![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I want to go see "What Is It?" again. This is not likely to happen soon, because apparently Crispin is not scheduled to take the movie and Big Slide Show anywhere else for a little while. Am considering starting a letter-writing campaign to the Royal Oak Art Theatre to ask them if they'll contact Crispin. Obviously, I have no idea how to go about getting him to come to Royal Oak myself.
This is, of course, triggered by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drworm and ghostgecko's recent expedition to the Andy Warhol Museum to see Crispin. Am particularly intrigued by and looking forward to ghostgecko's musings on the subject; it seems to me that one of the most interesting parts of the movie is actually the different ways in which people react to it. I know that it's affected my worldview in some very fundamental, subtle ways (or perhaps just crystallised some new viewpoints evolving in my head). But of course, it's not going to affect anyone else's viewpoint in the same way at all. It isn't meant to.
I finally got to watch an episode of The 4400;drworm was kind enough to IM me and notify me about it. Everyone on my f-list seems to have been squeeing over this for the past six months, and I've been skipping over it. (Note to self: Sunday nights at midnight, channel 26.)
It's not the greatest show, except for Jeff Combs, who's cute anyway, and who is fantastic as a currently-mentally ill scientist. The show itself reminds me of "Independence Day" and its ilk, in the style and tone. A world-shaking event, minor government intrigue, and painfully cardboard characters, for the most part.
We've been watching "When Worlds Collide" in Science Fiction class. It's a 1951 B-movie. (IMDB says there will be a remake. Phooey!) The plot concerns another planet crashing into the Earth, and a group of astronomers who create a rocket to bring about 50 people to the new world. It's very good; most 1950s sci-fi disaster movies I've seen are very good. Most recent sci-fi disaster movies I've seen are not. And I've seen a ridiculous amount of both.
I've been pondering the difference all night, coming up with little differences between the styles, cinemetography, pacing, ideology, culture. The difference, of course, is the characters. Even if the 1950s characters start out as stereotypes, they end up as well-rounded, interesting characters. The events of the story do change them, sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better; the characters who don't change and adapt are penalized as natural consequences of their actions, not as scriptwriter magic or morality plays. It's not the difference in special effects, or technobabble, or the way comic relief is handled. It's just good characterization. That's all, and it's simple.
pinglederry is wonderful at stroking, among other things, my ego. I must share this. I'm sorry. Just made my day.
professional_nutcase: You know, I can always recognise one of your stories. There's a... bleakness, to some of them, a feeling of helplessness, for lack of a better term. A feeling that I can't quite pin down, but it makes my chest ache a little bit.
professional_nutcase: And sometimes you write sweet stories, but there's always that depth behind them...
kleenexwoman42: Helplessness. Hmmm.
professional_nutcase: The best word I can come up with at the moment.
professional_nutcase: I dunno.
professional_nutcase: Like I'm missing something, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is?
professional_nutcase: Like looking up into space and thinking about Star Trek, and aching so badly to be in that world, to be up there in space, and knowing you never will be.
professional_nutcase: A feeling like that, sometimes.
professional_nutcase: That ache.
She also pointed out that I "have a thing for small blue things that change peoples' worlds." Heheh. Granted, there's a certain amount of background for my blue-thing fixation. I do have my own set of story images and symbols, some of which I hadn't noticed before, some of which I haven't used yet. Dunno whether it's useful or pretentious or predictable or what to have your own set of literary symbols. (Collect them all!)
With that, I go to bed. It's already 5 in the morning, and I should get back on some kind of diurnal time. But first, a pointless quiz thing:
Hey, I'll write gratuitous gay sex no matter what kind of undead creatures are involved.
This is, of course, triggered by
drworm and ghostgecko's recent expedition to the Andy Warhol Museum to see Crispin. Am particularly intrigued by and looking forward to ghostgecko's musings on the subject; it seems to me that one of the most interesting parts of the movie is actually the different ways in which people react to it. I know that it's affected my worldview in some very fundamental, subtle ways (or perhaps just crystallised some new viewpoints evolving in my head). But of course, it's not going to affect anyone else's viewpoint in the same way at all. It isn't meant to. I finally got to watch an episode of The 4400;
drworm was kind enough to IM me and notify me about it. Everyone on my f-list seems to have been squeeing over this for the past six months, and I've been skipping over it. (Note to self: Sunday nights at midnight, channel 26.) It's not the greatest show, except for Jeff Combs, who's cute anyway, and who is fantastic as a currently-mentally ill scientist. The show itself reminds me of "Independence Day" and its ilk, in the style and tone. A world-shaking event, minor government intrigue, and painfully cardboard characters, for the most part.
We've been watching "When Worlds Collide" in Science Fiction class. It's a 1951 B-movie. (IMDB says there will be a remake. Phooey!) The plot concerns another planet crashing into the Earth, and a group of astronomers who create a rocket to bring about 50 people to the new world. It's very good; most 1950s sci-fi disaster movies I've seen are very good. Most recent sci-fi disaster movies I've seen are not. And I've seen a ridiculous amount of both.
I've been pondering the difference all night, coming up with little differences between the styles, cinemetography, pacing, ideology, culture. The difference, of course, is the characters. Even if the 1950s characters start out as stereotypes, they end up as well-rounded, interesting characters. The events of the story do change them, sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better; the characters who don't change and adapt are penalized as natural consequences of their actions, not as scriptwriter magic or morality plays. It's not the difference in special effects, or technobabble, or the way comic relief is handled. It's just good characterization. That's all, and it's simple.
pinglederry is wonderful at stroking, among other things, my ego. I must share this. I'm sorry. Just made my day. professional_nutcase: You know, I can always recognise one of your stories. There's a... bleakness, to some of them, a feeling of helplessness, for lack of a better term. A feeling that I can't quite pin down, but it makes my chest ache a little bit.
professional_nutcase: And sometimes you write sweet stories, but there's always that depth behind them...
kleenexwoman42: Helplessness. Hmmm.
professional_nutcase: The best word I can come up with at the moment.
professional_nutcase: I dunno.
professional_nutcase: Like I'm missing something, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is?
professional_nutcase: Like looking up into space and thinking about Star Trek, and aching so badly to be in that world, to be up there in space, and knowing you never will be.
professional_nutcase: A feeling like that, sometimes.
professional_nutcase: That ache.
She also pointed out that I "have a thing for small blue things that change peoples' worlds." Heheh. Granted, there's a certain amount of background for my blue-thing fixation. I do have my own set of story images and symbols, some of which I hadn't noticed before, some of which I haven't used yet. Dunno whether it's useful or pretentious or predictable or what to have your own set of literary symbols. (Collect them all!)
With that, I go to bed. It's already 5 in the morning, and I should get back on some kind of diurnal time. But first, a pointless quiz thing:
Hey, I'll write gratuitous gay sex no matter what kind of undead creatures are involved.
