Movie AND Attraction Reviews: D-Box Motion Theater and Star Trek: Beyond

For all the vilification that accumulated over the years in hatred for both Michael Jackson and Captain Eo, I have to admit, the two have always had a very special place in my heart. For one, I am and was an 80s kid. I ran home to see the premiere of Michael’s Thriller. And when I heard he was making another such film, I ran my butt out to Disneyland (our home park from Colorado) and waited a decent sweltering 3 hours for it’s opening, along with Star Tours.

So, on a recent trip to EPCOT, when the heat got too much and much aligned film (everyone seems to love to hate that blasted little ditty from the 80s, maybe it reminds too many of their boulderized childhoods), we arrived late and ended up towards the back of the house. Now, I had known for some time that the theater here at Walt Disney World was on an actuator, and, like Star Trek, the entire huge house could move back and forth, up and down.

I just never realized it. I like to be me and the screen.

However, sitting to the back? I saw it. I saw the heads in the house bob with the beat of the music, and they were not just jamming. Loud sounds? Thump went the floor. Explosions made the seats shimmy. Suddenly, that movie I had see a few gazillion times was interesting, even on a minor level, again.

Growing up in Colorado, I eventually outgrew the sights and sounds that made the state a tourist destination. Eventually, everyone who came to visit seemed to want to visit the same five things and, well, it killed my sense of adventure for my homestate. Which is too bad, if you’re an outdoorsy-hippie-tree-hugger, it truly is the place to be.

It’s all that green.

But when I moved to Florida, I figured out-I don’t know everything here. I did not grow up here, so, basically, everything had a novelty to it. It’s wonderful. Crappy t-shirt stores suddenly take on a renewed vigor. My circles expand and expand and even old digs like Disney World still provides a newness I was not getting from hugging all those pine trees and digging out splinters.

This week’s quest led me to an item I stumbled upon, something called, “D-Box.” Now, one has only to visit my blog to see my undying love for movies, heck, even my brief mention for my love for the craptacular Captain Eo in the preceding paragraphs should show you, I dig cinema. When I heard about this concept, I was interested, at the very least.

How it works is that an adopting theater removes a row or two of seats, and places several of the chairs with these D-Box chaises. Now, you have to remember, I’m sure there’s an expense here, so they do add to the ticket price. And they’re retrofitted, too, so they’ll have to fit in a previously built theater. I notice there were two rows about the ninth row in, where we would normally position the speakers to aim at. A bit of a perk. The seats would have to be reserved seating as well, so that patrons who did not pay extra would not hop into the empty or available spaces. In fact, it looked like once a seat was reserved, it activated, making sure the theater was getting its money’s worth.

It was, well, interesting.

First off, that big theater with Captain Eo? Clunky. Large, grandiose movements. With each single seat having it’s own axis, I noticed these seats with D-Box were detailed in their motions and smooth. I did not feel jarred, per se, but since your feet are on steady ground, you are slightly more aware of the angles you are tilting. There’s a dial for you to select your intensity, but I did not toy with it, noticing that the ‘normal’ setting was strong enough.

Yes, you can even turn off.

Why would you want to, however? You paid extra.

I don’t recommend holding food that’s too full. Just in case. And put them away from your feet, also, just in case. They turn it on during the trailers, and even then, I was briefly impressed. The movement was perfectly coordinated with the movie and, as the length of the film progressed, I noticed I tended to forget the special seats we were in.

I also noticed that it keeps you from falling asleep. Such seats would probably not work for Casablanca or something deeply boring like that nine hour snooze-fest of the English Patient.  But for an actioner? Perfect. Something with running and jumping. We also thought it might be good with a decent horror flick, something where the seats jolt you at those specific moments. It’ll make you fear the chair more than the movie.

But let’s be real here. Movies in the theater are going down in the ticket sales department. People aren’t willing to risk the extra prices for something they don’t know, so reboots and sequels abound all over the map. Like 3-D prints of common movies, it looks like here’s Hollywood finding another way to wrestle another few dollars out of our collective pockets.

It’s fun, it’s neat, but I don’t know if it is something I would go out of my way to experience again, which is saying something. The only location is a half-empty mall off the edge of downtown Orlando, far from the various parks, so I wonder what the theater was thinking-it was not trying to pull tourist dollars.

I realized, as the movie went on, as I said before, I like to be me and the screen. I like the immersive-ness of that connection. And, on some attractions, that’s what makes it terrific. Look at Star Tours at Disney’s Hollywood Studios. By having you in a StarSpeeder 3000, no matter where you sit and, basically, watch the movie, you still feel part of a larger whole. Harry Potter’s Forbidden Journey shows films and has a dark ride component, and, again, the guest is totally immersed. Here? I was still in a theater. And with the rows of these special seats so far back, all I had to do was turn my head. I luckily saw the film, Star Trek: Beyond, in 3-D, so that helped some, but, again, the smells of popcorn wafted in and took me back to the realities that I was still in a theater.

There were points, too, when the motion was subtle and I forgot about being in such a specially designed seat, but these moments were too far and few between to really catch my attention and more of an effect of the quality of the picture than the reality of the seats we were in.

How was the Movie?

I supposed you’ve enough of my babbling here to make it this far, and you shall be rewarded. With everything going on while watching this flick, you’d think I’d not have an opinion.

First off, you do not need to see this movie in 3-D. I am not one for it myself, I will only go if it is the only time I can go. The fact is, movies these days are not made to be in 3-D and are usually digitally created after the film’s production. The only time I think it truly enhances movie going is with a bland title like Avatar, which holds no true originality, but does work better as a theme-park-kinda existence on an Imax screen; or, better, in the already 3-D animations that are coming out of Laika studios. I’m thinking Coraline, ParaNorman, or the upcoming Kubo and the Two Strings. The artists are making 3-D models, and I, for one, want to see it.

But Star Trek? Nah.

I’ve been slightly critical about the recent reboots of Star Trek. The television show, especially The Next Generation, really plied on the science. It was true science fiction, stuff that would make Neil Degrasse Tyson proud. However, the reboot, in order to pay for the superb special effects, needed to apply to a large audience. So the science, which tends to be cold (and, if you watched the television show, only in the engineering rooms), is toned down and the interplay is played up. But J.J. Abhrams does something well-he makes delicious ensemble pieces. Pick your character and, in two hours, they will have some screen time. In the previous incarnations of Star Trek, Spock and Kirk, all the way. Now? Every character has their due and it works like a small soap opera. That keeps the settings changing and the plot zipping forward.

And, as a follow author, it is a bitch to write in long form, I can only imagine having to tackle it in a two hour screenplay.

That is where we are with this picture, too. Here, we have a new baddie with a grudge coming after the famed United Federation of Planets and our heroes and their ship are caught in the fray. Do I need to elaborate? You will see it again. Is it good? Yes, and, I found slightly better than it’s predecessors. This time, J.J. has let Justin Lin take the helm and he seems very bothered by the plot of it all, so he keeps the talking bits curt and the point, and I did not mind. The problem? The plot is intricate, with ties to this moment and that moment. If you are not paying attention, the tale can ride away from you. I suppose I could elaborate, but it defies description.

Let’s see if I can do it some justice without releasing spoilers: Bad guy wants a weapon with known success and the Enterprise has it. Destroys the ship and scatters the crew. Each member of the crew follows their own trajectory in the plot until their combined knowledge wins the day.

Yeah, no details because with eight major characters, the reading would make your head explode. Should you go see it? If you like this kind of movie, sure. Even if you are not into Star Trek, it has enough running and jumping that it can be seen as summer fare.

On a sidenote, and I do not believe I’m giving any spoilers here, Idris Elba is playing the villain. I always hated the stereotype of English men always being the bad guys, but, well, here’s Idris having to take that rein again. Not only that, for some reason, they put a mask on that beautiful face of his. Why does Hollywood have this image that he can’t just...you know…be? I really think Hollywood, like so much of Washington, has little concept of the audiences they are playing to. Why is this?

So, yes, this movie is entertaining, but not enough that if you elect to just Netflix it when it becomes available. For me? Just seeing the brief moment of Sulu with his husband was awesome, truly, in terms of visibility, but, like with hiding Idris from our prying eyes, why were they even worried about it. Why not just have John Cho’s version outright be gay? Why just push it aside to a footnote? The argument could be made that such things are really not tantamount to the perils of the tale, IE:  by that point in the future, it is enough commonplace that to make an issue out of it in the storyline, THAT would seem out of place, moreso. There was a point, in Star Trek, The Next Generation, where dear Counselor Troi, when the ship encounters a race of hermaphrodites that abhor gender identity simple states about the Federation, “they aren’t as accepting as our cultures have progressed.” So, by not identifying it, they have, in a way, shown that it really isn’t, in the end, that big of a deal.

Maybe it isn’t.

But go if you’re interested. I liked it. And I’m not even a Trekkie. I found it progressed quickly and I’d probably like it regardless of the moving seats or not.

Movie Review: Finding Dory

How could I say no?

I had come back from one of the more morose travels I had ever experienced and knew I need to go to My Happy Place. However, sometimes, when you live up the road, getting to Disney World is a bit of a production. THere's animals and food and money and gas and time there and back and lines and.....and...

But a movie? How's about a Disney movie?

I wish I could say "spoilers" at some point in this review, but, really, do you not know, by now, what's going to be happening in a Disney/Pixar sequel? If you don't, that's kosher on some level. Pixar does tend to mix in some truly original approaches (80 year olds sword fighting in a balloon? Look at Up/Frat initiation with monsters? Look at Monsters University), and, to some extent, their own original send ups (Tangled is massively creative), but overall, you are aware of their delicious witty timeless commentary, their upbeat understandings, and their positive endings.

Finding Dory fills each of the boxes. But, really, nothing more. Instead of Nemo being lost, it's Dory's history and realizing her failing memory from the first movie is the impetus for a new adventure. So? For some reason, her memory comes back and she decides to find the family she had forgotten about. Cue music.

The sea, however, covered so expansively in the first movie, doesn't hold much more for them to discover, so now the action is moved to an animal rescue facility and the cute characters within. And, just like in every Pixar movie, stars line up to say their three lines and get on the marquee. But unlike usual padding of resumes, there's something to be said about the scripting. Yes, this is a rehash, but there's still some fun things going on. And it's always a good idea to get in on the fun. That's what these stars are doing.

Outstanding is Ed O'Neill, of Modern Family and Married with Children fame, as another curmedgoen, this time, in the color changing octopus named Hank. His character is fully fledged with fears and concerns and it plays well with the optimist that is Dory. All cool things? Dory's memory concerns are treated like a learning disability and I appreciated it. It showed the stress the parents were under and the ways they addressed it. If felt this added a heart to a supporting character. Ellen's protrayal was as a comedic relief, a supporting character in the first movie. Such a decision made sense when moving her to a protagonist.

Where the movie fails? Well, animations run on the edge of our reality or fully in another reality. That's the glory of it. A glimpse into a world that isn't as visible to us. The toys in Toy Story are still bound by the realities of our own; and, in the original Finding Nemo, the same thing applied. However, here? The interactions between humans and the fish go a bit extreme in that department, especially in an overlong third act, where they steal a truck (!).

Fact was, however, since I had been on the journey for so long, I didn't truly mind. And kids won't care. But? Still? I wish they had held to their usual high expectations for themselves all the way through. By that point, you could see the Pixar heads' aggravation with Disney treating them like a cash cow. You could hear them saying, "fine, you want a sequel? Dang...here's YOUR BLOODY SEQUEL! Now shut it while we make more of the movies we want to see!!!!"

That being the case? Yeah, a good movie. Not a great one, by any sense. Not the deep artwork we saw before, just a joyous engagement. Watch if you want, but don't worry, you're not missing canon or anything.

Why I Left

The kids were screaming.

So was my soul.

I know, I know, so dramatic, isn't it? I'm so dramatic. Even I know when too much is too much.

But it works.

I had not been on a ruder flight to Colorado, since, of course, the last flight to Colorado. It made sense. A terrific, maybe a not so terrific, excessively hot vacation had come to a close. The kids, stuck waiting on line to meet Mickey McCheese and now they were stuck on a plane with various boring adults. No wifi (which sucks moosedick, dear Frontier), no more cool hats or sugar options. They ran up and down the aisles or stared at whomever, making sure that their various targets would hate every child in existence. The adults were just as bad, but I think that they weren't tourists, unless they were grandparents. Instead, their prostates sang in unison, so that when the seatbelt light went out and we evened out, they formed a queue at the lavatories.

Just like every other attraction in Florida.

Yeah, I was annoyed. I was annoyed that my family would not come back to Florida and I, instead, had to fly to Colorado to see them. So, even if the flight was filled with gold and free coffee (another reason to hate Frontier, the fuckers, you had to pay for coffee), I probably would have found something wrong.

That's me, all angsty-like.

I had to return home. Dad was sick, mother, well, she was always ailing with something, but now? She needed an oxygen tank to get around-or, as the world of the theater calls it-props. She needed props to keep the show going. So wasn't moving.

When Mohammed couldn't make it to the mountain, the mountain came to Mohammed, no?

So I flew out. It'd been a decent four years since my last return and I felt in necessary, no matter how much this queen protested. Family is family, after all. And, no matter how much they work on me trying to develop a hatred for them, I still loved them.

Liking them, well, that was a different story.

But as I flew and got a shitload of reading done (probably why I'm in such a mood to write), I thought that, maybe, just maybe, I should put down why I finally gave up the ghost and moved to Florida. I noticed, in casual conversations, I give so many reasons as to why, I realized I probably should put it down some where. I think, too, that the reasons I left my homeland multiplied as the years passed, and I realized the hold my wonderful misery had on me. I'm from an ethnic family. Misery and suffering is pretty much omnipresent. As I suffered out in the snows of Pikes Peak, it did not occur to me that I was suffering, I thought it was what I was supposed to do.

Here's the thing. A good portion of this particular trip involved planning for the end of life of my parents. Not because they are dying, they're not. They are acting as if they are, but that's nothing particularly new. But I realized that I'm STILL holding on to the pain that I had there in Colorado. I don't want to die with that feeling.

I'm pulling a let-it-go moment. This is it. I've started this list before. Time to bring it to a close.

And sing Disney tunes.

I had long heard of "burnout." They actually have lessons and workshops on it when your undergrad. When you are an idealist and young and think that nothing can happen to you. I had been at my job teaching at the school for the deaf for a decent twenty years when they hired the only applicant for a principal. Now, think about that. The only applicant. Deaf schools are vital to the Deaf community. They are place where Deaf Culture thrives and sign language is internalized and grown.

But they only had on applicant. And since they didn't have a principal, they hired the first person who applied.

She didn't last. The school had been there for over 100 years. That mean many of the things they did there had been set in stone. Technology was a struggle. Many of the teachers were about to retire, which meant that a newer, younger staff was about to take the reigns. And the school, desparate and afraid of losing the budget from the government grabbed the first person who came along. She was great, actually, but she was not ready for what was before her. She didn't last and the newer teachers, were unable to step up to fill the gap.

Hiring had to come from within. I was offered the position, but, in all honesty, I'm no administrator. I don't like telling people what to do, and, frankly, your job would be mostly calling parents to talk about issues. I was not young, like most of the pregnant staff (I shit you not and that is not a sexist statement...we hired 12 young women who were preggers within their first 6 months of the job....a crisis was looming), nor was I ready for retirement.

They asked, as they looked for a new principal, if I would fill in in the afternoons while the super took up the mornings?

No extra pay, but a crapload of street cred. It'd only be a week or two.

Sounds good.

4 months passed. I had to help with everything, since the superintendent was in another building and didn't know half of the staff or the students beneath them. I had to interview possible new hires. The ones who were Deaf did not have degrees or experience in anything. The ones who had experience could not sign, knew nothing of the culture to begin with.

And my brain started to frazzle. I started staying at the school until 8 or 9 at night and had to come in on Sundays to do lesson plans-since our population kept increasing. Deaf students were failing the state-mandated tests. So? Schools, afraid of the special education students bringing their scores downwards, would ship them to the state school.

A place that had been failing their state tests for pretty much the same reason.

And the super was already yelling at the staff to get the kids to pass. Kids with a 1st grade reading level.

The flames had begun. I began to burnout. Vacations taken were filled with sickness as my body was so plagued during the week. Yes, I eventually moved my coworker into the position and shared her office (all the while, teaching English) and had to get her up to speed.

For no extra cash.

I quit the job the next year. And everyone was surprised for some reason. I guess that meant I did a good job, but not once was I thanked, not once was a kudo handed my way. The job, my FIRST teaching position ever, had been soiled by items out of everyone's control.

I remember the last school play I did not direct, my first time in 20 years. A young lady (not pregnant...yet) had taken the reigns with her performing arts degree. She had special effects, movies, it was incredible. I remember trying to get the same things for years, but I would ahve to sew the costumes, alone, in the basement; I had to build the sets because the vocational classes and the maintence crew was too busy to do so.

Yet I had installed a young blonde and, funny, she got the men to work for her. Go figure.

It was time to leave. THe place was in good hands.

I took the job for teaching the deaf in the public realm, and set up a mainstream program with my colleagues still at the Deaf school.

My first meeting at the new job ended at 5. Union rules. I went home and made dinner. And saw a movie, midweek, with my husOtter.

If such a change could lower my heart rate, it was time to start doing things for my own sake.

I took the job at the Deaf school because that's what I wanted. But it was my first job and it really defined me. Without much experience, I didn't realize that there was a whole different culture in public schools. I was seen, suddenly, as an equal. My meetings came to an end. I wasn't working from item to item.

I could teach.

It was time to leave and see what else was out there.

I am more grateful than this article elaborates, believe me. But yes, those classes about burnout had suddenly struck my brain like a match.

And I was on fire.

In the fall of 2007, my grandfather, a great man, passed away. He had said, in my last deep meeting with him, upon meeting my husOtter, "you know, he could be part of our family, too, with him living with us." He got it. In his own way, his history would not let him say with confidence but his dying heart knew, his grandson was happy and living with someone. As we placed him into time itself, I realized that man had done everything from the same seat in his house for eons. My father was born in the house that my grandfather would eventually die in. All my aunts and uncles.

But they had moved on. We had. But he had stayed. He never saw Paris, never could afford it. Maybe he didn't want to, and that's alright too.

With his deepening connection in those final days and hours, I saw more of him and me and realized that, even though he passed away happy, knowing he had communicated his wishes for eternity.

Suddenly, my fate came into a bit of a clearer focus. Would it be alright if I passed away in the hosue I was in now? Would it be okay to move onto the Secret Worlds without never seeing Paris?

Yes, I'd be fine.

And that kind of confidence defined him. And it defined me.

So? I wanted to move to Florida. Why was I waiting? You know the cliche. What would you do if you knew you'd not fail? Move on and try a different life.

I did. I wanted to be like my grandfather. I wanted to be confident into my last days. And such a risk was a rare and alien thing.

I left Colorado with him in mind. He never got to Florida as it was. I was to take him there, then.

Speaking of passing, I had to head back. It was a last minute thing, my own stepDad was not doing well.

Guess what happened when I posted about heading back on social media?

Nothing. Only two people even noticed.

Fancy that. Now, that's not directly attached to my grandfather, but it is the environment I had no realized I left, until, of course, I left. Wealthy barons of all sorts pander to the Colorado territory and, to some extent, it's why shootings tend to happen there. People just feel entitled.

And when I announced this recent visit, people were like, "great, you should come back."

Not, "who/what/where/when."

Only two found a reason to put down their various hookahs and call in their private choppers for a visit. Okay, that was mean...but funny.

Two. I lived there for my whole life. Two. People who tell me I'm wrong on social media. Just two. We all want a standing ovation. People are busy. It typified what I'd been up against my entire life. A culture of entitlement that I had not expected and was part of, sadly. And when I left? It became more and more apparent.

Like the lady screaming that at the gate attendant that she was in Zone One for her flight's seating and, ergo, should step ahead, after all, she had 5 children.

The lady at the nail shop arguing I needed a full back massage for 59 extra dollars.

Fuck you. No, I don't. I need a foot massage and some cookies.

My own mother made very similar observations, I recall, when we visited New York to see members of her family.

I guess, in the end, you can't go home again. And, since home is where you heart is, I guess my heart was not into it.

So? I left then and I'm still happy I left, now. What is it they say? People tend to pay more attention to critical reviews AFTER they've consumed something. Go figure. I'm thinking that's what happened here. I didn't realize how yucky things were until long after the fact.

So? I left.

Movie Review: The Conjuring 2

There was a ghost story in the news.  I remember it vividly. Every night, the buzz over the book, “The Amityville Horror,” made all the crime and economic woes of the seventies pull into a very different perspective.

“You could be living down in Amityville.”

Oh, how my morbid soul would have loved it.

My older brother even read the book. This was a big step. He didn’t even read the directions on the shampoo bottle.

I was hooked.

Then? Then there was a Halloween documentary special on ghosts. Right there on HBO. My mother treated us to cable upon the passing of my father-it made sense, for soon we’d be latchkeys and need something to do.

And I watched that ghost video show a few times.

A precursor to YouTube videos, I’m sure.

On that little movie, they played back the tapes from a very documented case.

The Enfield Haunting.

The fact was, the tapes had just been released, and, due to the proximity of the famed Amityville haunting, the press was keeping the attention up and as strong as possible.

I was enthralled. My mother was hesitant. She noticed something was up when, instead of heading downstairs at the Emma S. Clark library, to the kiddie stacks, I instead went to the Dewey triple O’s.

I was researching. I found out the tales of Bell Witch Haunting. The Amityville Horror. The Borley Rectory.

And Enfield. Information about that was still short. But it would keep my interests for quite some time.

Until this Christmaskkah, when a friend told me about a special right there on BBC. I had to watch.

And I remembered. The chills and fascination returned.

It’s with this visage I came to watch the The Conjuring 2. I absolutely loved The Conjuring. Yes, it take massive dramatic license with the books I had read. But? The tale was full. And this was not a dead teenager movie. This movie (the Conjuring) truly was like the Amityville Horror. There were no dead bodies. But there were scares; pale faces; spooky rooms; ripped wallpapers. I loved it for the same reason I loved the Haunted Mansion. The long drawn out sequences and the feeling that there’s just something spookier around the next corner. There’s something creepy going on. And the audience was drawn in.

I was annoyed that they made a sequel.

Then we saw it.

Okay, they should have called it The Conjuring 2 as a subtitle. Because, what James Wan has done? He’s recreated the first scary tale, keeping all the fun creepy stuff and the two main protagonists, and plopped them down in a new, ‘true-life’ ghost story.

And this movie is actually pretty good, believe it or not.  The only drawback? Well, the sequences are a bit drawn out. It’s evident to me that he’s got experience enough that he knows the audience expects a jump with every specific, lingering camera angle. So those moments tend to be longer and longer,

But I will admit, at least twice, there were scares that had NOTHING to do with jumping, but were so deliciously creepy that I applaud their use. In fact, at the conclusion, I realized that special effects were pretty much not uses. Instead, a production design that kept us well aware of the house’s mapping and claustrophobia; actors that telegraphed their concerns so well, that I was a bit worried.

Do you like the Haunted Mansion at the Disney parks? You like the mood and atmosphere over just the standard dark-ride scares or those cheesy Halloween prank houses with teens in bad make-up? Then you’ll like this movie.

Ugh.

I shouldn't write about this. I'm, by no means, an authority on guns, or violence. Heck, I don't anyone who survived, and I don't know who was slaughtered.

I'm not the correct choice, but, at the same time, I feel compelled to author something. 

Cause I'm here. I'm a member of this nation, this planet. And I'm gay. 

There was a massacre at a gay nightclub. 

Not only that, I've been here before. 

Nathan Dunlap, upset over being fired, walked into a Showbiz Pizza place and shot up the place.  Article

The same place behind my middle school where, when I had extra quarters, I'd walk over and play video games at. 

That was close. Too close. 

See, there was a shooting in Colorado-as a school a friend of mine had just finished student teaching at. I had driven by and talked to her while she was there.  Yes, it was Colombine.

I knew that school.

That was close to home, emotionally, physically.

And then there was a shooting in a Colorado movie theater, during the The Dark Knight Rises.

The same...too close. That was the theater I had seen numerous movies, including taking my tyke of niece to see various cartoons with large popcorns; my dad and I escaping to see The Blair Witch Project to see if it was real or not. 

There's a humor in all of this. It may seem like I'm the harbinger of death, doesn't it. But the fact is, I don't own a gun, never will. In fact, it's something my husOtter completely agree on. We're men of faith. Thou shall not kill. 

Neither will we. 

No guns. 

I mean, what good will they do? I love hearing how great they are and how people are so proud of having them and keeping people safe. I have YET to hear of one story where a mass murderer was stopped by a bystander with a handgun.

You're going to google to prove me wrong, which is interesting. Because it says something more about you, the reader, than my statement. You need to justify yourself. As if the piles of dead bodies aren't enough to convince you that there's a problem. 

Two wrongs don't make a right.

Where was the Pope's gun? Just curious. I saw 10 men with guns around Reagan. And they were trained. And they fucked up big time. 

Now? Let's stop for a minute. When did it become a conversation about weaponry? 

And when the fuck are we getting to Orlando?

There was a shooting in Orlando. The thing I thought I was unqualified to talk about. But, like the other shots that were fired, are waaaay too close to my heart. I am gay. 

I know, surprise.

And I've been to gay clubs. Our safehouse. Before I came out, it was the only place I could others of my tribe, my color, my community. I got my first apartment across the street from the gay bar and would go there to watch football and play pool. It was a place where I could be, where many could just...be. To hear it shattered, again, by a religious nut is, at once, upsetting, and strangely, predictable. 

The fact is, we got marriage rights, but we're far from out of the woods yet. I mean, if the governor can declare a state of emergency without mentioning the word lesbian, gay, or anything about a sexual minority ONCE, you know, still, the state of Florida hates you. Even if it happened in a gay club. They don't even acknowledge that you exist. Lest we forget, Florida was one of the few states that didn't want to issue marriage licenses. 

Reminds me of the 80s, which I also lived through. When no one seemed to want to mention anything about the AIDS epidemic.

*)  EDIT:  I found this. Please notice who DIDN'T acknowledge the LGBT community: https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/national/how-lawmakers-responded-to-the-orlando-mass-shooting/

In fact, fucking Fox News with their ongoing coverage. That media outlet, which has singlehandedly kept gay rights at bay for the past few years is reporting about this, the fucking dingletwats. This is the channel that would invite Ralph Reed and Dobson on as "experts" on all things nongay.

And they're getting ratings.

Or my friends who, instead of checking on me or my friends, posted about, "here comes Obama, watch, he'll want our guns!" Not...are you okay?

And I'm not okay, not one bit. Pile this heap with shit from my nieces (yes, plural) dying in a car wreck, being robbed, both the cat and the dog dying, and then 10 weeks of the flu-and you have me in a corner, so I'm going to get all catty. Sorry.

I'm just so sorry.

No, I'm not blaming Islam, either. I did have some pause that, after 4 days of visiting us in Orlando, President Obama met with the Saudi princes at the White House-a country that executes gays. Yes, that's state business, but....come ON. 

Yes, I'm venting. The fact is, gun control may not be the answer, but I do believe, strongly, that research needs to be completed. Something that the NRA refuses to allow so they lobby against it. Makes sense. With every shooting, people buy more guns. Less violence in media? Sure, that's an old chestnut, but if it were totally true, there'd be MORE violence, not less. I do like the idea of doing background checks. That doesn't keep guns from people, IMHO. But, like, what the fuck do I know. I want something to happen, but my head's too wrapped up in everything to really know what course of action to take.

Here are some actions you can take, however:

One Blood

Please donate blood. Of course, I'm a bit peeved about this too. Imagine if my husOtter was dying and needed blood. But the gays? We can't donate. Fuck!

Pulse Tragedy Fund through the Center of Orlando

Pulse Victims Fund via Equity Florida

But enough with the prayers. If the community wasn't already in your prayers, then you don't start now. DO. Let's DO something.

A Different Kind of Review

I lean on the shoulders of giants.

Seriously. Not a Thursday night goes by where I don't find myself sitting in for a decent reading session with Rogerebert.com, even after the master of film criticism has passed. His progeny proliferate and I sit in respectful awe of their talent. I try to copy their style, their wordings, here.

I know. Good luck with that.

But the writing is good, if not great. These are people who find homes in writing, places I can only dream of.

I've also leaned on the New York Times to find the ins-and-outs of restaurant writing. The fact is, I'm not a very good cook, so, nope, that's where I fail, horribly. I don't know the kinds of flavors I'm tasting. Adjectives allude me and it's rough.

Then there's this review.

And I have no active examples on what to say or do in terms of authoring a review of specific attraction at the Disney Parks. Oh. Sure, yeah, there's a few hundred blogs.

But they pretty much suck moosepenis. They're yahoos who are in it for the free tickets. So it's not like I can copy them. They'll just throw words at the screen and use the adjective "good," ten to twenty times.

And I'm not content to tow the party line on this. I love Disney, don't get me wrong, but there's also a reason I'm not clamoring for the free tickets. Same for when I was a movie critic. I requested my publisher give me money and head to the ticket booth and I see it when everyone else.  Probably would do the same thing today.

Basically, does this moment in art hold up to scrutiny? Does the meal satisfy? Does the music linger in the heart and mind? Does the painted image hold some kind of emotional resonance?

And does what Disney create transport us to another reality?

See, here's the deal. I live an hour from Disney. Best place, ever, if you want a "stay-cation." And it's always there, especially if you have no relative nearby and an annual pass to burn. However, like the sun, the moon, and the stars, it's always there. See, like, I lived in the shadow of Pikes Peak. Did I go up it? No, not very often. I did and I enjoyed it, but, there were times, when people came to visit and, I was, like, "yeah, not happening."

Either the crowds were too thick. The sun was too strong. That extra helping of whatever didn't agree with me and I felt safer with the can nearby.

So when Disney does it's media blitz for this novelty and that new thing, I perk up, and I do listen and get all excited. But this isn't going to make it or break it for me. EVERYONE and their trophies are going to be heading over to the crowded parks en masse and I have no urge to subject myself to that abuse. We'd tend to wait, see when anyone else is going and then jump on that bandwagon. I like the situation of it, the feel of it.

Disney's Animal Kingdom, I will mention, is not my favorite park. I find that the attractions are few, and the animals, once great and numerous, were emptied when Disney realized no one was walking over to see them. Of course, now that Hollywood is basically down for the count for the next several years, they have to make something worthwhile for people to head to. Animal Kingdom is huge, but really the animals were only out during the day; the naturalistic feel of the park made fora  hot, steamy afternoon. Bamboo thickets crowd the walkways, and the crowds press into each other. It was created with the idea that the guest was the explorer, but time and an increase in visitors have left that concept in the lurch. Disney was content to change very little about the park. The numbers were high and attendense hasn't slowed in many moons. Why change a thing?

Then people started cutting down their vacations to head to Universal.

And then the Hollywood Studios elected to become Star Wars land.

Animal Kingdom was ripe for the change. Magic Kingdom just got a new Fantasyland, and so that budget was moved away.

Animal Kingdom has some interesting choices coming up and I support the creativity. For one, they're getting an environmentally themed Tomorrowland, in the shape and scope of James Cameron's Avatar. A facinating choice, and I commend them on the attempt.

And this past Saturday, they started offering night activities. Right at the start of summer.

I was content to wait. Things get edited as the nights carry on and Disney learns what's popular and what's downright stupid.

But I have smart friends.

And they jumped when they saw that the backdoor was left open, as it were.

Ahem.

They snagged fastpasses galore for the biggest item of the night.

Nighttime safaris.

Yes, Kilimanjaro safaris is now open at night.

Now, understand, Disney has won awards for providing such care of their animals. They had them trained to come in at night from their huge savannah and into paddocks where vets could check on them and make sure their needs were being met. They could count the animals and all those things that needed to happen. But with wanting to stay open later, they had to retrain the beasts to stay out far from their cages and still feel safe.

The safari was interesting for me. You can see the same animals in a zoo, and, if needed, linger over them and study them, see them slightly closer than a ranger-lead open bus. However, with Disney's experience there's something about seeing the relaxation of the animals. They're moving about in huge, open areas, as they would be in the wild so the image they create is much more natural and realistic. Not only that, the herds move about the vehicles, giving the guests the feeling that they are part of the attraction.

But Florida is fucking hot. You're sitting with a few hundred strangers and they're sweating, we're sweating and everyone is looking over everyone.

So is the night any different?

Yes, actually.

First off, there's a quiet to the whole shebang, so as not to spook the animals. The lights are a deep red on the vehicle, helping your eyes adjust to the surroundings. The headlights are on, creating shadows and, yes, quite a few horror film references were made, but that meant we were there, in that moment. The animals, now cooled from the day or more docile, more relaxed, ready for sleep. We noticed that that comfort translates to them really not caring for the slow moving ride vehicles as they pass. They yawn, stretch and mumble past.

Now, this being Disney, there was a theme about saving the elephants when the attraction first open. Made sense. They were afraid that the animals might not be seen and were afraid that your trip would be a waste, so they shoehorned a tale in about "Big Red" and poachers and you had to go save the day.

It was nixed.

Something similar happens here.

No story, but, instead, two beautiful set pieces. A scrim created sunset greets you upon entrance to the larger holding area. At the end of the tour, there's moonlight. As if you've traveled through the lowlands of Africa in one night. The feeling you've gone on a journey.

So? Is it good?

Yes.

It's cooler, for one thing. And two, we noticed some of the animals just seem to be about more. Especially the rhinos, jiminychristmaskkah, the rhinos. In fact, I noticed three different trucks guarding the huge beasts, their eyesight being terrible in the dark. But still, they were there, and in greater number than the day. The lions were roaring (however my husOtter insists that was piped in); the gnu just sauntered past.

I also noticed that lamps were hidden in the trees. When animals drew near, they came on, but very slowly, so as not to scare the creatures. This means we had the deliciously creepy experience of seeing moving palm trees in shadow suddenly sprout ears and spots and become giraffes. This was not a special effect. It was our collective minds playing tricks on us.

We also got to see the famed Tree of Life come to, well, life. Disney is now using the projections that they use on the castle curing the Magic fireworks, to make each sculpture come to life on that immense centerpiece. And, about every fifteen minutes or so, a small tale is projected, using characters that are strangely similar to Bambi or Todd the fox from The Fox and the Hound. Strangely, this seemed to be largely experimental, without mention of when the vignettes were going to happen. So your chance to see it is really hit or miss, which is too bad, because the surface area of the tree is HUGE and so the images are a bit easier to see.

No fireworks. Animals nearby, remember?

But that aspect seemed also pretty much too new to totally be enjoyed. I know I'll have to go back and see how it works. And if I had spent a few gazillion bucks to fly out with my family to see it, I might miss it and be bothered by that.

Some other night items? A new Bollywood presentation, ala Fantasmic, based on the The Jungle Book. However, it was packed as well.

And, as I started this documentation, I can wait, sometimes.

Unless my really smart friends get more fast passes and force me out of my sluggish comfort zone.

And here's my dilemma. As a critic? Yes, I feel this moment, this piece of artistry is evident and truly magical. However, I kept thinking that there was something unfinished, something like hitting a stream already flowing to the sea. The sense of journey is present but not totally ironed out to make it accessible to a large audience. I'd be curious to see if changes are implemented in the near future, to make the story and imagery stronger and more accessible.

Of Mice and Men, Of Actors, Stars, and Icons

I listen to NPR. I suppose that's a given. I spend a good deal, a sizable chunk of my day, within the confines of my car, going from worksite to worksite. No complaints, but commercial radio, as we know, is bunk. In fact, I was forced to listen to it when given a new work car and I heard only two songs in over 45 minutes. Audiobooks are incredible, but I like the immediacy of podcasts and PopCulture Happy Hour is one of my favorites.

Recently, they were talking about how, by the casting of Tom Hanks in the film "Captain Philip," half the work was done, since his 'starlight' already informed the film's audiences with what to expect. The comment bothered me, for some reason, the failings of the show's hosts falling into the same pit I've fallen into many times. As critics, we tend to play fast and loose with the seriousness of so much art and that was a bit of a flippant comment, even for my sensibilities.

But, well, the host did have a point. The fact is, the whole world of film is really teeny-tiny and so, well, I started analyzing the impact of the statement. Now, perhaps, I think what bothered me is that inability for the critic to see beyond the face of Tom Hanks and see a nuanced performance, especially understated in the final moments of the film. I've been an actor, I know that there is, yes, some work that's going on. It's like a person with an invisible disability. A terrible analogy, but it works-there's work going on, you just don't see it.

And that's acting. Heath Ledger locked himself into a hotel room for three days to memorize his lines for the movie The Dark Knight. He exited and became the Joker to the very end of the end. He even convinced the filmmaker himself to allow him to direct a small handheld film that appears (a horrifying torture scene) in the picture, while in character.

Dustin Hoffman, dressed as woman in Tootsie, walked around town and felt the stares and realized the plight of women in the 80s (and, yes, today) and used it to color his character. Marlee Matlin took all of her own personal torment living as a Deaf woman in a hearing family and channeled it to an Oscar; watch Cher, seen as a joke in acting circles, literally (see the movie and watch her walk down the street) throw her cares to the win and literally become an Italian-American woman trying to thrive within the parameters of Old World rules.

All of them. Actors.

And that's when I noticed something. There are three performers in Hollywood.

Actors (actresses, but for here, I'll use the term interchangeably)

Stars

Icons

Tom Hanks, to me, is one of those actors. He preps his work. And he acts in movies. The tabloids rarely target him, when they run into him, he's friendly and not very exciting. There's a myriad of pictures of him on the interwebs, crashing weddings and getting selfies over drunk people-passed out so they can't meet him. His wife, Rita Wilson, is also an actor. There are no hidden camera shots of her at the corner of Hollywood and Vine playing with her wedding ring.

These people take their craft seriously. I watched, last night, a cute little ditty I probably should review, called "GBF." Crappy title, great little script, cute little flick. These people, I'm sure, would like a bigger paycheck. But they were all actors. They are trying.

But there's something else. Here, do you want to see the full spectrum of my world? Roo also watches TMZ. I don't like them. I don't approve of their massive invasion of privacy.

However?

I fucking love the movies.

And, yes, I'm aware that these actors? They have something they are selling. They are, in the end, their own product. And with that, there's a way to make yourself more marketable.

The press. Tabloids.

It's fucking parasitic.

TMZ catches them in public, being themselves. SIDENOTE: What I like about the show has nothing to do with the images...and everything to do with the hilarious office banter the team discusses. They've all become characters by being themselves. It's reality tv without the need for scenarios.

Now we're moving into stardom.

There's a world built around the actor and it's not always pretty or appropriate. I think of poor George Clooney.

Okay, so he's not exactly poor. Born into the media world, he could never escape it, like a Kennedy on a private island. But he can act, he's quite good. And it's not like he has to, but he likes to. Either the part is challenging enough, or that he likes the thematic representation of a given piece. I think that's why he took (the dude's father was in the press, Nick Clooney) the currently playing Money Monster. It's a strange movie, but it's about the banking's investment in the government and media's love for violence.

George is an actor, but his face on this kind of picture will drawn people in-and maybe they'll vote for Hillary, er, learn something about our flawed systems. My point being, even unwittingly, George is a movie star. He's married to one of the most intelligent women in the world.

And you don't even know her name. Because? She's not part of the scene.

Nor should she-because she's an attorney for the fucking UN.

Her name is Amal Alamuddin. Probably more important than he is.

Brad Pitt's in the same boat. Watch his early career. He's brave and bold, taking diverse roles.

And he's beautiful.

George and Brad--actors and stars.

Now, trust me, there are those who are just stars.

Adam Sandler.

And he's got nothing outside of the screen, but he's up there and he keeps clearing budgets. I'm also reminded of many others who crossed over into film. Prince? Not an actor, but every bit a star. Barbara Streisand? An actress who became a star. And then star kinda blinded out the acting part. There's a reason she hides nowadays. She's talented. But she's bigger than her roles.

Now, I probably should mention, being a star is totally cool and there's nothing wrong with that. I look to people like Pamela Anderson. She continues to be marketable. Can she act? No. But she's more than willing to be seen and game to poke fun at herself.

But her movies? Meh.

And, remember, there's two layers here. You can be both.

Or neither. See:  Any Lifetime movie.

I guess I should point out the Kardasians. They aren't in movies. And they shouldn't be stars. Still, applause must be given to them, yes. They made themselves a marketable product and keep a buttload of people employed with it. I get angry with their no-talented-ness, but understand they have a purpose.

Maybe I should create a subgenre:  celebrities. No talent wannabes.

Fuckers.

But as I did all of this mental sorting, I came across something that I didn't think could be addressed with my interactions with "Actors" and "Stars."

I look to those movies where I went to see the performer. I knew them; I trusted them.

Like Jackie Chan. Grant you, his recent turn in the shitty Karate Kid showed he actually has some decent acting ability. I guess a lifetime on stage and screen will do that to a man. But is he an actor? Technically? No. And his life beyond the corners of the screen? Not really star-material.

I created a third column.

Icons.

He's an icon. When I see his movies, they're consistently challenging me to see his craft but also see an insane amount rapport. He is so wonderfully friendly, you want to take the journey with him. I noticed this was the case with several of my favorite martial arts performers.  Jean-Claude Van Damme. Jet Li. Michelle Yeoh. And, to some extent, Chow Yun-Fat, but he does cross over, frequently, to acting territory.

The camera lense for this group really can expand, too. Look at Arnold. Yes, the biggest action star of all of the 80s. His later works, and his recent turns have actually been performances, but, let's face it, he's not going to get an Oscar. And a Star? Yes, but he seemed to come out pretty squeeky clean outside of the usual infidelities.

Marilyn Monroe is another good example. She was, believe it or not, a classically trained actress. However, the public refused to see her talent, and just wanted to stare at her. It led to her eventual meltdown. But this woman can actually act. But you see an image of her and you see everything. You know every line; every moment.

And it's beautiful.

James Dean could also act around some of the performers of today, but his short life and high cheekbones moved him into a silver screen history few have joined. Clark Gable? Cary Grant? Alfred Hitchcock?

As I look at this thought process, I realized one thing.

Barbra Streisand fits into all of these categories, doesn't she? She's awesome.