unless you have some sort of Lord of the Rings cast iron guaranteed way of knowing you have sequels to continue a story; you have to wrap everything up at the end of each film in case you deliver a clunker and the whole thing is scrapped. Sometimes you can hedge your bets (George Lucas knew he could put a cliffhanger on The Empire Strikes Back because, by that point, he was pretty much financing Star Wars himself) but with a mega money gargantuan like Spiderman, nobody is willing to.

To recap: at the end of Spiderman 2, Peter Parker has successfully overcome both the desire to use his superpowers for revenge against folks who personally wrong him, and a whole bunch of normal fellas turned super villains by ever more unlikely industrial accidents. He has managed to get things together with the untouchable Mary Jane Watson...

What happens in 3? Well, basically, Peter Parker has to overcome to desire to use his superpowers for revenge against folks who personally wrong him (in the most unlikely bit of continuity wrangling you'll see all summer, it turns out the random killing of his uncle wasn't quite so random as once thought. A turn of events so dumbass it not only messes up the film, but also messes with our experience of the first) He also has to battle a normal fella turned supervillian by the most unlikely industrial accident in the history of industry (frankly, any city which allows a 'Particle Physics Facility' to operate with such shoddy safeguards deserves to get smashed to bits) and, after a quick bit of mid relationship angst, he managed to get things together with Mary Jane Watson.

It's pointless. It's insulting and it's really, really annoying that the whole thing takes half an hour longer than the last couple of films when nothing of importance is actually happening. Anything to redeem it? Well, the action is all good, especially in Imax. But, you know what? It cost two hundred million dollars, of *course* the action is going to be good. And I did enjoy the EMO sidetrack; only because it reminds us that Sam Raimi is the sort of guy who finds pretentious superhero cliches as pretentious as the rest of us and is happy to undercut it with ludicrous dance numbers whenever he's allowed to by the producers. Sadly, after that, we're back to the same old, same old... Also worth mentioning is the performance by James Franco who is either such a gifted actor, or so devoid of acting ability, that all his truly sinister moments take place when he's smiling in a happy and carefree way. Those teeth can cause damage, man. Just put them away.

Shrek the Third: Joining Spiderman on the pantheon of 'films which have nothing new whatsoever to say' is Shrek. To be fair, the first one didn't have *that* much to say aside from 'body image doesn't matter, as long as ogres only date other ogres' but there was some reason for its existence and that was pushing the limits of computer animation further forward and yet still maintaining the simple fairy tale charms which ink and cel animation has dominated since Snow White. I love traditional animation but I'm not against a little progress. Nor exploding birds; the highlight of the whole enterprise.

Shrek 2 was more of the same; although with most of the story removed and replaced with sitcom set pieces (the embarrassing dinner with the in-laws, double entendres from the gender-ambivalent bar person, the bit where the sidekick has a fight with a new sidekick etc.) and, for the highlight, Rupert Everett turned up in a great extended cameo as Prince Charming. Not surprisingly; the first thing Shrek the Third does is to destroy those small moments of good will by bringing back Prince Charming as a *completely different* character who's suddenly not a fully grown mummy's boy but an evil genius hell bent on domination of the increasingly dull fairytale kingdom of Far, Far Away.

Can anyone explain to me what the point of Far, Far Away is and why it's so tremendously important who's the king, queen or court jester of the place? Who cares if Prince Charming takes over the place and turns into into dinner theatre? There's a perfectly good kingdom back where Lord Faquuad ruled in the first film. As with Spiderman's indecisiveness on the subject of Ben Parker's death; Shrek suffers from retroactive story dis-continuity of the highest disorder. Except this time the material is aimed at ten year olds and, although I can take crappy storytelling aimed at my age group (I'm an expert on that myself) I refuse to let it taint the minds of impressionable youngsters.

For adults, then, Shrek the Third's problem is, simply, that it's not funny. With original scriptwriters off punning away on the Pirates of the Caribbean sequels (more on *them* later) a whole raft of new gag writers have come in and attempted to string the gags together and call it a script. Not the same thing, fellas... Comic set pieces are replaced with one liners of the lowest order, Live and Let Die is utilised completely out of context (a crime in my book) and Justin Timberlake is in it. Sigh.

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End: Now this was the one which really hurt. I couldn't really care less about Spiderman or Shrek but I *loved* the first Pirates film. I loved that it snuck up almost entirely unawares between those tiresome Matrix sequels and produced the funniest, most imaginative film of 2003. It was flippant; it mocked the concept of blockbusters and characters needing to be deeply felt. Of course my heart sank when the 'back to back sequels' idea reared its ugly head. I mean, come on, we were there. We saw what happened with The Matrix when a great one off idea was suddenly rewritten into a franchise. We all knew Pirates 2 and 3 had to be crap.

I forgave Dead Man's Chest a whole bunch of problems on pure good will alone. Yes, it was too long and suffered exactly the same 'break up happy couples and decent endings for no reason' syndrome of Spiderman and Shrek before it. Yes, it squandered a lot of good will by taking Johnny Depp's wonderful supporting turn from the first film and repositioning him at the centre of the sequels. And, yes, Orlando Bloom's sex face is getting increasingly tiresome. But it was, generally, fun. New additions like Naomie Harris and Bill Nighy were allowed to run rampant with their characters; the location shooting was beautiful and there was that great bit where, in the middle of a swordfight between the boys, Kiera Knightley sat on a beach and pouted.

At World's End may be the worst film produced this year. Just before its release, everyone involved commented how, in the rush to get production off the ground in 2005, a script for Pirates 3 wasn't written when shooting got underway in the Bahamas. Let's just consider that again: scenes were shot, dialogue was spoken, and nobody involved really knew what was happening. This explains pretty much everything in Pirates 3. It explains why there is barely any action in the whole three hour mess (you can only write action scenes when you know where characters are in relation to each other and what everyone hopes to achieve by the end of them. The fact that, to get to the film's only two major set pieces, there are literally hours and hours of dialogue scenes comes as no surprise) it explains why Orlandom Bloom and Kiera Knightley give soul destroyingly awful performances (they have no idea what their characters are doing. First they love each other! Then they don't! Then they don't even trust each other! Then they're getting married! Usually all within the same scene! Then she becomes Head Girl of all pirates! And they stick his heart in a box! etc. etc.)

There are good moments; which there darn well *have* to be when there's this much talent involved. The afformentionned Bill Nighy and Naomie Harris: good.... Until they're both written out of the story because, obviously, somebody realised how they were acting all the 'stars' off of the screen. Geoffrey Rush is great fun as Barbossa; the only real piraty pirate in the film. And why is he there?... Ah yes, for no reason whatsoever... And then there is Tom Hollander's death scene. Best. Death. Ever. Of course, all of this is completley outweighted by the remaining two hours and fifty minutes of crud.

But the worst thing; the thing which makes my gut churn most is that it takes itself utterly, utterly seriously. Not only did the writers and director attempt to back engineer a mythology for a swashbuckler; but they've configured it in such a way that every single character buys into it whole heartedly. It's not only non sensical, it's not only badly directed: it's also no fun whatsoever.

And herein lies the problem with all three franchises and pretty much all of Hollywood's output this year: after one successful film and plenty of money made, various film makers now consider themselves to be gifted storytellers and masterful artists. They believe that because people paid a lot of money to see their work, that the work itself is elevated above the level of mere entertainment and must be far more significant. As such, when it comes to the inevitable sequels, the true purpose of the original films (in all three of these cases: to have a whole lot of fun and be flippant and offbeat) is thrown away in favour of pretentious garbage like Aunt May's hideous "heroes" speech in Spiderman 2, the whole issue of kingship in Shrek (I mean, hello; he's still an ogre) and the entire 'Davy-Jones-locker-pieces-of-eight-heart-in-a-box-crap of Pirates

These people have squandered vast amounts of money, the services of hundreds of professionals and our goodwill on producing sanctimonious drivel. And, with franchises popping up and being resurrected left, right and centre with the same idiotic delusions of grandeur, we're going to see much more of it to come. I have to confess; although I wish no ill will to one of my favourite actors I have secretly been hoping for many years that Harrison Ford will have some sort of major injury. Nothing life threatening, you understand. Just some sort of major, limp-inducing catastrophe which means he can no longer perform his own stunts. And, therefore, that Indiana Jones 4 will not get made. I've said many times that it's my favourite film series; and in many ways it encompasses the "screw you" attitude towards blockbuster movie conventions which I've professed so much admiration of in this post (is there another hero, aside from Daniel Craig's Bond, who gets so beaten up and battered as our man Jones?) The fourth one will be crap. There is no other possible outcome. And, if it is, I may stop caring about genre films. Really.

... Thankfully, there is always TV. Hurrah for TV! Constantly involving, constantly interesting and barely any back engineering / pretentious waffle in sight. Except for Battlestar Galactica, but its constantly desperate, ever despairing bleakness is what makes it so wonderful. Last week the season three finale of Lost probably restored my faith in the ability of visual media to be as involving as literature when constructed in the right way. The episode Through the Looking Glass is a masterpiece and proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that, in this decade, TV has definitely overtaken the cinema as the best storytelling media. And as someone who loves cinema, that does make me a little sad.


Cliche? What?...

Anyway, enough of all that, here's a picture of some lumberjacks shinning down trees in the glorious Vancouver sunshine to make this blog look ever so slightly more Canadian than it did a few minutes ago. Hurrah!

VANCOUVER - Monkies and Spreadable Lunchmeats

Ah, yes, blogging. In between bouts of Extreme Youthwork (like a real job, only longer) and trundling to hang out with new crowds of exciting people who don't live on the North Shore of vancouver, it's beeen a bit of a quiet period for me and the blog. Not a quiet time for communication, though, since recently I have been discovering the many varied wonders of Facebook. You see, it turns out that those of us who previously conducted our lives via the media of beautifully laid out and structured e-mails might as well have been ripping feathers off geese and trying to scrape away on parchment. E-mail is dead and instant messaging is king. And, for those of us who hate the latter and long for the former, Facebook is a happy medium between them. So join up now and come be my friend, you have a much better chance of being aqaunited with the intricacies of my life if you do.


Probably a future Church homepage picture. That whole realism thing is so passe

Easter is, of course, a marvellous time for the Church. If you're not working at one, I hearily recommend visiting around the time. If you are; you're in for a fast and furious few weeks where every concievable activity the church is involved in has to have some sort of big statement; whether it be producing a newsletter or wheeling out some bizarre decoration which nobody remembers the point of anymore for an annual airing. Between the madness we dragged dozens of eldery folk down to the local rocks for a rain fuelled sunrise service. It all rather sounds like an attempt at a mass culling, I know, but actually was one of the spiritual highpoints of the year. Big grey clouds make a good service... Of course, the day doesn't end there for your church employees who then have to drag themselves back to Church and dry off for the next service at which they might be involved in setting up, singing, managing the worship group and putting things away. Or, indeed, all of the above. At least there's Easter Monday. Unless you're a youth leader, in which case your day off comes somewhere around Thursday.

That said, the twelve hours or so of Easter dinner / egg hunting and poker with the Galvanis as a followup certainly didn't hurt (especially as gas prices rose again this month and I managed to win enough not to have to worry about them)


The West Vancouver Boys in Black. We made car rallying look *good*

Other exciting distractions have followed. The St. Francis Car Rally (which is now less of a car rally and more a version of the Amazing Race with less exoic locales) took place last weekend and was a blast. Obviously the youth groups were well represented; and the youth leader's car was looking suitably smart for the occassion. Unfortunatley, the vicar was also competing and nobody can compete with a man of God decorated with flowers... That said; there's no church bonding experience like seeing photos of members aged 8-80 gathered in grocery stores with strangers doing the YMCA dance. Or climbing into a random ice box at a local gas station... just because it's there.

And then there were confirmations, which was terribly exciting for me as I'd never led a confirmation class before let alone a whole series of preperation. Whether or not those where a success is for beings more ethereal than me to judge but everyone managed to kneel before the Bishop and have the confirmation magic happen and nothing burst into flames or showed obvious signs of Satantic interference. So a job pretty well done. T'was one of those weekends where, despite exhausation abounding, I could expereince the full scope and wonder of what youth ministry is all about and get to feel all pleased with myself about how things have been going. And then on Monday we played Kabaddi! Ah yes.

Just enough time before today's crucial Canuck/Ducks playoff (don't worry if you don't understand) to give you your film recommendation of the month: Everything's Gone Green is a good example of Canadian filmmaking and storytelling. Written, as it is, by Vancouver's foremost social commentator, Douglas Coupland. Fans of Coupland will know what to expect (and I mean that literally as great chunks of the thing have been lifted from a number of his works, especially JPod), with a whimsical tale of thirty-something angst in the offices of the British Columbia Provincial Lottery. Worth seeing for the droll dialogue and general understatement but especially for the glorious location shooting in Vancouver. You too can become familliar with my daily wonder which is driving the Lions Gate Bridge between Downtown and the North Shore, or understand why a joke about picking up West Vancouver girls on the Grouse Grind is so very funny. There's also plenty of canny Coupland observation about the social makeup of the city and the fact that greater immigration and cultural mixing does not necessarily a melting pot make. Go see it; then book your visit.