Muse De Mented - The Rant

Issue 16 - Confessions of a Hugaholic

2011-10-11T08:21:00.000-07:00

Hello, my name is Muse, and I'm a hugaholic.

I'm not sure if there's a twelve-step programme for this, or whether I'd even want to go through it, if one existed. I absolutely, unashamedly LOVE hugs.

I'll never understand people who don't like them. A hug is a powerful thing. A good hug releases endorphins and gives you energy. It can communicate so many things without words: joy, sorrow, empathy, security, respect, pain, comfort...the list goes on. It can say, “I'm so happy to see you”, “I'm sorry for your loss”, “I understand”, “Congratulations”, or, “You're a legend and I'm really glad you're my friend.” Amazing, really.

Of course, there are different types of hugs, and not all of them satisfactory. Churches, schools and music/dance/theatre groups are brilliant research environments for hugging. Over the years I have become a keen student of the subject.

Technique is extremely important and can even change the meaning of a hug, conveying a completely different message to the hugee than was intended.

Here are some examples I've compiled:

The Wimpy
They're not sure if they really want to hug you so they'll just give you the hug-equivalent of a limp handshake. Arms are held up at half-mast and bent at the elbows and wrists, to resemble a t-rex or a kangaroo. Lots of arm patting is involved.

Mind The Gap
They'll willingly hug you, but they'll keep an all-important 3-inch gap between your bodies. Don't breach it, whatever you do.

The Drama Queen
This is not so much a hug as a staged lean, accompanied by air kisses in the direction of both cheeks. Usually performed by teenage girls who can't stand each other.

The Youth Pastor
If you're a youth pastor, you apparently can't come at someone full-frontal, especially someone of the opposite sex, so you perform a manoeuvre that is otherwise known as the “side hug”. It's one-armed, awkward and, quite frankly, a bit silly.

The Tub-Thumper
This is performed by guys who feel they must footnote an all-male hug with three thumps on the back that quite clearly state “I'm. Not. Gay.”

The Bake 'n' Shake
This occurs when one hugger is taller or bigger than the other. It involves exuberantly pinning the smaller party's arms to their sides, picking them up and rocking backwards and forwards several times while their feet are still off the floor. May be used in lieu of The Tub-Thumper.

The Choker
Sometimes accompanied by squealing; given by bubbly girls who have haven't seen you for– oh, at least three hours.

The Footballer
Found only on a sports field, where all the usual rules of male bonding go out the window. Incorporates elements of The Bake 'n' Shake. Usually followed by hair-ruffling. May involve butt-slapping. Variation: The Chest Bump.

The 4-bit
*hugs*

The Teddy Bear
My personal favourite. It's the kind of hug that occurs between true friends and is suitable for almost any occasion (although, truthfully, it's best given by guys who consider themselves your mates and aren't afraid to show it). It's both gentle and strong. It's the kind of hug that makes you feel safe and loved and happy. In a nutshell, it says, “You're my friend, and you're all right.”

PRO-TIP: Whatever type of hug you give, make sure it's sincere. The Wimpy must be eradicated.

Special thanks to O.R. and L.C. for their valuable contributions to this issue.

Issue 15 - I Do, Do I?

2011-07-10T03:19:00.000-07:00

I've never really understood weddings. I always say to friends, “Screw the wedding crap; I'm going to Vegas.” They think I'm joking. I'm not.

It could be hereditary – my parents didn't have a “normal” wedding – or it could be my disposition to buck tradition at every opportunity. More likely it's that I've become jaded. To be clear, I don't mean jaded by the idea of marriage – that, I love; I mean jaded by the idea of the white wedding: the bouquets, the tuxedos, the bridal showers, the matching dresses, the rehearsal dinners, the music, the invitation lists, the seating plans, the unwanted guests, the tension, the competitiveness...

I can hear you now: “Oh, she's just bitter – three times the bridesmaid, never the bride. Wait 'til her turn comes around; she'll think differently.”

Maybe.

But probably not.

I grew up in a large church. Most of my friends are married. I have seen hundreds of weddings, and the more I see, the less it all appeals.

There are certain elements, of course: the dress; the fulfilment of every girl's fantasy to be stunningly beautiful, the princess, the centre of attention, if only for one day; publicly marking and celebrating the transition to a new phase of life; that particular sort of magic as the bride walks down the aisle to meet her beloved – I get these. I do. But what, in the name of common sense, do sugar-coated almonds in lilac drawstring bags, ridiculously overpriced stationery, rice enough to feed a third-world country and oodles of glazed marzipan have to do with anything? I mean, at least ice the cake with something that people can appreciably palate. And don't go for that disgusting fruit cake that looks as though it's been sitting at the bottom of a rum barrel for twenty years. If you're going to make us sit through four hours of speeches consisting of meaningless reminisces and inside jokes, have the decency to give us a large slice of chocolate mud cake with proper frosting.

Another thing: why do all the bridesmaids have to wear exactly the same gowns? Isn't that the first crime of fashion – wearing the same thing as someone else? I was a ballerina. As far as I'm concerned, matching costumes are for the corps de ballet. Whenever I see a line of bridesmaids all dressed exactly the same (despite the fact that one has the figure of a wooden spoon, and another, the figure of a teapot), I expect them to launch into the Dance of the Cygnets from Swan Lake. And why are there so many bridesmaids and groomsmen? I've attended weddings where there are more people in the bridal party than there are in the seats. At most, you need two bridesmaids – one to witness the register, maybe another to help with the dress when the bride needs to pee – and a best man to look after the rings and hold the groom upright when nerves or booze kick in. The rest are superfluous, are they not?

Did you know that the average wedding in 2010 cost £21,000? That's enough for a deposit on a house!

Two tickets to Vegas and a dress – that's £2,000, tops. Throw in Celine Dion tickets and an overnight trip to the Grand Canyon, and there's your honeymoon sorted, too.

Twenty-one thousand pounds. Seriously. None of that expense even guarantees a good meal. Really, the best way is to make the reception pot luck and be sure to invite some Italians.

Even more bewildering to me, though, are those couples who have lived together for three (or ten) years, have a dog, two cats and a dwarf hamster, but claim they're “not ready to get married yet”. What is there to be “ready” for? Are you waiting for a lightning bolt from the gods to show you that this is The One? Sorry to break it to you, honey, but you're already married. A signed piece of paper and a joint bank account won't change much.

This line of thought could open a whole can of worms: what is marriage? what did it mean throughout history? lawfully? traditionally? Biblically? I won't bore you with any of that right now – let's leave that for a more philosophical Rant.

Sugared almond, anyone?

P.S.: After an eight-month Rant hiatus, it's nice to be back.

Issue 14 - I Want To Believe

2010-11-20T14:50:00.000-08:00

So many people mistake scepticism and cynicism for intelligence.

From the dawn of time, human beings have searched for truth, reality, knowledge—or have we?

We're a nosey bunch. There's no doubting that. Still, the general population will only explore as far as the wall of its comfort zone. Beyond that, scepticism is rife.

I've found that the vast majority of people will simply believe whatever they've been fed in the greatest quantity, without ever looking too deeply into it. "Because everybody knows that! David Attenborough said so on Blue Planet, so it must be a proven fact scientifically proven by science." And so the media and the internet trolls become the ultimate authorities on truth, while we spend our mental energy being sceptical of the things we're told to be sceptical of, instead of being sceptical of what we're being told.

So many times, belief becomes a Pick 'n' Mix. We take whatever bits of truth and lies we fancy and leave the rest for those weird people that eat Licorice All-Sorts. Actually, it's our tendency to take the stance that is most comfortable for us, the most accepted by popular opinion, where we don't have to be accountable to anyone or held responsible for anything. For example, these days it's OK to have “faith”, so long as we don't specify Who or What our faith is in—which, when you think about it, is the definition of stupidity.

We like to think that, in Western culture, we're accepting and tolerant of others' beliefs – so long as they don't hurt anyone – but go online and give, for example, the merest hint that you support the theory of creation over the theory of evolution and watch for the abuse that's hurled in your direction. Because belief in a creator God is unacceptable in "intelligent society". You'll be treated like Harry Potter, trying to convince people that Voldemort has come back from the dead: "It can't be true, because that would interrupt our cushy lives and mean we'd have to do something about it; therefore, you are an idiot."

It's partly an issue of pride. We'd hate to be seen as stupid and ignorant, or as a Muggle version of Luna Lovegood, wandering around looking for Nargles. [I'm seeing how many Harry Potter analogies I can fit into one Rant.] The more we criticise people who hold a belief in the supernatural, the more secure we feel in our belief that the Darwinian interpretation of scientific fact is the bottom line.

So, it seems we can't believe in an all-powerful God. Well, what about extra-terrestrial life? Stephen Hawking says They're Out There, so that's all right then, because he's, like, freaky-brainy and stuff. So we're justified in spending billions of dollars looking for intelligent life on other planets, instead of using that money to feed, clothe and educate the intelligent life on this one.

All too often, our death-grip on accepted scientific opinion lets plain old common sense slip through our fingers. What I mean is, we're perfectly willing to believe that little grey men with big eyes and anal probes are out there, somewhere, performing embarrassing exploratory surgery on unfortunate loners, but we don't wonder why an alien race that is sufficiently advanced to overcome the problem of infinite mass hasn't yet invented MRI.

(The funny thing is, ideas about alien life aren't exclusive to today's culture. Sure, it's now an acceptable proposition that super-advanced, powerful beings from another place – like us, but not like us – could interfere with our planet, probably with malicious intent, and change the course of the human race, but long ago the ancient Greeks and Romans believed the same thing. Only they called them the gods.

But that's getting a bit too Stargate for this post.)

It's not just UFOlogists who Pick 'n' Mix. The religious – man, that's become an ugly word lately – and/or spiritualists do it too. Your average Muslim will take the early teachings of the Koran about love and understanding and ignore (thankfully) the bits about killing the infidels to gain their heavenly rewards. The New Ager (and Church of Oprah member) will take the most lovey-dovey bits of every world religion and glue them together, ignoring the contradictions at their cores. Christians these days have a tendency to focus on Jesus meeting their needs and forget all the uncomfortable bits like, “You will be persecuted and killed because of Me.” Darwinists conveniently forget that natural selection and evolution are two very different beasts—the former observable and re-creatable in a laboratory; the latter unobserved and un-re-created.

So it would seem that the intelligent way to look at everything is to believe in the directly observable, and treat everything else with a heaping helping of scepticism, right?

Actually, that would be the most blinded, misinformed and ultimately destructive way to live.

And it's just about impossible to do.

To quote John Mayer (not something that should be done on a regular basis), “Everyone believes.” Whether you're an atheist or an agnostic, a Hari Krishna or a Hindu, a Muslim or a Mormon, a Jesus Freak or a Jedi, a member of the Church of Scientology or a member of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, you believe in something.

Why?

Well, the simple answer is “because we want to”, or, more accurately, “because we need to”. We're built that way. We're wired up to think creatively, beyond the bounds of what we see, hear, taste, smell and touch. To attempt to deny this is to put common sense in the grave (something our society is already in danger of doing).

Ever have that feeling you're being watched, and turn around to find that you are? (Usually by your cat.) Ever look at someone you've never met and just know they're dodgy, five seconds before they start following you down the road? Ever have that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach that says, “Don't sign that contract,” or, “Don't lend that person money,” or, “He's lying to you”? Soldiers will tell you that they rely on this sixth sense in combat. Musicians experience a similar thing when a song “writes itself”. You can talk to me all you want about the brain making inferences and calculations at an extraordinary rate based on training, past experiences, a reading of body language and the “evolutionary instinct for survival”, but ultimately there are things in life that you just can't attribute to spending too much time at Hogwarts.

Why do we believe what we believe? Is it because that's what we've been taught? Is it because our beliefs best line up with the evidence? Is it because we've seen it for ourselves? Is it because everybody with an ounce of intelligence knows that it's true? Or is it because we're afraid of the repercussions if we're wrong?

Yes, we should question things—not for the sake of being cynical, or proving our superior intelligence over someone else, but so that we can truly SEE. So that we don't operate out of ignorance and blindness.

To all you snotty internet commentators out there: isn't it time to stop regurgitating those so-called scientific facts you've been taught, lay down your sense of superiority and have an honest think about things? Try directing your cynicism down a different path and see what it comes up with. You might be surprised.

To those of us who do believe in a world beyond human explanation: please remember to keep off the Dirigible Plums.

Issue 13 – The 10 Types of Annoying Bus Passengers

2010-03-22T16:54:00.000-07:00

If you've ever taken public transport, you'll know them: they are the mosquitoes in the great bedroom of life, buzzing around at the back of your consciousness when you just want the world to be quiet and let you read for a bit.

They thrive in every city on the planet, living mostly on bus networks, and their numbers multiply exponentially from year to year:

ANNOYING PEOPLE

To me, Annoying People are even more frustrating on the bus than they are in the cinema. At the movies, they manifest themselves as Chip-Packet Cracklers and Seat Kickers but at least, in the dark, they never see where that well-aimed Jaffa came from. [Disclaimer: this blog in no way advocates the throwing of hard candy at people's heads...unless they were talking over the top of An Important Bit, in which case, it is permissible.]

Without further rambling, and in no particular order, here are the ten types of annoying people you find on buses:

1. "Everybody luvs my choons, don't it?"
The Gangsta Rapper (A.K.A. Lil Wayne In Training)

They're always there when you're feeling particularly irritable; sitting at the back of the top deck, blaring crappy rap music from their phones (sometimes rapping along), completely ignorant of the death stares they're receiving from the passengers who do know how to pull up their pants.

These people make me want to play Taylor Swift at top volume on my phone and see how they like it…If I had Taylor Swift on my phone, that is…

2. "It's OK – I ate a mint."
The Ash Tray

Well, good for you. You still stink.

When will lovers of the cancer stick realise that the smoke doesn't just go into their black lungs, it also covers their clothes and hair? This is especially true if they've stubbed out their cigarette (on the ground, of course), seconds before getting on board.

As they step through the bus door, they bring with them a cloud of carcinogenic fumes that overwhelms even the smell of the half-eaten curry that someone left under your seat.

For some reason, men in army-green coats are the worst culprits.

3. "You will be judged for your consumerist society and fried chicken."
The Crazy Preacher

There's one on every bus route. Every Crazy Preacher I've come across has had questionable dress sense and questionable personal hygiene and loved to sit at the back of the bus, loudly banging on about Iraq, Nazis and/or Starbucks.

I'm not so sure that Jesus is really all that interested in the great Starbucks Monopoly -v- Independent Coffee Shops debate. I'm absolutely positive, though, that most Crazy Preacher sermons are the result of a brain fried by too many chemical substances, of which a skinny-decaf-caramel-cappu-mocha-frappu-laté-cino-with-a-shot-of-espresso is the least harmful.

4. "I just wanna be close to you."
The Obnoxious Seating-Code Breaker

Yes, there is a code on the bus, and the most sacred – THE MOST SACRED – part of this is "Never sit beside someone when there is an unoccupied double seat available".

Seriously, people: don't do it. I don't care how lazy you're feeling or how strongly you believe you have the right to bother me with your presence; go and sit in a window seat.

5. "I can't play properly without the sound."
The Public Gamer

Contrary to popular thought, these guys aren't geeks. Oh, no. Geeks stay at home to play their games in private; there, via that magical entity known as "the web", they can pit their skills against Russia's or Kazakhstan's finest, and make the best use of their time by simultaneously writing a programme to trawl eBay for Generation One Transformers.

Public Gamers are merely commuters in suits who have been suckered into spending ridiculous amounts of cash on the latest plastic gadget. No serious geek would be caught dead with a Nintendo DS.

This would all be fine (to each his own), except that Nintendo obviously feel they must commission their programmers to find the loudest, most annoying sound effects, and the most repetitive music, possible.

6. "I have to press it…just in case."
The OCBP (Obsessive-Compulsive Button Pusher)

These people really know how to push my buttons, in more ways than one. I mean, come on, how hard it is to look and see if the "STOPPING" sign is already lit up? You don't even have to be literate to do that.

And then we have the Double Clickers, who obviously think the "STOP" button is some sort of mouse button and requires an extra tap. A note to these people: it doesn't make the bus stop any quicker, nor does the resultant "chingching!" make you look cool.

7. "I'm on my way to KFC for breakfast."
The Double Wide

Now, I don't claim to be anything but overweight, but at least I don't take up one seat per butt cheek.

Honestly, though, the fact that I am a little chubby makes it even more of a mystery why overly-large people always choose to sit next to me, squashing my outer thigh beneath their hip and crushing my shoulder up against the window. Wouldn't it make more sense for them to sit next to the skinny person behind me, thereby distributing the weight a little more evenly?

8. "I don't believe in tissues."
The Perpetual Sniffer

Just when you're hoping to catch a nice little nap, along comes one of these, instead – and they're unstoppable. No matter how many times you pointedly turn up the volume on your iPod, they don't take the hint.

I'll never understand why some people find it so hard to blow their nose.

The worst of these are the snorters. This is the point where merely irritating becomes completely disgusting. At least, if it's just an habitual, fairly dry sniff, it's not so bad so long as they do it in time to whatever music I'm listening to, but I do not want to hear them choking and hacking on the entire contents of their sinuses.

This is the very definition of "gross".

9. "Oh my days, like, the whole world wants to know about, like, my whole life, innit!!"
The Motor Mouth Drama Queen

These people are usually chavvy teenage girls with basketball hoops for earrings and "da thickess Lundun accen' yooseva hurd", spouting out their latest tawdry gossip and he said/she saids, none of which you have the slightest desire to hear.

However, they could also be Chinese women of a certain age who seem to enjoy yelling at top decibel down the phone, or English businessmen of a certain age who want everyone to know that they are Doing A Very Important Deal.

Every single one of them, I can guarantee, will sit right behind you, and will continue their one-sided conversation throughout the entire journey.

10. "What's the problem? I took a shower last week."
The Noxious Fumigator

This group is separated into two sub-species: Royalus Odorus Offensicus (The B.O. King) and Royalus Colognus Offensicus (The Deodorant King). You will usually encounter the males of the species; the females do, of course, exist, but are far more rare.

Royalus Odorus Offensicus frequently cross-breed with Ash Trays. They come in all shapes and sizes, but can easily be recognised by the distinctive pattern down the spine and under the arms of their grey-and-yellow-tinted business shirts.

Royalus Colognus Offensicus are distinguished by their unusual and highly ineffectual mating practices. Somewhat dim-witted, they hold the belief that baptising themselves in one particularly offensive and, unfortunately, very prevalent brand of deodorant* will attract the female of the species. However, the females are, in general, highly repulsed by the scent.

It is thought that, in time, natural selection will cause a decline in Noxious Fumigator's population and instead favour that of a species known as the Metrosexual.[CITATION NEEDED]

*[I used to work on defamation claims; therefore, the product in question shall remain nameless, but can be found in the possession of most teenage boys.]

Issue 12 – The One About Talking Animals, Fanciful Creatures and Wishing Upon Stars

2010-02-15T03:44:00.000-08:00

For once, this is not a rant. It's a tribute. In celebration of the recent Disney release, The Princess and the Frog, I want to take a look at memorable kids' flicks. I say “recent” release because, for reasons unfathomable to me, England has to wait longer than the rest of the entire freakin' planet for new movies to come out. (OK, so maybe it's a little bit of a rant. It's my blog. I'm entitled.)

Everybody's got their favourite kids' movie. I'm not sure why, but for 99% of the population, that seems to be E.T. I'm afraid I somehow missed the boat for that one. I never understood the appeal. Maybe because there were no lightsabers involved; I got bored.

Of course, science fiction and fantasy were massive parts of my childhood, even pre-Star Wars. The majority of the films I remember with fondness fall into one of those categories. Most played in our household were '80s classics like Short Circuit (“Johnny 5 is alive!!”), Mac and Me (mainly because it was on TV every single school holidays), The Neverending Story (“Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh...!” - I desperately wanted my own Falcor), Batteries Not Included and Flight of the Navigator.

The musical was (and is) another favourite genre. But Zac Efron was barely a glimmer in his daddy's eye, so there was no High School Musical or Hannah Montana for me. Oh, no. I was raised on the true greats: Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, Bing Crosby, Donald O'Connor and Elvis Presley. They weren't exactly kids' films, it's true, but what kid doesn't love a good song and dance? These guys, together with Judy Garland, Debbie Reynolds and Ginger Rogers, were my heroes.

This brings me to another couple of movies of which I never understood the appeal: The Sound of Music and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I don't think I've seen either one of them all the way through, because they send me to sleep. The Sound of Music is well and good while it's all drops of golden sun, whiskers on kittens and yodelling goat-herds, but as soon as the war starts....*snore* As for Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, all I ever remember of it is Dick Van Dyke, “Truly Scrumptious”, the car itself and a horrible mess of bright colours somewhere in the middle. Just thinking about them both makes me want to go for a nap.

The earliest and clearest memory I have of a movie is going to see Bambi. It was quite possibly my first trip to the cinema, and it was a traumatic experience. Ill-prepared for the fate of Bambi's mother, I recall being so emotionally damaged that I steered clear of animal movies for many years afterwards, in case one of the characters got injured or died.

Two things that children's films (especially animated ones) abound with are great music and quotable quotes. As a kid, “The Sleeping Beauty Waltz” was one of my favourite tunes to play on the piano, and who among us doesn't sub-consciously sing “Hi-ho, hi-ho...!” whenever they pick up a shovel? The Lion King, Tarzan and Shrek are the more recent soundtracks that spring to mind. Despite having a massive celebrity-crush on Jonathan Taylor Thomas, and thinking Simba was beyond cute, I never thought The Lion King itself was anything to write home about (I was obviously old enough, at the time of its release, to not be traumatised by Mufasa's death), but the soundtrack is even now on my iPod. As for quotable quotes, all three Shrek films really take the cake...A layer cake, of course. (Please excuse me; I have a severe case of Compulsiveshrekquotitis, which means I'm constantly telling people, “That's a niiice boulder”; screaming, “Not my gumdrop buttons!”; or wanting someone to, “Play da moovie, yaah.”)

In compiling a list of my favourite children's movie characters, it soon became clear that animated ones led the pack. Pixar are the masters of creating the memorable and unique, but some of the classics are just as unforgettable. Here's my list, in no particular order. Feel free to add your favourites in the comments section below.

Puss in Boots (Shrek 2, Shrek the Third)

Just when we thought Andrew Adamson couldn't top the asinine Donkey, along came an Ogre-killing kitty in thigh-high boots. Voiced with elegance and flair by Zorro himself (Antonio Banderas), Puss is a master of sword-play, charm and getting on Donkey's nerves. His “please take me with you” eyes could melt even the hardest of hearts. He's intelligent, witty, a hit with the ladies and a darn good karaoke singer, to boot. (No pun intended.) Pray for mercy from Puss....In Boots.

Boo (Monsters, Inc.)

Awwww.....Everybody loves a cute kid. Especially a cute kid in a monster suit. She certainly manages to work her way into Sulley's heart with her inane chatter, her cute little pig-tails and her hapless ways. What a treasure.

Wicket (Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi; Caravan of Courage: An Ewok Adventure; Ewoks: The Battle For Endor)

The Ewoks. You either love 'em, or you hate 'em. Personally, I don't mind the little guys at all. They're a bit like Wookiees, but mini. And Wicket W. Warrick (so named in honour of his human counterpart, Warwick Davis, who played Wicket in all three movies) is actually quite endearing. At first skittish and frightened, he eventually shows his brave heart and becomes one of the real heroes of the Battle of Endor.

Falcor (The Neverending Story series)

Who wouldn't want a pink, talking, flying dog/dragon? Seriously! Enough said, really.

Doug (Up)

Talking dogs are nothing new in movies, but a talking dog that still behaves like a real dog is actually something unusual. Doug is a member of a pack of guard dogs that have been given special collars to translate their barks and whines into English. Unfortunately, Doug was not born with the heart of a killer and is frequently the brunt of the pack's jokes and brutality. He is, nevertheless, an invaluable companion, faithful and--

SQUIRREL!!!

Herbie (The Love Bug; Herbie Rides Again; Herbie Goes To Monte Carlo; Herbie Goes Bananas; Herbie: Fully Loaded)

Eat your heart out, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Flying cars are nothing when compared with the likes of Herbie. Intelligent and very, very cheeky (possibly the inspiration for Bumblebee?), this little VW Beetle has a penchant for chasing bad guys, falling in love and driving off on his own, but he always comes through in time to win the race for his owner, Jim Douglas.

Aslan (The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe, Prince Caspian)

I've said it before: my favourite book of all time is The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe, so I was both excited and nervous when I heard it was being made into a movie. All sorts of things could have gone wrong, but the most important thing was to get Aslan right. Memories of the dodgy puppet in the old, BBC miniseries immediately sprang to mind, but, upon hearing that Liam Neeson was to provide his voice, relief set in. I should have had more faith in Andrew Adamson from the start – Aslan is note-perfect: kind, powerful, wild, joyful, loving, strong and regal – all the things he should be as King of both Narnia and our own world. The Pevensie children know that everything comes right when Aslan arrives, but his enemies run in terror from his roar – after all, he's not a tame lion.

Ray (The Princess and the Frog)

I fell head-over-heels for this little guy the second he arrived on screen. Looking a bit like Jiminy Cricket's hobo cousin, he's a Cajun firefly with bent antennae, missing teeth and the biggest heart you ever came across. He happily lends his light to Tiana and Prince Naveen, but he shines brightest for his lady-love, the beautiful Evangeline.

WALL●E (WALL●E)

WALL●E carries on the tradition of cute robots, but he takes it to the next level. Whereas R2-D2, Johnny 5 and the like are fairly limited in their ability to express emotion, WALL●E has a full arsenal at his disposal. Left on a deserted Earth with only a friendly cockroach for companionship, he spends his evenings in his little home, watching Hello Dolly and dancing with himself...until he meets the sleek and beautiful EVE (the Mac to his PC) and everything changes for him.

Edna Mole (The Incredibles)

Could you find a more flamboyant and brilliant seamstress? Well, I'm sure I don't know, Darling! But I think not. Ed-na MOOOLE (and Guest) is the highlight of The Incredibles, for me. She's a tiny bundle of sheer creative genius; her business is high fashion for the discerning superhero, and she knows it well. Very well. Her suits are lightweight, durable and machine washable (that's very important) – but do not suggest a cape. NO CAPES!!

Jiminy Cricket (Pinocchio)

This little guy is sent by the Blue Fairy to be Pinocchio's conscience as he discovers life as a “real boy”. He has taught several generations of children to, “Give a little whistle! And always let your conscience be your guide.” Good advice for anyone, really. Of course, his most famous song has undoubtedly had millions of kids stargazing as they dream about their futures because, after all, when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true.

Issue 11 - The Man or The Myth?

2010-01-06T15:55:00.000-08:00

With all the Twilight-sparked Team Edward/Team Jacob debates still raging, I have caved in and am adding my entirely worthless contribution to the sub-culture (because, obviously, another opinion is needed): realistically, what would be the pros and cons of marrying a vampire or a werewolf – or something else entirely?

Throughout the history of their mythologies, it seems to me that the vampire always gets the girl and the werewolf always gets the rough end of the stick. (Sorry – lame joke. Woof.) I recently read the official sequel to Bram Stoker's Dracula (no, he didn't write it from beyond the grave; it was written by his great-nephew, Dacre Stoker, with Ian Holt), and even mean ol' Nosferatu got the girl, after all. I'm still not sure exactly how I feel about that...

Actually, I do know. Don't bother with it.

Moving on...

What about other mythical beings? Surely they must have their merits, as well. I mean, what if Bella had moved to Smallville, not Forks, and met Clark Kent? I guess we'd probably fall asleep from all the earnest wholesomeness if those two characters were together in the same movie.

In any case, here are my rough notes on the subject – in case you ever feel you may be falling in love with such a creature. We'll start with the two big guns: the vampire and the werewolf:

VAMPIRE

Pros:

Incredibly attractive. Never ages or loses his hair.
Rich; in possession of large house.
Intelligent, well-read, more than likely a good musician/dancer.

Cons:

Could accidentally kill you/turn you.
Will eventually look like your son, not your husband.
Summer holidays at the beach = difficult.
Must put up with occasional attacks from The Volturi or Van Helsing et al.

WEREWOLF

Pros:

Loyal, faithful.
More fun than vampires.
Cuddly. Makes good hot water bottle.
Good at finding kids if they wander off during family outing to the park.

Cons:

Could accidentally kill you/turn you.
Hefty clothing bill.
Have to give up wearing silver jewellery.
P.L.T. (Pre-Lunar Tension) = nasty.

BIGFOOT/SASQUATCH/HARRY

Pros:

Good bodyguard, but quite gentle.

Good with kids.

Cons:

Drains constantly blocked from all the hair.
Bit daft.

ZOMBIE

Pros:

Quiet.
Never an argument over the remote.
Great physique from protein-rich diet.
Keeps annoying house-callers away.

Cons:

Not a great conversationalist.
Clumsy.
Terrible personal hygiene.

ALF

Pros:

Genuinely caring beneath the cynicism.
Great sense of humour.

Cons:

Very short. Tom Cruise-short.
Cannot risk having a pet cat.

CLARK KENT/SUPERMAN

Pros:

Handsome – looks good in glasses.
Loving, dedicated.
Nice family.
Knows a good photographer – saves costs on weddings/parties.
Good at getting lids off jars.

Cons:

Too trusting of dodgy friends.
Constantly runs out on dates/anniversaries/important occasions.

Hmm...Considering all of these points, I think I'll stick with a bog-standard, typical, romantic-comedy type: sweet, handsome, witty, heroic, sensitive, totally in love with me – and just as mythical as the rest of them.

Issue 10 - Is This The Real Life?

2009-12-15T23:57:00.000-08:00

I sat, momentarily frozen, staring at the remaining bite of my slice of apple pie.

Its vaguely triangular shape and the patterned crust around its outer edge gave it the appearance of some majestic monster's ridged head, but was it more like a triceratops or the Alien Queen? I couldn't decide.

Suddenly embarrassed by my own thought process, I brought my fork to my mouth and the monster was no more. Peeking surreptitiously from under my eyebrows to see if anyone had noticed my temporary lapse of sanity, I paid the bill and hurried off to the cinema to see.....a children's film.

The cinema was already darkened when I arrived and snuck into a seat. The previews began; one in particular inducing uproarious laughter from my fellow patrons. My eyes now adjusted to the dim light, I glanced around me, only to see a room full of grown adults. The trailer we were all laughing so hysterically at? Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel. Yes, you read that right. Suddenly, my internal dinosaur/alien debate didn't seem quite so childish.

The main feature began. It was Planet 51 – a film so chock-full of jokey references and spoofs only adults would recognise (including an alien-shaped dog called, amusingly, “Ripley”), that I began to wonder what age group it was really made for.

Since that evening, a question has been bumping against the back of my brain, and I can no longer ignore it. The question is not, as it would seem, “At what point do we grow up and lose our imaginations?”, but, “Why do we grown-ups pretend that we have lost our imaginations?”

There was an advertisement running on TV throughout my entire childhood that had the slogan, “I don't wanna grow up; I'm a Toy World kid”. What nobody ever told me was that adults don't ever grow out of liking toys, they just buy more expensive ones, or pretend to buy them for their kids, instead.

You've only got to look at Pixar to see that fantastic things can come out of adults allowing their imaginations to run wild. (Where would the world of animation be without Toy Story?) The only difference is that, as adults, we have the ability, and therefore the added responsibility, of turning our imaginations into reality.

I recently saw Oprah interview Stephenie Meyer (author of the Twilight quadrilogy). When asked about her crazy imagination, Meyer commented that she had always “thought everybody was telling themselves stories all the time”. Oprah laughed and said that no, this was not normal. But I struggle to agree with Oprah. I truly believe we all have stories in our heads. Some of them get told – to others, to ourselves – but most of them are fated to float around up there for a little while and eventually be buried under a mountain of troubles. Or, more likely, boredom. Or paperwork.

Is it any wonder, then, that while we sleep, our brains have a little party of their own, off in Dreamland? Is it any wonder that, the more restricted and tedious our lives become, the more we watch TV? What is it that makes these things – Twilight, Harry Potter, The X-Factor, Star Wars, the trials and tribulations of Susan Boyle, even gaming, to a certain extent – so popular? Because they're about ordinary people getting to do something different. They are the classic tale of Cinderella re-told again and again for a world that is sick of being stuck behind a desk. (Huh. That just gave me a hilarious image of Louis Walsh as the Fairy Godmother.... Ahem. Moving right along...)

As a kid, I always felt slightly sorry for Peter Pan and the fact that he just didn't get it – he would never know what it was like to grow up, to experience life, to learn new things...But, what if he was the one that had it partly right? What if we've become too smug in our modern and professional existence to see that a bit of playfulness is good for us? Without meaning to go all John Lennon on you, what if we never bothered to imagine a better world? Where would we be? You can't get to Neverland without a bit of fairy dust.

As children, we all have that inner drive to play, to follow our dreams, but, as we get older, we push that aside and become embarrassed by our fantasies and random thoughts. Going back to the dreams can mean having to face ridicule and rejection because someone else doesn't buy into them, or see things in the same way we do. The fact is, some people can't see past the confines of their own, limited reality. They just see a piece of pie, and that's all they'll ever see.

We were never created to suppress our imaginations in adulthood; only to learn to use them for greater things. Every invention, every piece of engineering, every programme, every script, every charitable work, every book, every political ideal, begins with imagination. And imagination begins with a little freedom and a lot of humility.

Sometimes, it even begins with apple pie.

Issue 9 - Three Times The Bridesmaid...

2009-12-05T08:17:00.000-08:00

I was discussing a friend's upcoming wedding with her when it suddenly dawned on me: I'm about to be a bridesmaid for the third time. It's a good thing I'm not superstitious, or that would be weighing fairly heavily on my mind.

It did get me thinking, though: where do superstitions like that come from? I can understand that many of them were probably, originally, just practical – e.g. walking under ladders makes you a prime target for beaning with a hammer; opening an umbrella inside the house is a good way to poke someone's eye out – but black cats and Friday the 13th? What's the big deal?

Wikipedia was no help, so I decided to do some proper research**. In true scientific fashion, various conflicting theories are tossed around as fact; ancient times and Druids and African myths are discussed; old, forgotten religions, misunderstandings and Biblical misinterpretations are sagely touted as the true origins – all of which led me to conclude one thing: nobody has a frickin' clue.

And then there are the contradictions. The number 13 is considered around the world to be unlucky. Again, there are various theories about the origin of this. (Some say it is because 13 is the supposed number in attendance at the Last Supper – the 13th being Judas Iscariot. Because of this, the Victorians considered it unlucky to have “13 at table” and the superstition surrounding the number developed from there. My personal favourite myth about the number 13 is that if you have 13 letters in your name, you will have “the devil's luck” – all because Jack the Ripper, Charles Manson, Theodore Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer and Albert de Salvo each have 13 letters in theirs.) However, in Italy, 13 was long considered to be lucky, and it was 17 you really wanted to avoid. Black cats are another problem. In Egypt, the cat was seen as a protector and was quite often worshipped; the Egyptians also believed a cat's eyes caught the setting sun's rays and held them safe until morning came. In the West, though, cats were associated throughout history with witches and, as such, if one crossed your path, you were in for a run of bad luck at the witches' hands.

It's obvious that, throughout the ages, superstitions have become muddled and mingled beyond recognition. So why do they persist?

As I doubt very much that there is a scientific basis for any of these beliefs (e.g. I'm pretty certain the fabric of Lewis Hamilton's lucky underpants does not actually have special properties that make him drive faster), I'm left to conclude that their powers, whether real or imagined, operate solely on the mind.

This conclusion is further reinforced by the number of superstitions attached to important or emotionally-charged events, like weddings. In addition to the aforementioned "three times the bridesmaid, never the bride", we also have doozies like "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue", "it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the ceremony" and "whoever catches the bouquet will be the next to get married" (I'm living proof that that one isn't true). Did you know it's the best man's duty to protect the groom from bad luck, and the bridesmaids are there to act as decoys for the bride, so the evil spirits don't know who to attack? No? Well, for goodness' sake, whatever you do, don't get married on a Saturday!

Monday for wealth

Tuesday for health

Wednesday the best day of all

Thursday for losses

Friday for crosses

Saturday for no luck at all

Of course, this is also an example of where, over time, superstition has spilled over into tradition. I'm not really one for following traditions. I often get vibed at for not saying “bless you” when someone sneezes.

“But you're supposed to do that, aren't you? Aren't you...? Everybody does...!”

Betcha thought you were just being polite, didn't you? Nope – the legends say that you must bless the person because either: (a) a sneeze indicates evil spirits leaving the body; (b) the heart stops beating during a sneeze and you need to bless the sneezer to get it going again; or (c) sneezing is a sign that the person may have caught the black plague and, by blessing them, you can hopefully stop them from dying. Funny, I always thought it just meant you had dust up your nose.

We all know the ones about breaking mirrors and walking on cracks in pavements, but how about these:

If you have a bad cough, make a sandwich with one of the hairs from your head (the bread must be buttered), feed it to your dog and tell him, “Eat well, you hound, may you be sick and I be sound.” I wonder how that would go down with the Humane Society these days.
A ringing bell means that a brand new angel has received its wings. Heaven must be getting crowded by now.
If you can manage to catch a leaf as it's falling on the first day of autumn, you won't catch a cold all winter. (Does this also work for Swine Flu?)
Dropping a fork means a man is coming to visit. I don't know who you get if you drop a spork. Maybe Captain Kirk. Or Eddie Izzard.

If you hold to any of these superstitions, at least they won't be much of a bother to anybody around you (with the possible exception of your dog), but there is one superstition that causes a heck of a lot of annoyance and bother to other people: chain letters. Honestly, the amount of chain mail I have failed to pass on should have made me the unluckiest person on the planet by now-- although...this failure could explain why my one true love has never declared his undying adoration for me. [Note to self: forward a couple of chain letters at first opportunity.]

If you're in the mood for testing a seasonal superstition, how about trying for a kiss under the mistletoe? It's supposed to mean harmony and fertility, and a young lady standing under the mistletoe cannot refuse to be kissed, or she may miss her chance of getting married the following year. I have yet to experience a mistletoe kiss, but I'm told it can work quite well in lieu of a good pick-up line. It can also get you a black eye.

Whatever you think about the subject, you've got to admit that human beliefs and superstitions are an interesting kettle of fish, and the reasoning behind most is more baffling than Kanye West's continuing popularity.

Now, I'm off to conduct a round of experiments, to document what happens when you find a four-leaf clover whilst walking under a ladder, or when you place a hat on a bed whilst wearing a rabbit's foot around your neck. I have a feeling the results may be inconclusive, at best.

Oh, yes – and if you immediately pass this article on to 30 friends, you will have all your heart's desires brought to you on a silver platter by a tall, dark and handsome man***.

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** i.e. Google
*** Unfortunately, Johnny Depp was not available for this service at the time of publication.

Issue 8 - The Sequel That Equals

2009-10-18T18:09:00.000-07:00

Why is it that there are so many terrible sequels in the movie world? Seriously, if I were to start listing all the overblown, boring, sloppy or just plain bad sequels ever made, this post would not be finished before Christmas.

There may be a number of reasons for this phenomenon. Perhaps the writers are pushed to complete the script in a hurry, to avoid a long delay between the first and second films. Perhaps the director feels pressured to make the follow-up “bigger” and more exciting than the first (which isn't always necessary, or possible, and sometimes only results in making it louder *coughtransformerscough*). Perhaps the first movie covered the most interesting period of the characters' lives and now there's nowhere to go with their development. (There's a very good reason most fairy-tales end with, "And they lived happily ever after..." - who wants to see Cinderella, post-wedding, faffing about the castle complaining that the servants don't do their jobs properly and that Charming hogs the remote?)

Or, perhaps we movie-goers expect too much. I mean, realistically, how many times can one man save the world before it all gets a bit old? (Unless his name is Bruce Willis, of course.)

I was driven to consider this after watching the particularly disappointing Step Up 2: The Streets. You may say that I deserved to be disappointed, watching a movie with a title like that, but I really enjoyed the first one. In true de Mented style, I have tabulated my thoughts in an attempt to discover where it all went wrong:

MAJOR ELEMENT	STEP UP	STEP UP 2
A heart-warming story throughout which you actually cared about the characters and what they were going through; that both made you laugh and made you cry.	Yes	No
Solid lead actors who were not outshone by their supporting cast, but were engaging and ably brought their characters through fairly convincing story arcs.	Yes	Nuh-uh (Hang on...what were the main characters' names, again?)
A strong, clear message about learning where to set your goals and working hard to achieve them.	Yes	Not seeing it...
Choreography that showcased original ideas and a nice blend of different disciplines and elements of dance, making the most of the actors' individual strengths and styles.	Yes	Nope, nope, definitely not, e.g. why was there none of Hair's amazing tap-dancing in the finale?! There was even perfectly convenient rain that they could have used and everything!
Channing Tatum. Dancing.	Yes. In spades.	Yes, but he disappears after 15 minutes, leaving us with a very wishy-washy cast.

Is there some unwritten rule in Hollywood that says a sequel must simply squeeze every last drop of money out of a franchise, ignoring all concepts of art, entertainment and, often-times, respect for the characters? Surely, if you make a sequel that's as good as the first, it follows that you are then free to make MORE sequels, and therefore even more money?

There seems to be a school of thought that any good idea must be re-hashed until it's done to death, with no regard for the integrity of the story. I call this “The Ripley Effect”, in honour of Alien, Aliens, Alien3, Alien: Resurrection and Alien: PleaseDon'tLetThemMakeAnotherOne. Alien3 is the perfect example of characters we have grown to love falling foul of this make-a-quick-buck, “disposable” culture.

And then, there's the prequel. The major problem with prequels is that we already know what's going to happen to the characters, so there's no real tension in the narrative. The latest solution to this problem is the “reboot”. This involves either completely ignoring the films that have come before (e.g. Batman Begins) or going back to the beginning and changing the existing “cannon” in some way (e.g. Star Trek), to give the writers free rein in developing new stories and/or, in theory, killing off characters (or whole planets) as they will. So far, this appears to be an effective technique and has produced some great films. The majority of prequels, however, get it very wrong and feel like nothing more than cheap knock-offs.

Of course, there are exceptions. There are some sequels that equal or even surpass their predecessors. And James Cameron made all of them. OK, OK – that's an exaggeration, but it sure seems that way, sometimes.

So let's look at a brief overview of some of the best and worst sequels and prequels. Feel free to leave a comment with your favourite, or most hated, and why you think it did or didn't work.

The Good:

Terminator 2: Judgement Day
James Cameron at his finest. The film was not only technologically ground-breaking, it just plain rocked. An action movie with great heart.

Aliens
Chalk another great one up to James Cameron. Good story, interesting characters, lots of guns, scary as anything...and that classic final battle between Ripley and the queen alien: pure movie magic.

Mission: Impossible 3
With all due respect to John Woo, the second instalment in Tom Cruise's Mission: Impossible series was fairly woeful. A good action movie, perhaps, but it didn't have the right sort of feel. JJ Abrams got the series back on track with this third film, though. Fingers crossed he'll direct the fourth, which is in the works.

The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe is possibly my favourite book of all time, so I guess it's no surprise that I had some major problems with Andrew Adamson's movie adaptation. He got it very right with Prince Caspian, though. Many would disagree with me, but I felt that the modifications he made to the story were so well done that they felt as if they were part of the original book; the night raid on Miraz's castle is powerful, as is Peter's journey from pride to humility. That moment Lucy stands alone on the bridge, facing the entire enemy army, and pulls out her little dagger with complete confidence in Aslan...fantastic. It may not have done so well at the box office, but I loved it. (And, while we're on the subject, whichever executive at Disney made the decision to drop The Voyage of the Dawn Treader was an idiot. It was always going to be the best book to translate to film, and now we have to make do with a different director and major budget cuts. Bad form, Disney.)

Batman Begins/The Dark Knight:
What can I say? I've always been a Batman girl more than a Superman girl, and I love the darker side of Batman – I think Val Kilmer's take was the best in the “old” movies, because the point of Bruce Wayne is that he's just a little bit off-kilter. The new movies take that same approach, minus the cheesy one-liners but with the addition of Christian Bale, Gary Oldman, Morgan Freeman and the performance that Heath Ledger will always be remembered for. Genius.

Star Trek
If I start talking about how much I love this movie, I will end up repeating myself. Suffice it to say: read this.

The Bad:

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End
While I quite liked the second one, this third instalment left me wondering what the heck the makers' intentions were. So many threads of the story went absolutely nowhere. My overriding memory of it is as an incoherent mess. Also, a classic example of The Ripley Effect in action. Ultimately, it's a Disney movie - it's not supposed to end leaving two of the main characters – in whom you have invested so much throughout the first two movies – in a such an unsatisfying situation! Especially when there was another easy and much more satisfying alternative. Duh...

X-Men Origins: Wolverine
Oh dear. This one suffers from many of the same problems as X-Men 2 and 3. Some very shonky special effects certainly don't help, either. It would have been good to see more of Gambit and less...well, to be honest, I can't really put my finger on it, but something certainly doesn't work.

Rambo
Thoughts whilst watching this movie: “No. Oh, no. Wait, wait – did they just speed up the film???! Gimme another look at that! Oh, man, this is so bad it's laughable...”

Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life
Oh. My. Goodness. The shark!! I'll say no more.

The Ugly:

Speed 2: Cruise Control
I like to pretend this movie doesn't exist. Well done, Keanu Reeves, for steering clear of it.

Alien vs. Predator: Requiem
By about 20 minutes into the movie, most of the characters were dead or well on their way to being killed off, and I couldn't have cared less. What a sad, sad, commercialised waste of a potential fanboy/fangirl [fanperson?] dream.

The Debatable:

The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions
I did enjoy the heady geekiness of both these movies, I have to say. But, puh-leeease, the giant rave/orgy was SO pointless, and they're definitely not as re-watchable as the first. Nonetheless, they contain some good action sequences and some intriguing ideas.

The Star Wars franchise
It will be an eternal argument: which is the best of the original trilogy? The critics' choice is always The Empire Strikes Back, but I'm not ashamed to hop off the bandwagon and admit my favourite to be Return of the Jedi – Ewoks and all. Either way: a rare case of the sequels equalling or bettering the original. And then we come to Episodes I to III. I probably enjoyed them more than a lot of people did (especially Episode III) – I can even handle Jar Jar Binks – but all that CGI really gets my goat. I was crying out for one real set-piece....Just one!! But I think the biggest problem, in a nutshell, is the lack of humour. George Lucas just takes the whole thing far too seriously. Where's the fun?

The Indiana Jones franchise
Although Temple of Doom wasn't as enjoyable as Raiders, no-one would dispute that Last Crusade was a darn good ride. So it pains me to say it, especially considering it has two of my favourite actors in it (Harrison Ford and Shia LaBeouf), but the fourth, The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, was a let-down. If Steven Spielberg had stuck to his guns and refused to let George Lucas write aliens into the story, it would have had real potential. Even there, if he'd just left out that stupid scene with the fridge, all may have been well. *sigh*

Issue 7 - Dressed To The DS9s

2009-09-14T04:11:00.000-07:00

There is one passion of the quintessential geek with which I have never found myself in sympathy: the pressing need to dress up and go out in public as their favourite sci-fi or fantasy character.

Let me say, here, that I have nothing against proudly showing your allegiance to the Jedi Order or your love of mutantkind by, for example, sporting a witty t-shirt from www.ThinkGeek.com (I, myself, am very fond of my HAN SHOT FIRST t-shirt and have encountered friends in strange places as a result of wearing it on long plane flights). I have even been known to model Princess Leia's plaits for the occasional fancy-dress party. I'm afraid, however, that I cannot bring myself to go the whole hog and roll up to a public event wearing pointy ears and a robe.

Does this make me any less of a fangirl?

My childhood town being rather skint on conventions, my first real introduction to this odd trait did not occur until the late 90s, when I attended several midnight premieres only to find myself standing in line for popcorn with a dozen Gandalfs or Obiwans, or listening to the "clack, clack" of plastic lightsaber battles raging around me as I camped in the hallway outside the cinema, waiting to be let in.

This practice, I have since discovered, is not confined to the depths of night or to World of Warcraft singles events. It is so prevalent, I have been forced to coin the term "Extreme Fantasism" to define it.* The main outlet for any Extreme Fantasist is undoubtedly the fan convention. You will find these everywhere from Sydney to San Diego and are the places to be seen for any self-respecting geek. For the Extreme Fantasist, much self-satisfaction is derived from attending a convention dressed as Spock and then running into Leonard Nimoy. For me, on the other hand, such an occurrence would be the height of shame.

Although the good ol’ U.S. of A. has more than its fair share of Extreme Fantasists, it by no means holds the exclusive rights. Whilst travelling home on the bus one Friday night close to the Witching Hour, I was shocked to see a coven meeting openly in Trafalgar Square. It was a moment before I realised that real witches most likely do not wear black pointy hats. Nor do they wear school uniforms under their robes and draw lightning-bolt scars on their foreheads. Ah, yes, "Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows" had been released in bookstores at 1200 that night.

In most situations, I’m all in favour of expressing yourself and having some fun with fashion, but I admit I cringed openly when I arrived at a black-tie Star Trek event to find one solitary guest dressed up as a Bajoran ambassador. (She looked so pleased with herself, though, that I didn’t have the heart to remind her the event was in celebration of the original series and Bajor had yet to be discovered.)

I am not sure exactly where my reluctance to join the ranks of the sartorially challenged stems from. It could simply be a fear of making myself look like an idiot. It could be the result of years of subjection to horrific dance costumes (note to parents/teachers: if your child/student already has image issues related to their weight, don't make them dress up as a fat baby and dance in front of their whole school). Or, perhaps I am entirely missing the point. Maybe I should try it, just once - purely as a method of research, of course. Methinks a character with a full-face mask might be the best option…

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*For a good example of Extreme Fantasism, see Justin Long’s character in “Galaxy Quest“.

Issue 6 - Airline Philosophy

2009-09-01T19:12:00.000-07:00

Due to the shock loss of two of the dearest people on the planet, I found myself, last week, on a plane headed back to Australia for a fortnight.

I usually quite enjoy flying, but this time, understandably, the long-haul flight seemed interminable. In an effort to cheer myself up and pass the time, I decided to write down some of my more random thoughts in brief, Twitter-style sound bites...Unfortunately, having the ability to talk the hind leg off a donkey means that keeping things brief was never my forte (hence, why I prefer to blog rather than Tweet). Nevertheless, it served its purpose, and the following is the result.

They all told me to check in online. I didn't. Bag-drop line was sizeable. I checked in in under 5 minutes. Sometimes it pays to go against public opinion.

It's always a toss-up, isn't it? Do I go for an aisle seat with no view and get hit in the shoulder every time someone walks past, or do I go for a window seat with a spectacular view and get stuck in my seat when I desperately need to pee and the people next to me are asleep? Have yet to come to a definitive conclusion on this, but am thinking it might be a worthy subject for a Ph.D. I could be a doctor of seating.

An announcement just came over the PA. I have absolutely no idea what the guy was saying. Couldn't understand a word. Hopefully, it was nothing to do with my flight.

I love those moving walkways. Especially when they're bouncy, too. Why can't they have them everywhere? Down Oxford Street, for example – that'd be my kind of shopping: in and out and onto the next store ASAP. No painfully slow browsing and stopping every 5 seconds to avoid wayward tourists...unless I'm in Denmark Street, of course, spending quality time drooling over musical instruments I can't afford.

One thing you can rely on in any London terminal: there's always a Starbucks.

My hair's gone fuzzy.

There are no pens!! Why are there no pens in this terminal?! Darnit, now I have to go buy an expensive, tourist-trap one from the Harrods shop.

Aah, nice Harrods man gave me a discount because I didn't have quite enough cash on me. See, this is why I like Harrods: it's one of the only places in London that provides customer service. (Plus, I like the gaudy Egyptian Hall.)

Great. My spaghetti has heaps of garlic in it. Hope I don't sit next to a hot guy. Oh, I have gum. All good.

Aargh! They have “Star Trek”! My plans to sleep as much as possible just went out the window.

Thank God You're Here. Good laugh. Merrick Watts: what a legend. But does anyone else think Rhys Darby is like the Kiwi version of Ricky Gervais?

My hair's gone really fuzzy.

I love airline food. Vegan meals FTW.

Changi airport. Massage = cheap; hot chocolate = expensive. Rob Thomas song is playing – somebody has good taste. Very clean here.

Wait – Ewan McGregor has his own fragrance?? Surely he's having us on.

My hair is truly disgusting.

Our pilot's name is Captain Hook. Rad.

Nothing so picturesque as flying into an Australian sunrise over a stunning bank of white and pink clouds. A reminder that, even in the midst of great tragedy, we can find beauty and joy in the things God provides for us.

Issue 5 - The Price of Reason

2009-07-12T15:10:00.000-07:00

There are certain things in life I wish someone would just get right. Simple things, which the majority of the Western World uses every day, like staplers and photocopiers.

I have been three years in my current job and not once, in all that time, have I had a stapler that staples. As for photocopiers: don't get me started. The current model I am forced to work with has a feeder that is capable of dragging the entire Yellow Pages through at once (completely unbidden) and then jamming on a piece of fluff. My relationship with a new photocopier does not reach a truce until I have worked out the exact position to place The Boot. In photocopier terms, I have discovered, The Boot is far more expedient than calling in an engineer. It also has the advantage of simultaneously relieving stress and letting the photocopier know who's boss.

You would think, by now, with the amount of usage these things get, somebody would have come up with a design that actually works. You know why I think they haven't? Because too much of the developers' time is wasted trying to unjam their office staplers and photocopiers.

Take jeans, as another example. I do not know one woman who doesn't struggle to find jeans that fit. Jeans are all designed for the Kate Mosses of this world, or, if those of us with a larger derrière do discover a pair that we can wriggle our way into, what do we find? The designer has automatically assumed we also have a beer belly to rival Homer Simpson's. We're women! We have curves! The general rule is hips: out; waist: in.

Starbucks' spoons. How hard can it be to come up with a type of plastic spoon without a razor-sharp edge that strikes mid-muffin and leaves you vaguely resembling The Joker?

Toilets! If Australia can make toilets that flush properly and don't require plunging at the first reminder of last night's curry, why the heck can't Britain and the USA do the same? This makes no sense to me. (On a personal note: WHY OH WHY does Britain have this insane policy of not allowing power-points and light switches in bathrooms?! I hate drying my hair in my bedroom!)

While we're on this subject of nonsensical things, why do they fill olive jars right to the top, so that you cannot possibly open the lid without getting covered in garlic-y brine?

Why don't they fill chip packets up? I don't ever recall asking for “half a packet of delicious, crispy, artery-clogging, potato-y goodness and half a packet of air, please.”

Why do they always discontinue the nicest-smelling fabric softener/perfume/air freshener/deodorant? And the best colour lipstick/nail polish/eye shadow/foundation?

Why do software upgrades always remove the best features of the programme and make it more unstable and completely incompatible with all your other programmes?

Think how wonderful it would be if producers actually made products that did what people wanted them to do! Surely, this is not too much to ask? Or is the price of reason in design just too high? Personally, I think the man who could make a common product using a bit of common sense would be raking in the cash.

But hey, what would I know? I'm just the consumer.

Issue 4 - Hair Maketh The Man

2009-06-26T06:28:00.000-07:00

(Here's one for the ladies and for discerning men.)

Hair.

Not the musical, but the organic stuff we all have growing on us.

People spend millions trying to get rid of it; people spend millions trying to get more of it. Some people really need to spend some of their millions doing either/or (Donald Trump, I'm looking at you).

I am most fascinated by the role that hair plays in the consideration of a person's attractiveness; not only that, but how popular culture influences that consideration.

Particularly for men. Remember the undercut? Or the shave-and-peroxide phase?

Over the last 12 months or so, I have noticed a gradual shift in the popular perception of what is "hot" in a man and what is not. For several years, every teen idol and pin-up boy sported a variation on the Emo Fringe - the more side-swept, the better. The current poster child for the Emo Fringe is Zac Efron (although he stole the title from Pete Wentz, who was too busy having babies and Twittering about his personal life to notice). The Emo Fringe in its purest form was complemented by skinny jeans and layers of eyeliner. Oddly enough, tattoos would also get you points. In a way, it was the slick, modern, commercialised version of punk, with a hefty dose of glam rock thrown in.

And chest hair? Pffft!! Don't even GO there! A man didn't get anywhere in the fashionable world unless he was waxed and buffed to a shine. Only the most attractive of the most attractive could afford to get away with anything different. For a while there, it looked like Hugh Jackman was the only one managing to hold his own - ironic, really, considering his all-singing, all-dancing background.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that I like a pretty-boy*, but I did feel like the look had become a bit tired. Then, one day, I opened a magazine and found not one, but two fashion adverts featuring very manly men with very manly chest hair proudly on display. What had happened?

Back-track about a year. Enter a certain young vampi-- sorry, a certain young actor by the name of Robert Pattinson. At first, Twilight fans were horrified. This was not the Edward Cullen of their fantasies! He was…scruffy! His hair had not been touched by a pair of straighteners! And what was that growth beneath his shirt?! But, he was…funny…and he sang like a tortured angel…and he played piano…OK, so maybe he didn't sparkle, but that was part of his charm…

Cue screaming girls and massive over-exposure.

There were other signs, too, that made me suspect the winds of change were blowing, bringing female affections back around to the more manly physique: Gerard Butler suddenly surged in popularity after bulking up for "300", mo's and beards were appearing here and there at random, I had never seen so much gush about a pair of thick eyebrows as I was seeing about those belonging to a certain supervillain named Sylar (and if Zachary Quinto grew a bit of facial hair? Look out! Fan girls everywhere were suddenly volunteering to have his babies).

My suspicions were subsequently confirmed by the attention surrounding a particular King. A King of Leon, to be precise. What's interesting here is that the Followill clan has always been a hairy bunch. In truth, they used to look like lumberjacks who had stumbled across 70s fashion a couple of decades too late. But one member, in particular, made some drastic follicular changes and - voilà! - all sorts of things were on fire.

You might be forgiven, at this point, for thinking I mean the bass player, Jared. He is the obvious heartthrob of the band: the cut jaw, the eyes, the cool movie star confidence; he's also formerly a proud supporter of the Emo Fringe - even Miley Cyrus loves him. But, no.

Instead, take one blue-eyed lead singer named Caleb, shorten his ridiculously long hair, grow and cultivate a nice tidy beard/longish stubble and you have a man who looks as good as he sounds. And, boy, is that good.

Now, if only we could get Dave Grohl to see that less is more, all would be well with the world of rock.

I've been thinking through my knowledge of pop history and have decided that I cannot picture any of the following without thinking of their iconic hair:

Jennifer Aniston - "The Rachel"
Salvador Dali
Prince Harry
Tom Selleck
Kurt Cobain (single-handedly responsible for the grunge mop)
Slash
Farrah Fawcett (RIP)
Danny Masterson as Steven Hyde
Freddy Mercury
Johnny Depp as Jack Sparrow or Edward Scissorhands
Princess Leia
Amy Winehouse
Albert Einstein
Victoria Beckham (don't hate me, just face it - whenever she changes her hair, the whole world stops to look)
The Beatles
The Queen of Simple Chic, Audrey Hepburn.

Wanna get noticed? Storm the charts? Start a revolution? Then either get with the hottest hair trend, or start one.

*Although Harrison Ford will always be top of my list.

-------------------------------------------
RIP MJ

Issue 3 - T4 - Salvation?

2009-06-11T06:25:00.000-07:00

I'm torn between my head and my heart.

But I'm also fascinated by something...

Let me start at the beginning.

JOHN CONNOR x CHRISTIAN BALE
= AN INSPIRED MELD OF 2 OF MY FAVE THINGS, WHICH INDUCED A HAPPY SPASM OF ANTICIPATION

Next, it was:
TERMINATOR + McG = MEH, BUT I WAS WILLING TO GIVE HIM A CHANCE

Then, out of America, came:
BAD REVIEWS + BAD REVIEWS = PANIC - WHAT HAVE THEY DONE?!

Followed by:
EMPIRE MAGAZINE + DECENT REVIEW = SLIGHT RELIEF...maybe

Eventually:
ME + VIEWING = PLEASANT SURPRISE(MUCH ENJOYMENT ÷ NEAR-FATAL PLOT FLAW*)

*...but we will get to that

Shortly thereafter:
SALES DOWN IN THE U.S. + TOP OF THE U.K. BOX OFFICE = MY UTTER BEWILDERMENT

Why the disparity in response between the two countries? Was it, simply, that England's large Welsh and Australian contingents were feeling patriotic about Bale and Worthington? Unlikely.

Is the British audience more willing to accept mediocrity? Possibly - look at the majority of its TV programming. But, then, I'm not British, and you won't catch me watching East Enders, either.

Are the English less hard-core nitpickers when it comes to their sci-fi? Not really.

Or...had they just been smart enough to avoid "Charlie's Angels" and therefore had no deep-set prejudice against McG? Strangely enough, I think this may be closer to the truth.

The more reviews I read, the more I noticed something: the majority of the haters weren't giving a solid reason for their thorough dislike of the movie.

"Too loud" - um...what?
"Not violent enough" - OK, perhaps. That was definitely one of the problems with Alien vs Predator 1 & 2, but hardly a killing stroke (pardon the pun) in this case.
"Too much action vs too little story" - sorry, but there actually was a story there, flaws aside (yeah, yeah, I'm getting to that).
"Christian Bale's Connor wasn't engaging" - fair enough, but this is the first of three movies - he's got to give the character some room to grow. Besides, as Bale has said, this really wasn't John's story - it was Marcus' - and one of the things I've always appreciated about Bale as an actor is his understanding of when to hog the spotlight and when to let someone else shine.
"The franchise is dead without Arnie" - are you crazy? Would you seriously have wanted The Governator wandering around, trying to equal his former glory? Remember Rambo 4, people...remember Rambo 4...

With each new review, I was left with the uncomfortable impression that the critics really only had two things on their minds: McG's name and Bale's rant.

Now, don't get me wrong. The movie wasn't the best thing I've ever seen, but it was enjoyable. As it should be. It certainly had far more of the "feel" of a Terminator movie than T3 did. I also appreciated the fact that, as with Star Trek, CGI was used sparingly and effectively. In other words, I don't think McG did too bad a job. Sure, the ending felt like it had been stuffed into a VacuSac and had the air sucked out of it (I'm guessing that had to do with the multiple versions and edits that were reportedly trialled), but at least we didn't have to put up with things exploding unnecessarily all over the joint and multiple close-ups of the hero's knee-cap throughout the most crucial moments, as we undoubtedly will get with Transformers 2 in a week or so.

hmmm....Bale's uncontrolled, f-bombing outburst on set. It's interesting to me how much this has set people against the movie itself. And how it comes up in every single negative review. Why? It has no impact on the tone of the movie. More likely it was the other way around - when you watch John go through intense situation after intense situation, you begin to understand the pressure Bale himself must have been under, day in and day out. I'm not excusing his behaviour, but I do understand how the mood of a role can easily rub off on you. It seems, however, that the Americans have taken this mis-step more to heart than the Brits have. Perhaps it's just that, as one of my friends said, the British don't mind a really good rant every now and then.

It does go to show just how a bit of bad (or good) publicity, or a pre-conceived notion, can taint the consumer reaction to something.

Sigh.

Now - as promised - to the problem with the story. Whilst most of the objections I've seen in online forums can be easily debunked, there is one thing that has been troubling me since the day after I saw the movie (yes, it took me awhile to realise this - don't laugh).

[spoiler alert]

Kyle and John are numbers 1 and 2 on Skynet's "most wanted" list...but, John is not yet the leader of the resistance and Skynet doesn't know that Kyle was/will be his father. How does that work? Now, I can accept that maybe John was number 2 for other reasons - something to do with the opening sequence, for example. Or, perhaps, the Terminatrix conveyed her mission to Skynet when she activated the machines at the end of T3. Either of those are perfectly plausible. But nobody (except John and Kate) knows what Kyle will become. Because it hasn't happened yet. The T-800s from T2 and T3 knew, but they were both destroyed in the past. The only explanation I can come up with is this: Dr Silberman and the staff at the institution where Sarah was locked up were the only other people who would have known about Kyle. Cyberdyne Systems is obviously dabbling in medical research at the beginning of the movie, so, perhaps that gave Skynet access to Sarah's medical records.

It's a stretch, but it will have to do.

To be honest, there are other problems with the story - there usually are, in time-travel movies - but they are relatively minor. However, the whole story hangs on this one. Hence, I am torn between my head and my heart. On the one hand, I thoroughly enjoyed the movie; on the other, I will have to turn my brain off the next time I watch it.

P.S. Sam Worthington: we love you and you're a fabulous actor, but next time you might want to get Christian Bale to give you a few lessons in "how to keep up your fake American accent". ;)

P.P.S. Anton Yelchin. I just couldn't finish this post without mentioning him. I liked him as Chekov, but he seriously made an impression on me as Kyle. Unassuming, unflashy, amusing; he plays the character exactly the way he should be played, and he creeps under your skin. Just like Michael Biehn did. My final, overwhelming impression as I left the cinema was, "Man, I could have kept watching him all evening." The kid's got a future. More, please.

Issue 2 - Never Without Controversy: The MTV Awards

2009-06-02T15:47:00.000-07:00

The MTV Awards are usually an interesting study, but this year's Movie Awards, in particular, confirmed a number of things for me:

Sandra Bullock is still one of my favourite celebs (and one of the most down-to-earth).

I have no desire to see any more of Sacha Baron Cohen's naked backside than I already have.

Kings of Leon are one of the best rock bands of my generation. (Good to see America is finally waking up to them.)

Keeping the camera trained on expressive faces – like Rob Pattinson's and Zachary Quinto's – during comedic moments is always good value.

Kristen Stewart has a better sense of humour than people give her credit for.

Ben Stiller can actually act – he managed to look engaged, even interested, all the way through the longest, most rambling and ultimately strangest introduction I've ever witnessed. Oh, and he has great hair. That's completely irrelevant, but true, nonetheless.

J.J. Abrams is now even closer to the top of my list of people I desperately want to work with.

Somebody needs to teach Lil Wayne a few home-truths. Like, "That ego-trip of a speech made you look even more like a dope than you already do."

Plugging family members' careers irritates the heck out of me. I don't care if you are Denzel Washington.

I like Jim Carrey more and more as time goes by.

Twilight rip-offs are funny, even if you're a Twilight fan.

I think I just inadvertently and very publicly admitted that I'm a Twilight fan.

Damn.

The MTV Awards (...actually, most award shows...) has never really been known for the quality of its comedy. Still, perhaps it's time to consider a different style of host. Andy Samberg can range from hilarious (e.g. one of the night's highlights, for me: the song, "Explosions") to pathetically un-funny (e.g. whatever-the-heck that piece of stupidity/waste of talent with LeAnn Rimes, Chris Isaak and Forrest Whitaker was). Unfortunately, the un-funny moments seemed to outweigh the genius ones - unless I'm completely missing something, I just don't find fairly well-respected celebrities singing expletive-packed nonsense particularly original or entertaining.

I've been mulling over some options for hosts...Hugh Jackman did a stellar job at the Academy Awards, so I suppose the MTV Awards would be a bit of a step down for him...I would suggest Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto - the most refreshingly natural comedic team in a long time - but, considering the incredible success of Star Trek, I imagine they'll be too busy accepting awards next year to hand them out...David Tennant? That'd be cool, but the humour might be a bit too sophisticated for some viewers...seeing as Twilight is likely to dominate the Awards for the next few years, maybe they should just go the whole hog and have "the Cullens" host it. There's 8 of them - at least there'd be something for everyone...Paul Rudd. We love Paul Rudd...or how about we go back to one of the greats? I'd give a lot to see someone like Bill Cosby in the hot seat...arghh...who am I kidding? Like that'd ever happen.

Some final thoughts:

Biggest controversy - The internet has been buzzing with speculation for the last two days. Everyone had their opinion about the Eminem/Bruno stunt. All I can say is, props to Eminem for putting himself through it. Nice to see he (apparently) has a sense of humour.

Biggest beef - Megan Fox: you get to make movies with both Optimus Prime and Shia LaBeouf. This means your life is pretty good. Please smile.

Weirdest date combo - What the heck was Catherine Hardwick doing there with Billy Zane?

Best outfit - The little number J.J. Abrams wore for his keyboard solo.

Best "D'oh!" moment - Kristen Stewart dropping her trophy (nice cover, by the way). Honorary mention to Shia LaBeouf for not checking beforehand how to pronounce "Cam Gigandet".

Pet hate - To everyone, on every award show ever made: you don't need to bend down - the microphone can pick you up!!

Issue 1 - A Child of Two Worlds

2009-05-28T03:08:00.000-07:00

I will never admit to the number of times I have already seen "Star Trek". It would not help my social ranking - not that that's ever been much to speak of. I will say that I've not watched a movie with such child-like glee since the first time I saw the Star Wars trilogy as a kid.

Now, I know what you're thinking: those two franchises should never be discussed in the same blog. But I don't hold with the idea that you need to be either a Star Trek fan or a Star Wars fan. I've always loved both...forgiving the last few years of "Deep Soap Nine" and the disaster that was "Enterprise" (what was with all those anti-bac gel baths??)

And so, for me, I can quite happily exist as a child of two worlds. Unlike Spock. Ahem.

Spock. Now there's a blog-worthy subject. Only now am I discovering that I'm not alone in having hankered after Spock in days gone by. Women all over the world are suddenly coming out of the ready-room to admit that it was the pointy-eared one, not the sleazy Shat, who charged their dilithium crystals. (Side note to Trekkers/Trekkies: don't try to tell me the Spock/Uhura relationship came as a surprise. Any woman, at least, who was a fan of the show, picked up on the vibes between those two and, if it wasn't for heavy censorship - courtesy of 60's studio execs and Shatner's ego - they would have had their chance at romance in the original timeline.)

Ahhh, yesss. In this movie, there's none of this nonsense about killing off Spock and then concluding, "That was actually a bad idea. We'd better regenerate him." Oh, no. In THIS movie, we get two for the price of one.

Speaking of which, major kudos to Zachary Quinto. Imagine the pressure: not only do you have to re-define an iconic character, but you have to do it in the very presence of the actor who created him. Yet, apparently, no sweat. We know the man can evince the most magnetic serial killer in TV history; he also has the ability to utter a sincere-sounding, "Live long and prosper," with his lips whilst projecting a reverberating, "Up yours," with his eyes. Yes, there may have been others who could have convincingly played Spock, but, I think, only Zachary Quinto in all his Zachary Quintoness could have played him with such a delicate touch.

In fact, my hat is off to the entire cast and crew. I heartily agree with a fellow blogger's suggestion that The Academy should give the casting director an Oscar.

It's tragic, but the moment Greedo tried to shoot Han first in that &*@%! Special Edition of "Star Wars", I lost my faith in my movie-making hero, George Lucas. J.J. Abrams might just have stepped into that vacated position. Time will tell – but, George, take note: this is what Episodes I to III should have been. An over-reliance on CGI = a sensational suicide. One of the reasons we loved the original trilogy? Because it felt real.

I confess, I was privileged enough to walk the Starfleet-Blue carpet at the London premiere, and was immediately transported into the J.J. fandom. He appears to be a man whose fires of imagination are well-stoked. I swear, you can feel the creative energy leaking out of him. I remember thinking, as he and the stars left the cinema and I resisted the urge to call, "Oi, Poida!" to a bored-looking Eric Bana, that I was in for a ride of Guinan's-hat-proportions.

I wasn't disappointed. It's heart-wrenching, it's fun, it's hilarious, it's sexy. And Kirk didn't even have to get his shirt ripped. Not once.

If you'll excuse the indulgence, I feel I must now take a moment to address a few comments from my fellow Trekkers/Trekkies who did not like the movie:

WERE YOU PEOPLE EVEN WATCHING IT?? Or were you too busy being suffocated by the weight of your own pseudo-scientific nitpicking?

Oh...er...my apologies for that little outburst. (This blog isn't called "The Rant" for no reason.) But, seriously, some fans must have gone in searching for things to hate about it, instead of simply enjoying J.J.'s enchanting storytelling.

Enough has been said about the time-travel aspect of the movie. If you didn't like it, or fully understand that it's a stroke of genius which frees us up for more voyages with the Enterprise crew - without the sapped tension-level that would result from already knowing their fate - then you're screwy, or perhaps you don't remember the Doc's explanation about tangent timelines in Back To The Future. It's the best thing they could have done for our beloved and slightly beleaguered franchise. So build a bridge. Get over it.

Oh, yes – the re-designed bridge. What? Would you have preferred the dot matrix printer that – I swear – Kirk had in one episode?

Now, admittedly, there may have been as many plot holes as black holes, but don't try to tell me there were never any in the series. For example, can someone please explain to me where Voyager's never-ending supply of shuttlecraft came from? Or why, no matter which hostile alien race was currently holding the Enterprise crew hostage, they never thought to guard the Jefferies Tubes?

Now, to the greatest and most consistent complaint I have heard: that Gene Roddenberry would be turning in his grave at the lack of negotiating and philosophising in this re-booted universe.

Firstly, Gene Roddenberry doesn't have a grave.

Secondly, themes of friendship, teamwork, making something of yourself no matter the hand life dealt you, the nature of love, learning to be honest with yourself, the bitter root of hatred, revenge, genocide – are these not enough for you? Or do you need to spend three hours watching the crew float around whilst they try to figure out V'Ger? (Did they ever figure out V'Ger? I think I fell asleep.)

When it all comes down to it, these are not the things that stick in our consciousness.

What does stick?

Klingons. The Borg Queen. Data's love for his (apparently) sequentially hermaphroditic cat, Spot. "Everybody remember where we parked." Exploding consoles. Q. "Tea, Earl Grey." Geordi's VISOR. Odo's bucket. Seven's - erm - assets. Whales. "He's dead, Jim." Holodecks. Vulcan nerve pinches. Q. Those earwig thingys. "I'm giving her all she's got, Cap'n!" Ferengi lobal massages (shudder). "Khaaannn!" Q.

"Space, the final frontier…"

If Chris Pine can continue to make me smile whenever he steps onto the bridge in that gold shirt and exclaims, "Bones! [pause] Buckle up!", I'll continue to make the trek to let him do it, for as many movies as he and the rest of this crew are prepared to give us.