Time I Want Back

One of the inevitabilities of the holiday season is the glut of Christmas-themed movies, specials, and television shows.  Some are good, some are so-so, and others notoriously bad.  I would like to begin this entry by talking about the absolute worst Christmas special in existence, The Star Wars Christmas Special.  I'm not an expert on television and film, so there may be another, more mediocre Christmas offering, but that is extremely doubtful.

The movie revolves around Chewbacca and his family who he is trying to reunite with so that they can celebrate "Life Day."   Chewbacca's family, who were never even mentioned in any of the Star Wars movies as far as I can recall,  are introduced to the viewer in the opening scenes of the movie.  These scenes contain very little entertainment value.  After the necessary introductions, Chewbacca's wife Mala, father Itchy, and his unfortunately named son Lumpy, communicate through a series of growls and grunts.  In order to figure out what they are saying, one needs to interpret their body language and there is little payoff for the effort.  After some primal howling, presumably because Chewbacca might not make it home for "Life Day", Mala calls up R2D2 and Luke Skywalker to see if they know where Chewy is.  Thus the cameos by the more beloved characters are injected into the plot.

From there things go more downhill, not that it had far to go.  There are a number of reasons why this special is one big flop.  One of the primary reasons why it dragged on is that the audience has no investment in Chewy's attempts to get home.  His family is unknown to the viewer, and their grunts and howls do nothing to endear them.  Nor is it really explained what "Life Day" is or what significance it has to his people.  To be frank I couldn't have cared less whether or not Chewy got home in time.  I think that it was a strategic error for George Lucas to write a special centered around new characters which the audience doesn't have a history with.  Also, the fact that their language requires body language interpretation is another stumbling block that Lucas should have anticipated.  Another aspect that bothers me is the fact that he used a clichéd "I'll be home for Christmas" plot rather than being a trifle more inventive.  In fact the whole special reeks of laziness, from the pedestrian storyline to the second-rate special effects.

One of the reasons that my boyfriend wanted to watch the special is that Lucas tried very hard to suppress it after it first aired.  He was rightfully embarrassed and felt that this misstep might jeopardize future box office successes, so he did everything in his power to stop the public from viewing it.  I wish he had been more creative, and that the hour and a half that I spent watching it was used more productively.  There are other specials out there that use tried and true holiday plots that still manage to bring something new to the table.  For instance, how many good productions have been based upon A Christmas Carol?  Also, there are other Christmas specials that introduce new characters/plots, but those are few and far between.  What bothers me is that Christmas seems to be a bit of a cash grab where studios (movie, television and music) pawn off second-rate material.  It makes movies like The Nightmare Before Christmas and other great holiday movies seem like unlikely masterpieces. Maybe I should just stick to the classics and leave the curiosity to more adventurous people. 

  

     

Talking About My Generation

Before I talk about Douglas Coupland's recent book Generation A, I must confess the mixed success I have had with his novels. Whether it was the writing style or my own restlessness, I could not get three pages into his previous work, JPod, though I'm told it is good.  Despite the fact that JPod was relegated to the large pile of books that I need to reread in future, Generation A managed to hold my fickle attention.  


The story revolves around a small group of five people from all over the world who had the misfortune to have been stung by bees.  At this point, bees are considered virtually extinct and fruit is sold on the black market at exorbitant rates.  Thus, scientists want to figure out why the bees were attracted to these people in particular, so that they can turn around the insects' fate. These twenty-somethings are whisked off to be examined by scientists and held in isolation for months while being poked and prodded.  After a period of examination and a brief homecoming, the people are then transported to Haida Gwaii where they undergo further scientific study.  Their isolation allows them to reflect on their position as research subjects, and gives the reader an opportunity to think about how aspects of modern life connect and push people apart.  


Coupland discusses how the lives of Generation Xers are both interconnected more than ever before and disconnected at the same time.  The group of people are brought together by their experiences and quickly grow into a collective which is in contrast to the rest of the world.  Those who surround them are checking out of life and dependent on a new pharmaceutical called Solon that destroys peoples' need for community.  Additionally, there is an environmental bent to the novel.  By showing how disastrous the virtual extinction of one species may be to our future, Coupland shows the importance of conservation.  With these themes, Coupland touches upon some of the large issues dealt with by my generation.  The use and abuse of prescription drugs, the way in which the internet encourages us to live in isolation and connect at the same time, and the worries of our changing environment are huge problems for people my age.  


What impresses me the most about this book is how Coupland uses his great powers of observation and equally effective wit to reveal the foibles of Generation X.  There are many moments in this book that are laugh out loud funny, especially those involving the shameless farmer, Zack.  He will do anything for quick cash and momentary gratification, and is a figure that effectively satirizes the vices of his time.  I identify with a lot of the characters in the book, and think that everyone my age can recognize a bit of themselves in them.  The message of the book really shines through and it is made memorable due to the sheer entertainment Coupland's characters provide.  I'm clearly going to have to give JPod another chance. 

Grappling With My Food

The other day my boyfriend and I were in the produce section of our local grocery store, when we were stopped in our tracks by another example of genetic tampering.  My boyfriend, being a curious soul, picked them up and simply had to try them.  So we tried our first grapple.  

A grapple is an unnatural genetic amalgam between an apple and a grape, something that needs to be experienced to be believed.  And experience we did.  Before we even left the grocery store parking lot, he bit into it and shared it with me.  I would describe it as having the familiar crunchy texture and appearance of an apple with an artificial grape taste. To be honest, the whole concept of it bothered me and continues to creep me out.  As an avid reader of Michael Pollan's explorations of food production, I was well aware of how corporations are taking food genetic modification to an uncomfortable level, but seeing such irrefutable concrete proof of it at the Country Grocer put me over the edge.  Though I know that farmers have used genetics to alter their crops for centuries, I'm not as disturbed by a farmer creating a new variety of pear by combining two different kinds of pear, than I am about this new cross-species gene splicing.  

Genetic research has made a lot of medical advances possible, so I'm not averse to it in general, but I draw the line when it comes to food and profit-driven experimentation.  I get that companies like Monsanto want to create larger corn yields, and some customers would rather their roses last longer without scent.  But I don't have to like it.  There is something to be said for food that resembles something my great-grandmother would recognize and not some unnatural lovechild of two dissimilar species of fruit.  After we finished the grapple, my boyfriend, the avid environmentalist, tossed the core out of the car window and onto a grassy median.  I freaked out about it, worried that, when introduced to the natural world, grapple seeds might produce a tree/vine that would take over.  We talked about how a tree with vine-like branches may take over that median and crowd out indigenous trees, kind of like the Scotch Broom.  

I don't think that will happen, but while the seeds germinate I need to figure out what to do with the three remaining grapples.  I'm thinking muffins.   

It's Payback!

I must confess that I feel really guilty about how neglectful I've been to my blog.  Without getting into too many details, there has been too many things on my mind and so a lot of aspects of my life were put on the back burner.  I was feeling down about more stuff I can't control, when I thought that I would stop my self-pity and write.  I recently finished Margaret Atwood's book Payback and I believe it's very pertinent to the holiday season.


As hard as it is to be looking down the barrel at another head-on collision with our consumer culture, Atwood makes me feel better.  She wrote this book prior to the economic downturn and there are definitely moments where her work is eerily prophetic.  Particularly when she describes how banks in the United States began handing out sub-prime mortgages to those who could not afford them, she shows how an educated person could have predicted some of these issues.  Atwood also delves into the language that people use to describe debt and being in debt and how this affects our psyches.  She points out how indebtedness is compared with drowning or limbo, and that this negative connotation only furthers the shame many experience when they confront their finances.  The book explores these attitudes and how they are rooted within society and connected to our sense of justice and fairness.  Though it is hard to reconcile a mortgage with monies owed in ancient times, the origins of debt can be found in early mythologies. Female goddesses involved in justice and death abound in ancient Greece, Rome and Egypt and their histories helped in the development of our notions of debt.


Another stretch of history that Atwood believes is instrumental our ideas of debt is the Victorian period.  She references Charles Dickens' story A Christmas Carol a lot to express how deep-seated economics was in that particular society.  Most of Dickens' writing contains a dreary picture of the dispossessed who have fallen on hard times in an unforgiving society.  Debt and money play a large part in the writings of his contemporaries as well, with Heathcliff using his fortune to manipulate Cathy in Wuthering Heights and the constant reminder of fortune in the background of most Jane Austen novels.  Getting back to her study of A Christmas Carol, a portion of it that I particularly enjoyed was her characterization of "Scrooge Nouveau".  "Scrooge Nouveau" is the modern-day equivalent of Dickens' character that Atwood creates to illustrate how he translates into today's society.  She uses her trademark wry wit to lampoon the overpaid CEO's we're accustomed to and adds a little levity to such a heady subject.  


This book is such a good read because it allows the reader to challenge their notions of debt and forces people to delve into why they feel the way they do.  Money has a large amount of power in our society which is evidenced with every Christmas list and Canadian Tire flier.  I was trying to make a Christmas list for myself and I had a hard time.  There isn't anything material that I want, with the exception of a Starfrit collapsible dish rack.  I have no space in my tiny kitchen and it has the possibility of making my life easier. Unlike most things I've bought, Margaret Atwood books tend to be regret-free purchases, and Payback is yet another example of her excellent observational skills and dry humour.    

Call of Duty Widowhood

Yesterday I suffered.  I went to the store with my boyfriend little knowing that his seemingly innocent purchase of yet another video game was going to put me over the edge.  Just to put this conflict in context, I would characterize my relationship with video games to be tumultuous at best.  As a child, my family had no money and therefore I had very little exposure to the gaming world, with the exception of a half-dozen Sega Genesis titles.  I can remember some of the satisfaction I felt when I beat a level, but generally I view video gaming as a waste of time.  With the exception of Wii games, where a person is physically doing something besides repeatedly pushing buttons, I feel people go into a mental coma while causing bloody carnage.  Besides the odd exclamation, I never hear a peep out of my boyfriend as he is busy shooting something, his eyes glued to the glowing screen.  


My latest nemesis in my dire quest for male attention is Call of Duty: Black Ops.  As of this morning, the game has raked in over $360 million in sales this week, so clearly there are many other frustrated girlfriends.  Just to put this into perspective, the only other release that has garnered anywhere near this amount of sales, is the latest movie in the Twilight series, which brought in $70 million.  To be fair, I have nothing against the game itself, and the graphics do seem quite intricate and innovated, but rather I grow increasingly mad whenever I am forced to compete with a war simulation.  Yesterday I found myself trying to fit conversation into game pauses, and chores could only be started after a mission was completed.  My boyfriend literally could not listen to me unless he paused the game which caused me to repeat myself over and over.  Becoming more and more resentful of the power that this fake world had, I lost it.  I threw a temper tantrum and demanded that he hear me and contribute some time to the household chores.  


It was not my most flattering moment, but I think that he got the message that his gaming policy of isolationism is not really going to fly with me.  He tried to convince me of the validity of gaming as a hobby, similar to any other.  Sitting on the couch pushing buttons and exclaiming every once in a while does not strike me as a good pastime. Unless of course you are playing with another person, and it can be viewed as a bonding experience of sorts, but that is the exception.  Also, if one reviews video games or writes about their gaming experiences, then I can see it as a legitimate pursuit.  If it brings you together as a couple to shoot a zombie's head off, then go for it, but if a person simply sits by themselves and kills, then I don't really understand the appeal.  


Considering the widespread influence of video games I think that it would take an effort on the part of women similar to that of the Greek ladies in the play Lysistrata.  In that play, women withheld sexual favours until the men in their lives negotiated a peace settlement and ended the Peloponnesian War.  Things have not gotten tense enough in my household for me to go to these extremes, but it would be an amusing parody for a woman to raise her voice in protest of war simulations that steal away their partner's attention.  If I have a quick moment while his game is loading, I may share these thoughts with my better half.  Or just hope that he beats it quickly, and I will have his attention before the next over-hyped title hits the stores. I live in hope.         

A Remembrance Day Must-Read

It has been a few weeks since my last update and I am glad to be back in the saddle. Originally I had intended to talk about Fifteen Days by Christine Blatchford over a week ago and not a few days before Remembrance Day, but sometimes things work out the way that they are supposed to.  I wanted to read this book for years and never got around to it until I saw it a few weeks back on the library shelves.  When it first came out, I heard positive reviews and filed it away in the back of my mind.  My boyfriend brought it up again when we went to the bookstore, saying that when he was in basic training, all the guys were reading it.  Upon reading this book I soon found out why it was so popular amongst future soldiers.  It gives a great snapshot account of how life in Afghanistan really was for our men and women in uniform in 2006.  Blatchford was covering the war for The Globe and Mail and had a knack for getting the soldiers to open up about their experiences in a manner that hasn't been duplicated.  Her voice as a writer is very singular and I think it gives the reader a clue as to how she could succeed in her pursuit of the stories of her subjects.  To me, her tomboyish style and willingness to put her life at risk probably endeared her to the soldiers she accompanied and allowed her more access.  


This access gave her a tremendous amount of material for the book which posed a large problem for Blatchford when she decided to finally compose it.  She begins the book by outlining this dilemma in her Author's Note, where she explains how she came up with the format.  Each chapter represents one day of fighting and its repercussions.  The action as detailed by Blatchford and the Canadian soldiers is just plain riveting.  I considered myself to be an informed person, but I really had no clue as to what Canadians faced in their battles against the Taliban.  With few exceptions, I think that the coverage of the war tends to focus on the deaths of individual Canadian soldiers without giving the public much of an idea of the daily struggles they deal with.  I had some idea as to the brutal conditions  that soldiers continue to battle, but didn't fully comprehend how burnt out our overstretched military was.  Blatchford chronicles how Canadian units were often sent into battle or on supply runs without sleep or reprieve of any sort because there was no one else to get the job done.  The other thing that I didn't have much knowledge of is the terrain of Afghanistan besides the caves, opium fields, and desert.  One element that proved problematic for the soldiers in the same manner as in Vietnam, is the green belt of jungle that the Taliban retreated into.  I was not aware of any such greenery nor did I know about how many times Canadians fought in towns.  Often (especially in the Panjwaii District) NATO forces had to fight over the same collection of buildings on multiple occasions which provided a lot of frustration for our troops.      


Though the revelations the book provides about the situation on the ground are compelling, the stories of the individual soldiers and their families are equally riveting.  I came to this book from the unique perspective of someone who is both within and apart from the military community.  As time goes on, I feel more and more connected with other women whose partners are serving, but the experiences of army spouses is something that I can only relate to on an extremely superficial level.  The story of Darcia Arndt, the wife of Master Corporal Ray Arndt, really touched me.  She always kept the phone next to her when she slept in case her husband was trying to get in touch with her and only stopped a week before he was scheduled to return home.  He was killed in a motor vehicle accident during the last week of his deployment.  Before I read that story, I often kept the phone on my bedside table because my boyfriend called at odd hours from the ship, and I found the connection extremely eerie. 


The book ends, appropriately enough, with the soldiers discussing Remembrance Day. They are in a unique position within the community of Canadian veterans because they are the only group to have seen serious action since WWII.  Sure we have been peacekeeping in various locations throughout the world, but Afghanistan is an entirely different kettle of fish.  Blatchford successfully conveys this point with her stirring and detailed analysis of the lives of Canadian soldiers and the challenges they faced.  As a Canadian, I felt even more proud of the troops and was more awed by their everyday issues.  Though I'm sure I've said this about a number of books, Fifteen Days is definitely required reading for any Canadian, not just those in basic training.  


  

Do I Want to Know?

I must admit that I've always had a fascination for crime.  Due to the fact that I am a pretty law-abiding straight-laced individual, I have always been interested in the motivations of killers and the circumstances surrounding their crimes.  This is what directed me to take a Holocaust seminar during my university days, and watch gritty procedural dramas and documentaries today.  

This week there has been plenty of criminal drama to satisfy my curiosity.  Last night I was up later than I should have watching The National's coverage of the ongoing Russell Williams trial and sentencing hearing.  When the news of his crimes initially broke, I was dumbfounded.  The fact that such an individual managed to lead two very different lives without any professional issues, is quite amazing in the worst sense of the word.  For someone to be committing serious, perverted crimes during the night, and still have the ability to function in a demanding, high-profile job come daytime, is so startling.  It's like he just flipped a switch between his two identities.  Though there are many dysfunctional relationships amongst those in the military, the men and women who serve our country place a high value upon human life and thus his actions are more puzzling.  

The other question that coverage of his trial poses is how much the media should reveal to the public.  During the broadcast, there were a number of details of the sexual torture that Williams put his victims through before he eventually killed them.  The reporters were candid that there was a large discussion in the newsroom about how much should be reported, and what was considered excessive.  Apparently they reported only a small fraction of the evidence the prosecution presented in the courtroom, and tried to balance the curiosity of the public and compassion for the victims' families.  I think this is a very interesting question, and one that came up a few years ago during the Robert Picton murder trial as well.  The gruesome facts of his story presented reporters with the same dilemma and I often felt that I was being told too much.  My main issue with grisly crime details is that once I hear awful facts, I cannot unlearn them.  They are stuck in my brain and will be summoned by my psyche at the worst possible moment.  I will turn off the rational part of my head and become even more paranoid of possible crimes that may be committed against me.  

As a woman who sometimes lives alone, I have enough things to fear.  If my identity isn't being stolen because I bought clothing online, or I'm not being harassed by some drunk guy in a bar who thinks I'm a bitch for not wanting to dance with him or any other typical thing women think about, then I'm at my apartment concerned about home invasion.  I don't actually worry about any of these things, but the media does promote a certain amount of fear amongst the population in general.  Particularly, American news broadcasts seem to relay one possible tragedy after another.  If I'm not prey for roofie-bearing slime, then I may get cancer from my plastic water bottle.  Though I would never downplay the severity of any of these issues, I don't need to have any more paranoia in my life.  Whenever I listen to coverage of high-profile trials, I lose confidence in my own instincts and my ability to protect myself.  The women victimized by Williams were probably smart, savvy people and it's hard to differentiate them from myself.  That's the real scary thing.