We'd been members of Sam's Club, the warehouse wholesale branch of Wal-mart, for years. Way back in the day, our annual membership had been free, which is how we got started. And there are some things worth buying in bulk -- detergent, paper towels, and so forth. And then, when the kids arrived, we found the best secret in Sam's -- the house-brand diapers. Less expensive than Pampers or any other name brand offered, and they worked fine and fit better.
I'm not much of a fan of Wal-mart -- I don't shop there unless I've run out of other options. But I was willing to shop at Sam's Club, as it served a purpose financially, there was no other warehouse club in range, and the diapers were really good.
Costco opened a store in North Austin around 2001, and I got the complimentary one-year starter membership, but never renewed because the location was no advantage. That changed recently; Costco opened a South Austin store last year.
And, about six months ago, we stopped needing diapers. And this is very, very much a good thing. (Way to go, Carson!)
When our Sam's membership came up for annual renewal in May, I let it go, rounded up the kids, and off we went to Costco. We signed up a few weeks ago, and they still had me in their records.
So far, all is good. Prices are comparable, location is not bad, and the product selection is similar, sometimes identical. Plus they sell sushi trays (including huge sushi trays), which I haven't yet tried but am anticipating with enthusiasm.
There are a number of Wall Street advisers who don't like Costco because they sacrifice some potential profitability in favor of treating the employees well, and the CEO doesn't pull down some obscene, eight-figure salary. On the whole, Costco has a better moral and ethical position than Sam's (Wal-mart, remember; nothing more need be said). Well, Wall Street is packed full of assholes, so to hell with them. Out here in the real world, Costco serves us well.
Buh-bye, Sam's Club. Hullo, Costco.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Summer movie reviews #5 -- The Incredible Hulk
Marvel is on a roll, and it looks like they know it.
Their newest release, The Incredible Hulk, is a treat. This is the Hulk movie we didn't get in 2003, and what the 1970s television series never could feasibly deliver.
This time, Hulk SMASHES!!! As he should.
It cribs some concepts from the TV series -- Banner's gamma overdose happens in the lab, not a bomb test site -- but stays faithful to the original comics. Poor Bruce is always on the run, trying to figure out a way to cure himself from his condition, loving and missing his brilliant girlfriend, whose tunnel-vision general father will stop at nothing to capture Banner and learn how to weaponize the Hulk effect.
Hulk smashes things. And unlike the TV series or the previous movie, in this one he does talk, just a little, much like he did (of necessity) in the comics.
General Ross authorizes another gamma treatment on a gung-ho career soldier who wants to go head-to-head with Hulk, and so we get a full-blown slugfest that wrecks uptown Manhattan. (In the old comics, New York always got all the abuse from hero-villain fights. Always. Now, this made some practical sense, because Marvel's offices were and are in New York, so the writers and artists liked blowing up the ol' hometown. But geez, why would anyone keep living there? Property values can be trashed with a single ray beam or missed super-punch. Marvel's New York was easily the world's most dangerous city.)
A closing cameo by Tony Stark hints at the next Marvel movie, and judging by recent efforts, it should be a rocking blast.
Three stars of five. Great summertime, popcorn-class, beat-em-up, knock-down, drag-out movie.
Their newest release, The Incredible Hulk, is a treat. This is the Hulk movie we didn't get in 2003, and what the 1970s television series never could feasibly deliver.
This time, Hulk SMASHES!!! As he should.
It cribs some concepts from the TV series -- Banner's gamma overdose happens in the lab, not a bomb test site -- but stays faithful to the original comics. Poor Bruce is always on the run, trying to figure out a way to cure himself from his condition, loving and missing his brilliant girlfriend, whose tunnel-vision general father will stop at nothing to capture Banner and learn how to weaponize the Hulk effect.
Hulk smashes things. And unlike the TV series or the previous movie, in this one he does talk, just a little, much like he did (of necessity) in the comics.
General Ross authorizes another gamma treatment on a gung-ho career soldier who wants to go head-to-head with Hulk, and so we get a full-blown slugfest that wrecks uptown Manhattan. (In the old comics, New York always got all the abuse from hero-villain fights. Always. Now, this made some practical sense, because Marvel's offices were and are in New York, so the writers and artists liked blowing up the ol' hometown. But geez, why would anyone keep living there? Property values can be trashed with a single ray beam or missed super-punch. Marvel's New York was easily the world's most dangerous city.)
A closing cameo by Tony Stark hints at the next Marvel movie, and judging by recent efforts, it should be a rocking blast.
Three stars of five. Great summertime, popcorn-class, beat-em-up, knock-down, drag-out movie.
Peach Picking Season
It's June, and in Texas Hill Country -- which Austin sits at the very eastern edge of -- that means peaches.
We didn't get around to peach picking last year, and though we did in 2006, Carson was too young (one) to really appreciate the fun. So we set out this past week to haul in a half-bushel of peaches by our own sweat and muscle. (We missed strawberry season this year as well, but as long as we get one or the other, it's enough.)
In recent years only two orchards still have pick-your-own hours. In 2006 we went to Psencik Farms, but this year we returned to our 2005 pick site, Marburger Orchard. Carson was a mere baby last time we were here, lying on a blanket underneath the peach trees. This time he got to help, and engaged the picking action with gusto.
Peaches! Peaches!
We got the standard half-bushel carton, strolled down the orchard lane to the ripening trees -- Harvester peaches were in season. The trees were heavily laden, and the picking was easy. I showed Carson how to give the peach a twist and tug; those ready for picking pop off easily, and any that resist should be left hanging. I gave Carson a shoulder-ride for a bit so he could reach the higher fruit. Both kids couldn't pick fast enough; we were in the trees maybe 20, no more than 30 minutes before the carton was topped off.
Amalie tops off our half-bushel.
So many choices (and this is only one branch).
One side benefit of picking your own peaches is getting to eat a few, as fresh as possible, immediately off the tree. Most that we picked went into the carton, of course, but I found at least two that were at critical sweetness, demanding to be eaten. I left nothing but the pit (Harvester peaches are freestones; the pit comes free easily).
A sweaty headband, a smear of sunscreen, and a bursting peach... a moment of Heaven on Earth.
Marburger kindly has one of their hands drive around with an electric cart, helping haul the filled cartons back to the parking lot. Amalie lifted the carton onto the cart -- pretty good, it weighs around 25 pounds full -- and both kids climbed aboard, leaving Val and me to saunter back up the lane at our ease, under the big Texas sky, a perfect blue afternoon, hot but not brutally so, humidity comfortable.
The day's catch draped jauntily over the fender, the intrepid peach hunters set out back to the lodge for a hearty dinner and an evening of tales of adventure.
The kids rinsed off at the pump and drank their fills, we bought the orchard's last green beans of the day, and repaired to historic Fredericksburg for a delicious German lunch, knockwurst and pastrami and potato salad and such, with a last visit to the local ice cream parlor. Both kids were fast asleep when we pulled into the driveway while the sun was going down.
Since then... the peaches are ripening, perfect for eating. I sliced up about 25 and brought them to Carson's Montessori school on Friday, where the kids gladly wiped them out at snack time. Maybe I'll try making a cobbler. We're making a dent in the carton, trying not to waste any, but it really is more than we can consume ourselves. Maybe the daycare kids get another bowlful next week. Fresh Texas peaches really are scrumptious.
We didn't get around to peach picking last year, and though we did in 2006, Carson was too young (one) to really appreciate the fun. So we set out this past week to haul in a half-bushel of peaches by our own sweat and muscle. (We missed strawberry season this year as well, but as long as we get one or the other, it's enough.)
In recent years only two orchards still have pick-your-own hours. In 2006 we went to Psencik Farms, but this year we returned to our 2005 pick site, Marburger Orchard. Carson was a mere baby last time we were here, lying on a blanket underneath the peach trees. This time he got to help, and engaged the picking action with gusto.
Peaches! Peaches!We got the standard half-bushel carton, strolled down the orchard lane to the ripening trees -- Harvester peaches were in season. The trees were heavily laden, and the picking was easy. I showed Carson how to give the peach a twist and tug; those ready for picking pop off easily, and any that resist should be left hanging. I gave Carson a shoulder-ride for a bit so he could reach the higher fruit. Both kids couldn't pick fast enough; we were in the trees maybe 20, no more than 30 minutes before the carton was topped off.
Amalie tops off our half-bushel.So many choices (and this is only one branch).One side benefit of picking your own peaches is getting to eat a few, as fresh as possible, immediately off the tree. Most that we picked went into the carton, of course, but I found at least two that were at critical sweetness, demanding to be eaten. I left nothing but the pit (Harvester peaches are freestones; the pit comes free easily).
A sweaty headband, a smear of sunscreen, and a bursting peach... a moment of Heaven on Earth.Marburger kindly has one of their hands drive around with an electric cart, helping haul the filled cartons back to the parking lot. Amalie lifted the carton onto the cart -- pretty good, it weighs around 25 pounds full -- and both kids climbed aboard, leaving Val and me to saunter back up the lane at our ease, under the big Texas sky, a perfect blue afternoon, hot but not brutally so, humidity comfortable.
The day's catch draped jauntily over the fender, the intrepid peach hunters set out back to the lodge for a hearty dinner and an evening of tales of adventure.The kids rinsed off at the pump and drank their fills, we bought the orchard's last green beans of the day, and repaired to historic Fredericksburg for a delicious German lunch, knockwurst and pastrami and potato salad and such, with a last visit to the local ice cream parlor. Both kids were fast asleep when we pulled into the driveway while the sun was going down.
Since then... the peaches are ripening, perfect for eating. I sliced up about 25 and brought them to Carson's Montessori school on Friday, where the kids gladly wiped them out at snack time. Maybe I'll try making a cobbler. We're making a dent in the carton, trying not to waste any, but it really is more than we can consume ourselves. Maybe the daycare kids get another bowlful next week. Fresh Texas peaches really are scrumptious.
Frustrations in Parenting
You remind your youngest child repeatedly "don't spill your cup of milk". Over and over -- it's a dad thing -- continue reciting the admonition even after it clearly has sunken in and he in fact does not spill his milk.
And then your older child inadvertently clobbers the cup of milk.
sigh.
And then your older child inadvertently clobbers the cup of milk.
sigh.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
30something
The dear wife had her birthday two weekends ago -- the last of the calendar year in our family.
The day started well with Carson's last tee-ball game. Val works Saturdays but does try to get to one game per kid sport season, and the combination of her last chance, her birthday, and that she'd been working very hard (and late, and on off days) over the previous two weeks granted perfect alignment for taking a morning off.
The game went well, trophies were handed out at our GattiTown pizza party, and she took her leave to put in a half-day at the office. The kids and I returned home and baked a cake; easy enough. Then we made the traditional buttercream frosting; also easy. Divvied the frosting into four bowls because, of course, food coloring comes in four colors -- blue, green, red, and yellow. We mixed up four small batches of each. I then carefully spread it on, taking care not to get cake crumbs swept up as with cakes past. The cake turned out pretty good, roughly quartered with different colors. And not a spoon nor spatula went unlicked.
Val arrived home and, even more than usual, was rushed by the kids. They had not only to welcome her, but show her the cake AND help her find the scattered presents. With two eager, young assistants (who knew where every gift was lurking), this took but moments.
The haul: a pound of organic coffee, a bar of hand-crafted soap (also coffee; better than it sounds), hand-drawn cards from the kids, a jar of caramel corn-and-sunflower-seeds (a bit disappointing; not bad, but not great), a bottle of wine (wrapped in ribbon, which is a lot more difficult than I'd expected), a bar of white chocolate, a DVD movie (Chocolat), and maybe one or two other small things I've forgotten. The kids helped unwrap everything, like always.
And then we ate cake. Well... some of us ate cake. Smaller people ate frosting by the fingerful. The cake was soon plowed into rows and ready for planting. Oh dear; well, the purpose was served. Another fine birthday celebration.
The day started well with Carson's last tee-ball game. Val works Saturdays but does try to get to one game per kid sport season, and the combination of her last chance, her birthday, and that she'd been working very hard (and late, and on off days) over the previous two weeks granted perfect alignment for taking a morning off.
The game went well, trophies were handed out at our GattiTown pizza party, and she took her leave to put in a half-day at the office. The kids and I returned home and baked a cake; easy enough. Then we made the traditional buttercream frosting; also easy. Divvied the frosting into four bowls because, of course, food coloring comes in four colors -- blue, green, red, and yellow. We mixed up four small batches of each. I then carefully spread it on, taking care not to get cake crumbs swept up as with cakes past. The cake turned out pretty good, roughly quartered with different colors. And not a spoon nor spatula went unlicked.
Val arrived home and, even more than usual, was rushed by the kids. They had not only to welcome her, but show her the cake AND help her find the scattered presents. With two eager, young assistants (who knew where every gift was lurking), this took but moments.
The haul: a pound of organic coffee, a bar of hand-crafted soap (also coffee; better than it sounds), hand-drawn cards from the kids, a jar of caramel corn-and-sunflower-seeds (a bit disappointing; not bad, but not great), a bottle of wine (wrapped in ribbon, which is a lot more difficult than I'd expected), a bar of white chocolate, a DVD movie (Chocolat), and maybe one or two other small things I've forgotten. The kids helped unwrap everything, like always.
And then we ate cake. Well... some of us ate cake. Smaller people ate frosting by the fingerful. The cake was soon plowed into rows and ready for planting. Oh dear; well, the purpose was served. Another fine birthday celebration.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Turning the page on kindergarten
Amalie finished her kindergarten year at Casey Elementary this past Wednesday, June 4th.
Austin Independent School District has promoted her to first grade for the fall semester.
She nailed, utterly nailed her fourth quarter: every subject a "4", top of the scale.
She's now enjoying her first official summer vacation, and a well-earned one after what was quite a year.
And she's got another tooth coming loose.
Austin Independent School District has promoted her to first grade for the fall semester.
She nailed, utterly nailed her fourth quarter: every subject a "4", top of the scale.
She's now enjoying her first official summer vacation, and a well-earned one after what was quite a year.
And she's got another tooth coming loose.
The 2008 Tee-ball Season
When the local kid soccer league was in progress back in March-April, it was also time to register for the following Saturday sport, tee-ball. Carson said yes, Amalie no. She'd played last year and didn't want to again, not this time. Fine. I signed up Carson and checked the "I'll coach" box on the registration form.
So I got to be an official coach, with the tee shirt and everything, along with my co-coach Ray. I drove around to various Academy sporting goods stores getting the small, unadorned caps to match our red shirts. We named ourselves the Red Rockets. Ray and I worked on some very basic practice drills -- fielding, throwing, hitting, running. Our roster, eleven boys total, were all three years old, so getting any lessons to stick is a triumph. I think the basic throwing motion, of stepping with the glove-side foot first, was our biggest success. Some of the youngsters have pretty good cannons for their age!
We played six games over a seven-week schedule (no games on Memorial Day weekend), which included one rescheduled due to rainout, and seven practices. Almost everyone showed up every time, frequently with both parents or even a grandparent. And the families all helped out -- snack suppliers, extra game coaches, ball collecting, basic shepherding. It worked out really well.
Tee-ball for three year olds is a very basic form of baseball -- everyone bats in every inning (we never played more than two), the last batter runs all the way around, there's no outs, no score kept, fielding is usually the first one to get to the ball and everyone is playing the infield (boys and girls this small just don't have slugging power). Oh, I think we did ingrain another lesson: when you're all on the same team and wearing the same shirt, it doesn't matter who gets the ball, just that someone does. Teamwork.
Ray and I handed out, after each game, gold stars for hitting excellence, silver stars for defensive displays, and blue stars for various creative contributions -- getting dirty (always a sign of dedication to the craft), taking a ball off the shoulder, willing to bat while still wearing the glove. By the end of our short season, every player had earned at least one gold and one silver, and most had a blue as well -- but no mistake, every one was earned.
Ray said that coaching the Red Rockets was ten times more fun than he expected it would have been, and I completely agree with that.
We adjourned, after the final game, to our local GattiTown for pizza, trophies, and games. Every player gets a league trophy, and I gave each player two packs of Topps baseball cards as well. The parents showered Ray and me -- custom tee shirts with handprints from each player, trophies of our own, and gift cards to a local restaurant. Quite a treat (and thank you very much!) for us.
Watching these youngest rookies improve from the first practice to the last game was sheer delight, as was simply introducing them to the greatest game on Earth, baseball. To me, they were all champions.
The 2008 Red Rockets: my own Carson, Christopher, David, Ian, Jaidyn, Jalen, John-Michael, Liam, Logan, Matthew, and Mikah. You guys, and your families, were great. It was my honor to be your coach.
So I got to be an official coach, with the tee shirt and everything, along with my co-coach Ray. I drove around to various Academy sporting goods stores getting the small, unadorned caps to match our red shirts. We named ourselves the Red Rockets. Ray and I worked on some very basic practice drills -- fielding, throwing, hitting, running. Our roster, eleven boys total, were all three years old, so getting any lessons to stick is a triumph. I think the basic throwing motion, of stepping with the glove-side foot first, was our biggest success. Some of the youngsters have pretty good cannons for their age!
We played six games over a seven-week schedule (no games on Memorial Day weekend), which included one rescheduled due to rainout, and seven practices. Almost everyone showed up every time, frequently with both parents or even a grandparent. And the families all helped out -- snack suppliers, extra game coaches, ball collecting, basic shepherding. It worked out really well.
Tee-ball for three year olds is a very basic form of baseball -- everyone bats in every inning (we never played more than two), the last batter runs all the way around, there's no outs, no score kept, fielding is usually the first one to get to the ball and everyone is playing the infield (boys and girls this small just don't have slugging power). Oh, I think we did ingrain another lesson: when you're all on the same team and wearing the same shirt, it doesn't matter who gets the ball, just that someone does. Teamwork.
Ray and I handed out, after each game, gold stars for hitting excellence, silver stars for defensive displays, and blue stars for various creative contributions -- getting dirty (always a sign of dedication to the craft), taking a ball off the shoulder, willing to bat while still wearing the glove. By the end of our short season, every player had earned at least one gold and one silver, and most had a blue as well -- but no mistake, every one was earned.
Ray said that coaching the Red Rockets was ten times more fun than he expected it would have been, and I completely agree with that.
We adjourned, after the final game, to our local GattiTown for pizza, trophies, and games. Every player gets a league trophy, and I gave each player two packs of Topps baseball cards as well. The parents showered Ray and me -- custom tee shirts with handprints from each player, trophies of our own, and gift cards to a local restaurant. Quite a treat (and thank you very much!) for us.
Watching these youngest rookies improve from the first practice to the last game was sheer delight, as was simply introducing them to the greatest game on Earth, baseball. To me, they were all champions.
The 2008 Red Rockets: my own Carson, Christopher, David, Ian, Jaidyn, Jalen, John-Michael, Liam, Logan, Matthew, and Mikah. You guys, and your families, were great. It was my honor to be your coach.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Summer movie reviews #4 -- Kung Fu Panda
Kid-centric movies get advertised to saturation on Nickelodeon. I understand this; easy enough to see why. And I kinda wanted to see Kung Fu Panda anyway. But my 6 year old daughter made sure I knew when it was coming out. So, today, after the weekend (and she's into her summer vacation), we went.
It rocks. Go see it.
The story is pretty standard -- a master must train a less-than-promising (disastrously chosen, even) disciple in order that the student may defeat the great adversary (who escapes his prison by virtue of the prison being inspected to ensure he cannot escape -- a predictable twist, but always a good one, that planning for one future activates the opposite destiny). The chosen one, a completely inept (but eager) panda named Po, is both challenged and assisted by the five advanced students, each of which hoped to be chosen as the Dragon Warrior until fate pushed Po in the way.
No one has confidence in Po, including himself, but he loves the kung fu discipline and prefers being bad at kung fu to being a noodle shop cook at any level of expertise. He won't quit, so train he must, and Master Shifu must in turn train him. Nothing goes well until Shifu realizes he must engage Po's love for the martial art with his other passion in order to drive him to excel.
There are two superb action sequences back-to-back: a training fight over the last lunch dumpling which is simply hilarious, brimming with martial arts cliches, and whiplashing action, immediately followed by a rope bridge battle that would be the showcase highlight were it not for the dumpling duel.
The animation is good, standard quality for 2008 with excellent lighting effects, and the voice acting is great. Plenty of well-known names, with Dustin Hoffman as Master Shifu being the very best of the bunch -- there's only a few times when he is identifiably Hoffman.
Four stars out of five.
Snap review from a 6 year old: "I liked it. Really good." She loved the dumpling fight, too.
It rocks. Go see it.
The story is pretty standard -- a master must train a less-than-promising (disastrously chosen, even) disciple in order that the student may defeat the great adversary (who escapes his prison by virtue of the prison being inspected to ensure he cannot escape -- a predictable twist, but always a good one, that planning for one future activates the opposite destiny). The chosen one, a completely inept (but eager) panda named Po, is both challenged and assisted by the five advanced students, each of which hoped to be chosen as the Dragon Warrior until fate pushed Po in the way.
No one has confidence in Po, including himself, but he loves the kung fu discipline and prefers being bad at kung fu to being a noodle shop cook at any level of expertise. He won't quit, so train he must, and Master Shifu must in turn train him. Nothing goes well until Shifu realizes he must engage Po's love for the martial art with his other passion in order to drive him to excel.
There are two superb action sequences back-to-back: a training fight over the last lunch dumpling which is simply hilarious, brimming with martial arts cliches, and whiplashing action, immediately followed by a rope bridge battle that would be the showcase highlight were it not for the dumpling duel.
The animation is good, standard quality for 2008 with excellent lighting effects, and the voice acting is great. Plenty of well-known names, with Dustin Hoffman as Master Shifu being the very best of the bunch -- there's only a few times when he is identifiably Hoffman.
Four stars out of five.
Snap review from a 6 year old: "I liked it. Really good." She loved the dumpling fight, too.
Summer movie reviews #3 -- Iron Man
I don't read many comic books today -- a few, select ones, but my addiction days are a thing of distant past now. But Iron Man is one of the characters on which I cut my teeth, both as a reader and as a comics fan. The stories, such as I can recall (early 1970s), were okay, but it really was all about the suit. That magnificent suit and all the cool things it could do -- fly, protect, heat, cool, blaster rays ("repulsors"). And of course part of it was keeping Tony Stark alive as well, making it his curse and his blessing, in the standard Stan Lee/Marvel manner. One would think transistors could do anything.
CGI technology has finally caught up to what an Iron Man film would require, because it is, and it has to be, all about the suit. And it delivers hugely.
Munitions billionaire and engineering genius Stark gets kidnapped after demo'ing his newest product in Afghanistan. Builds a prototype suit from his own wares in order to escape, and does. He undergoes a change of heart when he sees what Stark Munitions have wrought around the world, and determines to build a better suit to use in making the world a better place. But other stockholders don't want the entire company repurposed, and co-opt the original design for a new military product. And we get a showdown between Iron Man and the alternative Iron Monster. Bang, zoom, pow!
Lead actor Robert Downey nails his part, and is much better in an action role than would be expected based upon his past body of work. Stark is smooth, damn smart, a smartass, and a fighter both on paper and in action -- not an easily-portrayed character. Downey brings it off very well.
Four stars out of five.
Marvel is building a movie-based universe analogous to its comic universe, and is doing it very, very well. I can't wait to see The Incredible Hulk in a few weeks.
CGI technology has finally caught up to what an Iron Man film would require, because it is, and it has to be, all about the suit. And it delivers hugely.
Munitions billionaire and engineering genius Stark gets kidnapped after demo'ing his newest product in Afghanistan. Builds a prototype suit from his own wares in order to escape, and does. He undergoes a change of heart when he sees what Stark Munitions have wrought around the world, and determines to build a better suit to use in making the world a better place. But other stockholders don't want the entire company repurposed, and co-opt the original design for a new military product. And we get a showdown between Iron Man and the alternative Iron Monster. Bang, zoom, pow!
Lead actor Robert Downey nails his part, and is much better in an action role than would be expected based upon his past body of work. Stark is smooth, damn smart, a smartass, and a fighter both on paper and in action -- not an easily-portrayed character. Downey brings it off very well.
Four stars out of five.
Marvel is building a movie-based universe analogous to its comic universe, and is doing it very, very well. I can't wait to see The Incredible Hulk in a few weeks.
Summer movie reviews #2 -- Indiana Jones And The Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull
Now this is a summertime movie. Rollicking high adventure with some old friends and some new, worthy companions (and adversaries). Pity they couldn't work in Sallah.
Indy Jones is back, once again scraping by on smarts, determination, some skill and some luck. The adventure begins in that huge, mysterious warehouse we saw at the end of Raiders Of The Lost Ark, and soon the chases are on. Dr. Jones makes his escape in his usual style -- chaotic, destructive, and breathtaking.
It's 1957, so the Nazis are long gone, but the Communists step in as the bad guys well enough. After some excitement at his college campus (and not that I recognized anything in particular, but I know it was filmed in and around Yale University, which is somewhat familiar territory for me, so that was some bonus delight), and some cryptic code-breaking, Indy and his new sidekick are off in pursuit of the title artifact, a crystal skull... one which is evidently not human, and which does not belong in a museum.
This leads to a race through the jungles of South America, to the standard, ancient Lost City wherein the treasure may be achieved through the perils of flora, fauna, and clever traps engineered long, long ago. Indy & Co. weather everything, succeed in their quest, the bad guys get theirs, and the archaeological world is set to rights, with a climax Spielberg cribbed from some of his own, older movies (but it works just fine).
Five stars out of five.
Remember to breathe, because this one will take yours away.
Indy Jones is back, once again scraping by on smarts, determination, some skill and some luck. The adventure begins in that huge, mysterious warehouse we saw at the end of Raiders Of The Lost Ark, and soon the chases are on. Dr. Jones makes his escape in his usual style -- chaotic, destructive, and breathtaking.
It's 1957, so the Nazis are long gone, but the Communists step in as the bad guys well enough. After some excitement at his college campus (and not that I recognized anything in particular, but I know it was filmed in and around Yale University, which is somewhat familiar territory for me, so that was some bonus delight), and some cryptic code-breaking, Indy and his new sidekick are off in pursuit of the title artifact, a crystal skull... one which is evidently not human, and which does not belong in a museum.
This leads to a race through the jungles of South America, to the standard, ancient Lost City wherein the treasure may be achieved through the perils of flora, fauna, and clever traps engineered long, long ago. Indy & Co. weather everything, succeed in their quest, the bad guys get theirs, and the archaeological world is set to rights, with a climax Spielberg cribbed from some of his own, older movies (but it works just fine).
Five stars out of five.
Remember to breathe, because this one will take yours away.
Summer movie reviews #1 -- Speed Racer
I've already seen four movies this summer season, and will definitely see more. This is rare, rare for me -- I probably didn't see four movies in all of 2007.
First up, Speed Racer.
This film is a total popcorn flick, a live-action cartoon. Those who remember the anime series on TV decades ago -- like me -- will remember it with humor and some fondness. It was silly and cool.
The film comes barreling right at you, full throttle, gorgeous firecracker colors in huge swaths all over the screen, and loud loud loud. There is a plot, sort of, but it's not very important, nor is the story. This is about insane racing over, around, and through impossible tracks. Many of the original tropes are here -- the sound effects, the Mach 5's gimmicks, the annoying kid brother and chimpanzee (sigh). The acting suits the material, and even John Goodman (as Pops Racer) is subsumed into the color-saturated landscape (and it's hard to bury Goodman). Pure, energetic adrenaline.
Don't expect a lot, because you won't find it. Pure, simple fun is what Speed Racer delivers, and it does so very well.
Particularly thrilling: the race across the desert. Simply pulse-pounding.
Three stars out of five.
Snap review from a 3-year-old who is car-obsessed: "great!"
First up, Speed Racer.
This film is a total popcorn flick, a live-action cartoon. Those who remember the anime series on TV decades ago -- like me -- will remember it with humor and some fondness. It was silly and cool.
The film comes barreling right at you, full throttle, gorgeous firecracker colors in huge swaths all over the screen, and loud loud loud. There is a plot, sort of, but it's not very important, nor is the story. This is about insane racing over, around, and through impossible tracks. Many of the original tropes are here -- the sound effects, the Mach 5's gimmicks, the annoying kid brother and chimpanzee (sigh). The acting suits the material, and even John Goodman (as Pops Racer) is subsumed into the color-saturated landscape (and it's hard to bury Goodman). Pure, energetic adrenaline.
Don't expect a lot, because you won't find it. Pure, simple fun is what Speed Racer delivers, and it does so very well.
Particularly thrilling: the race across the desert. Simply pulse-pounding.
Three stars out of five.
Snap review from a 3-year-old who is car-obsessed: "great!"
Not dead, merely resting
Ever have one of those times when you just didn't feel like blogging?
That was, like, all of May for me. And most of April.
The faucet is back on.
That was, like, all of May for me. And most of April.
The faucet is back on.
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