Blade Runner 2049

I finally saw Blade Runner 2049 last night.  It's a shame that this movie did not perform better at the box office, and although it is fantastic, I'm also not sure it's quite on par with the original or worthy of some of the praise it has gotten from critics (Rotten Tomatoes actually put it high on a sci fi top 100, which probably isn't right).  The plot is basically incomprehensible, something about a cloned child, but the visuals could not be more arresting, and Ryan Gosling is absolutely brilliant as a younger, quirkier Blade Runner.  I also really enjoyed Harrison Ford's cameo.  There are some moments in here that absolutely just make your heart stop.  Recommended!

The Sellout by Paul Beatty

I just finished reading The Sellout by Paul Beatty, recipient of the Man Booker Prize.  It was an interesting book, with many standout passages, descriptions, and situations that vividly depict the (sometimes comedic) horror of racial disparity.  I like how the characters' behavior is both shocking and likeable, and how relatable each character is.  The writing style of the book, I admit, I sometimes struggled with.  In some ways, I feel that Beatty struggles with a writing style that is slightly too essayish and fractured.  If we want to use general terms like postmodern or deconstruction, they would apply here.  At times, I wished the book had been written with more description and less narration.  Still, it is well worth reading, with a great premise and great characters.

Next up: The Chomsky Reader

Revisiting the Christopher Nolan Batman Trilogy (Greatest Thing Ever?)

Folks, I just finished rewatching the Christopher Nolan Batman trilogy.  I must say I enjoyed it even more this time than the first time that I saw the films.  They may be even stronger than Nolan's Memento, and they may be the best Batman films we have yet.  My favorite is The Dark Knight Rises, but they're all pretty superb.  When Batman Begins first came out, I was a little disappointed that it wasn't more like Batman: Year One (in fact, parts seemed pretty slapstick), but now I'm ready to accept it as a solid introduction to a great series (and we do have the animated Batman: Year One, to satisfy that part of me).  For The Dark Knight, we have Heath Ledger's Joker, definitely a phenomenal cinematic achievement.  And lets not forget Aaron Eckhart's Two-Face, also pretty great.  That film is powerful, and in some ways the hardest hitting of the three.  The third is my favorite, and it plays kind of like Batman meets Star Wars, only with Bane thrown in there too.  I even like the ambiguous ending.  These films are definitely classics, nothing wrong with them at all, really.  They will stand the test of time.

Christmas Eve at the Galleria Chapter One

Writing for Christmas Eve at the Galleria is now underway.  As I promised, here is the first chapter.  To follow the rest of the story, you will have to buy the book, which I hope you do!:

Heavy snow was falling in Birmingham, Alabama as James Rearden got into his car one Christmas Eve, a Saturday, pulled out of his driveway, and made his way onto the overpass and onto Interstate 20.  He was a college student, actually a senior, and just about to finish up the final leg of his English Major (Creative Writing) program.  This year, he was on his way to see his family, over an hour away, in the small, quaint town of Pell City.  When he wasn’t attending college full-time, he was working as a Paralegal at his father’s law firm, Rearden, Jones, and Smith, a job he found dull yet financially rewarding.  Heck, he was barely even a Paralegal, and whenever he went out on a date, he was always encouraged if not pressured to pursue law.  But James liked to live moment to moment, as the contents of his car would attest.  Paperwork, Christmas gifts, and CDs (mostly CDs) littered the interior of his 2010 Prius.  Lately, he was going through an R.E.M. phase, and the band’s first four albums, Murmur, Reckoning, Fables of the Reconstruction, and Lifes Rich Pageant, were scattered across the floor of the passenger’s side of his car.  Right now, “Harborcoat” was playing on his car’s speaker system, reminding James that these first four albums really were the band’s best.

            The heat was on in James car, thawing out his windshield while the wipers cleared away the snowflakes.  Christmas lights and decorations were visible from the highway, as well as the occasional Christmas tree visible through a shop window.  Now that his time at school was at an end, at least for now, he could finally relax a bit and begin to soak in the spirit of the season.  It was a good thing too, since traffic on the highway was beginning to become pretty thick.  The cars in front of James were moving slowly, and after about fifteen minutes, they were at a standstill.  There was yelling, as two cars, a blue truck and a white minivan, nearly hit each other.

            “Oh, great,” said James.  “Let’s see what’s on the radio.”

            “Harborcoat” was about done playing, and after it was finished, James switched the dial to Magic 96.5.  Sure, it wasn’t the hippest thing to be listening to, but in a town like Birmingham, which didn’t offer a lot of variety and often detoured into conservative talk radio, it certainly was the best thing.  Old-fashioned, maybe, but also poppy enough to listen to and with the occasional contemporary band thrown into the mix.  Right now, though, James was looking for the latest weather forecast to explain his current situation.  “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” was wrapping up just now.

            “C’mon,” he grumbled.  “Where is the news?”

            After the song had finished, a voice came on loud and clear.  The forecast was not good.  Heavy snow and ice all through the night, making this the whitest Christmas in quite some time.  James reached for his iPhone 5 (he still hadn’t upgraded) and texted his mother.  She and his dad were divorced, and he had done Christmas with Charles and his new wife, Jessie, a few days before.  The text was short and sweet.

            “Hey, Mom.  It’s James.  The snow and ice are coming down pretty hard, so I’m afraid I’ll have to stay somewhere else for the night.  I will let you know when I can make it into town.  I love you, Mom!  Bye!”

            James had two younger brothers, Matt and Nathan, who were twenty and fifteen, respectively.  James was twenty three.  They were both already at the house, which means that James being snowed in would be an inconvenience for the family.  But it would be all right.  The occasional wild, out-of-nowhere winter storm in Birmingham had happened before.  He remembers once, when he was in middle school, it snowed so hard on his March 15^th birthday that his Mom and Dad had to crash at a hotel and then make a late-night run to Wal-Mart to get new presents for him.  He remembers that year that he got a pretty groovy plastic black ninja.

            James took exit 125 off the interstate and into Hoover, AL.  And he really meant to find a hotel or motel at that point, only they all seemed to be full for the night.  The Christmas music was back on Magic 96.5, and as Andy Williams’ “The First Noelle” came on, the music seemed to be leading him in another direction, toward the Patton Creek shopping center, and then to the Galleria.  So sure did he feel about going there, that lights could have been guiding his path out of the highway and down through the street.  Illuminated snowflakes hung from the streetlights to his left and right, also guiding his way.  He pulled into the first, enormous parking lot of the mall, right in front of the J.C. Penny’s.  The large white letters of J.C. Penny’s logo hung with much gravity, with more Christmas lights beneath them, and beneath the lights were large, mysterious glass doors, blackness beyond them.  James got out of his car and slammed the door shut, then trudged through the deep, packed snow toward the glass doors.  They seemed strange, yet welcoming.

            “It’s either this or sleep in my car,” he thought to himself.  “Surely, there are some beds, or something, in that mall.  If only we can get it open.”

            Now it might have been the weather, or the rush of the music from his car, or the effect of passing through so many dazzling Christmas lights, but one could say that James started to see things from that point onward.  Suddenly, one of those glass doors sprung open, and out stepped a woman with black hair, a flannel coat, and green corduroy pants.  Whether she was real, a ghost, or a spirit, we will never know.  She slammed the door shut behind her, then surveyed the parking lot with a weary but bemused look in her eyes. 

            “Hi, I’m Carol,” she said.

            “James.”

            “I’ve been holed up here for the past day or so, barely making it on coffee, fast food, and popcorn.  It’ll be nice to have some company.  Do you want to go inside and get something to eat?”

            James looked at Carol.  She was kind of tough and odd looking, but also very pretty.  She looked older by about two or three years, with her hair a wavy texture and a sharp bump on her chin.  Her skin was pale, like she had been inside the Galleria for a year instead of a day.  “Who was she?” he wondered.  “How did she get in?  Was she another student from school?”  He had a lot of questions, and though he did want to follow her, he began to suspect that she wasn’t real.  The way she looked and dressed, she seemed more like a spirit-guide than an actual person.

            He paused, then asked her all of these questions in a nervous rush.

            “Are you coming or not?,” she responded.  “I’ll answer your questions when we’re inside.”

            She extended her hand.

            “How old are you?” she asked.

            “Twenty-two,” he responded.

            “Twenty-four,” she replied.  “I’ve got the edge.”

            James took her hand, and together, they walked through those blackened glass doors and into the J.C. Penny.  James was immediately immersed in memories from when he visited this store as a child, coming there after reading comic books in the book store to shop with his mother.  Clothing was at the front of the store, items like heavy coats, sweaters, and boots, while at the back were kitchen items, electronics, bedding, and such.  White Christmas lights dangled from the ceiling, and an inflatable Santa Claus weaved strangely across the floor.  Yes, a strange, crackling energy was in the air that night.  Although the store was deserted, employees still moved back and forth across the floor and also attended the jewelry counters.  One asked James, “Can I help you find anything?”  He wore a bow tie, glasses, green and red-striped suspenders, and had tightly combed brown hair.

            “Is this place haunted?” James asked.

            “Kind of,” said Carol.  “C’mon.  Keep moving.”

            And with that, they were off, weaving past the multicolored winter coats and toaster ovens, past the rows of diamond rings and diamond necklaces, past the rows of dress shoes, belts, and dress suits, past another inflatable Santa, until they were finally and at long last inside of the Galleria proper.  Lounge chairs and a railing stood before them, and the glass ceiling above them revealed a black and snow-streaked sky.

            “Wow,” said James.  “I haven’t been here in forever.”