Love Monkeys!

Now that we've done with the carnage and the morbidity, I thought the next logical step would be to talk about those scenes of romantic...ness... Yes! It's time for the geek's favourite romantic scenes! It's also probably time for a disclaimer, since I have been known, on occassion, to read a little too much into the relationships between certain characters... (coughlegolasandaragorncough!) Moving on...

So, what immediately springs to the geek's mind when discussing those scenes of romantic tingliness? Well, really, we might as well call this "favourite Colin Firth scenes". Mr Firth has a monopoly on the industry. In Bridget Jones's Diary, the blue soup scene will forever make women world-wide heave a happy sigh -- yes, he loves us, just as we are. In Love Actually we were happy once again to see him in a wet shirt, but happier still to see him being the most kind, sweet man imaginable (the driving home scene is particularly good for Firth-warm-and-fuzziness). And, of course, no woman anywhere can withstand the look that Mr Darcy gives Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice. The smile that will live forever in the hearts and minds of all of us not yet married to very attractive British men (but who absolutely will be someday, dammit).

Of course, if we're talking about romance and English celebrities, we would be remiss not to talk about the King of the Romantic Comedy; Hugh Grant. Whose high-point in the genre as far as I'm concerned is in Love Actually. Whether he's dancing around British Parliament like an idiot, or running door to door looking for the woman of his dreams and being forced to sing Christmas carols by evil munchkins, Hugh Grant always manages to be rather lovable, even when he's playing a bit of a prick.

But we can't let the English have all the glory! Ewan McGregor (who's Scottish, you see, which evens it out quite nicely) is perfect in Moulin Rouge. It had never occurred to me before Moulin Rogue, but I can say that after having seen it, I would rather like to be serenaded with a medley of popular love songs atop a giant elephant. All the same, as much as every woman would like to be serenaded (especially by Ewan McGregor), I think it was his grin that really won me over. Yes, perfectly lovely. (Though I'm still a stalwart fan of the Duke. Minus the more violent psychotic tendancies, of course.)

And then, of course, there are the forthcoming scenes of romanticness. As in the Lord of the Rings: the Return of the King, wherein, somehow, we're not sure how, David Wenham happens to look dashing and handsome and romantic, unnaturally large ears and all. He even GLOWS. This has somehow become my favourite part of the Extended Edition preview (well, besides Faramir and Pippin grinning at each other like idiots, but that's no great surprise) -- Eowyn and Faramir and their romantic glow. Lovely.

As always, there are a great many other scenes which I haven't mentioned for one reason or another. Peter and Wendy's fairy dance in Peter Pan comes immediately to mind, as does Aragorn and Arwen's reunion at the coronation in Return of the King. But, as always, I'm expecting you people to fill in the blanks for me. So, go to. :)

Why Can't We Be Friends?

Well, I've finally had a chance to go and see a movie. Bridget Jones: the Edge of Reason, actually. At first I thought to myself, 'self, what a perfect opportunity to spend a few hours talking about how lovely Colin Firth is! Perfectly lovely.' but then I realized that if I were to spend a few hours talking about how lovely Colin Firth is, my prof has to, at the very least, skim this come semester's end, and he might not entirely appreciate a long diatribe about Colin Firth and his lovely wet shirts, and might then seek revenge upon me, and that would be no good.

So, then I thought to myself, 'self,' I thought, 'what else does Bridget Jones inspire us to talk about for a little while?' To which I replied, 'well, I could certainly complain about being single for a few hours at least.' But that presented the same problems. Also, as I hadn't been chucked in a Turkish prison, my singledom didn't seem to quite measure up to Bridget's problems.

Next I asked myself whether other people have such involved inner dialogue. I avoided the subject completely, though, and distracted myself by deciding that instead of talking about Bridget Jones: the Edge of Reason (which was a decent enough film -- more or less a rehash of the first picture with more naughty words thrown in for flavour), I've decided that the natural progression after talking about favourite actors, and then favourite death scenes, is to talk about favourite fight scenes.

And as it so happens, two of my favourite fight scenes happen to occur in Bridget Jones's Diary and in Bridget Jones: the Edge of Reason. Near everyone has likely seen the fight scene between Colin Firth and Hugh Grant in the first Bridget Jones film, which deserves mention just because It's Raining Men is playing in the background. Really superb stuff. As it happens, the fight scene is the only thing that really stands out to me as something they've improved from first to second movie; the fight scene in the second movie is absolutely brilliant. Watching Colin Firth and Hugh Grant nancing about and trying every now and then to kick one another will always make my day. Hugh Grant yelling, "you're pulling my hair!" will also live forever in my memory. Best of all is the music this time as well; I Believe In a Thing Called Love by the Darkness. Of course, the fact that Colin Firth ends up soaked in a fountain has nothing to do with my love for this fight scene. No.

The massive puppet vs puppet vs Tim Curry fight scene from the end of Muppet Treasure Island also deserves mention. Probably one of the coolest pirate battles of all time (okay, Jack Sparrow vs Captain Barbosa in Pirates of the Carribean might be SLIGHTLY cooler, but that's because they're not just pirates, they're ZOMBIE pirates, so it's really not quite fair), there are few things funnier than five or six muppets and Jim Hawkins all standing up to Tim Curry, all wearing the same puffy shirt.

Those few things happen to be nearly any fight scene you can possibly name from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. King Arthur's fight against the Black Knight
(Black Knight: "Have at you."
Arthur: "You are indeed brave, sir knight, but the fight is mine."
Black Knight: "Oh, had enough, eh?"
Arthur: "Look, you stupid bastard. You've got no arms left!"
Black Knight: "Yes I have."
Arthur: "Look!"
Black Knight: "...Just a flesh wound."),
King Arthur and his knights being bombarded by live stock (and keen insults) by the French, and the gallant slaughter of wedding guests by Sir Lancelot are all among the most epic battle scenes of this, or any other age.

Of course, there are other fight scenes worth mention (Marvin vs the bump in the road in Pulp Fiction; the man in black vs Fezzik, Inigo and Vizzini in the Princess Bride; 1900 vs Jelly Roll Morton in the Legend of 1900 (piano duels so count); Remus Lupin vs Sirius Black in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (hee!); Toad vs a pidgeon in X-Men; and any one of the battle scenes in the Lord of the Rings trilogy though, obviously, the last one does sort of overshadow all the others, doesn't it? But really, after discussing such cinematic achievements as the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch vs the monster of the cave ("What, behind the rabbit?" "No! It IS the rabbit!"), why even bother?

A Rather Sticky End

This week, I’d like to beg a little indulgence as I once again stray from the usual heckling of my favourite films (I promise a return to such movie reviewery when I’ve a moment to watch a movie again... well, other than Labyrinth. You try and write a review of Labyrinth -- the urge to make David-Bowie’s-pants jokes is too strong for me to resist) and provide another episode of “What’s in the Geek’s Head This Week?”

So what is in the geek’s head this week? Aside from all those naked hobbits, of course. Well, this week, I’ve been ruminating on a particularly morbid subject: my favourite death scenes. I can make no assumptions this week as to the nature of the “favourite death scene” as it’s not something one often speaks of with their friends. “Yes! Remember when Hannibal Lector made Gary Oldman eat his own face? Wasn’t that just a kicker? Let’s all visualize it for a while.” Not so much.

Now I’m not sure if I’m just markedly ghoulish, but I do, in fact, have a few favourite death scenes. Perhaps we’ve all got a little catalogue of such movie moments that we don’t like to talk about for fear of being pegged a sociopath. More likely, I’m just weird. But it would be perfectly lovely if someone else would share their favourite death scenes... you know who you are, ahem.

Obviously, these will contain spoilers, so proceed with caution.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Since roughly half the cast dies, this film provides many a chance for actors to dazzle us with their “augh, I’m dying and it really, really hurts” noises. From the delightful shot of the Fantom’s mask laying artistically in the snow, his hand stretched out towards in a gesture REEKING of smack-you-over-the-head-with-it symbolism, to waiting for Sean Connery’s hand to just pop out of that grave followed closely by a closing credit of The End?, this movie is rife with that kind of death that makes us all point and giggle. Possibly the best part, though, is the fact that the Invisible Man, despite being reduced to a smoking mass of charred flesh, does NOT die. Sean Connery is poked a little in the back and HE dies, but though the Invisible Man is practically ROASTED alive and spends a good minute or so TWITCHING on camera, he lives. Apparently Sean Connery is just a big wuss.

Oh, no, sorry. The best part is undoubtedly Stuart Townsend as Dorian Gray’s death. While I’m sure everyone in the theatre appreciated watching Stuart Townsend rot before our very eyes, most of us couldn’t help but think, “...maybe he should have closed his eyes.”

Dead Again. While I am relatively sure very few people have ever seen this Kenneth Branagh gem, it is worth mention (and worth seeing) if, for nothing else, than the single most creative death scene I’ve ever come across.

So we’re all on the same page, a brief synopsis from IMDB.com: “Mike Church is a Los Angeles private detective who specializes in finding missing persons. He takes on the case of a mystery woman, whom he calls Grace. She is suffering from amnesia and has no memories of her own. She keeps having nightmares involving the murder of a pianist, Margaret, at the hands of her husband, Roman Strauss in the late 1940s. In an attempt to solve the mystery of these nightmares, Church seeks the help of Madson who is an antiques dealer with the gift of hypnosis. The hypnosis sessions will soon begin to reveal some surprises.”

And now I’m going to ruin the film for you. While under hypnosis, Grace comes to believe that she is the reincarnation of Margaret Strauss, and for some reason I’m sure might have been perfectly logical at the time, or might have just been because all four characters are played by the same two actors, Grace comes to believe that Mike is the reincarnation of Roman. Grace, to keep the plot going as far as I could tell, believes that Mike, like Roman before him, is going to try and kill her. With a pair of scissors no less (that’s how Roman did it, you see). So, despite obviously having fallen in love with him (which I suppose has nothing to do with anything), refuses to see him. At some point, Mike undergoes hypnosis to understand what’s going on and... GASP! Yes, as it turns out, HE’S the reincarnation of Margaret and SHE’S the reincarnation of Roman. He reveals this to the antiques dealer/hypnotist (yes, I did say this was a gem, didn’t I?) and then... dun dun dun! A PLOT TWIST! AS IT TURNS OUT, the antiques dealer is actually the son of the woman who worked as a maid in the home of Roman and Margaret Stauss. His mother was in love with Roman, but Roman was obviously preoccupied with Margaret, seeing as she was his wife and all. The antiques dealer/hypnotist (clearly long BEFORE he was an antiques dealer/hypnotist, as he was around six) is actually the one who stabbed Margaret so that Roman and his mother could be together. This is all revealed to Mike (the detective, you’ll recall) by the mother. Still with me? Mike, naturally, is concerned and goes to find Grace. Cut to Grace’s apartment, which is AWESOME, as it’s filled with sculptures of scissors (very subtle). Hundreds of them, tiny scissors and gigantic five-feet high scissors, scissor mobiles and other such scissor memorabilia. So, the antiques dealer/hypnotist, having decided that... um... Grace knows too much? That the reincarnation of Roman deserves to die? I honestly wish I could tell you. But it’s all forgotten in the face of one of the best death scenes of all time. The antiques dealer breaks into Grace’s apartment, followed closely by Mike, a tangle ensues, after much dramatic punching and attempted stabbings, Mike seemingly subdues the antiques dealer... BUT THEN the antiques dealer suddenly regains consciousness and leaps towards them, scissors outstretched, maniacal scream ushering from his lips and... well, Mike and Grace move a little to the left and the antiques dealer leaps directly onto a pair of giant scissors.

I wish I could make up things like that.

And now we come, finally, to my favourite death scene of all time... Dungeons and Dragons. I’m not sure I even need to say anything. Anyone who’s seen the movie knows precisely what I’m talkig about. There’s nothing funnier than watching Snell’s broken body get pitched off the cliff, Ridley fall to his knees in such melodramatic fashion that it is utterly mindboggling that the director didn’t stop and say, “hmmm, was that too much?”, and scream “NOOOOOO!!!!”... and then rewinding it (it’s just as funny in reverse!) and watching it again. Pure movie magic.

So I think that’s quite enough morbidity for one week. Though I’m certain it will be mentioned that I’ve managed to completely avoid the subject of death scenes with any actual meaning. The truth is, however, that I’d never want to ruin those sorts of death scenes for anyone. There are those death scenes that are very meaningful, of course, and I think my Lord-of-the-Rings-going friends have suffered enough at my sniffly hands (though it must be said that I am far outstripped in the sniffling by a certain Lord-of-the-Rings-going friend who shall remain nameless), that I hardly think my blog readers need to be subjected to any of it.

As always, feel free to leave comments about your own experiences with movie characters kicking the bucket. We all know we’ve pointed and laughed at these sorts of things at one time or another. You can admit it.

A Propensity Towards Partiality

As this week once again finds me in want of the proper time and energy to write anything posessed of even the remotest hint of wit (well, that and since my dear readers have all gone into hiding, I feel much more comfortable with being terribly amusing to me and me alone), instead of finding yourselves with the sarcastic talk of films we've all come to love, I instead intend to provide you with random musings on that most strange of beasts, the "favourite actor".

What is the "favourite actor"? Certainly, this is a thorny question. Asking anyone of the female persuasion warrents the answer not be entirely trusted. While I'm sure most of us would very much like to give you an answer based entirely upon the acting talent posessed of our "favourite actor", this is simply not possible. Even we impartial movie critics (ahem) cannot help but be swayed by the occassional British accent, lovely hazel eyes, or those "come shag me" looks certain British celebrities with hazel eyes keep giving us through the screen. Ahem.

In fact, generally, in our accumulation of "favourite actors" you will find that "one of these things is not like the others" -- in an effort to even out our little clutch of celebrities, we attempt to find one actor without the British accent and the lovely hazel eyes to prove that thespian talents have certainly not been overlooked in the face of... well, lovely hazel eyes.

In my particular case, John Cleese, John Hurt, and sometimes Nicholas Cage (who has earned himself a very rare spot in my assemblage, being an American, through such films as Adaptation and Matchstick Men) occupy this spot. I find none of them particularly attractive, but all three are prone to make me giggle. I also thought that Cleese as Tim, the Enchanter in Monty Python and the Holy Grail was first rate acting.

These "substitutions" are often especially easy to pick out, as they do not follow the theme presented. Most women, girls, ladies and otherwise female personages have distinct theme running through their lovely clump of gentlemen, or so is my experience. Sometimes, there are two or three themes. Take, for example, the mention I made that Nicholas Cage's presence on my list is somewhat thematically incorrect, as he is not British. This is one of the most simple examples, and sometimes themes can be very detailed. Ie, British, over fourty, with hazel or possibly green eyes, who have (at one time or another) worn a wig of some kind. Very, very specific. So, when you find a British actor over fourty who has worn a wig but has blue or brown eyes, you are entitled to be suspicious that that's the substitute.

This is not to say that our "favourite actors" are decided upon hazel eyes alone. But it is, as I have said, a thorny subject, as (I believe five paragraphs is enough -- let's finally get to the point, shall we?) what makes an actor your "favourite"? While perhaps it would be much more fair to base this on talent alone, well... what is talent? Do awards earned decide who has the most talent? Salary? Box-office draw? In the end, what these all come down to (and what all "favourites" come down to) is enjoyment.

If you enjoy potatoes, then potatoes are your favourite food. It's not because potatoes are a culinary masterpiece, or that they've won numerous awards from French people and other persons who take food very seriously, or that they're particularly good for you. Potatoes are my favourite food because I enjoy the taste.

In the same way, my "favourite actors" are my favourites because I enjoy watching them. Do I enjoy watching them because they're British and have lovely hazel eyes? Yes. But do I also enjoy them because they're really spectacular talents? Well, sometimes.

So, I suppose my point is, British people are prettier and are better actors than everyone else. Yes, that should do.

(Incidentally, my favourite actors are Tim Roth, Gary Oldman (yes, DESPITE his blue eyes, I can forgive him that), Alan Rickman, John Cleese, John Hurt, Nicholas Cage, and, though neither of them are over fourty, and though Dom has blue/grey eyes, I can forgive them both, because they are delightfully short and one of them wears a kilt, Billy Boyd and Dominic Monaghan.

Also, everyone seems to love these "what's your favourite" sorts of things, so, as always, feel free to tell me who're your favourite actors and why. Hurrah!)