Lost, 1.4

Quick hitter tonight, because I'll be on vacation when y'all read this. Side note, does anyone actually read these? Comments welcome!

Anyhoo….. Last week was a very good episode, for a lot of reasons I've already written about. This one is better. There's a confidence and muscularity to the storytelling that's just enormously appealing, and it's anchored by the most charismatic actor in the cast. Oh, and the island cured a paraplegic. So there's that. On the whole, it's a reminder that pilots (as in the first two episodes), are really, really difficult to get right. The third episode faces many of the same problems. This one is the first real instance of the show hitting its stride and starting to establish pace and stakes and a rythmn. And what a rythmn it is.

I'm not going to say that John Locke knew what the phone-sex operator would say when he asked her to go to Australia. But I can't say that he didn't. There's an undercurrent of self-loathing through that scene, and more than an undercurrent as he sits in his pathetic white cube in the vast room full of corporate drones. It's no accident that the asshole boss asks him for TPS reports. Normally I can't stand meta in-jokes, but the reference is so affectionate and the dramatic usage so intriguing (vicious satire re-purposed in service of redemptive drama), that it genuinely works. The boss is such a parody that he pushes the scenes a bit too far out; I'd prefer a subtler, more real form of villainy to match Terry O'Quinn's precise work, but the emotional through-line has such clarity that it's really a minor annoyance.

Speaking of O'Quinn, he's f-ing phenomenal through the entire episode. Locke is a fascinating character. He's clearly a strong, confident personality, and extremely capable in rough situations. I'm not sure if he was a Colonel, but ex-military is entirely easy to believe. The good part, and what the actor is so amazingly skilled at portraying, is his fear. It would've been easy, with the restoration of his legs, to make Locke into a superhuman ultraman type of deal. He's old enough to project wisdom and leadership, clearly intelligent, and that's before we get into the very particular set of skills and so forth. But…. Locke is scared, a little tentative, awed by the miracle of his legs. He's also slightly but noticeably full of shit. There's a certain element of bluster as he strides into the underbrush chasing boar. The case full of knives is hilarious, but it's also, dare I say, compensating for something. That's an awful lot of notes to hit in one episode, and O'Quinn nails every last one flawlessly.

The one problem, of course, is that Locke makes everyone else boring by comparison. Look, I get what Matthew Fox is doing, but there's just no surprise in the character. He's easy in a way that feels out of step with the rest of the show. Something happened to him in the fairly recent past, which made him lose faith, but I can already see the late-season beat when he prays again and so on. Execution is fine, but it's all fairly meh. Far better is that whole bit where, oh yeah, the island fixes Locke's spine. Ummm. How? I'm thinking something more akin to magic than science. I'm glad to see the show so directly adress the insanity of tons of people somehow surviving a plane crash. These are good developments, and getting better with every passing episode. What a fun show.

See you kids on Sunday/Monday for Twilight. That one…. well let's just say I ain't looking forward. Have a great holiday!

Twilight, Chapter 4

In which your fearless blogger contemplates the nature of assholery. Villain, thy name is Cullen!

Let's talk about dialogue attribution. In On Writing, which is the best single book on that subject since Strunk and White, Stephen King states that finishing dialogue with anything other than "He/She said," is weak, dumb, and generally amateurish. Stephenie Meyer finishes every. single. fucking. piece. of dialogue with something other than that simple, elegant combination. "He retorted…. I challenged….. He warned…. He explained….I interrupted…." And so on. She thinks her readers are idiots. That's the only possible explanation. Oh, or she's a shitty author who (correctly) doesn't trust her dialogue to be good enough to function without the attribution / adverbs. The solution, Mrs. Meyer, is to write things that actually make sense on their own, and are recognizable as something a teenager / whatever-the-fuck-Edward-is might actually say. So far, you fail.

Speaking of fuck-wit Cullen, he's a vampire, no? Likes munching on carotids? "I'm tired of staying away from you, Bella." He's tired. Of staying away. So, now, they will have some sort of relationship. Does she get any choice here? Clearly not, because destiny and all that other horseshit. This huy is simply an asshole, and the way he's treating Bella already, even before the advent of real relationshippy-relationship stuff, is disgusting. If you're dangerous to her, idiot, then say that and go away. Really quite simple. You're rich. Build a house in Antarctica or whatever and vanish. Please?

Even little things, like a theoretically innocuous girls-choice dance, feature more lovely instances of Bella's agency being taken by the parade of morons populating her highschool. Tyler hears her refusal as "Sorry about this weekend, I'd still like to bang you at the next dance." I mean, really? Bella does treat him with the annoyed disgust he deserves, but I wonder how his actions are in any way worse than those of the one and only E. Cullen. Well, Tyler wrongs Bella and trys to apologize, over and over. He seems to recognize that he did something dumb, and wishes to make amends. His methods suck, true, but the kid is thinking rationally and trying to do the proverbial right thing. Edward is…. well, exact opposite of that. He's the hero of the book. My brain hurts.

This is a bit of a repeat of last week's rant, but I think it needs to be said again; The book is glorifying superficiality, physical beauty, the posession of stuff in ways I find incredibly disturbing. Edward has cutting cheekbones, a nice car, pretty clothes, and he's irresistible. Mike (for example) seems like a reasonably nice, good-hearted highschool dude. Bella gives him no consideration, and repeatedly compares him to a dog. Is this anything to do with his personal qualities, or is it his lack of (forgive me) sex appeal? I focus on this question, because the book is making the classic dumb-ass teenager mistake of confusing love for lust. There's nothing wrong, and a lot right, with a healthy serving of lust in a relationship, but is that really how we choose our soulmates?

Food for thought! Just don't drink blood while you're contemplating. Horrible on the digestion. See you back here for Lost on thursday, my Bloods and Crips!

horror, humor, and meat tenderizers: You're Next

Horror is cool. It's a lean, agressive genre, often the first stop for hungry young directors looking to make their mark. I actually think it's the best sort of film for a new auteur honing their skills. Action, these days, belongs to computer wizards, with directors more like administrators than battle commanders. Comedy is for the former-standup improv guys, straight drama for writers, romance for heart-throbs. Horror is pure filmmaking. Its best moments are created through sight and sound, careful editing and precise frames. I applauded the choice of James Wan for the next F&F movie, precisely because he's already shown mastery over every aspect of a filmmaker's craft. These skills translate anywhere.

I've heard from a lot of people I trust that You're Next, Adam Wingard's nasty little broadhead of a slasher flick, is one of those movies that announces a huge new talent onto the scene. Verdict? Maaaybe. Just maybe. It isn't a Jaws level revelation, but a kickass, scary, funny movie for no money is still one hell of a feat. Wingard will be around a long time. This is a juvenile movie, flawed, the work of someone still growing into his ideas, but the bones are already here.

If there's a major flaw, it's that of being a bit derivative. Wingard steals from the best and does it well, but so much of the setup is familar. I kept expecting the reveal that Erin's real last name is Ripley, and that her mother Ellen did all the teaching. Don't get me wrong, I love a badass female protagonist, and Erin is a really, really cool one. Sharni Vinson looks like she's 15, and manages to be completely believable wielding a tenderizer. The whole thing is a nice dig at the concept of a "final girl," the horror movie cliche who makes it the final reel by power of general perkiness. Vinson has the look, but man oh man is she playing a different game. The last deliberate kill, which I won't spoil, is a triumph of ferocity and heartbreak playing across her face.

You're Next is very much part of the haunted house / scary mansion tradition, and the old heap makes a fine, majestically crumbling character. I'm fascinated by the way that the strangers are the ones who seem to know it best, to navigate the twists and turn and hidden spaces with the most skill. Part of it, just being practical, is that the masks are soldiers, and Erin is whatever the hell Erin is. But doesn't it seem like the core family is awful ignorant about their own house? Or perhaps it's just being uncomfortable, uncertain. This isn't home and hasn't been for a long time. Who are the real intruders? The actors, mostly indie-film stalwarts and good friends of Wingard (they all write, direct, and act together in various combinations), are very good at illuminating the infinite web of bullshit that's tangled between these people over the years. They're not good people, and if the personalities stray a bit towards type, I'm willing to overlook that as a way to get to the good stuff with minimal exposition.

Wait, you thought "good stuff" meant the bloodletting? Wingard's best, positively Spielbergian trait is his patience. The movie plays out in the beats between blood-sprays, the silence while lightning builds. It's a movie about the vicousness of family, the constant one-upsmanship between brothers that leaves one, only one, laughing. Erin and Cee share a late scene that involves one of them lifting a nail-studded board as a weapon. But the real wound was inflicted earlier, and you can see from the jealousy in Cee's eyes that she knows she's already lost. She'll never be as competent and smart as the Aussie stranger, and if there's one thing Cee can't take it's being second at, well, anything.

Beats like that make the movie. Straight action scenes are tossed off, almost perfunctory, entirely competent but you never get the sense that Wingard cares too much about the stylishness of his many kills. These sequences are used to build character and inject humor, not to horrify or repulse. Notice, in a certain kill-scene in the basement, that it's framed and cut like a joke. Quick, matching edits across eyelines, precise use of sound, pan down to the punchline etc. Another moment, involving a sprint and a wire, plays out like a sightgag worthy of the stooges. Heroic music, slo-mo run annnnnnnnnd……

You're next indeed, Mr. Wingard.

Lost, 1.3

"We all died three days ago. We deserve to start over." - That, ladies and gents, is a thesis statement. Surpisingly early in the run, but this seems to be something that will guide the show going forwards. What is rebirth, and does the show mean they died, like, literally? Cause I could kind of see that being the case. Quiet contemplation runs through the episode, and it's much the better for it. Bombast is well and good, and probably needed to hook the audience, but if this is the model from now on, I'll be pretty thrilled. It's a brutal episode, spiked by two of the best pieces of dark humor I've seen since ever, and a lot of great character work. Just awesome all around.

So what did Kate do? Murder? Possibly, but if so it was self-defense. She's virtuous, too dang nice to be believable as some sort of scheming black widow. I believe the bad relationship, some nightmare in her past. I've said before that I'm fascinated by people acting precisely, and Kate is clinical in her planning. But she's naive, too, and trusting. Experienced in these things but untrained, not a professional. Notice that she can't pull the trigger. She's fooling herself to some extent (is shooting someone so different from having them shot?), but she at least believes there's something to be preserved. The island now becomes her proving ground, as it seems to be for them all.

The mysterious Mr. Locke has seen a miracle. Terry O'Quin twinkles paternally and reveals nothing. There's no lightness to his decision to let the father return the dog. It's redemptive. His eyes in that last shot are scales, the balance not yet achieved. Backgammon fits, even if the metaphor is clumsy. It occurs to me that he asked the little boy which side he wanted to take, instead of Locke making the choice. Will this be his question to all the others? Is he just ahead in the game, or is he the one tilting the scales? My hope is that every episode is devoted to the background of a single character, as this one if for Kate. The producers assembled a rich and interesting cast, and we've seen glimpses and hints of stories from many of them. What the hell is going on with Sun and whoever Daniel Dae-Kim is playing?

But the cast is now smaller by one, and the marshall / bounty hunter jackass won't be getting a showcase episode. Very sad. Also hilarious. I don't give a crap about the man himself. A plot device and nothing more, but what a great slice of black humor as he dies. Vicious and wild and astonishingly real. This is a situation of hard and brutal choices. Sawyer is right the entire time. The man needs to die, and the absurdity of these scared, bumbling idiots is exactly how they might actually act in that situation. Sawyer, incidentally, isn't quite as big a badass as he'd like everyone to think. Been in a few fights? Sure. Killer? Weeeeeellllllll. Sorry bro.

And a huge apology as well to that poor farmer, whose lost arm made me cackle. Look, real life is funny. It's messy and dumb and full of smart people doing stupid shit. Few shows even try to reflect that balance, to bring order and chaos and chance into a depiction that feels organic. There are many, many ways the increasingly huge mythology could spiral out of control, and the elements of surprise will get harder to sustain with each episode. But, for now, it's pretty damn cool.

Speaking of things that aren't cool…. See you Sunday for Twilight. Aw crap…...

Twilight, Chapter 3

In which there is ice, in all the wrong places.

In one of his wildly entertaining reviews of terrible movies, Roger Ebert coined the term "idiot plot" to deisgnate those pieces of fiction whose plots depend on supposedly worthwhile characters acting like fucking morons at all possible times. Allow me to present a scenario, dear reader; Imagine a school parking lot, a few minutes before the day's first class, and in it a girl, a patch of ice, a skidding van. A boy, standing perhaps thirty feet distant, notices and grabs the van before it can pancake said girl. He manuevers both objects, which are equally inert and uninteresting, all while avoiding any injury to self, girl, or driver. None of the several dozen people standing in the parking lot, all of whose heads swiveled at the sound of squealing tires and terrified screams, notices anything unusual. Um. So, clearly, they're fucking idiots. This is therefore an idiot plot. I feel ill.

Because I try to be fair between snark attacks, I say this; Stephenie Meyer is trying. She's trying really hard, you guys. Failing, but in the real world you get an A for effort, so it's all ok right? Right? Bella needs to find out, somehow, exactly why her icy asshole of a future lover is an icy asshole, and him saving her life is as good a way as any to kickstart what I'm sure will be an electrifying storyline. Actually: Just once I'd love to read a book about two people, one of them with the standard tortured / supernatural / whatever background who fall in love. Then, out of respect and a desire for honesty, the tortured one reveals all, and the couple goes about dealing with whatever shit the plot tosses at them as a cohesive team with a relationship based on mutual respect and trust. I'm sure that's exactly how Twilight will go.

Except…. Not, it won't. I know this because Edward Cullen is an asshole. He's dismissive, arrogant, entitled, and a bunch of other lovely qualities. He's a statue, marble and flawless and so very, very cold.  If his unique situation prevented the answering of Bella's questions that would be one thing. But he seems determined to be as big a jackass as humanly possible instead of simply saying no. We're supposed to root for this guy? For this relationship? Perhaps there are redeeming qualities, buried deep. I hope so, but I doubt it. Eyes do not penetrate. They don't blaze. There's a childishness to the perspective on love and lust in this book, a sense of inexperience and uncertainty and deep confusion. Were I dealing with a better author I might view these as positives, an artist getting inside the mind of her innocent protagonist. But Meyer isn't a good author and this isn't that sort of book. She wants us to believe in the inevitability, the destiny of these two being together. Destiny robs choice. What are we rooting for exactly?

I continue to feel badly for Charlie, who remains the only recognizably human, sympathetic character in this shitshow. He's gruff, a bit awkward, but loves his daughter and wants only to keep her safe and happy. These are qualities to applaud. Not so much on the walking pile of superficiality that is Doctor Carlisle Cullen. He's young and pretty. Why does this make him a good doctor or a good person? I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!

If I simply didn't like the book, whatever. I've read a lot of books and seen a lot of movies I didn't enjoy, and there's little harm in that. But this is actively disturbing, and it's only going to get worse from what I hear. We'll see. I'll be back for Lost on Thursday. Peace out kids!

Lost, 1.2

A fucking polar bear. In the middle of a rainforest. Now we're talking. For a show like this to work, it needs to be bonkers. Wild, unpredictable, everyone in danger. I'm all for basing things in character-driven plot, but come on. The mythology, so far, is by far the most interesting part. Bears! Crazy marooned French Lady! Sawyer has a gun! The marshall is awake! Oh, wait, no, that last part isn't so hot. It's more of a boring cliche, executed in the most predictable way possible. Yeah, Hurley passing out is funny, but the whole c-plot feels lazy in a way that's unworthy of the rest of the episode. Enough negativity!

The episode is titled "Pilot, part 2," and it certainly looks like the larger budget is carried over. The plane crash, shown from a half-dozen angles so far, is a crisply excellent piece of tv direction. It's a great set, the camera movements are sharp. and every shot is designed as wordless exposition and revealing character beat all at once. I'd much rather watch Charlie scrabble is the restroom than hear paragraphs spat into the air about his addiction. Cutting back and forth to him on the island keeps things interesting, showing that Charlie is still a fundamentally smart, competent person. He's very much the same live-wire, possibly dangerous addict, but there's a refreshing complexity to the character even in this (very, very early) stage of things.

Kate, not so much. Aside from a completely gratutitous shot of her in underwear (Side note; I'd never object to Evangeline Lilly being almost naked on my screen. But, really Abrams? Was that needed? I'm sensing a pattern. Paging Alice Eve…..), there's just not too much purpose to Kate's plot. It'd be nice, just once, if someone was exactly who they appear to be. Skip the tortured backstory / mysterious tragedy / wrongful accusation, and just introduce a personality. Let things evolve from there. I get the impulse, and there's an admirable sense that Kate, and all of her compadres, have arrived here as fully formed people with rich and interesting backstories. This is good (excellent, actually), but I also get the feeling that the writers are too in love with just how complicated they've made everything.

Speaking of complexity….. Where or what is the island? Related question; How did so many people survive a fucking plane crash? Like, really. One can overlook these questions if the show is obviously not taking place in anything resembling our reality. But this is a show about cracks, not canyons. It's close, and the laws of physics are respected. So there's magic here, or technology so good there's no difference. Purgatory? Perhaps. The banality fits, the struggle to maintain everydayness. So does the bending of nature, the cracks we can already see spreading. But… No. Purgatory is pointless, and there's a design to the island. I'm fascinated by precision onscreen, glimpses of plans made far, far before the camera ever began to shed light. Sixteen years is a very long time. The pain in that woman's voice is real. Someone saw the plane coming, awaited it for years. We'll meet them eventually. Unless we already have, of course. I know I asked this last week, buuuuuut what is Terry O'Quinn up to exactly?

So many questions! And we're just getting started. See y'all on Sunday for Twilight, my fellow freaks & geeks.

Twilight, Chp 2

In which snow falls from the sky, and all is perfect. Psyc!

Oh. So that's why everyone hates Twilight. Makes sense. I now present a sentence from chapter 2, written as always in the perspective of our fearless (or something) protagonist, Bella Swan, and referring to the object of her confused lust, Edward Cullen; "I couldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by that degree of beauty." First off, it's an atrocious piece of writing. Doubling up on "that," using the conditional; Just a boring, weak, statement that's remarkably representative of the writing I've seen in two chapters of this book. But whatever. No, the real issue here is in content, not execution.

We all know that the primary consumers of this book and its sequels are teenage girls. I'm not trying to stereotype, and I certainly have no issue with literature targeted at that audience, but come on. Young women are the driven, passionate fans, and everything about the book is designed to appeal to them. So I'll ask; What kind of message do we want to send girls about oh, I don't know, body image, self-worth, shallowness, perception-v-reality, the steaming pile of shit that is our whole sex-sells advertising industry? Anyone? Should we, perhaps, try to move the conversation in a way that doesn't tie physical perfection and societal value? And, more importantly; What the fuck, Stephanie Meyer?

Wikipedia informs me that Mrs. Meyer is married, and the mother of three sons. I do not have children, but if I did, I'd raise my sons to respect women and themselves, and to understand that doors are opened through a combination of hard work and treating people the right way. Physical beauty is well and good if you have it, but it doesn't convey any kind of exceptionalism. Now, some of you probably think I'm harping here, and generally being too hard on a book meant for teens. I'm definitely harping, but is it such a stretch to think that a book can change someone's life? The way people talk about Twilight is much deeper than a mere piece of entertainment. It's held up as profound, wise about relationships, men and women and love. It occurs to me that love and lust are entirely different. They can coincide, sure, but pretending they're interchangeable…. hoo boy.

Also pissing me off is the insinuation that the Cullens are awesome because they have money, wear nice clothes, drive a fancy car etc. Having a lot of stuff and razored cheekbones doesn't make them good people. We have this weird idea that posession of fundamentally shallow qualities makes someone worthy of worship. See, for example, the entire industry devoted to holding up athletes as role models. Barry Bonds was remarkably gifted at hitting baseballs over walls (even before the roids), and also a raging asshole. The Cullens are pretty, but I'm deeply concerned that the book wants us to think that's all we could ever need to know about them.

The chapter also features something I'll charitably call plot advancement. Related note; Edward is kind of a self-centered jackass. Meyer is setting him up to be a charismatic, mysterious, brooding James Dean type. One problem; She has the perspectives mixed. We're experiencing these interactions from inside the head of an emotionally screwed-up teenage girl, who's further confused by the fact that she already wants to bang Edward's brains out (not that there's anything wrong with that). If Edward is going to be appealing, we need more clarity as to his motivations. Speaking in ellipses is all well and good if you're Yoda, and pre-established as wise and powerful. Whatever's going on here is torturous, not tortured. Edward isn't a character, he's just a OneD song on repeat.

Be warned, people. I'm gonna be swearing a lot more before this project finishes. See you next week for Lost!

Lost, 1.1

Lost is an odd duck. We've all heard that it's the most influential show of the 21st century (for better or worse), creative children everywhere, and so on. It might be more important, though, for all the stuff that went on simultaneously behind the scenes and out on the internet. Messr's Cuse and Lindelhof are (again, for better or worse), the models of every modern showrunner. The fan engagement, hint-dropping, and creative course-changes in response to social media… This is all unprecedented, industry shattering stuff. And, like most works of pop culture with this level of saturation and impact, the actual quality of the show has gotten lost in the fervor. I, personally, had never seen a full episode before tonight, even though I'm at least familiar with the story of the show. So for these recap / response thingies, I'm going to try and stay away from all of that crap. I want to focus on the show as a piece of televised art, not as a facebook thread. Gentle reminder; I'm going to watch and blog the entire show, one episode per post, at least one post per week. There will be blood. Let's rock!

 Pilots are always lumpy. They're shot months before the series, with a big budget but a lot of creative constraints. The best of the breed present intriguing characters, a compelling world, and throw in enough drama to make the audience NEED to tune in next week. That's an awful lot to get through in 40 minutes. But, happily, Lost gets a solid 1.5 of those three. The worldbuilding is terrific, starting off in a more-or-less recognizable reality to make the intro smoother, and then throwing a healthy dose of batshit insanity into the second half of the episode to keep things interesting. Everything here (the island, marooning, giant monstrous beastie) is archetypal enough that it would feel familiar in lesser hands, but Abrams & co execute well and pace it perfectly. The gorgeous Hawaiian locations help immeasurably, lending the proceedings a feeling of isolation, an almost claustrophobic sensation of being completely cut off in the midst of all that greenery. Technical credits are stellar across the board. The various parts of the plane just look fantastic, and provide a nice differentiation and energy as the plot shifts.

Oh right, there's a plot. Abrams, Cuse, and Lindelhof are riffing on standard variations of old stories. There's a doctor on the plane because of course there is, and he has a tortured backstory because obviously. That scene between Jack and Kate is the worst thing in the pilot by far. Mathew Fox plays it just fine, but the story is such a cliche that it sucks all momentum clean out of the show. At this point, I'm hoping he was lying or something similarly intriguing, but one doubts it. Jack is set up as a leader and protagonist early on, which may or may not be a good thing. Fox is plenty charismatic enough to carry the show, but the writers are saddling him with a massive square of a character. Similarly, Evangeline Lilly is a very pretty blank, and really isn't given much to do beyond look scared.

My hope, even at this early stage, is that the show gives itself over to the ensemble. Dominic Monaghan has such a great, sparky energy as the not-at-all what he seems Charlie, and watching him clash with Jack seems like a much better use of both characters. Jorge Garcia gives good funny, but there's a sweetness and sincerity to him that could make for a very fine dramatic character, given some time and room to breathe. And, of course, there's Terry O'Quinn. I have no idea who he's playing or what that gentleman was doing on the plane. It doesn't matter. I have to think the showrunners know what a weapon that man is. He's shot and framed like a God in the pilot, and…. well, no idea. But something. Definitely something.

I don't know if I'd call Lost a good pilot. There's an admirable amount of attention to detail, but the whole thing simply feels too of-a-piece with too many earlier, better things. Still, the location is beautiful, the production immaculate, and the characters are either specifically drawn, or played by good enough actors that I don't mind too much. I'm intrigued, and looking forward to the next episode. That's about all one can ask. See you on Sunday for the next Twilight!

Twilight, Chapter 1

In which there is rain, and sparkles, and misery. But that's just me….

Oh boy. Why do I do this to myself? Is it genetic? Can I blame my parents? These questions aside, I'd like to welcome everyone to the first of my many, many posts as I read the Twilight novels, chapter by chapter. This will be fun. Before we start in earnest, here's what you should know about me; I'm 25, a dude, have a degree in English literature, and generally dislike romances, rom-coms, supernatural romances, and all their many cousins and bastard children. I have never read Twilight, and my exposure to the franchise thus far has been limited to seeing movie posters, and once listening to a pair of very passionate young ladies talking about Team Jacob while standing in line at an airport. So, yeah. My main approach to this series is that of a literary / cultural critic. I'm interested in stories, zeitgeist, and the rare meetings between those two. Twilight is, indisputably, a gigantic phenomenon, and hopefully I can tease out the why and how from under various layers of shiny vampireness. Let's get started.

So, to my pleasant and considerable surprise, the first chapter (and short prologue), kinda sorta doesn't suck. Nor is it exactly good, either. The prose is atrocious, the characters cliched, and the situations rote. But there are hints of interesting ideas and a lengthy, lived-in mythology to go on. Bella's problems, which are more like minor inconveniences but whatever, are familiar enough to grant easy identification. The clues about the Cullen family keep things feeling at least marginally fresh and different. Meyer has clearly thought about the world she's creating, and the little hits of supernatural make a certain sense. Well yes, vampires would congregate in the most overcast place on Earth. They want to fit in, and so go to highschool, but the differences are apparent enough that there's already a sense of stigmata.

Bella herself has many of the same issues, and anyone who's spent time being stared at in a highschool knows how easy it is to be become separated, to drift. Meyer really can't write, but she understands something of the social currents tugging at her protagonist. The other characters need to be fleshed out posthaste, but Bella is at least a compelling heroine. She's refreshingly pragmatic, whiny, and touchingly aware of teetering on the edge between child and adult. Completely different dynamics with her two parents, being the kid to one and essentially mothering the other. I'm not saying anything is presented with skill, but there's much here for a teenager to identify with. Oh, but about the family….

Charlie is fine. Boring, but he's written with a certain sense of warmth and humanity, and I'm prepared to give benefit of the doubt this early. The mother, though. Woof. The main criticism of this series seems to revolve around it being profoundly misogynistic. Some of the things I noticed in passages with the mother; "Child-like…. Innocent…. At least she has Phil….." etc. So this grown-ass woman is completely dependant on her husband to stay clothed, fed, and otherwise functional in modern society. Um. First off, it just doesn't make character sense. Is this a person who'd flip out and move away from Forks, taking infant daughter with her? And really, Stephanie Meyer, what are you setting up here? Is this the type of relationship that's going to run through the books? Cause if it is, we're gonna have words before this is over.

Annnnnnd that'll do it for the first entry. Come back next week for more, games, and sparkles!

P.S. Yes, I know there was a prologue. It wasn't particularly interesting. Vampires, danger, shitty writing. Ok, time for a mini-rant. We know Bella is the main character of the series. She isn't going to die in the first fucking book. Stop, Stephenie Meyer. Just stop. Blah Blah trying to create tension. Didn't work. Bella is in no danger, none, and she's the only character we've met, so there's no reason to care about anyone else. The prologue is a waste of good ink. Rant over. Talk to y'all soon.

Announing Two (yes, really) New Series!

I haven't been writing enough. This is bad for many reasons, chief among them that writing makes me really happy. The reasons are standard. Work, lack of sleep, social life, nothing to write about etc etc. Standard but valid. These things take up most of my time, which is as it should be. But, I really need to write more. I can feel the skills atrophying, not just of stringing words, but of critical, organized, disciplined thinking. I can't lose everything I've worked on, and I think the day we completely give up our pasions is the day we die. So….

I will write two posts per week, every week. One will go live around Sunday evening, one around Thursday evening. To get started properly, I'll be doing two long series; A read of the Twilight Saga (yes, really), and a watch of Lost. One chapter or episode per post, one post of each series per week. Why these two series? Glad you asked…..

Well, I haven't read/watched either of them before. Twilight simply doesn't appeal (I'm a 25 yr old man), and Lost always seemed too insidery and obtuse when it was airing. But, they're undeniably two of the biggest pop-cultural phenomenon of all time, and I'm fascinated by those kinds of things. I like getting inside of stories, figuring out what makes them tick, and figuring out if they're, to borrow a phrase from Roger Ebert, succesful in being about the things they're about. Plus, I figure my reactions to Twilight should be good for some lulz for y'all. Not really sure, just yet, what form the posts will take. Probably a bit of re-cap to start, but it'll mostly be my reaction to these things as a cultural critic and commentator. Should be interesting, and will definitely be fun. First Twilight post will be up tomorrow, with Lost kicking off on Wednesday or Thursday. Hope everyone enjoys.