In which M is spectacularly sick, and V attempts to spread some cheer.

Here's the dancing bird clip from Planet Earth. The British narrator is a whole lot better than what we get here in the states. Bafflingly, they've dubbed over him with Sigourney Weaver. She must have the least expressive voice in the history of narration. But I digress. Dancing bird. Enjoy.

This is too funny:

In which V and M have seen several films of varying quality.

1. 300
This is the film of the year, for serious. Completely awesome from start to finish, and from what I gather from flipping through the graphic novel, visually very faithful to Frank Miller's artwork. See this ASAP. Definitely one to get on DVD as well. Possibly the finest example of asskicking put on film to date. I saw a review of this somewhere, and it was from the right-wing conservative evangelical viewpoint, and said something along the lines of "Frank Miller is all about violence and whores" and I was all "what's the problem?" Seriously. Violence and whores. Bring it on.

2. The Number 23
Sometimes you go to a film hoping it's going to be the most awesome thing ever, with all kinds of profound insight and great visuals and blah blah blah. But sometimes you just go to a film hoping to be entertained. I didn't have huge expectations for this one, I just thought the previews looked intriguing and I thought it might be fun to see. And you know what, I really enjoyed it. There are probably several hundred plot holes, and if you try too hard to make sense of it you'll no doubt just piss yourself off. But I mean, I just watched it, and didn't really try to solve anything. And it was fun. I don't think M liked it, but then again he kept dozing off and then waking up and saying "What? What's going on?!" so maybe don't take his word for it.

3. The Hitcher
A well made but completely unnecessary remake. Practically a scene-by-scene copy of the original. Rutger Hauer is definitely a creepier baddie, but Sean Bean is... well, he's Sean Bean. And that means QUALITY.

4. Zodiac
Considerably more grim than expected, but less grim than Seven (or Se7en, if you're anal). I thought the actual murder scenes were quite brutal and didn't pull any punches. Perhaps they came across as brutal because as the viewer you know this stuff really happened to someone. It's not pure fiction. The acting was superb, and even though this was a long film, the plot moved along at a steady pace. Highly recommended. Note: if M reviews this, he will likely mention that I made an exit to the ladies' about halfway through the film, arms flailing in dramatic silhouette against the screen. I am sure I was more dignified than all of that.

5. Pan's Labyrinth
I had already seen and loved this, but went again for M's benefit as this is really the sort of film you want to see on the big screen if at all possible. Despite knowing how things were going to turn out, I once again cried buckets at the end. Very compelling, powerfully emotional film. This is a must-see.

6. Dead Silence
There was really no way this was going to be a good film, but M was keen to see it so we went. The first 20 minutes were promising, and there was a twist at the end that was pretty cool, but everything in between was tedious crap. M kept dozing off again. Lessons to learn: when a film is billed as being "from the creators of" a popular good film (in this case, the creators of Saw), you can bet that the film is going to suck. I mean, why else would they need to ride on a popular film's coattails? But I digress. Ventriloquist dummies are proper scary, but not within the context of Dead Silence. And honestly, if a film can make ventriloquist dummies boring, you're in one out of five stars territory. Maybe even half a star.

In which V relates one of the weirdest things she's ever witnessed in public.

So I was at Applebees a couple of nights ago, and following several generous glasses of iced tea decided to pay a visit to the ladies' lounge.

Upon opening the door, I was presented with a clear view into the handicapped stall. A Mexican woman was inside with a small boy. Note that both people would have easily fit into the handicapped stall with the door closed, but bafflingly, the door to the stall was wide open. The small boy was peeing, and the woman was shouting "MUCHACHO! MUCHACHO!" over and over.

... what. I mean, really. What.

So I cautiously made my way into the other stall, all the while that woman was going "MUCHACHO! MUCHACHO!" until finally the boy finished peeing and the toilet was flushed. As the toilet flushed, the little boy let out this horrible bloodcurdling scream, as if a flushing toilet is the most terrifying thing on earth. Or maybe he was traumatized at having his pee taken away. I mean, my cat gets pretty upset when you change her litter.

I decide to just hide out in my stall until the freakshow leaves. The woman gets the kid to stop screaming, and says something in Spanish which I assume means "wash your hands" so the kid starts washing his hands and says "aiiiieeee! The water! It is hurting me!" The woman says something else in Spanish, and they both laugh.

Oddly, this was the second kid I shared a public restroom with over my vacation who screamed when the toilet was flushed. Bizarre.

Also: note that on Tuesday nights at Applebees, kids under 12 eat for 99 cents. The moral of this story is, stay well away from Applebees on Tuesday nights. We learned this the hard way.

In which V will be incommunicado for a couple of weeks.

M and I will be off having some adventures. This benefits y'all, because we plan to visit the moving picture shows to see some talkies. And that means more reviews for You The Reader.

Meanwhile, I want to post a video for my friend Lisa. I suspect it's the sort of thing she'll really dig. It's called Us, and it's by Regina Spektor.



Later, gators.

In which V. doesn't usually review books, and so doesn't really know what to say without sounding like a five paragraph essay from high school.

So yeah, I like historical fiction. A couple of weeks ago I ran across a book in Barnes and Noble, and it looked like it would totally be my kind of thing. But I'm too cheap to pay $14 for a paperback. Bitch, please. So luckily the library had a copy, and I checked that out.

Which brings me to The Mercury Visions of Louis Daguerre.

It's historical fiction, y'all. Generally this means there are going to be some historical facts, and a whole lot of fiction. In this case, it's a romanticized version of the life of Louis Daguerre. This is a book review, not a lecture. So get yourselves on over to that Wikipedia page and check him out.

The premise of the book is, Daguerre has gone a bit mad from years of contact with mercury. He becomes convinced that the world is about to end, and makes a list of ten things he must photograph before it's all over. Item number ten on his list is the woman he loved and lost. The story immerses you in bohemian Paris, which is pretty awesome. Being an artist myself, I am probably inclined to really like stories about bohemian Paris. You yourself might not dig it, I dunno. It's like Moulin Rouge only a lot less gaudy.

This is a novel about love and art. Then again, in bohemian Paris love and art are the same thing. I found it to be beautiful and moving, and I even got all weepy at the end. And I don't usually get all weepy over books.

Also, this has piqued my interest in daguerrotypes. I would like to see some in person, and I've been trying to learn more about the technique.

I would really recommend this if you like historical fiction. I suck at book reviews. I totally didn't even mention the author's name (Dominic Smith). Read this, y'all. It's good.

In which V hasn't done anthing interesting all week, except for read some historical fiction. So here's something entertaining for y'all.

This week's baddie is this girl thing.



Maybe she/it isn't expressly bad. But a tiny deformed woman who lives in your radiator and sings creepy songs whist you contemplate the existence of your own monster baby can't be good, either. Just saying.