Wanted

I just got back from seeing Wanted, and I’m feeling horrible.

Wanted is one of those movies that tries to spin a complex, dynamic plot around a constant, high-level hum of gore and death. It fits into the storied company of Shoot-Em-Up, Lucky Number Slevin, and Layer Cake - all movies that manage this delicate balance much, MUCH better than Wanted does. Certainly, there are more than enough slick bullet-time sequences to make any fan of cool action flicks drool, but the plot the movie is tied around fails to live up to the hype.

Wanted is the story of a “Fraternity” of assassins who “read the code in the loom” to determine who fate has decreed should die so that the balance of order is maintained. Find that hard to believe? So did the protagonist, Wesley (James McAvoy). He goes along with it, evidently, because his father’s killer is sure to be an eventual target. It doesn’t hurt, of course, that right before his first assignment Fox (Angelina Jolie) tells Wesley that a member of the fraternity refused to kill the man who went on to burn her father alive in front of her eyes. Good ol’ “kill one to save thousands” with a side of “sucker for the tortured romantic lead”.

In the end, of course, there are a couple of whirlwind plot twists that result in a showdown of truly epic proportions. The end is meant to be a crushing revelation on the order of those unravelled in Layer Cake or Lucky Number Slevin, but it feels flat; forced. We are left with no sense of change or accomplishment. Wesley is still the same Wesley, just with magical powers that allow him to “control his destiny”. So, what - only people selected to be superhuman assassins can control their destiny? What will he do now that the loom is destroyed? Why is he still alive if the loom said he should die? Did it say that?

It’s supposed to be some grand commentary on fate, I’m sure. It winds up, however, being just another loose thread in a barely coherent narrative. It’s a pity, too - the plot is BRIMMING with potential, and the powers and abilities of this fraternity are BEGGING for exploration. One can see why the likes of Jolie and Morgan Freeman would want to be attached to the project. It’s truly disappointing that their characters are left so two-dimensional, and that the movie really ends up being nothing more than an orgasm of badass fight scene after badass fight scene.

I liked it - but then, I like ANYTHING that’s vaguely entertaining. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of bringing a friend who is far less adjusted to such high levels of violence, and I’m worried I may have scarred him forever. Let that be a lesson: If you like violence and cool special effects, this is the movie for you. If you need plot, or if you can’t stand high levels of gore… Better to keep away. Watch Lucky Number Slevin or Layer Cake instead - far less violence, and far more plot to spin it around.

Wave of… Nostalgia?

Loath as I am to quite the bible at you, even I have to recognize the significant impact it’s had on the culture that raised me. There’s a quote in I Corinthians 13.11:

“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”

I found this quote echoing in my mind today as I sifted through the years of accumulated files, papers, and odds and ends in my closet. I’ve probably cleaned parts of my room dozens of times over the years, but the last two crusades against clutter have been particularly effective. These last two times, I found myself realizing that many things that used to be quite important to me are now either forgotten or not worth hanging onto. This growing cynicism acts as a sort of filter for the clutter that is retained, and with every subsequent tightening of the standards my past seems to condense a little bit more. Those of you who know me know that my memory is pretty bad; well, the more I get rid of the less I inevitably remember about life before the present.

In some ways, I welcome this outcome.  The effect it has is oddly appropriate for my personal journey in the past couple of years, and far too obvious an analogy to the tidying and organizing I’ve been doing. I can’t say I disapprove - we all know I love things to be nice and orderly. A part of me, however, really misses the old class notes I’m getting rid of, and truly mourns the loss not only of the opportunities High School and College presented to me but also the old me that failed to take advantage of those opportunities.

It doesn’t take much reading through my old notes and musings to get a pretty frightening picture of where I’ve come from. Doing so in the past few weeks, I’ve begun to feel that, as a kid, I engaged in a lot of rather Williams-esque escapism in the form of toys, comics, and video games long past the time when my friends had dropped those hobbies. Of course, I still haven’t really kicked the habit, so clearly part of me still loves the shelter those outlets provide. Not to mention that it’s hard to turn down a good story, no matter what form it takes.

As more and more of that past disappears, though, I’m realizing that it’s getting easier to let go of. I carted several years’ worth of Wizard Magazine out to the recycling bins today; you should have seen how hard I fought to keep those just a few years ago. That’s not the worst of it: last time I was here, I sold half my books.

Am I putting away childish things and finally growing up? Or am I simply moving to new, equally-childish pursuits? What if I don’t like who I’m becoming?

Gone AGAIN?

Right you are, sir!

My baby died for real this time. Catastrophic hard drive failure. Data not recoverable without extensive dicking around in a clean room. Sucks to be me…

One new HD, and some quality time spent in Tim’s basement, however, means that I’m back up and running. I’m trying to get my Thinkpad back to its former glory as we speak. Once I do, I should be back at least a bit

Top Five Reasons Not to Drink at Home

Since coming home, it’s become readily apparent that Cappy’s advice was right: “Enjoy senior week while you can, because once you graduate it’s called alcoholism.”

I was thrilled when I discovered that Tim’s brewing beer full time in his house, but it’s thrown into sharp relief the rather unsettling fact that I no longer have quite the excuse I did to drink as much as I do.

It’s a sad fact indeed.

In fact, after careful study I have come up with the top five reasons why drinking at home is, in fact, a terrible idea:

1. The unsettling incident from two nights ago that involved the automatic ice dispenser on my fridge; a cup that was, in fact, upside down; and the subsequent large quantity of water which somehow wound up on my room’s carpet (even after I managed to fill the cup).
2. The large, wooden chicken in the middle of the quickest route from the bathroom and the kitchen to my room which is nigh invisible in the dark.
3. The horrifying discovery that all forms of pain medication are STILL kept in my parents’ medicine cabinet.
4. The fact that I actually have to get home once I’m drunk, and that this effort involves cars. Which I don’t have.
5. The awkward reality of explaining to my parents just what the hell happened last night.

I have GOT to stop drinking in my friends’ basements…