The Cloisters.

    I didn't know what The Cloisters was when I agreed to go.  My friend Emily was visiting and said "I want to see The Cloisters.  Want to come?"  Of course!  Sounds great!  Turns out, The Cloisters is a pretty amazing museum that's about as far north in Manhattan as you can go and still be in Manhattan.  It takes a little while to get there--the A train, while express, still has to follow the law of physics!  But it feels like you're in the middle of the woods, even though you're still in the city.
     The Cloisters is a museum of Medieval Art.  This also means that a whole bunch of it is religious art--a lot of Pietas and virgins and immaculate conceptions and other pieces of medieval devotions.  It's amazing how well preserved the art stayed after all these years.  I would assume in 500 years, my dogs playing poker print will not be as well preserved.  Even without the religious devotion behind it, it's quite interesting to see the art and to imagine how the knights and medievaliets lived and loved and arted.
     The most fascinating part of it for me was how the Cloisters building itself was part of the museum.  Doorways from castles and important medieval structures were in the museum as actual doorways.  The rooms of the museum were reconstructed in the various medieval time they were meant to represent.  It was like visiting a whole bunch of castles at once, but with heat!
     There were a few school group tours there during our visit, and I hate to say they dampened the experience, but they did a bit.  Kids and medieval art?  Come on!  Also, I don't know a lot about curriculum, but I'm guessing it was a private catholic school, or someone's gonna get fired.  Or the descriptions of the art were very vague:  "This is of a lady named Mary, and some people who knew her.  Notice the lines.  Next!"
     The Cloisters were a good time.  If you do plan to make the trek, make sure you have a serious few hours carved out of your schedule, mainly for transport.  The walk through the garden leading up to it is also lovely, even if it's raining.  Also, I like saying the word cloister.

Oh Sweet Computer Death

     As I get older, I'm learning to be more patient and to not lose my shit so often.  More and so often are important qualifiers in that statement.  Just moments ago, I watched my computer practically melt, at least in a digital sense.  Every program that was open flashed on the screen and then closed.  Then approximately 50 warning signs popped up.  The desktop went black. 
     I restarted the computer, foolishly hoping it was just a fun game it was playing with me.  The computer restarted, but the desktop was still black, there were no programs available, and the error messages started all over.  Hard drive this and hard drive that.  Critical error this and critical error that. Clearly there was something wrong with the hard drive. 
     The computer is not completely broken.  I'm writing this post on it right now!  And I'm on email!  It does, however, keep telling me about hard drive clusters and more critical errors.  And again, there are no actual programs on it.  I don't  actually know how I got the internet to show up. 
     What I'm not doing right now is freaking the fuck out or losing my shit.  Oh what progress into being a grown-up I've made!  Ten years ago if my computer had shat itself and then melted before my eyes, I may not have taken it as well.  About two to three years ago, my external hard drive hit the ground and started clicking.  It was a pretty awful moment--my nearly completed thesis film was on that hard drive.  All I could do was crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head and hope it was a dream.  I don't recall really losing my shit over that one, except when people asked the inevitable "did you back it up?" question.  Because of course I didn't.  If I had, there wouldn't really be a story.  But anyway, I digress. 
     That moment actually taught me a whole hell of a lot about how to store things and how to feel about the things I'm storing.  First of all, MozyHome backs up every damn thing on all my computers on their super servers.  It's not free, but it's worth the peace of mind.  Secondly, I'm just storing files; I'm not storing people or memories.  There's really nothing that can't be recreated.  Or, if there is something that can't be recreated then print it and hide it in a lock box or something.  These things are just machines and if the movies have taught us anything, it's that machines cannot be trusted. 
     I'm going to save and post this right now, because I'm not sure how much longer it will be until the grim computer reaper comes to fully take this computer away.  And I'm just going to sit here wand watch it fade into the good night.  And then replace its hard drive. 

Soup

     People in soup commercials are so happy to be eating soup.  When I watch the soup commercials I think "I want to be as happy as those folks" and it leads me to craving soup.  Well done, soup marketing people.  You've convinced me that eating soup with make me happy and healthy.  Clearly soup is the gateway to a better world.
      On the other hand, I'm rarely ever as happy as those people when I'm eating soup.  I went through a soup phase in college--my freshman year, it was about all I could afford and I ate it all the time.  It has taken me a long time to get over that.  I'm rarely ever in the mood for soup now.  It leaves an empty feeling in my soul; there is a soup-shaped empty hole in my soul. 
    

The Diving Bell and The Butterfly. A Review.

     This film is about 4 years old; I think it's been in my queue for about 3 1/2.  It's a movie I always meant to watch, but then it would get pushed down the list in favor of a comedy or something not in French.  Oh, what a mistake.
     The Diving Bell and The Butterfly is the story of Jean-Dominique Bauby, based on the book of the same title.  Jean-Do wrote the book whilst in the hospital after suffering a massive stroke.  In France, his story was very well known; he was famous as the editor of Elle so people really cared about his story.  
     The filmmakers brought us into Jean-Do's world immediately.  Eventually it became uncomfortable.  And just when the uncomfortableness was about to reach fever pitch, they pulled us out and started showing us the rest of his world--his memories and his imagination.  
     The word most commonly associated with this film is beautiful.  I agree.  It was really very beautiful.  Janusz Kaminski is a cinematographic genius.  Everything was done in-camera, as is the term, and it's pretty darn remarkable.  All of this information is included on the special features of the DVD; I recommend watching those as well.
     It's definitely not a comedy, but there were a few moments of humor in the film.  It's about the indomitable human spirit, and often the human spirit is funny.  The film is in French, because Jean-Dominique Bauby was French.  The book was in French and everything happens in France, so the director, Julian Schnabel, wanted to maintain that realness and that frenchiness.  He succeeded.  It's very French.
     The Diving Bell and The Butterfly is a very fine film.  If you haven't seen it yet, check it out.   

10 Years Too Late

     The X-Files was awesome. I really enjoyed the show.  It actually reached an unhealthy level of obsession somewhere around 1998.  I would set my VCR to record it every week; one week it appeared as though my roommate had taped over it with Yellow Submarine, the Beattles movie.  I may have freaked the fuck out.  Turns out, it only taped over the very beginning and the rest of the episode was available, so nobody had to die.
     I loved The X-Files a great deal, and this led to a lot of assumptions about me that were not true.  I liked the show because of the characters.  I loved watching Mulder and Scully.  I did not care about the aliens or the creatures.  The government conspiracy was only mildly interesting, really.  If it weren't for Mulder and Scully, there would have been no show.  This was proven in season 9, when Mulder went away and everyone stopped watching.
     I held on for Scully, but it still wasn't the same.  Chris Carter, the creator, tried to prove that The X-Files could continue based on the strength of the files themselves.  He figured people were interested in the supernatural and unexplained enough to push forward without the main characters.  He was wrong.  Mulder and Scully were the only reason to watch the show.
     Agent Doggett wasn't terrible.  Nor was Anabeth Gish, even though I don't remember her character's name.  But the files themselves weren't interesting enough to make up for the loss of the great characters.  To prove my point, here are a few clips of great scenes from the show.  They're great because they're about the characters, not about the aliens.
    I wanted to include the last scene of the episode "Post Modern Prometheus," but it was unavailable. This (I assume) fan made video of the episode was though, and it actually gives a pretty good feel for what the show was about. So, against my better judgement about fan-art:

The Muppets. A Review.

     Adorable.  Fantastic.  Play it again, projectionist!  It was the perfect blend of hope for the future and nostalgia.
     Of course they live in their own world.  And if you're not familiar with the world going in, they do a pretty good job of setting it up for you in the first minute.  Walter (for intents and purposes--a muppet) and Jason Segal (as Gary) are brothers.  They live in the happiest (and smallest) town you could imagine and everyone is ok with that.
     It's in the trailer so I'm not spoiling anything by saying this--Walter, Gary, and Mary (Amy Adams) take a vacation to LA to meet the Muppets.  Hijinks ensue.  They continue to be irreverent and irresistible, and they work their way into our hearts.  I laughed and I cried.  I laughed that hearty belly laugh that eventually brings tears to me eyes.  Man, it was a good time.
     At times they were a little meta, but it wasn't overdone.  Mary references the length of the movie.  They point out plot points.  But it's the Muppets so it works.
     Also, The Muppets was basically celebrity cameo central.  Technically, a few sightings were cameos and a few were actually credited.  But still, it was jam packed full of stars in little parts all around the film.  Keep an eye peeled for Dave Grohl!  I won't ruin it by listing the others, because the true stars are the Muppets themselves, of course.
     The Muppets is also a great story.  Sure, it's about the Muppets putting on a telethon to raise money to buy back their theater so evil oil tycoon Chris Cooper doesn't destroy it.  But really that's just the mask on the real story of learning who you really are, finding your people, and then being really happy with your people whilst being your self.
     There are also a lot of fun songs in The Muppets.  That's not a surprise, I know.  I'm not usually a musical fan, but I love the music in The Muppets.  Save for that one Chris Cooper number.  I just pretend that didn't happen.  I also think Jason Segal deserves a huge kudos for this film.  I think he made it happen, and he was a delight to watch.  He could be a muppet.
     For all my accolades, I must bring up one area for improvement--more Muppets!  
     To quote Kermit, "...being a Muppet meant you're one of a kind...being a Muppet means you will follow your dreams where ever they take you, and have a high tolerance for explosions." I would also like to be a Muppet. 

 

Rockefeller Plaza Christmas Tree Lighting. A Review.

     Hell.  It was complete Hell.  I had a few very real panic moments where I was sure I would be crushed or suffocated to death.  People attempted to defy laws of physics by occupying the same space other people were already standing. There was a constant pushing force that was holding people up so very few of use were actually standing on our own legs.  We were being held up by the force of those around us.  My feet were an interesting shade of numb between the coldness and the trampling.
     It was really hard to figure out where to go.  I tried to get there plenty early, though I knew I didn't get there early enough.  The roads were blocked off and there were corrals made of fencing on the sidewalks.  Police officers wit bullhorns kept yelling for everyone to keep moving.  But where were we supposed to move to?  I passed the tree about three times, catching a glimpse each time, until eventually I just ended up in a giant mass of people.  There was nowhere to go.  It was 6 o'clock and I was intimately sandwiched among 10,000 strangers. 
     And people are bitches.  The bitch behind me completely ruined the entire experience for me because she wouldn't shut the hell up.  We couldn't see much at all, and hearing was tough.  What made the situation worse was her constant commentary about how we couldn't see much and hearing was tough.  You know what would make it easier to hear?  If you'd shut up!  I would have really liked to hear Carole King sing, but this twat didn't know who it was so instead talked over the performance.  She talked over every performance, even those she claimed to like.  I ended up learning way too much about her life.  She even ruined a potentially really sweet moment we had--someone started singing "Santa Clause is coming to town" and nearly the entire section joined in.  Then Bitchy McBitcherson commented "Elf, anyone?"  We all know it was an Elf moment.  But it was also a really nice moment where a bunch of strangers in one of the most uncomfortable positions joined together in a moment of song.  Way to ruin it by being yourself.
     I maintain the standing there experience was pure and utter Hell.  But the tree is really pretty.  I'll go back soon to see it lit up from an angle I couldn't see it before.  And by that I mean any angle where I can see more than the left side branch through a window.