My God, It's Raining

OK, so maybe Blood: The Last Vampire doesn’t strictly count as a “summer movie” but it was one of the two I saw this weekend, along with Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.

I’m not sure which film to talk about first, so I guess that chronology is the deciding factor.  On Saturday night, after returning from Woolfest and having had an early evening nap, Lisa and I went to see a late showing of Blood.  Blood is a live-action remake/re-envisioning of an anime from 2000.  The original animation was meant to be a 3-part story, although only the middle section was ever made.  I have it on DVD somewhere in the house, and recalled that it was a very professionally put-together anime, although the characters lacked backstory and depth, and that the plot itself kind of meanders along without any meaningful resolution at the end of what could be called the episode’s “arc”.

Now, granted, this may all be because of the fractured nature of the production, and it remains vaguely plausible that parts 1 and 3 would have filled in the gaps in a satisfactory manner, but that’s a moot point considering neither preamble or close were ever forthcoming, and Blood: The Animation was more like a showcase for Production I.G.‘s talent at animation than anything else.  That it was followed by Kaidohmaru, which sported fewer plot hooks than it’s predecessor, seemed to confirm this to me more than anything.

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…really massively insensitive Michael Jackson jokes, and a whole defence against charges of insensitivity on the grounds that humans have always used levity to stave off the fear of death.  Then I realised that however true that is (see Don Quixote as the perfect example – a “comedy” where a series of incredibly humiliating and painful things happen to the lead character) it’s also a quote from Terminator 3, so I can’t really do that at all.

Anyway, something over-rode my urge to write further about the cult of celebrity, and the realisation that my generation is now hitting the point of the curve where all the idols of our youth will be popping their clogs over the next twenty years, like a constant television, internet and radio tribute to the slow march onwards to the grave and you’ll never get your childhood back.

I had a dream.

The dream was about Star Wars.  It was about Darth Vader, and the secret trials and tribulations that his lieutenants endure in their service to the Empire, where they make really sound tactical decisions that are constantly overruled by Vader’s impulsive urge to get in there and fights the Jedis.  It was kind of an awesome dream.

Vader: I will lead the assault myself from this TIE fighter.

Captain: But Lord Vader, you are the supreme tactical commander.  Wouldn’t it be best for you to view the entire battle from afar and advise us on the best strat-

Vader: Silence! Who’s leading this fight?  You or me?  I’m going to fly a TIE fighter and none of you bitches is going to stop me.

(later in the battle – the Rebel Alliance cannot get past the main shield battery and are being slowly cut to pieces in space)

Vader (on comms): He is out there!  Lower the main shields!  I must face him in single combat!

Captain: But Lord Vader, we’re overcoming the Rebel assault.  They will all be dead or scattered in a matter of min-

Vader: Lower the main shield! I have supreme authority here!  Is Vader going to have to choke a bitch?

Captain (facepalming): Lower the main shields.

BOOOOOOM.

…to remember what your password is for the admin portion of your own site.  Handy, one might say.

Lisa described me as a “man of ambition” last night, as I embarked upon a task, nay, a quest of colossal importance.  Doing the dishes before going to bed, so that I’d have an empty sink come the morning.  I think that puts me one step closer to catching Lisa on the vuxenpoäng* score sheet (although she still romps ahead by having a job and buying her own car).  You have to take what you can get, you know?

Meanwhile, Lisa’s Dad ran the Stockholm Marathon at the end of May, despite having had pneumonia the month before (I think it was in April, anyway, I could be misremembering).  It was his 10th time running the Stockholm one, and he came in with a time of 5:39.

Other things to talk about?  Terminator Salvation.  Not actually a movie, it turns out.  No, it’s a 2 hour selection of clips that endlessly reference the first two Terminator movies.  Fan service is almost impossible to avoid these days, and although the odd touch here and there can lighten an otherwise dreary moment in a movie with a knowing wink to the viewer, there’s such a thing as too much.  There’s too many nods and winks here, and not enough actual film.  It’s not engaging.  It’s not moving.  It’s something you watch and think “Hmm, I should go back and watch the first two movies again, they were awesome”.

I’d say it’s not something you’d want to own on DVD but God only knows the mob will respond to marketing pressure and buy the damn thing in their droves.

On the plus side, at least Christian Bale has stopped having to take his top off to remind us that he still goes to the gym.  Reign of Fire came close to toppling Top Gun with its collection of unnecessary sweaty pumped-up male torso shots, but the epic tale of how Maverick learns to stop being a prick while operating expensive military hardware still holds the top spot for overt penetration of homoerotic imagery into mainstream cinema.

*”grown-up points”

Lisa wanted to go shoe-shopping at the weekend.  We ended up getting a Toyota Yaris.

On the upside, I didn’t have to go into a shoe shop.

In the world at large, however, current events continue to truckle onwards toward the Apocalypse at a breakneck pace.  I was starting to despair of the British government and their “clearing house” tactic in response to the expenses scandal.  Certainly the excuses and unabashed silliness of the whole scheme were starting to wear thin, but will the inevitable flurry of by-elections solve any of our issues?  There’s this apparently-now-ironclad concept of “the public trust” and failures thereof, but governments have abused our faith in them before with no ill effects and undoubtedly they will continue to do so in the future.  Really they should be clearing house over the debacle that was the post-9/11 invasion of Iraq and the subsequent covering-up of the decision-making process surrounding that, but no – why bother with something meaningful when we can have a sensational time grubbing around in MPs’ receipts.

Granted, given the House of Commons’s reluctance to engage with people about their civil liberty and human rights records, I suspect treating their expenses to embarrassing public display is one of the few routes that could be taken.

Mind you, it could be worse.  We could be expressing our belief in the interpretation of God’s word that holds the sanctity of life above all things by…murdering doctors.  To paraphrase Christopher Brookmyre, if it turns out I’m wrong about this whole life after death thing (there not being any, that is, and that the concept exists as a sort of panacea to combat existential despair, ennui and the possibility of nihilism) then I’ll be happy to defend my decision not to believe with the Most Highest himself on the grounds that a significant portion of his/her/its flock across the globe use that belief as a stick to beat, and on occasion kill, others with.

All this /facepalming over current affairs is punctuated by manhandling from Lisa, who is studying for her clinical examination exam – if that makes any sense.  I have been thoroughly palpated, had incredibly bright lights shone in my eyes and every part of my abdomen listened to with a stethoscope.  Verdict?  I’m too bony and muscly.