All Good Things...

It's been a blast Seattle (and Tacoma).

Good night, and good luck.

Happiness is a Warm Gun

In the immortal words of one John Lennon:

"I need a fix cause I'm going down."

Nothing brings you down like a birthday. It's magically depressing, but you're supposed to celebrate it instead.

Oh god, that was so emo. I apologize.

Cheers.

Unintended Consequences

I was under the impression that a vacation is supposed to be relaxing.

No such luck.

For the last two and a half weeks, I traveled around. A two day hop to Berkeley, a long-dreamt six day trip to New York, a drive to Leavenworth, a two day visit to Portland, and a six day excursion to San Francisco.

Now, I'm spent and I still have an apartmentful of stuff to sort and pack/sell/throw out before—wow, this is actually depressing to say—I have to go back to Jakarta.

Sigh. I need a vacation.

World Cup, en Español!

Living in the US and not having cable, I wasn't surprised of the difficulty of watching a live World Cup match. I had the same trouble in 2002. Four years ago, the only matches I could watch were the ones with the US and knockout round games. It was torture for an avid football (that's right yanks, football) fan. Imagine my surprise when I found out I could watch every game in the competition.

But there's a catch: The broadcast is in Spanish.

Univision, a Mexican TV channel, broadcasts live matches of the 2006 World Cup. All of them. Everyday between 6 am to 2 pm. I watched England stuttering win against Paraguay, Czech Republic's 3-0 pummeling of USA, Ronaldo's unwillingness to move, and Oliver Neuville's last gasp winner. In Spanish. I don't habla Español, but really, how much do you really lose from not understanding in-game commentary?

In fact, the Spanish play-by-play spices things up and definitely much better than the dull American commentary. Hell, it made routine plays as exciting as a penalty shootout in a Championship game. And then, there are the goals.

There's the standard minute-long howl:

"Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool."

Another, new to me, a monotonous repeating broken tape:

"Gol. Gol. Gol. Gol. Gol. Gol. Gol."

To make things even better, there are also the commercials for Latin soap operas. The soaps themselves are horrible, a melodramatic and over-the-top camp-fest. But what makes them special are the latin girls that star in the soaps: Muy caliente!

My mornings are now dedicated to a new routine. Good thing I'm unemployed.

The Uncanny X-Men

In 2000, X-Men started the resurgence of the comic book movie. Guided by visionary director Bryan Singer (The Usual Suspects), the movie shed the campy and childish stigma that plagued comic book movies. Singer aptly went a darker route, opting realism for camp. But most importantly, Singer was still able to make the film fun. The movie was a success, spawning other comic book movies. The sequel, X2: X-Men United, was even a greater success.

Singer was slated to direct the third movie, X-Men: The Last Stand, before he jumped ship to another comic book movie, Superman Returns. His departure and the subsequent appointment of Brett Ratner (Rush Hour), a capable but unremarkable director, raised a few questions about the how the movie is going to fare. Thankfully, while the movie loses some spark the first two had, it still has the same tone and, quite possibly, has more excitement.

The Last Stand’s plot revolves around a “cure.” A pharmaceutical company has developed a treatment that would permanently eliminate the mutant gene. The news of a cure naturally draws a line between the Professor Xavier (Patrick Stewart)’s more pacifist X-Men and Magneto (Ian McKellen)’s radical Brotherhood. A complication comes in the return of Jean Grey (Famke Janssen), an X-Man who was thought died in the previous movie. As Phoenix, Grey now possesses frightening power that could destroy worlds and appears to be losing control of it. The X-Men must now face the threat of both the Brotherhood and the malevolent Phoenix.

A quick note to those familiar with the comic books: The plot is a mesh of the Claremont/Byrne classic, “The Dark Phoenix Saga,” and the more recent Whedon/Cassaday story, “Gifted.” But don’t expect the movie to play out like the original stories. Screenwriters Simon Kinberg (Mr. & Mrs. Smith) and Zak Penn (X2:X-Men United) took the basic premise of the comic books but, in the end, went their own way in writing the script.

The movie has the largest cast yet. The main characters are all back: Wolverine (Hugh Jackman), Storm (Halle Berry), Iceman (Shawn Ashmore), Rogue (Anna Paquin), and Cyclops (James Marsden). We also get new characters like Beast (Kelsey Grammer), Colossus (Daniel Cudmore), Kitty Pryde (Ellen Page), and Angel (Ben Foster). X-Fans are getting their money’s worth seeing all the characters in the movie.

Unfortunately, the huge cast proves to be a flaw in the movie. The writers are trying to do too much with the characters, especially considering the movie’s 104 minutes runtime. They try to both wrap up the plot threads from the previous movies and introduce several new ones. As a result, the movie feels rushed; several storylines, Angel’s and Rogue’s for instance, are barely touched. The story is still enjoyable, but undoubtedly loses some of the dramatic impact that is prevalent in the previous movies.

What the movie lacks in drama, it makes up for it in excitement. The movie’s hectic pace gives a sense of urgency; the deaths of several major characters only accentuate it. New director Brett Ratner does a great job replacing Bryan Singer. While he doesn’t quite have Singer’s eye for visual composition, he certainly knows how create dynamic and exciting scenes. The movie’s plentiful action pieces are thrilling spectacles. The extended action finale, which involves the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz, is a really impressive scene that perfectly caps off the movie and, quite possibly, the franchise.

The producers of the X-Men franchise have said that The Last Stand is the last of the series. But after seeing the movie, it’s rather a shame to see the franchise end. The Last Stand is a great example of a successful comic book movie. It brilliantly translates the explosive and imaginative visuals in the static pages into a moving, breathing picture. It’s also a great example of a summer blockbuster. It might not be a masterpiece in filmmaking, but it’s incredibly fun and exciting to watch.

Dull, Dull Da Vinci

No other movie this year gathered the amount of hype and controversy as much as The Da Vinci Code. Now, if only the actual movie had just half of that excitement it created in real life, The Da Vinci Code might have been a good movie.

A mysterious murder in the Louvre brings Harvard symbologist Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks) and French police officer Sophie Neveau (Audrey Tautou) into the middle of a 2,000 year old conspiracy that involves the Holy Grail and the Catholic Church. Finding they are being framed for the murder, Langdon and Neveau must run from the French police led by Captain Bezu Fache (Jean Reno). As if that is not dire enough, they also have to evade the murderous Silas (Paul Bettany), an Opus Dei monk in search of the Grail. Aided by Grail expert Sir Leigh Teabing (Ian McKellen), Langdon and Neveau try to uncover the mystery behind the Holy Grail.

For a thriller, The Da Vinci Code severely lacks suspense. There is no sense of urgency in Langdon and Neveau’s quest to solve the numerous puzzles. The book has the luxury of space in building the suspense. The movie, unfortunately, has not. The book could dedicate ample number of pages to describe a predicament, explain its imminent threat, and go over the interesting way Langdon and Neveau solve it. For obvious time constraints, the movie has to blaze through the puzzles, barely explaining anything along the way, and completely robbing the movie of suspense.

With the suspense diminished, all that is left of the story are the weak plot and even weaker characters. But these flaws couldn’t be blamed solely on director Ron Howard and writer Akiva Goldsman. The decision to have the script stick very close to the novel just accentuates the flaws of the novel. Author Dan Brown didn’t exactly create a masterpiece with his novel. The Da Vinci Code is basically a mystery with a ludicrous plot that hinges on a number of coincidences. Brown didn’t even try to inject his characters with personality. All it had going was the controversial conspiracy theory and the intriguing puzzles.

Not given a solid script, the cast’s performance suffers. The always likeable and talented Tom Hanks is shockingly bland. Hanks has a promising start as Langdon delivers an insightful lecture on symbols very early in the movie, but for the rest of the movie his talents are wasted on a dull character. Meanwhile, Audrey Tautou is equally dull as Sophie Neveau. Even worse, Tautou has to deliver overly melodramatic lines with her sometimes indecipherable accent. The bright part of the acting arrives about one hour into the movie, when Ian McKellen’s Teabing shows up. The Shakespearean actor is given the best lines of the movie and delivers them with candor and playful energy that the movie sorely misses.

Visually, The Da Vinci Code is appealing. The photography manages to create a sense of dread and an ominous tone throughout the movie. The gothic churches, castles, museums sure help. But the best treat Ron Howard comes up with is the nifty visualization effects to the lengthy and potentially boring expositions. Howard backdrops Langdon and Teabing’s history lesson on the Crucifixion, the Christian Roman Empire, and the Crusades with a CGI-enhanced representation of the events. The result is a ghostly and magical vision of the past that evokes a sense of wonder.

In the end, no visual treats could inject adrenaline to this dull movie. Had Howard and Goldsman reconsidered their approach of essentially filming everything in the book, The Da Vinci Code could be a taut and suspenseful thriller, instead of this lackluster effort. A tighter script would have been a huge difference. Not that it would matter to its box office performance The hype and controversy already guarantee that viewers would come in droves and probably make The Da Vinci Code the highest grossing movie of the year.

Blast From the Past

With the imminent release of the movie The Da Vinci Code, I think it's the perfect time to resurrect an old post from my quasi-mirror blog, Terra Occulta. In the post, I reviewed The Da Vinci Code, the book. How did I like it? Not very much. A note: Disregard the first paragraph. I couldn't bring myself to write more of the supposed series of posts.

This is going to be the first of many entries that are going to talk about widely popular books/music/movies that I do not think deserve the praise. First up, The Da Vinci Code (I'm going to get a lot of flak on this).

First of all, the reason I don't like The Da Vinci Code has nothing to do with the revelation of the Christ bloodline. That's actually one of the strongest part of the novel, storywise. I'll acknowledge The Da Vinci Code's attraction: Murder mystery, scandalous revelation, plot twists, puzzles, exotic locales, the Catholic Church, Centuries-old conspiracy, murderous Albino henchman. The book seems to have all the ingredients for a thrilling read.

It doesn't.

It's missing two important ingredients of a story: a logical plot and character development. Big claims, I know. I'll defend my point.

The plot exists only to provide Dan Brown a chance to show off how he can make intricate puzzles. Reading the early parts of the novel, you will very likely sense the suspense of Langdon trying to solve the puzzle of Jacques Sauniere's gruesome death. I did. And then Langdon had to solve another puzzle, and another, and another, and... you get my point. It gets repetitive and boring pretty fast. For the plot twist, well... let's just say [Leigh] Teabing is no Keyser Soze (If I spoiled the story for you, don't worry. You're not missing much). You can see the twist a mile away.

What's worst, Langdon, the protagonist, does not experience any character development. He is basically the same before, during, and after the story. The protagonist has learned nothing to resolve his conflicts. That's a no-no, folks. With no character development, the story is pointless. There are no reason the story should be told.

In fact, without these two things, The Da Vinci Code reads like, dare I say it, a mindless summer blockbuster flick. Okay, that maybe a little harsh. The book does have it moments. But for something this hyped, I expected more. The Da Vinci Code is officially overrated.

That being said, I really hope my dissatisfaction with the book doesn't extend to the movie. I really want to enjoy a good thriller set in Europe and its picturesque locales. My problems with The Da Vinci Code seem to come from the truly bland writing. Hopefully, the adaptation to screenplay will solve the issues I had with the book (though with Akiva "Batman & Robin" Goldsman writing, I'm not holding my hopes too high).

The cast looks impressive with Tom Hanks and Audrey Tautou, two of the most charming actors today, playing Langdon and Neveau. But what got me really excited is the genius casting of three brilliant actors: Paul Bettany as Silas, Alfred Molina as Bishop Aringarosa, and Ian McKellen as Teabing. If the script delivers, this could be a good movie.

Infinite Crisis: A Retrospective

This week marks the publishing of the final issue of Infinite Crisis, a seven issue comic book miniseries published by DC Comics. Crisis is the culmination of a two year long storyline that spanned through nearly all DC comic book titles. It's more than just a book; it's a highly publicized event that got the comic book fandom riled up. It's also, unfortunately, rather frustrating and mind-numbing.

Infinite Crisis is intended as a sequel and a celebration to a hugely popular and influential series published twenty years ago called Crisis on Infinite Earths. Up until the 1980s, DC titles didn't share a single universe. It consisted of several parallel universe, ("earth" is the used term of a parallel universe). Multiple iteration and interpretation of characters existed in the different earths. To avoid confusion, DC editors decided to mainstream their titles. They utilized the twelve issue maxiseries to accomplish this goal. At the end of the series, the different earths and characters are merged into one definitive version. The universe-spanning series was a huge success. That was in 1986.

In 2006, just in time for the twenty year anniversary, Infinite Crisis continues the story of the original Crisis. The preparation and build up for the event was impressive. Various hints and plot points were subtly teased in various titles years before it was announced. The story practically affected every DC title, some more than others. A huge number of titles set up the conflict that were going to be. In addition, there were four concurrently running six-issue miniseries that prelude the main series. All the titles sold very well. Some issues were re-printed due to high demand. With the massive build up, Infinite Crisis managed to match the level of importance the original Crisis had.

Creatively, Infinite Crisis is well made, at least in the beginning. The series is written by Geoff Johns, a fan favorite and best selling writer, and (mostly) drawn by Phil Jimenez, another fan favorite and excellent artist. It started very well, or even fantastically if I might say. The story brings back a plot point from the original Crisis. A group of people that survived the original Crisis have taken the initiative to bring back their earth, one that was destroyed to make way for the current one. However, to bring this about, they may have to destroy this earth in the process. Another major plot running in the story is the philosophical conflict between the three most iconic characters in DC, Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. They no longer trust each other, leaving the other heroes in a state of disarray, unable to quell the crisis at hand.

The mechanics of the title are impressive. Each issue packs a considerable amount of story, making it a hectic read, but it illustrates the chaos that is going on in the story. In the action packed story, Johns still manages to write excellent characterization to the cast of thousand. Dozens of memorable moments and lines are scattered throughout the series. In the art department, Jimenez is able to portray the chaos and still make things clear for readers. That's easy to say, but in reality, next to impossible to do. Jimenez did great. The series was building to be a classic.

Unfortunately, Infinite Crisis started to falter halfway through. The first indicator was the art. As a monthly published series, Infinite Crisis packs a higher than average page count and even more details per page compared to a typical monthly comic book. Presumably DC has allocated a lead in time, so that Jimenez would have a leeway in producing the art. It still wasn't enough. Not wanting to delay the title, DC brought in other artists to help Jimenez beat the deadline. Some were good (including the legendary George Perez), some weren't as good, all weren't consistent to Jimenez's style. Reading a story where the illustration suddenly changes from page to page is infuriating. You wouldn't want it on a regular title. You definitely don't want it in something as big as Infinite Crisis. Even worse, the art actually gets worse and worse as it nears the end.

The strong writing soon followed the downward trend. The first few issues are a great read, setting up many conflicts in the story. But the seven issue format proves to be inadequate to accomodate the story. The dense issues don't let the reader to breathe and slow down; the pace is inhuman. With not enough space, the various conflicts resolution are barely adressed. Some are exported to regular titles. Readers that want to see how a conflict ended has to get other books. Some events that were touted as important (they had their own miniseries preluding Infinite Crisis) end up as nothing as a plot device. The conclusion of the series is the greatest sinner of all. All the conflict and drama peaked in issue six with the death of a character. By the time issue seven hits the stands, any sense of urgency and drama is gone making the series ultimately anti-climactic.

The criticisms might sound a little harsh. The series as a whole is still a very good read. But after all the build up for the last two years, I was expecting something more. A classic. The first few issues just worsened that anticipation with its brilliance. When the quality dropped with the last few issues, I can't help but to be disappointed.

Paranoid Android

Radiohead Sets North American Theater Tour

omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod! omygod!

*sees closest tour stop is all the way in LA*

*checks wallet*

damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit! damnit!

Mantra of the Day

I'm calm, collected, and reasonable.
I'm calm, collected, and reasonable.
I'm calm, collected, and reasonable.
I'm calm, collected, and reasonable.
I'm calm, collected, and reasonable.




FUCK!

See the dark, ominous clouds in the background? They're the physical manifestation of car owners' collective consciousness, weeping for their wallets.

Well, Whaddya Know?

Yesterday was so nice, I predicted it could only get worse from there.

Well, it did. After yesterday's comfy temperatures, the weather took a turn for the worse. The morning was so warm, wearing long sleeve shirt and trousers seem to be overkill. Around midday the temperature went north of pleasantville and hovered at the gates of hell. Inferno isn't unleashed for about a month, but the heat was dangerously teetering at it.

It was also a perfect day for a nerve-wracking headache with a tint of sinus pressure. Splendid.

I hate it when I'm right.

The Realist

It's a beautiful warm day in Seattle. The sun is out, no cloud formation anywhere in sight, and the wind is just right. I'm sipping Iced Mocha at Cafe Allegro in a window seat with a nice view to University District. The speakers are blaring Britpop essentials, Stone Roses and Oasis. I have my laptop open, browsing the web and working on my writing. Words and ideas are flowing fairly well. I've plotted most of the first act of a supernatural thriller (you have to start with your favorite genre). Today is really shaping to be a wonderful day.

Of course, all this pleasantness could only mean one thing: It can only get worse from here.

I'm not a pessimist. I'm just a realist. Although I have to admit, it's pretty bleak of me that I could find a negative aspect from such a great day.

Logic? Pfah!

Consider the following tag line for the 2006 ISAUW* Nite from the official site:

Experience Indonesian culture in Seattle with ISAUW.
Presenting Bella Noche.

You know...

I'm pretty sure 'Bella Noche' is Italian.

*Indonesian Student Association at University of Washington

Rebel, Rebel.

Images taken with Motorola RAZR CrappyCam technology.

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet my new favorite band: The Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. They're not black (but they do dress in black), they're not rebels, and they're definitely not a motorcycle club. But their name reflects the spirited rock 'n roll they play. I went to see them play in The Showbox and I was blown away.

Opening for the BRMC are The Morning After Girls and Elefant. The Morning After Girls, a deceiving name since only one of the members is female, play first. Their music can be described as a combination of seventies folk and hard rock with The Byrds' vocal harmony on top of Velvet Underground's wall of sound. As the second opening act, Elefant plays a more straight forward hard rock with some thumping rhythms from the bass and drums. Both openers were good, but not quite memorable.

Before BRMC takes the stage, I wonder how their set is going to be like. The BRMC are touring to promote their third release, Howl. In their first two records, BRMC were hard rock saviors. They played hard rock in the vein of Velvet Underground and their wall of sound, complete with distortion, reverbs, delays, and overpowering bass lines. With Howl, BRMC were more introspective. They exchanged their hard rock setup for acoustic guitars, slides, harmonicas, and even harmoniums to play old school rock 'n roll and soulful country blues. I honestly don't know if the new songs would have punch performed live.

My worry immaterializes as soon as BRMC takes the stage. Howl has several up-tempo tracks, including the hand-clap anthem "Shuffle Your Feet" and the steel guitar and harmonica heavy "Ain't No Easy Way." Played early, they help raise the audience's excitement. The other songs in the album, while more mellow, are far from boring and, in fact, very soulful. Songs like "Howl," "Devil's Waitin," "Fault Line," "Weight of the World," and "The Line" are played so beautifully. It's a rock show with country-blues songs played with acoustic guitars and harmonicas, but the crowd sure didn't mind.

The BRMC also play materials from their previous releases. Since the mellow quota was filled by songs from Howl, BRMC play the fast and furious tracks from their first two albums, BRMC and Take Them On, On Your Own. Tracks like "Whatever Happened to My Rock 'n' Roll," "Spread Your Love," "White Palms," "Stop," and "In Like the Rose" highlighted their signature sound: heart pounding rock 'n' roll with huge bass, distortion, reverbs, and delays. The powerful songs cap off a brilliant and impressive concert by one of the few bands that could proudly call themselves a rock 'n' roll band.

Idiot Alert: Parking

It is considered good practice to read instructions when parking your car in a parking garage. Details such as parking rates and hours of operation are boring but very beneficial to know.

Don't be the idiot that forgot to read them and couldn't get to his car because the garage was closed when he got back. Said idiot had to call his roommate to pick him up, wait outside in the cold until being picked up, get up early in the morning to go back to the parking garage, and pay twentyfour fucking dollars to retrieve his car.

The Vestige of the Vox Populi

This limited edition, hand-painted cold-cast porcelain replica measures approximately 10.5" high x 6.5" wide x 7" deep and is displayed on a sculpted base. This replica was constructed from a mold of the actual movie prop, includes a full-color Certificate of Authenticity, and is packaged in an elegant black gift box with foil stamping. Limited edition of 500. $195.00 US

I. Want. That.

Real Life Simpsons Intro

Bravo to the filmmakers. Bravo.

The Strange Case of Inspector Clouseau

The original Pink Panther is a classic British slapstick comedy movie starring the late comedic genius Peter Sellers. It's famous for the character of the French bumbling police detective, Inspector Jacques Clouseau. It's also famous for the incredibly catchy theme song by Henry Mancini. Following Sellers death in 1980, the series is practically dead. There were several films made, but they were nowhere near as popular as the Sellers movies. Now, the series is being continued starring Steve Martin.

Peter Sellers' portrayal of Inspector Clouseau, is near and dear to many that was familiar with the original series, including revered movie critics James Berardinelli and Roger Ebert. In reviewing the remake, Berardinelli and Ebert particularly blasted Steve Martin's portrayal of Clouseau. Both feel that Sellers has become so identical with Clouseau, they see Martin's portrayal as a pale imitation of the original. Berardinelli even goes as far as calling the remake as a "travesty."

But how would someone who isn't too attached to the original series respond to the remake? I know of the original series' reputation, but only watched some parts of the first movie. Sellers' Clouseau is not ingrained in my brain like Berardinelli and Ebert. I watched the remake with a relatively clean slate.

Surprisingly, I find Steve Martin's Clouseau pretty amusing. His faux French accent is funny, although its usage in the hamburger pronounciation scene is overdone. His antics and his bumbling participation to the sight gags are hilarious; the first giant globe accident and the other one that happens much later are particulary funny. Martin is up to the task of supplying the slapstick. He's also capable of supplying the non-slapstick comedy with Clouseau's idiocy and tactless wit.

Martin is not perfect, of course. In fact, his major flaw is simply of him being Steve Martin, one of the most recognizable comic actors today. When you see his Clouseau, you know that it's really Steve Martin with a fake moustache. The genious of Peter Sellers is his knack for meshing in to his characters. Watch the cold war satire Dr. Strangelove to see how Sellers brilliantly plays three different characters, each with different comedic style, all believable as played by three different actors. Martin couldn't match Sellers' brilliance, but if you can get that out of the way, his portrayal of Clouseau is pretty good.

While Martin's Clouseau is enjoyable, the same can't be said about the rest of the film. The script is simply a mess. The mystery is resolved very, very weakly. The direction by Shawn Levy is forgettable. Of all the possible beautiful setting possible in Europe to shoot, the movie needlessly feature NYC's Times Square. The supporting actors are varying in quality: Emily Mortimer is charmingly funny, Kevin Kline is boringly bland, and Jean Reno is disappointingly wasted in a completely unimportant role. I don't even want to acknowledge whether Beyonce was acting at all in the movie. The gags, arguably the best part of the movie, even lose their initial momentum when they start misfiring in the middle of the movie.

In the end, despite Martin's good efforts, the movie as a whole fails. Clouseau's antics and sight gags couldn't save the lack of story, the illogical plot, and the bland directing. It's disappointing since this is really Steve Martin's funniest performance since his heyday in the eighties and early nineties. It won't stand up against the original series, but it's worth to check out for Martin's Inspector Clouseau.

Me am Bizarro

Welcome to Bizarro World!

This is the land where everything right-side-up is upside-down. It's the land where cats chase dogs, rain rises to the clouds, and being evil gets you rewarded.

It's also a world where when you shoot a 78 year-old man in the face, you are greeted with cheers and said victim apologizes to you.

Isn't Bizarro World nice?

Who is Kid Exposition?

Kid Exposition is Satria Krisnandi.
Kid Exposition is Indonesian.
Kid Exposition lives in Seattle, Washington. For now.
Kid Exposition likes super hero comic books.
Kid Exposition knows good movies.
Kid Exposition hates, hates, hates The Da Vinci Code.
Kid Exposition is myopic.
Kid Exposition is too shallow for poetry.
Kid Exposition looks at the world and writes about it.
Kid Exposition is neither fair nor balanced.

Barely Breathing? Try Barely Awake

Last Saturday a couple of friends and I went to a Duncan Sheik concert. Remember him? He's the indie-pop singer/songwriter that had the hit single "Barely Breathing." I figured since I am only going to be in the states until late spring, I better catch as many concerts as I can. Besides, I kinda like Duncan Sheik songs like the one I mentioned earlier, "Wishful Thinking," and "On a High." I was hoping to see those songs performed live.

The concert is held at Triple Door, a very posh place. Showgoers are seated in dinner tables instead of standing in a general admission setting. Since it's a seated venue, space is very limited. While enjoying the show, you can order dinner, wine, or cocktail from the fine menu (fine = bloody fucking pricey). The tables are arranged in tiers, so that every table could get a clear view of the stage. We were lucky to get a table. There were six of us and we were about nine places down the list.

The show was opened by Jim Boggia, an acoustic guitar playing singer/songwriter type performer. He performed alone. No backup, just him and his acoustic guitar. He has a nice, raspy voice a la John Mellencamp or John Mayer. In fact, his clear and crisp guitar play reminisce Mayer's style of play in "No Such Thing." He's also quite the entertainer, cracking jokes and having fun with the audience. A standout song he did was "I Realized This Afternoon While Driving to Connecticut." Check the lyrics and you'll see why the audience went wild hearing him singing it. He closed his set with a beautiful cover of Paul McCartney's "Live and Let Die."

After Boggia, the show went south of the border. The next performer was a British bloke named Teddy Thompson. He's an acoustic guitar playing singer/songwriter type. Do you see a pattern here? He's rather dreary, I'm afraid. His music might be better on record, heard through a speakers or headphones in a quiet room. Performed live, it was dull. He sang lazily like Rufus Wainwright, with mouth barely moved in vocalizing the lyrics. His music also matches Wainwright's dreary, mournful atmosphere. Not surprisingly, further research says that he actually had a duet with Wainwright. A positive in his set is Thompson's dry British humor, but it still couldn't save his boring performance.

When Thompson finished his set, the main show starts. Unlike the opening acts, Sheik brings a full band: a drummer, a bassist, and a lead guitarist. Sheik himself plays an acoustic guitar. The additional instruments raised the audience's mood after the previous set. I don't know any other Duncan Sheik songs other than the three I listed earlier, but I can clearly hear his stamp on the songs he performed: The acoustic rhythm guitar, the small melodies from the electric guitar, his light vocals, and his peculiar choice of words. He kept on playing song after song I never heard before. He did play "Wishful Thinking," but that's the only one I could recognize. The songs are fairly good pop songs, but not really memorable. I grew sleepy over time.

After about an hour of performance, the band finished their set. I was in deep shock. They haven't played "Barely Breathing" and "On a High," arguably his two best hits. My friends were surprised too. Then I figured that the show's not really over. There would be an encore. He would come back and play the two songs.

He did come back for an encore. But after four songs in and still no "Barely Breathing," I started to worry. My worry was realized when he finished the last song of the encore and bid the audience good night. It's really the end of the show; there isn't another encore. He really didn't want to play "Barely Breathing" and "On a High."

I was let down by the omission of the two songs from the set. It's like celebrating New Year without counting down to zero or going to a bar just to drink Coke. It's not like he has other huge hits like those. It's just two songs for fuck's sake! Even U2 still plays "One" and "With or Without You" in their set. Those two songs define U2 just as "Barely Breathing" defines Duncan Sheik, the show description from Triple Door even mentions the song's prominence. By not playing "Barely Breathing" and "On a High" Sheik did a disservice to the audience. Or at least me.

OMFGROTFLOL

Originally posted in Terra Occulta on January 29, 2006

Yes, I have a filthy mouth.

Yesterday several friends and I watched not one, not two, but three movies with qualities that range from decent to vile. Believe me when I say that if I could find a word worse than ‘vile,’ I would gladly use it.

The first movie I watched was Fun with Dick and Jane, starring Jim Carrey. I haven’t really enjoyed a Jim Carrey movie since the now classic Dumb and Dumber. I wasn’t really interested in watching, but I went to see it anyway for very good reasons I will not divulge here. I’m a coy bastard, aren’t I?

The movie was decent enough. Carrey manages to pull some of his slapstick genius, but a few jokes fall flat. The movie is just too grounded in reality for slapstick comedy to work (It talks about Enron-like corporate fiasco). Meanwhile, huge plot holes weaken the movie’s third act and, consequently, the movie in general.

The third movie I watched was an Indonesian teen flick called Lovely Luna. I didn’t skip the second movie. I’m saving it for later in the post. It’s the piece de resistance if you may.

Since it’s a teen flick, Lovely Luna is filled with cliches. There’s the guy that pines for the love of a popular girl that’s way out of his league but totally clueless of the affection from another girl, which happens to be his best friend since childhood. If you don’t know how it ends, I envy you for your naivete.

But to its defense, quite a few things work. The movie is pretty well shot, the dialogue is unnatural, but a few moments of sincere lines stand out, some of the jokes actually work, and the happy ending is kind of nice. I’m a sucker for happy love stories. That’s why I liked the second Spiderman movie better than the first one. Yes, the Spiderman movies are actually love stories, and yes, I am actually referring to comic book movies. I’m a comic book geek. Deal with it.

Now, the second movie. It was another Indonesian movie called Issue. I had a big laugh watching it. There’s one problem: It’s supposed to be a tragic drama.

Watching Issue is like watching Titanic. Not the movie, but the ship. I was watching an accident occurring in slow motion. The movie hits a giant iceberg called “incompetence.” You just sit there waiting some kind of salvation to come, but no help is coming. The tragedy just keeps getting worse and worse.

For starters, the writers don’t know what kind of movie they want to tell. They seem to want to mix a thriller with a love story, but end up with a mess. The writers also seem to think that people talk like third-grade Indonesian language textbooks. When a bad guy threatens you with perfect sentence structure and formal form of speech, you know that he isn’t really a badass like he wants to be. Also, the writers like to think that cosmic coincidences happen every two scenes. God plays with a loaded dice in this movie.

The actors appear as if they all graduated from the B-Movie school of overacting. The word ‘subtle’ no longer exists in their dictionary. If the story needs an actor to be annoying, then, by all means, he should speak self-righteously in a very loud noise and make an angry face. Then, if the story needs the actor to be suddenly courteous, why all he needs to do is talk calmly and smile. Adrian Maulana graduated summa cum laude from this prestigious school.

Then, there’s the recently divorced Tamara Blexy… , Blenz… , oh fuck that. If she’s not going to act in the movie then I’m not going to write her full name here. As the main character, she’s utterly useless. Special recognition must be given to the actor that played the villain. He single-handedly converts the movie from horrible to campy. He tries really hard to look evil by not talking much, constantly twitching his moustache, and, get this, eating raw meat complete with blood and all. You sir, are a genius. But I recommend not showing your face in public for the next, oh I don’t know, ten years or so. If you do have to go out, please trim your moustache and wear a toupee to avoid public ridicule.

The director is very brave to shoot the movie just like a sinetron, complete with the cheap video look and, surprisingly, dubbed audio. If you can shoot in a big TV station set, surely you can set aside some money for a film camera, and set of decent microphones. Then, you could hire a lesser star than Miss Blexy and use the excess money to find a qualified cinematographer and a professional audio guy. Then maybe find a screenwriter, an editor, and another director.

A note to the filmmakers: trying to reach the stars is good and all, but you need a concerted effort to do that. Doing a half-assed job is just going to knock you deep down in the gutters. I pray that you will find the light and repent for your sins in this movie.

Being mean is so much fun.

Cinema Cinema

Originally posted in Terra Occulta on January 22, 2006

That reminds me, do they still have "Sinema Sinema" on RCTI?

I recently came upon a brilliant site that reviews current Indonesian movies and discusses about the movie industry in general:

http://sinemaindonesia.multiply.com/

After browsing much of the site, I don't know to either...
a) Laugh
b) Cry
c) Vomit
d) All the above
e) All the above, rinse, repeat

I haven't seen an Indonesian movie in years. The last one I did watch was a VCD (Are those still around?) of Ada Apa Dengan Cinta. That was, undoubtedly, a worthy entry in my top ten bad moves ever. I was taken by the hype of the resurgence of Indonesian movie. What I saw was an awkwardly written, amateurly acted, and cliche filled teen movie. It was shot slightly better than a sinetron, but that's like saying blinded in one eye is better than blinded in both eyes. Despite my disappointment, I held hope that this was just growing pains. In time, the movie industry will grow to create movie Indonesians can be proud of.

Boy, was I wrong. (According to sinemaindonesia, at least)

Of the movies reviewed in the site, only one or two are recommended. The rest are, shall we say, deplorable. The reviewers in sinemaindonesia are fairly knowledgeable, although they did put a disclaimer notifying their inexperience in the subject. They back their statements with keen observation laced with acerbic wit. Here's a snippet of the review for 9 Naga:

"Yang juga sangat ngeganggu adalah penggunaan kata 'bencong', seperti: 'Pantang mundur. Mundur cuman buat bencong'. Padahal kalo kami lewat naik mobil di jembatan deket Taman Lawang, bencong-bencong nggak pernah mundur tuh, nepok-nepok anunya sampe kami ngasih mereka duit lima rebu."

Okay, it's maybe a little juvenile. But it's still funny. There are a lot more jokes at the expense of the movies and their makers.

If the reviews in sinemaindonesia are to be believed, the Indonesian movie industry has some serious problems. It has a lot to do before dreaming to match the Hong Kong or Korean movie scene.

Talk Softly and Carry a Big Gun

Originally posted in Terra Occulta on December 4, 2005

Last week, a couple of guys and I went to a place I never thought I would see in Seattle: a gun range. Seeing NRA presence in liberal Western Washington is downright weird. Normally, I'm more left leaning in my socio-political views, gun control included. So, shooting guns is probably the last thing that comes to mind when I think about a pastime. However, I figured that after seeing guns in movies and tv, this is a good chance to experience what shooting one really feels like.

We went to Wade's Gun Range in Bellevue. Entering the lobby, I could see that it's just like any store if not for the glass wall that overviews the gun range. A line-up of people were shooting all kinds of guns in the gun range. A less obvious thing that differentiates the gun range from any other kind of stores is the literature and posters. On the walls are posters invoking the second amendment, the right to possess a weapon. That's a first for me to see that kind of posters after four years living in the Northwest. Meanwhile, on the tables are information brochures for the NRA, with some words by the one and only Charlton "From my cold dead hands" Heston. You can be sure of not finding a copy of the Stranger here. (For people that is oblivious to the reference, the Stranger is Seattle's free liberal newspaper.)

To rent the guns and lanes in the range, we had to read the safety rules and fill in a liability form. I made sure to at least glance through them before signing. After all, it's not funny if you accidentally kill someone because you forgot to read the rules. That would be tragic. Before entering the gun range, we had to wear goggles and ear muffles. I wondered, how loud could a gunshot be? The answer: Very, very loud. Especially if you are in an enclosed room and there are ten other guns going off. Even with the ear muffles I could still significantly hear the loud bang of a gun shot.

Because we're not experienced with guns, we all shared a lane, taking turns in trying the guns. The first gun we tried was a small revolver. To describe it simply, a revolver is the kind of gun most likely seen in a western. You load the bullets in a rotating cylinder. Cocking the hammer will load a bullet into the firing barrel, while pulling the trigger will fire it (duh!). Before taking the first shot, I hesitated. This was not like trying out bowling for the first time. I was handling a weapon that could easily be used to kill someone, me included, with a light pull of finger. After making sure I had a good grip, I raised the gun, aimed at the bullseye on the target several feet way and pulled the trigger.

A whimper of noise and a spark of muzzle fire later, I have officially shot my first gun. As I smelled the freshly burned gun powder, I looked at the target in the distance. The bullseye was clean. But several inches above it was a hole the size of a bullet. I missed. When the bullet was shot, the gun jolts back in my hands, raising them. I felt the force from the gun only slightly, but the trajectory of the bullet was affected significantly.

I was rather disappointed at that first try. Not because I missed the target as that is a given. I have bad aim. Just ask my toilet seat. I was disappointed because the gun felt like a toy gun to me. Yes, it is a real gun and it shoots real bullets that could kill people. But the gun has no heft. I barely felt the force the gun exerted to my hands when it shot. I was hoping for something more powerful.

After using all the bullets, we switched the gun for our next one: a 9 mm semi automatic. As the name suggests, the bullets have diameter of 9 mm. The semi automatic refers to the way bullets are loaded. Unlike revolvers, where you have to load the bullet with pulling the hammer, a 9 mm loads the next bullet to the barrel automatically after the last one was shot. You put the bullets in a clip, insert the clip into the handle, and you're ready to shoot.

When the gun was loaded, I readied it, aimed at the target, and pulled the trigger. Like the first gun, I saw the flash of muzzle fire and heard the noise of the gunshot. But this time, the bang was louder and, most surprisingly, the force exerted by the gun was much, much, stronger. It was so strong, it rattled my arms. I wasn't expecting that kind of noise and force. It gave me quite a shock, I had take a few seconds to calm myself after that first shot. Unlike the first gun, I can feel the power surging from the gun, to my arms, and to my body. It had my blood rushing and adrenaline pumping. Now, this is a gun.

The final gun we tried was another revolver. But this one was larger. Much larger. It's King Kong to the first revolver's chimpanzee. I didn't remember the brand, but I call it the Dirty Harry gun. I didn't remember the caliber, either. It could be a .44 since the bullets are needlessly huge.

Just looking at the size of this gun, I knew that this is a powerful gun. So, I took the necessary precautions in shooting it. I gripped the gun extra firmly and took a wider stance to brace for the force from the gun. After making sure I was ready, I cocked the hammer back and pulled the trigger. What happened next is still unclear. The noise I heard couldn't have been from the gun. It sounded closer to a concussion grenade. It was so loud, I couldn't imagine hearing it without the ear muffles. Even with the extra preparation, the force still got the best of me. The gun jumped back at my hands, giving a sharp shock to my arms and body. I even stepped back from the force. This wasn't a gun; this was a bloody cannon.

Still in shock, I turned around to look at my friends. I wish there was a mirror so I could see how idiotic I look. They all laughed at my suprised expression. How could I not be surprised? The gun I was holding in my hand was ridiculously powerful. It's overkill for self-defense. Unless, of course, your idea of self-defense is to blow the head of a burglar off or create an extra ventilation hole on both side his body that you can put your fist clear through it.

The trip to the gun range was an interesting experience. My feelings for guns have changed. I couldn't deny the thrill of shooting a gun. It was a heart pounding feeling that gives an adrenaline high. However, that didn't change my view on gun control. In fact, it just strengthen my belief in stricter gun control. The power of the guns I tried awed me. It only made me realize how dangerous they are in the wrong hands. By "wrong hands," I don't only mean criminals, but also regular people that could be easily swayed by the power of guns. The ones that would think a gun is a justifiable mean to end a confrontation.

Hunger = Creative Inhibitor

Originally posted in Terra Occulta on October 24, 2005

While tragedy, depression, and alienation are wonderful fuel for the creative mind, hunger apparently is not. I proved this in a wholesome, but ultimately unscientific method of examining the scarce amount of words I put into print (well, virtually at least) during these two weeks of fasting. Apparently, the stomach trumps the brain in controlling the self. It's probably the inherent instinct of self-preservation.

Anyway, after declaring the creation of a new blog, I finally got it up. The blog is called The Imaginaut (Yes, the name is explained in the blog. I did made a fuss about the name the last time). You can find it at http://theimaginaut.blogspot.com . First up, a review of the brilliant sci-fi movie, Serenity. And it's got purty pictures.

So, there you go. Now I can go back about worrying about my hungry, hungry stomach.

Hit List

Originally posted in Terra Occulta on September 19, 2005.

Sleep is for the weak. If that's so, I'm Superman, Bruce Lee, and Rambo altogether.

I haven't been sleeping well for the past week. Sleeplessness makes me bitchy at night. The time is 1:43 AM. I hope this will explain my current state of mind. I am listing a few phrases in Friendster profiles that have been annoying me. Why? Because I've seen them all over the place, and I just can't stand it.

J-Town
Jakarta is a fucking metropolis, people.

"Friends forever" (Usually on photo caption)
What are you, thirteen?

"It's me" (Usually on photo caption)
Oh, really? It's you? I couldn't have guessed.

That's enough nitpicking for one night. Please don't kill me.

A Concert Supernova

Originally posted in Terra Occulta on September 10, 2005.

My back is aching. My throat is sore. My ears are ringing. The back of my neck is killing me. Yet, I never felt better all my life. Why? I just watched Oasis live in concert.

If you don't know how important this is, check what my thoughts on Oasis several posts down. To sum it up, Oasis was, is, and always will be the best musical act in my mind. For anyone who attempts to challenge my views, prepare for grave consequences. I'm talking to you, Arifin.

Before the show, I had a preparation to war, so to speak. Since the venue is in Everett, 20 miles from where I live, I had to fill my car's tank. With gasoline being $2.89 a gallon, it's quite horrifying. I also had to familiarize myself with how to get to and around the venue. As it was time to leave, I wore my beloved Oasis T-shirt I saved for special occasions like this. To give me a quick jolt and keep me alert for the show, I went to the grocery store for a can of Red Bull. I picked up Sekar and Dena, my Oasis buddies, before heading to Everett. When we got there, we learned that our seats were separate. The girls were seated together. I was left alone, but closer at just eight rows from the stage. You win some and lose some, I guess.

The show also featured fellow Brits, Kasabian, and Aussies, Jet. As a relative newcomer, Kasabian got the opening act. Their performance was impressive. Their electro-rock music with emphasis on rhythm translates well live. The irresistible distorted bass line on their brilliant debut single "Club Foot," which was also their final song of the set, comes out tenfold with the bombastic sound system, shattering eardrums everywhere. With a new close-cropped haircut, Kasabian's vocalist, Tom Meighan, is an energetic frontman. While not singing, he flails around, swinging his body and arms like Michael Stipe on crack. Next was Jet. They are disappointing to say the least. Their live performance suffers from their poor choice of sound. You can hear each individual instruments and vocalist Nic Chester's voice, but they don't mesh well. Worse, they only expose their poor sound quality by turning up the volume way, way up. I swear my ears were going to explode from the loudness.

There was a long break after Jet finished their set to allow the roadies to do a soundcheck. So long, I was worried. Oasis has a history of breaking down on tour, especially in the US. The brothers Gallagher is always at each others' neck that a bust up in near impossible to avoid. So, what if they just had a fight and one wouldn't show up, or worse, both just wouldn't bother to play. I'm maybe a little paranoid, but I have been waiting for this to happen for ten years. Ever since I heard of (What's the Story) Morning Glory?, I have been dreaming of watching them live. I would go out of my mind if the show was ruined. Luckily, my fears did not come true.

When the stadium lights went out, the crowd goes wild. The stage light went on. People started standing. A voice recording was played. It was a countdown of some sorts. Then "Fuckin' in the Bushes," the traditional opening song went on. Everybody gets even more excited. Finally, the boys walks out to the stage. All hell breaks loose. This is it, the moment I've been waiting since junior high. I could see them all clearly from where I'm standing. I could see Gem Archer and Andy Bell quietly setting the rhtyhm in their side of the stage. I could see regular fill-in drummer, Zak Starkey, son of Ringo, playing like he always belong in the band. I could see the stoic brains of the operation, Noel Gallagher, strumming his guitars. I could see the cool-as-hell, I-don't-give-a-damn-in-the-world frontman, Liam Gallagher, wearing his shades and oozing charisma as he stood motionless in front of the stage. They were ready to rock.

They started by playing the opening track from Don't Believe the Truth, "Turn up the Sun" which was quickly followed by the first single from the same album, "Lyla." Just from two songs, I could see how they got to be where they are today. Their sound is impeccable. Each sound meshes beautifully with another: guitars, bass, drums, keyboards, vocals. Oasis is, first and foremost, a live band. They make good records, but they do fantastic gigs. With an array of albums under their belt, they are able to pick and choose a variety of songs, some new, some forgotten gems. They played "Bring It on Down" from their debut album, Definitely Maybe, the title track of Morning Glory, and "Acquiesce," a B-side staple. Not their most popular tracks, but favorites for longtime fans. They also played classic sing-a-longs like "Live Forever," "Cigarettes and Alcohol," "Rock 'n Roll Star," "Wonderwall," and "Champagne Supernova." Believe me when I say I sang along each and every song, not just the classics, but the old and new songs as well. That's why my throats are dry. Well, that and the screaming and yelling. After a brief rest, they returned for an encore, playing two Liam songs in the new album, "Guess God Think I'm Abel" and "The Meaning of Soul." It was followed by the crowd favorite "Don't Look Back in Anger" and the final song of the night, a cover of the Who's "My Generation," a live standard.

I left the stadium with a mild sense of disbelieve and a great sense of fulfillment. It was an awesome show. Probably the best I have ever seen. Now, I'm sitting in front of my PC recounting the concert. I can say with a clear conscience that the show was one of the highlights of my four year living and studying in the US. Ten years of waiting paid off with a bang. I may sound like an over excited fanboy, but I don't care. I AM an over excited Oasis fan.

Intros, Expositions, and Reruns

Hello.

I am Kid Exposition. I like to try putting words together and making some sense. Emphasis on 'try.' Oh, I also have a tendency to self-deprecate.

I have been maintaining another web log at Friendster called Terra Occulta for some time now. Friendster's blog feature is decent but barebones. I wan't more control at no further expense. So, I started this blog. The idea is that I will publish entries to both Terra Occulta and Kid Exposition.

To start up, I'll rerun some of the more substantial posts from Terra Occulta. Hopefully, in a few days I'll be motivated enough to post new entries.