Every now and then you get a show which re-affirms your faith in movies. I'm trying to think of the really good movies I've watched over the past few years: only a handful I'd think. "l'Avventura", "8 1/2", "And Your Mother Too", "City of God", that's about it.
I think it's been a while since I liked a movie as much as I liked "Little Children". I had been hunting it down for a while now and I think it's not going to come out on VCD. I had been to Video Ezy and taken my customary 5, and imagine what a surprise when I found that they charge $25 for 5 instead of $15 like they used to. Luckily they threw in a free rental, so I used that voucher on "Little Children".
I took advantage of the fact that my parents were away for the weekend to get a whole pile of films that I've been waiting to come out on VCD rental:
Snakes on a Plane (watched it)
Breaking and Entering (watched it)
History Boys (watched it)
Little Children (watched it)
Miami Vice
Miss Potter (watched it)
Pan's Labyrinth
Last King of Scotland (watching it)
The Queen
The Fountain
I've always liked Kate Winslet. I always thought that she provided 3 out of 5 reasons why "Titanic" was such a big hit. (Those 5 reasons are herself, her 2 tits, Leonardo DiCaprio and a nice ship.) Strangely I liked all the sex scenes with her in it. Not only because it's porn, but there's a certain vulnerability and a not unattractive glow in her face because she's shagging this guy she's got a crush on. The scenes were great: you could feel the warm flush of a new love, but also that this was based on some mutual misconception. One a scholar, and another a jock: what sort of future could they have together?
I'm just wondering about "American Beauty", which were 1 of the 3 most important films made at the end of the 20th century (the other 2 are "Fight Club" and "The Matrix"). It was my favourite movie for around 3 months after I saw it. I remember staying up until 3 after I watched it, and thinking about all the ideas that lay behind it. I even wrote a lengthy review about it once and I'm glad I did it because if I didn't all those ideas that were running through my head would have been lost.
If there was a single message to "American Beauty", it was "stick it to the man, and live for yourself". If there is a message to "Little Children", it is "don't be a selfish asshole". Now considering that both movies are concerned with suburban anomie that's quite a contrast. I know suburbia well. I've lived in it for either a 3rd of my life, or most of my life, depending on whether you consider my current place a suburb or a HDB condo. (It's a bit of both.) They are nice but cold places.
Spoilers follow:
I loved it when you had Jennifer Connelly being able to detect that her husband and Kate Winslet were having an affair. I loved it when you had this tough guy waiting for Brad at the bar and muttering that he's too much of a loser when the tough guy was trying to make anybody and everybody the loser so that he'd not have to face up to himself being a loser. My favourite part was when Brad and Kate Winslet were about to elope, and he suddenly got distracted by a group of skateboarders, and decided to try some skateboarding stunts himself. Can you imagine, playing with a bunch of kids, when you're supposed to have a romantic elopement with your mistress?
I liked the part where she had a face off with one other person in the neighbourhood through a book club discussion of "Madam Bovary". It was a proxy argument: that other person knew that she was having an affair. She was taking the moralistic viewpoint that everything Madame Bovary did was wrong, and Kate Winslet insisted that she was heroic in trying to rebel against her straitened circumstances.
A very nice touch: they were trying to figure out the sexual allusions in the novel, and ended up concluding that one of the men had anal sex with Madame Bovary.
The end is not a happy ending, because there are a few fairly tragic outcomes. But there is a glimmer of hope for everyone, because everybody comes across a small epiphany where it's a potential starting point for them to realise what jerks they've been and hopefully make things better. But it's only a hope after all.
Wednesday, 8 August 2007
Monday, 6 August 2007
Go Iraq!!!
Sorry this is a few days late.
Congratulations to Iraq for winning the Asian Cup! I'd have wished for either Japan or South Korea to get through to the final, less boring than an all Arabian final, but kudos to Iraq and their fighting spirit!
Turns out that all these unexpected results are not so rare in football tournaments. Every now and then you get Greece winning a final (against Portugal, no less, meaning that it's a minnow upsetting a relatively minor footballing power). You get a Denmark, which didn't even qualify for Euro 92, winning the championship. you get Singapore winning the last 2 Tiger cups (except that only half the team are born and bred in Singapore).
For those people who think of Iraq as underdogs, they probably haven't been noticing Iraq's slow creep up the ladder. Last 4 at the last Olympics, Silver at the Asian games. They are not a traditional power but they are slowly getting there.
Some of you may remember that Man U and some other clubs kicked up a fuss when the Asian Football federation ask them to shift their playing dates so that they wouldn't clash with the group qualifiers. Absolutely correct decision, I'd say. Yes, they will get bigger crowds for the big club matches. But it's just not a real tournament, and not really that exciting. Isn't it cool to see Vietnam beat Oman? Or Iraq beat Australia? or Vietnam beat the UAE?
Australia's early exit was a surprise, but they also surprisingly only scraped through the qualifiers. The way some of them were talking, you'd have thought they'd sleepwalk to the title. Some Australian players were complaining that they weren't used to playing in hot and humid weather. I suppose that Saudi Arabia and Iraq are hot and humid countries. It's great for them to almost beat Italy at last year's World Cup, but they look a little softer now. OK, maybe they're a little unlucky to meet Japan so soon, but still...
Was mentioned somewhere that people of Arabian stock are almost ideally suited to play football. No wonder it's so difficult to play against them. Oh and Zidane's parents are Algerians, which means he's also a kind of Arab. Maybe he heatbutted Materazzi because he thought he was Japanese.
All these other regional tournaments are getting interesting: Copa America, African Cup of Nations, and now this.
Congratulations to Iraq for winning the Asian Cup! I'd have wished for either Japan or South Korea to get through to the final, less boring than an all Arabian final, but kudos to Iraq and their fighting spirit!
Turns out that all these unexpected results are not so rare in football tournaments. Every now and then you get Greece winning a final (against Portugal, no less, meaning that it's a minnow upsetting a relatively minor footballing power). You get a Denmark, which didn't even qualify for Euro 92, winning the championship. you get Singapore winning the last 2 Tiger cups (except that only half the team are born and bred in Singapore).
For those people who think of Iraq as underdogs, they probably haven't been noticing Iraq's slow creep up the ladder. Last 4 at the last Olympics, Silver at the Asian games. They are not a traditional power but they are slowly getting there.
Some of you may remember that Man U and some other clubs kicked up a fuss when the Asian Football federation ask them to shift their playing dates so that they wouldn't clash with the group qualifiers. Absolutely correct decision, I'd say. Yes, they will get bigger crowds for the big club matches. But it's just not a real tournament, and not really that exciting. Isn't it cool to see Vietnam beat Oman? Or Iraq beat Australia? or Vietnam beat the UAE?
Australia's early exit was a surprise, but they also surprisingly only scraped through the qualifiers. The way some of them were talking, you'd have thought they'd sleepwalk to the title. Some Australian players were complaining that they weren't used to playing in hot and humid weather. I suppose that Saudi Arabia and Iraq are hot and humid countries. It's great for them to almost beat Italy at last year's World Cup, but they look a little softer now. OK, maybe they're a little unlucky to meet Japan so soon, but still...
Was mentioned somewhere that people of Arabian stock are almost ideally suited to play football. No wonder it's so difficult to play against them. Oh and Zidane's parents are Algerians, which means he's also a kind of Arab. Maybe he heatbutted Materazzi because he thought he was Japanese.
All these other regional tournaments are getting interesting: Copa America, African Cup of Nations, and now this.
Saturday, 4 August 2007
Premature
It just slipped out of my mouth like that.
We were all in the lift, going from 4 to 8. Then the lift stopped at 6, and some of us got out. My boss, from whom I was taking a lift initially stepped outside to let people through, but when they had left the lift, he was still standing there blinking as though he thought we were on the right floor. A colleague beckoned him to come back into the lift, and the comment just slipped out of my mouth: "Not good to be premature."
I hadn't realised the outrageousness of that comment until 30 seconds later when it played back in my mind. And what was disturbing was that I didn't even remember it going through my head on its way to my mouth.
It's hard to button your lip when you're sleep deprived.
We were all in the lift, going from 4 to 8. Then the lift stopped at 6, and some of us got out. My boss, from whom I was taking a lift initially stepped outside to let people through, but when they had left the lift, he was still standing there blinking as though he thought we were on the right floor. A colleague beckoned him to come back into the lift, and the comment just slipped out of my mouth: "Not good to be premature."
I hadn't realised the outrageousness of that comment until 30 seconds later when it played back in my mind. And what was disturbing was that I didn't even remember it going through my head on its way to my mouth.
It's hard to button your lip when you're sleep deprived.
Postage labels
Very irritated. Woke up from uneasy dreams this morning (no, not turned into an insect) to realise 2 things: I have to be at the jogging place in 5 minutes, and that $10 worth of stamps are in the fucking laundry.
I found out that the auto car was taken, I'd have to take the manual car down. It was bad. Driving there was OK but when I had to parallel park on the slope it was a bit of a nightmare. Luckily there was a stretch where there weren't any cars, so it became real easy. But when I drove back I found myself unable to engage my clutch and take off on first gear at one busy junction. 1 minute of panic followed accompanied by a chorus of honking. My jogging friend said back in the car behind mine, quietly amused. Finally I was able to take off and my minute of hell was over.
Sister called up. If it's not enough to break up with your boyfriend in a strange land she told me about her nightmare medical student schedule of 21 hours X 6 days a week. Anybody still want your kids to be doctors?
I got to figure out what to do with my fucking postage labels. They're out now, I'm glad I got them out when they were still wet, and I could separate them. But I make the stupid error of putting them on my desk sticky side down. Luckily it was a varnished table and I could peel them off. But now all the ink on it is washed off and I need to put some value back onto the fucking labels. I could do the honest thing and put on what it was worth ($2) or I could jack the value up a bit. Are there any experienced counterfeiters who can help me with this? I thought that they did heat printing on these things and it couldn't be washed off. Goddamn it.
I found out that the auto car was taken, I'd have to take the manual car down. It was bad. Driving there was OK but when I had to parallel park on the slope it was a bit of a nightmare. Luckily there was a stretch where there weren't any cars, so it became real easy. But when I drove back I found myself unable to engage my clutch and take off on first gear at one busy junction. 1 minute of panic followed accompanied by a chorus of honking. My jogging friend said back in the car behind mine, quietly amused. Finally I was able to take off and my minute of hell was over.
Sister called up. If it's not enough to break up with your boyfriend in a strange land she told me about her nightmare medical student schedule of 21 hours X 6 days a week. Anybody still want your kids to be doctors?
I got to figure out what to do with my fucking postage labels. They're out now, I'm glad I got them out when they were still wet, and I could separate them. But I make the stupid error of putting them on my desk sticky side down. Luckily it was a varnished table and I could peel them off. But now all the ink on it is washed off and I need to put some value back onto the fucking labels. I could do the honest thing and put on what it was worth ($2) or I could jack the value up a bit. Are there any experienced counterfeiters who can help me with this? I thought that they did heat printing on these things and it couldn't be washed off. Goddamn it.
Wednesday, 1 August 2007
Today is my 'pah tor' day
Inspired by shingot:
(sung to the tune of "Today is my book out day", which is in turn sung to the tune of "Camptown Ladies sing this song".)
Today is my 'pah tor' day, Doo dah! Doo dah!
Today is my 'pah tor' day, Doo dah! Doo dah day!
No more jacking me!
No more PCC*!
No more late night porn TV, Doo dah! Doo dah day!
(*PCC = Pah Chwee Cheng, hokkien for ....)
(sung to the tune of "Today is my book out day", which is in turn sung to the tune of "Camptown Ladies sing this song".)
Today is my 'pah tor' day, Doo dah! Doo dah!
Today is my 'pah tor' day, Doo dah! Doo dah day!
No more jacking me!
No more PCC*!
No more late night porn TV, Doo dah! Doo dah day!
(*PCC = Pah Chwee Cheng, hokkien for ....)
Sunday, 29 July 2007
Loser carpark behaviour
I'm sure that every one of you has heard this story before, but this is probably the first time you're hearing it from me.
I was in a parking lot at my town centre, and at that point in time there were fewer lots than cars, so a few cars were lounging around, waiting for people to come out. Suddenly there were 2 cars coming out of their lots. I thought, "great! Plenty of lots for everyone" so I just took my position, put on my indicator, and then found myself reversing into a lot, when suddenly somebody else's car came into my rear view mirror. I hadn't realised what it was all about so I just waited for him to pass, and when after a while he didn't go, I wound down the rear window, and he said to me, "I've been waiting longer than you have. This lot is mine." I was like, what the fuck man what a fucking loser.
I thought there's no point wasting time with the standoff, so I drove to 1 side and allowed him to reverse park the car. After he was done, and had left the car, I drove mine in front of his to block his way out. I reasoned: I was going to only need 5 minutes, and if he was going to cut me for 5 minutes' parking, he's going to deserve whatever grief he's getting out of that.
It was actually 10 minutes because I made a detour to the toiletries shop. I had been toying with thoughts of spraying "ASSHOLE" on his windscreen (shaving cream, not spray paint, because I'm a nice guy.) and I can tell you that a can costs $5 from the nearby toiletries shop, but in the end I thought I'd better go back and see what the situation is.
I was very surprised to find that the lot he occupied was empty. How did he get out around my car? He probably pushed it out of the way or something. Guess my handbrakes aren't very powerful.
Next time I will have this comeback line: "If you don't get out of my fucking way right now I'm going to post your a picture of your face and a picture of your car on the internet so that everybody can see what a loser you are."
I was in a parking lot at my town centre, and at that point in time there were fewer lots than cars, so a few cars were lounging around, waiting for people to come out. Suddenly there were 2 cars coming out of their lots. I thought, "great! Plenty of lots for everyone" so I just took my position, put on my indicator, and then found myself reversing into a lot, when suddenly somebody else's car came into my rear view mirror. I hadn't realised what it was all about so I just waited for him to pass, and when after a while he didn't go, I wound down the rear window, and he said to me, "I've been waiting longer than you have. This lot is mine." I was like, what the fuck man what a fucking loser.
I thought there's no point wasting time with the standoff, so I drove to 1 side and allowed him to reverse park the car. After he was done, and had left the car, I drove mine in front of his to block his way out. I reasoned: I was going to only need 5 minutes, and if he was going to cut me for 5 minutes' parking, he's going to deserve whatever grief he's getting out of that.
It was actually 10 minutes because I made a detour to the toiletries shop. I had been toying with thoughts of spraying "ASSHOLE" on his windscreen (shaving cream, not spray paint, because I'm a nice guy.) and I can tell you that a can costs $5 from the nearby toiletries shop, but in the end I thought I'd better go back and see what the situation is.
I was very surprised to find that the lot he occupied was empty. How did he get out around my car? He probably pushed it out of the way or something. Guess my handbrakes aren't very powerful.
Next time I will have this comeback line: "If you don't get out of my fucking way right now I'm going to post your a picture of your face and a picture of your car on the internet so that everybody can see what a loser you are."
Thursday, 26 July 2007
OCBC tower
There was an episode which took place when I was 5. I remember it vividly and I think it does say a lot about the person I am.
I had a set of toy bricks given to me by my aunt's boyfriend. (They've since broken up.) I think they knew that I'd know how to make stuff out of it.
One day I tried to make a model of the OCBC building, which was Singapore's tallest skyscraper at that time. (OUB centre would be built when I was 10.) I stacked the blocks in the tower. I did it 4 or 5 times, but I never managed to make it stand up. I would never attempt to do that now because you would need extremely steady hands for that. It's like a stack of Jenga bricks. (But I don't know if Jenga existed in the early 80s.)
I might have started crying at that point. Just then my grandmother walked in. She was taking a break from cooking lunch. She asked me what the problem was. I told her that I was trying to build a model of OCBC.
Then she took the blocks and instead of building a tower like I did, layed out the floor plan of the place. This is where the backroom is. This is where people line up at the counter. This is where people come in through the door. I watched and learnt, fascinated. (As evidenced by how 25 years later I'm still reciting this to you from memory.) But soon a look of horror crept across my face. I demolished the layout with a sweep of my hand, and almost screamed, "that is not the OCBC tower!"
My grandmother must have recoiled from the shock. Shaking her head, she walked out of the room and back into the kitchen. I remember this because 5 minutes later I felt bad and guilty about having destroyed her hard work. But I didn't apologise because I hadn't learnt how to, and maybe I still don't know how to apologise.
But that's me. The guy who's insistent on building his tower of babel instead of thinking of the alternatives.
The guy who wants to be right instead of wanting to get along.
The guy who wants control instead of playing along.
The guy who wants to be difficult and insist on rigid insistance on his plans.
The guy playing with his blocks all alone, answering to nobody.
The guy who favours the grand scheme instead of taking care of the details.
The guy who's the architect, the guy who likes to think of structure and form.
Maybe even the guy who prefers to be phallic instead of - well you know that the flat terrain is more often associated with feminity.
That was 25 years ago and not much has changed since.
NB: This stubbornness and dogmatism is something I've inherited from my grandmother. She can be as difficult and stubborn as I am, although she is in many other respects a nicer person than me.
I had a set of toy bricks given to me by my aunt's boyfriend. (They've since broken up.) I think they knew that I'd know how to make stuff out of it.
One day I tried to make a model of the OCBC building, which was Singapore's tallest skyscraper at that time. (OUB centre would be built when I was 10.) I stacked the blocks in the tower. I did it 4 or 5 times, but I never managed to make it stand up. I would never attempt to do that now because you would need extremely steady hands for that. It's like a stack of Jenga bricks. (But I don't know if Jenga existed in the early 80s.)
I might have started crying at that point. Just then my grandmother walked in. She was taking a break from cooking lunch. She asked me what the problem was. I told her that I was trying to build a model of OCBC.
Then she took the blocks and instead of building a tower like I did, layed out the floor plan of the place. This is where the backroom is. This is where people line up at the counter. This is where people come in through the door. I watched and learnt, fascinated. (As evidenced by how 25 years later I'm still reciting this to you from memory.) But soon a look of horror crept across my face. I demolished the layout with a sweep of my hand, and almost screamed, "that is not the OCBC tower!"
My grandmother must have recoiled from the shock. Shaking her head, she walked out of the room and back into the kitchen. I remember this because 5 minutes later I felt bad and guilty about having destroyed her hard work. But I didn't apologise because I hadn't learnt how to, and maybe I still don't know how to apologise.
But that's me. The guy who's insistent on building his tower of babel instead of thinking of the alternatives.
The guy who wants to be right instead of wanting to get along.
The guy who wants control instead of playing along.
The guy who wants to be difficult and insist on rigid insistance on his plans.
The guy playing with his blocks all alone, answering to nobody.
The guy who favours the grand scheme instead of taking care of the details.
The guy who's the architect, the guy who likes to think of structure and form.
Maybe even the guy who prefers to be phallic instead of - well you know that the flat terrain is more often associated with feminity.
That was 25 years ago and not much has changed since.
NB: This stubbornness and dogmatism is something I've inherited from my grandmother. She can be as difficult and stubborn as I am, although she is in many other respects a nicer person than me.
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