Batman is WHOA!

Unless you have been sitting in a dark room with no contact what so ever with the outside world, you are probably aware of the Batman craze sweeping the world at the moment.

I for one have been a Batman fan since my youth. From the original 1960s t.v program which I would watch in re-runs every day during the summer at my granny's house to the Batman: The Animated Series which I would watch every day after school all through out my time at Harvest Hills Elementary and Kenneth Cooper Middle School, I have held Batman up high as my super hero of choice. I remember thinking that Michael Keaton was my one and only in the second grade. I remember thinking that Prince was a musical genius for his contributions to the 1989 film. I remember the hype around Catwoman and the Penguin and all the McDonald's marketing behind Batman Returns. Damn, this whole franchise kicks ass.

And five days ago, I had my socks knocked off by The Dark Knight. Holymolyeffinghell. That movie was awesome. Heath Ledger's portrayal of the Joker is still scaring me at night. I don't have anything else to say. Except for awesome. And that I'm typing all this while watching the 1989 Batman film. And I've been pacing the house all night wishing I had my shipment of books that are currently in Oklahoma as one box contains a collection of short stories all based on Batman. Batman.

Batman. BATMAN!

P.S. Let us all just shove that whole Alicia Silverstone as Barbara Gordon/Batgirl fiasco from the 1990s. That was just shameful.

Say it ain't so Bill Murray. Say it ain't so.

After I read the news of Sydney Pollack's death earlier this week, I was reminded of how much I enjoyed his body of work, including Tootsie. I don't think most people remember that Bill Murray was in that movie, but he was. And that movie is one of the reasons that Bill Murray is one of my favorite actors. Lost in Translation, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, The Royal Tenenbaums, Rushmore, Ghostbusters...they are some of my favorite films.

So Bill Murray - say it ain't so. The Smoking Gun is reporting that you're a wife beating, drug using, alkie. Please. Say it ain't so.

From all the stories I've read over the years that state that you aren't part of the Hollywood elitist crowd, that you don't even have an agent, attorney, or manager, I've become an admiring fan. So, please say this is just the work of an over dramatic spouse who is out to tarnish your reputation due to bitterness.

Ugh. I don't know if watching any of the Ghostbusters movies will ever be the same again.

Musicals make me uncomfortable.

I can't remember if I knew I was going to see a musical the night I went and saw "Across the Universe" with my good friend Allison. I was in San Francisco at the time on holiday. The movie was the worst film I have ever seen. End of story.

Last Friday night, I unknowingly found myself watching another musical, but this film was even worse. Basically, I walked out of the theater thinking all men are secretly gay and hating musicals even more.

And I blame John Travolta for all of this, even though he wasn't in any of the movies mentioned in this post.

Small beaches, crappy Nicole Kidman movies and French take over.

Things have finally slowed down here in Sydney. This weekend was the first weekend I didn't have plans in a while, so I took the two days to just relax and pal around. However, since I last wrote alot has transpired, so here it all is, in brief:

I discovered a beach called Watson's Bay, with the help of my German friend, and I have to say it might be one of my new favorite places here in Sydney. It's towards the northern part of the harbor, hidden on a tiny peninsula. Unlike the beaches at Bondi, Bronte and Coogee, you can actually swim without being knocked on your ass by massive waves, and you don't have to worry about any Italians smoking next to you. Although I find Europeans greased up with tanning oil while smoking utterly hilarious, it can be a bit bothersome when they talk a decibel louder than every one else. At Watson's Bay, it's quiet enough to actually hear the ocean, and if you're so inclined, you can easily listen in on any conversation around you. Hey, when I get bored I like to snoop. So sue me.

I've also moved into my new apartment. Although it's not in New York, it'll due for now. The location is quite awesome, if I do say so myself, and I really enjoy the neighborhood I'm in. There are a number of movie theaters, good bookstores, cool little restaurants and bars - all in all, a good place to land. My only real complaint, and this isn't special to my hood or anything, but the bats in Sydney are terryifying. Up until I moved to Sydney, I had only seen a bat once: 1988, summer camp in Branson, Missourri. It was horrible, and I was happy with the idea of never seeing a flying rodent again. Wellllllllllllll...Sydney is filled with bats. I actually saw one fly underneath a street lamp while walking to a taxi from the art gallery last Wednesday night. Imagine a rodent the size of a pug with wings. Now imagine me covering my head and running, quietly muttering under my mouth in a frantic tone "Don't bit me, don't bite me, don't bite me." On the plus side, animals in Australia don't have rabies. On the negative side, I would forever be known as "the girl that was bitten by a bat." At least I could pretend to foam at the mouth every so often and no one would REALLY know if I was kidding or not.

I've also learned that French culture is pretty prevalent in Australia. Next week I'm attending the Alliance Française French Film Festival, which just happens to be taking place in my neighborhood, Paddington. Also, I just bought tickets to see the band Air play at the Sydney Opera House - for those of you not familiar with Air, they are an iconic French band who have been making music FOREVER. I'm pretty stoked about my new francophile status, if you can't tell.

Lastly, I saw the Nicole Kidman movie "Margot at the Wedding" last night at one of the movie theaters near my house. Other than the fact that the guy working the concession stand was pretty foxy, the movie was one of the most retarded films I've ever seen. I typically enjoy films where at the end, I have some sort of attachment to the protagonist. But at the end of this film, I wanted to strangle Kidman's character. Thanks Nicole Kidman - you officially pooped on the last few hours of my weekend.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly = Totally French x Totally Awesome x Worth the $14 I paid to see it

I have a bad habit when it comes to seeing movies. If I say that I'm going to see a film, I've pretty much just said that I, in fact, won't be seeing said film and instead will complain about how I haven't seen it yet and then will never ever rent it on DVD.

When I was still in New York, I made a pretty good effort at breaking this habit. At one point, I was going to the movies maybe twice a week, sometimes on every day of the weekend. It helped that ticket prices aren't majorly expensive in New York, and I was lucky enough to have every amazing movie in the world being shown on my door step. However, in the past couple of years, there hasn't been a movie I've wanted to see as much as The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. Jean Dominique Bauby's story has interested me since I first saw the film's trailer back in August 2007, and it's taken me until now to FINALLY see the movie.

I was in the midst of packing and moving when the film was released in New York. Then while in Oklahoma City, I learned it was going to be released...the day after I left for Sydney. The film finally had its first showing last week, and I made it to the theater by Friday. And I have to say, it was totally worth the wait.

First off, if you haven't read Bauby's book of the same title, I suggest you do so before seeing the movie. However, the movie is still good even without knowledge of the text. I found the book allowed me to fill in holes that the film couldn't possibly explore, and let's face it: the problem with every book adaption to film is that the director can't possibly cover ever tiny detail that is featured in the book. For one, my favorite line was cut out (I'll get over it).

I don't want to go on and give a synopsis of the film because I want all my readers to actually go out and see it. For those of you writing it off as bourgie French film, you're right...BUT IT'S SO MUCH BETTER THAN THAT! I believe I'm in a phase of my life where I'm finally getting perspective on things, and that is exactly what this movie is about: perspective. Both literally and metaphorically.

Also, I'll have an Internet connection at my new home starting Thursday, so expect more frequent blog updates! Yeah!

The Unification of My Hypopigmented Brethren (originally published on May 17, 2006)

This morning, while I was "working" at work, I came upon an article on CNN.com focusing on the negative reviews and protests aimed at "The Da Vinci Code." Normally, I would have skipped this article and headed straight for the piece announcing the separation of Paul McCartney and his one-legged wife, but I had recently listened to Tom Hanks on National Public Radio, so my interest was somewhat current.

I've never gotten swept up in what I like to call "literary diarrhea." This lovely term encompasses everything from Oprah's Book Club to generally anything and everything in the "chick lit" genre. I think this rule is serving me well because look what happened to James Frey's masterpiece "A Million Little Pieces"? It was a fake, and Frey turned out to be the asshole of early 2006. My point is that I never read "The Da Vinci Code" and I generally avoided its existence. The hype surrounding the book never appealed to me, and frankly, I find anything "churchy" a bit boring. And besides, I love the tacky factor behind everything based in Catholocism. From their art to general congregations in Staten Island, New York, I'll be damned if anyone fictionalizes the utter kitsch factor involved with the Catholic religion.

The movie version of "The Da Vinci Code" excites me about as much as the book has. I'm a Tom Hanks fan, but I'm relatively certain a giant keyboard, a sidekick dog, or a volleyball that provides feelings bordering on sportsmanship and lust are not key players in this new film.

And after reading the reviews thus far, the movie has not received much praise. Hanks has been described as giving a "wooden performance" and apparently their isn't much "chemistry between the hero and heroine." Since I haven't seen the movie, obviously my opinion is a bit skewed, but I can honestly say nothing can capture the bond that Hanks had with the dog in "Turner and Hooch." Seriously, that dog was classic. No woman can show up that dog. But I digress. The film itself was described as "a bloated puzzle," but I think anyone will admit that Hanks does look a bit fat in the promotional photos for the movie, so perhaps the reviewer was not being critical but honestly observant. The "puzzle" of "a bloated puzzle" could be a remark on his choice of hair style, because quite frankly, a universal "what the fuck?" was uttered when Hanks debuted that atrocity of a man's last attempt to hold on to his hair line.

Slightly more interesting than the shitty reviews are the protests being waged around the world. Hunger strikes in India, boycotts in South Korea, and requests for censorship in Singapore are a few of the uproars being raised in reaction to the movie. It's interesting that instead of Christians seeing this as a test of faith, they are demanding the film be censored. I can say that certain parts of the Bible are not really offending, but bore me to death, which i find offensive. So censor thoughs. Give me some white-out and I'll take care of it. Speaking of white-out, this leads me to my next point...

By far, the most interesting group to take offense to the movie is the National Organization for Albinism and Hypopigmentation. Apparently, the villian in the movie is an albino, and this pisses off the fair skinned (fair eyed, fair haried). Now dont' get me wrong. I love the albinos. Granted, their Casper like features scare the shit out of me, but as a non-albino that has been described as sickly pale most of her life, I too, can identify with their plight. Even though I have a normal hair and eye color, I too suffer from sunburns and the constant taunts of "Why don't you get a spray on tanner?"

CNN.com writes:

Also, while not planning a protest or boycott, members of the National Organization for Albinism and Hypopigmentation expressed unhappiness with the film's heavy, a monk-assassin, being an albino, as described in the book.

Michael McGowan, an albino who heads the organization, said "The Da Vinci Code" will be the 68th movie since 1960 to feature an evil albino. He said the group aims to use the movie's popularity to raise awareness about the realities of albinism. People with albinism have little or no pigmentation in their skin, eyes and hair.

According to this article, we're averaging more than two evil albino characters a year in the motion picture industry. I think it's fairly apparent what is going on here. This is obviously far greater than any conspiracy theory presented in "The Da Vinci Code." Far more sinister thant he Pentavret Mike Meyers described in "So I Married an Axe Murderer" (the Queen, the Vatican, the Rothchild's, the Getty's, and the king of the Kentucky Fried Chicken empire, the Sanders). This my friends, is a modern day alliance not seen since Hitler teamed up with the Russians and the Italians.

From what I can tell, the major players are Hollywood celebrities (excluding Jim Gaffigan, Nicole Kidman, and Conan O'Brien), Neutrogena, and a secret organization of tanning bed/salon manafacturers and salon owners. Hollywood is out to villianize the pigmentally-challenged.

This whole task force of uber tanned evil was first brought to my attention sometime last year when photos of Lindsay Lohan surfaced revealing she was a fake tanner. She was waving to a camera which resulted the documentation of orange-stained palms: A tell-tale sign of at home tanner. And now with the staggering statistics presented by the National Organization for Albinism and Hypopigmentation, I believe an all out epidermis war is on the horizon.

God bless Dan Brown for writing such a ridiculous book about a murder conspiracy in the Christian church involving an evil albino. I doubt he ever saw the prophecy he was proclaiming...