Movie Magic: Where Has It Gone?

I have gained somewhat of a reputation for being a movie buff over the years, something that my work-mates take advantage of by borrowing from my rather small but well-maintained library. I enjoy sharing my collection, but of late there has been a sharp drop in, well, distribution. This can be traced directly to the reduction in the number of movie downloads I make of late, and this can be traced to the drop in the number of good movies being released of late.


The last decade or so have belonged to the 'franchise movies'; movies that are part of a series, book or comic adaption. Studios these days are all looking for the next big thing they can launch not just one, but two, three or four movies from. So we have the Spiderman franchise, X-men, Christopher Nolan's Batman, the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, Transformers, LOTR, Harry Potter, Twilight; the list goes on. These are the big movies that will define the decade, along with a few dotted 'restarts' from old hits such as Die Hard, Terminator, Star Wars, Rambo and Rocky.


While this can be sort of awesome in some cases, more often than not we are left with movies that are good fun for about 2 hours and then we never watch them again. The Pirates of the Caribbean franchise is one such tale; I loved the movies, loved Johnny Depp, but I'm sure I've only watched each movie once. Of course, this form of movie making 'strategy' leads to ridiculous sequels such as the Big Momma's House 'franchise' (can you believe that's a 'franchise'??) and the beyond terrible Nutty Professor movies.


It's rare to find a gem these days amongst all the commercialised made-for-money-and-action-figures movies that are doing the rounds out there. The lucky few often don't get the hype or excitement that the big blockbusters do. Heck, these days all you need is an adolescent pop singer with cockerspaniel on his head to star in your 'documentary' and you've got yourself a guaranteed big opening.


Don't get me wrong: I love a fun movie. I'm actually looking forward to 'Transformers 3', simply because Michael Bay surely can't make a movie worse than the last one (who am I kidding; someone say Rosie. Huntington. Whiteley). Let's not forget 'Thor' and 'Captain America'; all fun, summer blockbusters, but all built towards that franchise mentality in mind. But sometimes, fun equals ridiculous. Take for example, 'The Green Hornet', which I had the misfortune to see recently. It was a toss-up between that and 'Season of The Witch', some movie with Nicholas Cage and witches. Amazingly, this was still not enough to sway me either way, so I went to imdb.com, which graded the 'Green Hornet' with a respectable 6.5 over 'Seasons' 5.5.


In hindsight, I should have known better. I mean, Seth Rogen as a superhero?? Come on, Seth Rogen hooking up with Katherine Heigl was a huge stretch for an audience to accept, but seriously; Seth Rogen as a superhero?? That was clearly pushing it too far. Not even funky martial arts, Cameron Diaz's extreme blondeness and cool gadgets could save this movie, which was as entertaining as the cricket World Cup matches so far a Pitbull music video without girls.


So as I settle for watching reruns of Entourage and discovering new TV shows to fill my time, I wait anxiously for this years breakout movie that doesn't have a ambigious ending that could leads to a sequel; a movie that isn't a re-imagination of some 90's classic, or another animated comedy with a feel good ending. Come on, Hollywood, dazzle me with something original that will proudly stand alongside other classics like Pulp Fiction, Fight Club, Memento, Se7en and last years Inception. Make me believe in the magic of cinema again, and not the magic of some bespectacled teenager. Take me to a place I've never been before.


And give me something to burn to DVD.

Evolution And Eating

What is it about growing up that makes us increasingly more rebellious towards our parents? It's a tale as old as time; child grows up as the darling of the family before puberty triggers repressed rebellion he/she never even knew he/she had (this is however not applicable to kids without siblings; they're 9 times out of 10 forever ensconced in their parents collective womb bosom).


Why is this though? Is it some remnant of evolution, wherein we are genetically programmed to not function with our parents to ensure we leave the nest/hive/tree once we become adults?


As much as I love my quirky and semi-dysfunctional family, recently there are certain activities that I can only get through if I bite my tongue into submission or if I trick myself into thinking it's some form of survival test. Chief among these is the dreaded 'family meal out'. Please, join me, as we run through one together.


1. Where?

The first hurdle is always: where to eat. This is usually preceded by the "shall we have dinner/lunch out?" argument, where both parents argue about whether to do it or not, and whether there is food in the fridge that "needs to be finished first". Of course, since that argument usually ends in a stalemate, the two sons are involved, and as usual, we don't really care either way. Somehow, we make it all the way to the car, and then start deciding on a venue. The choices vary in number, depending on whether we're in Kandy or not (Kandy = 3-4 options. Elsewhere on the planet = infinitely more), but in actuality, the choices are limited to a) places we've already been to and b) random newspaper clipping/flyer discovered by Mom. Once we went to a place that Mom had found in a (very) old newspaper clipping, only to find that place had been closed down 6 months previously and been replaced with a dry cleaners. And then we went to KFC.

2. What to order?

Once we've made it to a venue that is agreeable to all, we sit down and begin the hardest part of the evening: ordering. Be it a fast food joint, Italian, Sri Lankan, Indian or Chinese, no one can agree on what to order. Bro wants something ridiculous. I convince him against it. Mom wants something small and healthy. No such item exists on the menu. Dad is usually the best; he sticks to something safe, with the odd experimentation (he once ordered a Birizza at Pizza Hut. That didn't go well). If rice or noodle portions are involved, the waiter gets involved with us to figure just how many portions the four of us really need, taking into account how we all eat differently. After that mathematical calculation is done ("bring one big plate and two small plates with a little extra on each...") we wait. Anxiously.

3. The eating.

The food always arrives a tad bit late, and more often than not, it doesn't look like the picture. No, not the picture in the menu (it never looks like that) but the picture in our heads. Comments are made. Noses are wrinkled. Prices from other restaurants are stated and compared. Sighs are uttered. Eyes are rolled. And then the waiter leaves the table, awkwardly. I always ask the parents, why do they make all these comments while we're still at the restaurant?? They simply don't realise it. And if the food is bad, heaven help the person that suggested we eat here in the first place instead of going to the other place that someone else wanted to go to all along...


4. The dessert.

This is really dependant on the meal. Sometimes, if the meal is bad, we don't get the luxury of picking dessert, just in case the dessert is of the same (low) standard. Which is sad, because Dad loves him some ice cream, but he'll only have one if either Bro or I are having too. I think this minimizes the power of the disapproving look from Mom. However, by this time, I'm already begging for the bill so we can bail.


And so, another eventful meal comes to an end. The thing is, I'm not really sure whether it is the family that has become more picky and annoying over the years, or whether it's just me not being able to put up with their usual idiosyncrasies. Perhaps I just got used to going out with my friends, during my college years and when I started working, who were a lot less likely to grumble and complain about eating in a restaurant, given that the alternatives were either to eat in the canteen or cook for ourselves. Whatever it may be, all I know is that as much as I love spending time at home and with the family, this is one of the small things that really make me want to flip the final switch of rebellion and demand my own place.

And don't even get me started on travelling with my family....!

Do You Understand The Words Coming Outta My Mouth?

It's one of those days at work where no explanation is required as to why everyone hates Mondays. The long weekend has only served to increase the workload for Monday morning, and the pending issues from last week require darker shades of red highlighter on them. Add to that the sudden frenzy within our departments to get budgets approved by ye finance gods, and I literally don't know where to look.

So it's only natural I suppose that I sit down and try to blog.

Today has been one of the busiest days of the year for me so far, fielding calls from so many different offices, clients, and of course my superiors. On top of that I am trying to schedule meetings in Colombo, plus get out of a presentation to the board that was thrust upon me, as well as justify the company spending close to Rs. 100 million on us to - wait for it - save money.

Amidst all this chaos, I find myself getting beyond frustrated at people's inability to communicate clearly. Emails are vague and abrubpt. Calls are dodgy and unclear. Data sheets are incomplete and flooded with typos, leaving it up to the reader to discern what is what. I mean, seriously, who spells "Tonne" as TUN?!

But communication problems are not only at the workplace. No, they are generally the root cause of all strife, be it financial, logical or personal. Those of you who know me personally know that I am not the easiest person to get along with. My rather notorious temper has gotten the best of me time and again, despite my valiant efforts to tame it (or at least render it mute!). My moody-broodiness does not translate well either, giving people the impression that I am sulking in a corner, contemplating the most painful way to die, when more often than not I'm just very, very tired hungry.

I suppose I could blame it on the email and Facebook generation, that sends wedding invitations through Facebook 'event invites' and shares intimate personal information with the click of a check box or two. I suppose I could blame it on people that find it easier to express how they feel in some vague pseudo-intellectual 'status message' or some incoherent babbling via an anonymous blog, rather than to open their mouth and speak to someone face to face.

Or, I could blame it on myself, and realise that perhaps I really just don't know how to communicate to people.


Yes, sadly that sounds rather likely. Help, anyone?

Generation Zero (Or, How Piracy Killed The Pirates)

It is yet another glorious Monday morning, and I am 'busy' at work, staring importantly at my laptop while clicking furiously away with my mouse, all the while keeping my fingers on the Alt + Tab keys to switch between my work spreadsheets, Twitter and the live Spurs versus Nuggets game on ESPN.

We all have our ways of wasting time at work or school, but somehow we seem to have lost the romance of it all. Gone are the days where men would sit back with their feet on the desk, nonchalantly reading the newspaper while keeping a watchful eye on the boss' office door, should he suddenly appear from his one millionth 'meeting' with his secretary. Gone too are the days when kids would pass handwritten notes between each other, filled with witty reworkings of the teachers lecture, juicy real or imagined gossip, or amusingly accurate caricatures of classmates and staff.

No, today's classroom rebels are rebelling silently, or at worst, to the sound of their fingers on their cell phone keys, and the workplace outlaws are sticking it to The Man by using the office internet for Facebook or YouTube.

In a generation as technologically advanced as ours, shouldn't we be able to find more 'advanced' ways of beating the system than by browsing a social network site? In a classic case of them vs us, the powers that be are banning a website with the same aggression that is used to ban office workers from lighting a joint in the back room. Heck, our modern-day 'pirates' look more like Jack Black rather than Jack Sparrow, sitting behind anonymous computers in their mothers basements, somewhere in Scandinavia, while 'smuggling' music and movies online in broad daylight.

It's all really pathetic.

I have nothing but love for YouTube, which brings me all forms of entertainment when I need it, but I don't get this so-called addiction to Facebook. Sure, I'm on Facebook, and I have been for years. Sure, I upload photos every now and then. Why yes, I log on at least once every day. But addicted?? It baffles me. I spend a maximum of 5 mins online at a time on Facebook; after all, it takes the average person about a second and a half to read someones status update, and multiply that by the number of people that show up on your newsfeed, that gives you what, like, a minute? Unless you're one of those carebears that loves each and every single person on your friends list equally and feel it necessary to go through each one of their updates. If that person is you, you crazy. 'Nuff said.

But again I say: addicted?? Of course, there's the small matter of these farm related games that everyone goes on about. Fascinating, really, how we've suddenly taken such an interest in cattle, livestock and produce. Fascinating and confounding. Personally, I'd be more excited about it if my clicks actually meant there was a little man in some god-forsaken village who went about planting and harvesting stuff based on what I did, but that's just me I suppose.


But, and again I say, addicted??? Apparently people like going through everyone elses pictures and photo albums, performing what I like to call 'legal stalking'. Again, I can understand the fascination with this, but how long could this last? Most people leave the most redundant and pointless comments on Facebook. My personal favourites are the barely literate "Gd job machan, proud of u, keep up the good wrk!!". The dude is standing next to a fountain. He didn't build the damn thing, so I don't know what "gd work" he's talking about, and I don't know why he's proud that his friend is standing next to a source of water getting his hair sprinkled, but to each his/her own.


Bottom line: we need a serious injection of bad-assery in our generation. I vote for everyone to step away from their computers and start living outside our little cyber worlds. If that's too much to ask, then fine, take cyber-terrorism as a hobby, followed with a dash of fraud and inter-school embezzelment for the kiddies.

Eleven Days Into Twenty-Eleven..

As I type this post, it is 830pm on the 11th of 2011. I suppose if I wanted to make it more dramatic I would have waited till 11:11:11 or something, but it's been a long day and I will probably be under my sheets then, vainly attempting to shove aside the thoughts of work tomorrow.

Perhaps it's too early in the year to write a progress report on the new decade, yet I am rarely in the mood to properly blog these days, and when these moments come along where I find myself with the time and the motivation to write, I feel I should 'grab on with both hands'. So here I am, reaching for my work laptop, propping myself up on the bed, about to regale you with what this year has been so far.

Of course, I could ramble on and on about 'change', and 'life', and 'the future', and all these other vague yet intellectual ideas that one usually associates with the new year. 'New beginnings' are aplenty in the month of January, along with the hackneyed 'new leaf'. Yes, the first month, and the first few weeks especially, are characterised by that magical pixie dust that forces the world in general to become a better something.

I do not fully understand why people are in such a rush to change things these days. It's almost as if we have started moving so fast that staying constant is just something that is not done. We change our thoughts, ideas and perceptions faster than John Mayer can dump a beautful blonde celebrity. Change is 'in'; Same is 'old'.

As I watch everyone attempt (and mostly fail) at becoming a new person this year, I find myself in the odd position of trying to stay the same; a task I find infinitely harder. I admire those who can identify areas in their life that needs to adapt and evolve, yet it is a rare phenomenon. Most people want to change simply because it is easy, or because someone else said they should. As for me, I feel like I'm looking in the mirror, and watching as ever so subtly, my skin begins to fade, my hair begins to thin, and eyes beging to glaze over. No, I'm not growing old, but I am being forced into 'turning', ever so slowly, just like everyone else.

I'm tempted to write something deep like "change is constant", or "we are all one consciousness", but that would just be lame and pretentious. I am known (I think) for my dramatic nature, and I have often written about 'fighting' for life and what you believe in, mostly to the smirks and rolled eyes of my readers. But as much as I would like to depart from that line of thought and from using that phrase, I am forced to repeat the same, old, boring and repetitive thing again here.

I'm still fighting.

Bring on the next 354 days; I got all year.