Shortly after midnight and possibly giddy with excitement at the prospect that the 2010 Winter Olympics are now THIS YEAR I grabbed the beard trimmer and shaved off the beard again.
I like the look I had with about one week’s growth — more of a suggestion of a beard but with the face still fully outlined. Now I just need to figure out how to set the guard on the trimmer to provide this optimal length.
Exciting and heady stuff, to be certain!
It’s now officially 2010 on the west coast and I ask:
Where is my hovercar, dammit?
UPDATE: The first crisis of the new year has occurred. I can’t find my 2010 calendar.
That is, like a used car lot that goes out of business.
At the corner of Kingway and Inverness, which is just a block away, there is a used car dealer called Super Choice Auto. As you might expect, this is not the most glamorous of places and I’ve always kind of hoped that maybe one day it would be replaced by a nice ethnic restaurant, even if the neighborhood needs another one like Vancouver needs another Starbucks.
Two days ago when walking by it on the way to buy groceries I noticed they had the large sign out front partially dismantled and i assumed they were just changing the bulbs in it. But lo, yesterday half the compound was behind a locked gate and every car and most of the signs were gone. The dealership had apparently gone kaput.
Normally I would not wish ill on those eking out a living in these recessionary times but a year ago when we were up to our armpits in regular snowfalls these guys never shoveled the sidewalk around their lot, not even to clear a path for themselves. They did actually clear part of the lot itself to presumably get cars in and out. One of the bright lads in its employ thought it would be a good idea to use a kettle of hot water to help melt the snow on said lot.
I’m sure that turned out well.
So here’s to 2010 and whatever might be going in at that corner in the coming year. Hopefully it won’t just be a vacant lot for ages, though that may be just as likely.
As is her way the cat told me it was feeding time by meowing until I couldn’t ignore her any longer (not that I do, mind you, I’m just saying there is a certain persistent tone in her vocalizations that clearly states ignoring is not a viable option) and so I dutifully went into the kitchen with her following behind. Out of the corner of my eye I think I see something small and dark move toward the back end of the kitchen nook where the litter box is located. Typically when I see such movement it’s a creepy big ol’ spider but this time seemed different.
I got a flashlight and shone it into the nook since it’s not well-lit and the little shape flitted from behind the litterbox to the bucket. I walked over and saw that it was a very small mouse. I then stood back, unsure what to do. As I continued to shine the light, the cat finally turned around and looked in the direction of the mouse. At this point the two were less than ten feet apart. The cat then turned away as if nothing was there. So much for the killer instinct.
I had nothing handy to try to catch the mouse with and it was so small it looked like it could squeeze through almost anywhere. I finally got a can of air to try to direct it out of hiding behind the appliances and it scurried off into the central basement room. At that point I closed the door and put a towel at the base to seal it off. Traps can be set in that room without any pets springing them so that will probably be the plan of action.
This was my rockin’ New Year’s Eve.
In which I offer tidy lists summarizing the year that was.
The Bad
The Good
The Neither Good Nor Bad
I shall return and edit these lists as I recall other high and lowlights of the past year.
Next up: The Year in review: The Global Edition
Here is my hairy face after two weeks of growth. There is definitely no mistaking that it is beard-like at this point.
Christmas 2009 has come and gone and unlike last year’s silly snowpocalypse, there was nary a flake to be seen fluttering across the sky this time. In fact, the past few days have been dry, cool and sunny, save for today when the fog rolled in.
The trip back on the ferry in the early afternoon was a bit unusual in a few ways. First was the fog. It’s pretty rare for me to be traveling to or from the island in the fog so it was kind of eerie to have the ship glide into a huge bank and be lost from the world, the ship’s horn blasting every minute or so to warn people in smaller boats who thought it was a great day to go blundering about the strait in zero visibility. Periodically we’d come out of the fog and into sunshine and it was then that the other unusual part of the trip was most noticeable — the water was almost completely calm. I mean, there was barely a ripple in the surface. It was like gliding through a pond. A really really big pond, but still. Rather weird but soothing at the same time.
Christmas dinner this year was especially daring as I broke tradition and ate a Brussels sprout. It was okay. I suppose I can cross it off the list of foods I hated as a kid (and I hated a lot of them — I was a fussy eater). Next year I’ll try a sprig of asparagus if I’m feeling really crazy.
While staying at mom’s I was compelled to take a picture of a painting that hangs in the guest bedroom.
At first blush it appears to be a rather benign pastoral scene painted by someone who is obviously not a professional artist. Let’s call them earnest.
But on closer examination I discovered a Lovecraftian horror:
This is not a woman and her young daughter out for an innocent stroll picking flowers and enjoying the sun. No, these faceless horrors are merely in disguise, waiting for the moment to turn their mishapen fleshy hooks onto the unaware and claim their souls as their own, sending them into the spiral of madness that comes from staring into a face that is an evil blank canvas of poorly-shaded skin.
Also, the parasol looks like it’s been turned inside out. My theory is that it’s actually the leathery skin of some unnamed thing that went rogue and was made into this particular object to serve as an example to others who would dare challenge the ways of the Great Old Ones.
After multiple people failed to notice I had shaved my beard off, I’ve decided to grow it back, mostly to see how it looks at various stages of growth. Once it’s back I’ll then decide if I want to lop it off again or keep it.
I am also contemplating what to do with my hair. The last time I got it cut the girl hesitated to cut it as short as I wanted, perhaps fearing I’d have a cancer patient look when it was done. I may go the other way and let my hair grow long instead, though the results of that may be best kept under a cap.
Beard 2.0 after one week’s growth:
I saw Star Wars at the Duncan Odeon shortly after it premiered in 1977. I was 12 years old, pretty much the ideal age.
I also saw it in the theater here in Vancouver when the special edition came out in 1997. I was 32 years old.
I watched it again last week.
What follows is the answer to the question: Can a magical film of my youth withstand the critical, nay, cynical eye of adulthood?
The short answer is: mostly yes. The longer answer follows.
I saw Star Wars before it became the most successful movie ever (for the time) and at the age of 12 I was old enough to understand everything but still young enough to be dazzled in the way only a child can. While the 70s are fondly looked back on by film purists, I think it’s important to remember that film has always been a combination of craft and commerce. When the serials of the 30s and 40s were being cranked out, no one was aspiring to high art. Likewise the exploitation flicks of the 60s and 70s were just mindless entertainment designed to titillate and little more.
Star Wars, though, was one of those films that tried both. In the context of the era, it was unheard of — a big budget science fiction movie complete with veteran actors like Alec Guinness and Peter Cushing to lend it credibility. It’s been well-documented how George Lucas drew from many sources for inspiration for the movie and somehow he made it all work. But how does it fare now?
I have the special edition on DVD. This was essentially a test-run of the CGI effects that would drive the Episode I-III prequels, adding extra bits of shiny and re-inserting a few cut scenes. The quality of the transfer is a bit strange — some parts of the film are very vivid while others still appear muddy and with “noise” in the film. While a few effects shots have been cleaned up, others still have the telltale transparent rectangles outlining TIE fighters that shows how they were overlaid on the backgrounds.
As to the additions and extras in the special edition, most don’t hold up and some even detract from the film. The best ones are a few quick shots that make Mos Eisley look like more than just “four overturned cans of paint” (as one critic dubbed the original). The scene with Biggs and Luke chatting before heading out to the Death Star is also a thoughtful inclusion.
However, the background bits with exotic beasts fussing and farting and noisy little drones flying about are distractions that pull your eye away from the focus of the scene. The infamous “Greedo now shoots first” scene undercuts the character arc of Han Solo going from a mercenary out for himself to someone who actually joins the cause. The worst bit, though, is the re-insertion of the scene where Han is confronted by Jabba the Hutt. Not only was most of the scene reworked for the Greedo/Han confrontation, making its insertion gratuitous, Jabba looks like CGI and Han addresses him as if he was a person and not a giant slug. He even ends with, “Jabba, you’re a wonderful human.” This made sense when the scene was shot because Jabba was just some guy in a bad fur coat. Putting the scene back in was the first sign that Lucas’s ear had gone tin on what worked in the world he created.
But what about the rest of the movie, the parts unchanged from 1977?
For the most part, it still works. There is the sense that you are watching events unfold in a universe that is truly unlike ours, one where technology has advanced but is still grimy and gritty and prone to breaking down. The characters are all broadly and clearly delineated. Luke is the farmboy hero who fulfills his destiny, Han is the rogue, Kenobi the wise mentor, Vader the despicable villain and the droids the comic relief. The only real misstep among the cast is Carrie Fisher’s mysteriously appearing and disappearing British accent that seems to activate whenever she’s in a scene with Peter Cushing. Monkey see, monkey do, I guess. Of all the actors, Cushing seems to delight most in his role, coldly putting the leash on Vader (who else would do such a thing in any of the other movies?) or shrugging off the rebels’ chances of actually destroying the Death Star.
Lucas keeps the stakes high throughout — Luke’s guardians aren’t just killed by the stormtroopers, they’re reduced to charred skeletons, the Death Star destroys an entire planet to demonstrate its power — but deftly keeps things moving with lots of action and banter between the main trio as they battle their way through to the final showdown at the Death Star. Yeah, it’s not entirely believable that dozens of stormtroopers could all miss when firing at them but it’s part of the pulp serial fun of the movie. The heroes face impossible odds but somehow overcome them, anyway.
The original effects are a mixed bag. The Death Star trench runs hold up decently but there’s a certain wobbleyness to a lot of the others where they still work but just barely. Here, you do need to keep the film in context. Effects-wise, I’d say it holds up worse than, say, The Wizard of Oz. Even the special edition spiffing up only goes so far.
There is also throughout the film an earnest corniness than many today might find off-putting but again, it works in the context of the story. These aren’t just characters, they’re archetypes. Han isn’t just speaking for himself but for every guy who just wants what’s his and to keep his nose out of everything else.
One of the things I most notice now as an adult is how Lucas really isn’t very good with his actors. Those that know their stuff, like Harrison Ford and Cushing, manage just fine but the younger and less experienced actors like Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher offer uneven performances than a firmer directorial hand would have made more consistent. In this regard I think Lucas actually got worse in the prequels. Still, the lapses aren’t enough to detract from the film as a whole.
Overall, Star Wars still holds up fine. Its flaws are more apparent now and the special edition adds little of value to the film, but it’s well worth seeing. It’s amazing that over 30 years later so few other films have captured the science fantasy feel that makes Star Wars so appealing, even to where it largely eluded Lucas himself.
Tonight at 10 p.m. I got the sudden urge to shave my face. Let me explain.
When I was 29 I grew a beard while on Christmas break at college. It was less a beard and more “I’m too lazy to shave for two weeks” but when someone asked me if I was growing a beard it suddenly seemed like a good idea, so I said yes. I have had the beard since.
This means I was not clean-shaven throughout my 30s and into my early 40s. I was a content beardyman, at least as far as the beard part went.
Finally, I made the first major change to my facial hair in April of this year when I lopped off the full beard and went for a more petite circle beard. I believe this was the right call at the time because the sides of my beard had pretty much gone completely white and I am not ready to become everyone’s stand-in for Santa just yet.
Since then I’ve mulled going further but held off because I like the circle beard. It makes me look vaguely hip, especially if I wear a beret (I don’t own a beret).
But tonight I got this overwhelming urge to see my upper lip for the first time in 16 years, so I broke out the beard trimmer and razor. I am now clean-shaven once again except for a neatly-trimmed goatee that I may or may not shave off tomorrow.
I kind of like the new-old look. I’ll wait a week before deciding whether to stay smooth ‘n sexy or go back to a more hirsute appearance.
Shorn:
It’s hard to see in this resized pic but believe me, there is snow there.
Damn snow.
Another dream from last night:
I am on what appears to be a movie set but they are not shooting at the moment. Or perhaps it’s just a ranch because there are horses. And a Spanish galleon. It makes sense, because it’s a dream.
I am on the galleon with someone who is showing off a little swordsmanship. He recites a line from the script that I can’t precisely recall but it was a taunt something along the lines of, “Do you want to brown your pants?” Colorful, as they say. The part was being played by Brian Doyle and while there are a number of Brian Doyles on the Internet Movie Database, I don’t think this guy was any of them. No idea where the name came from.
After the swordfighting demonstration, I then look over to another man, this one holding the reins of a horse. In retrospect I think it was supposed to be Johnny Depp and this was the set for the fourth Pirates of the Caribbean movie but instead it was Heath Ledger, my first dead dream celebrity.
Heath was going to show off something or other but the horse’s reins got tangled up and it began freaking out and thrashing violently. Heath was standing beside it and could not extricate himself from the reins. By the time he was freed he was laying prone on the ground and making unpleasant facial expressions, a waving hand indicated possible back injuries. When next I looked he was propped up against a nearby fence with two girls looking over him. One was about ten, the other in her teens.
I distinctly recall one of them saying to him, “Please don’t bleed like that” at which point blood started oozing from his nose and mouth. This, understandably, upset the girls and they began wailing as Heath Ledger expired. Again.