Ballykissangel Wants To Rip Your Heart Out

Over the last few weeks, thanks to Netflix Instant, Matt and I have become addicted to Ballykissangel, a BBC comedic drama series set in a fictional Irish town that spanned the last half of the 1990s. Last week, I wanted to write a post about how we were in love with this show and how it had one of the most compelling TV romances I’ve encountered in a long time. But I couldn’t find the time and since then we’ve gone through a whole ‘nother season and now I’m going to tell you about the love/hate relationship I’ve developed with it instead. Warning: there be spoilers here.

Man, people. This show. It lures you in with its quirky charm and fun “Irish Stars Hollow” vibe, and then just when you’re comfortably convinced that it’s nothing but a light-hearted romantic dramedy, and just as the romantic part gets amped up to awesome, it turns on you, sucker-punching you in the gut with almost Whedonesque proportions of angst and pain and tragedy and death.

Imagine if right after Luke and Loralei got together, Luke fell off a ladder and broke his neck. While Loralei was holding the ladder. That’s what this show does to you.

And then imagine if, while you were still in mourning for Luke and Loralei, Sookie started to cheat on Jackson and treat him like crap, and then decided to leave him... right before Jackson fell off another ladder and broke his neck, leaving Sookie a guilt-ridden widow who’s already exhausted all of the sympathy you were able to muster for her.

It wouldn’t be so hard to take, I think, if Ballykissangel were always that kind of show; an action show, or a mystery, a la Lost or anything from Joss Whedon, or even a straight-up drama, where that kind of tragedy and dramatic interpersonal BS is simply woven into the fabric of the story and you expect bad things to happen. But this isn’t that kind of show, until suddenly it is. Which, I guess, is more true to life than something like Northern Exposure, to which it often gets compared, which I suppose is the point. Still, getting the rug yanked out from under you like that becomes tiring fast (we just started the 5th season, which begins with another death of another beloved character, combined with the character assasination of yet another). It’s getting to the point where the only reason to keep watching this show is the presence of a very young and pretty Colin Farrel.

All of that said, I heartily recommend the first three seasons. It has a romantic pairing that set my little ‘shippy heart all a-flutter and actually made me want to seek out fanfic, something I haven’t done since I managed to nix my Spuffy fic addiction. Of course, I don’t actually have time to read fanfic (or much of anything else) these days, so I looked for fan videos instead. I recommend you stop watching Season 3 as soon as things start to get good for this couple and come back and watch this Peter and Assumpta fan vid instead, and pretend with me that they ran away together to get married and have tiny, tiny babies and live happily ever after, amen.

Review: Ghost Story

I've always felt like a bad horror fan because I'd never read this modern horror classic. So when I found Ghost Story on the "Free Books" shelves at my accountant's (who also owns Oklahoma's biggest used book store) on the day we got our taxes done, I new I'd run out of excuses. Even so, after bringing it home it sat on my bookshelf collecting dust while I read other things. Until early last week, when I finally picked it up and started reading. And I'm glad I did.

After the sudden death of one of their members, the monthly meetings of The Chowder Society took a morbid turn as each member took turns answering the question, "What's the worst thing that ever happened to me?" At first, the four elderly survivors blame their spooky stories for their nightmares, but when the line between dreams and real life seem to be getting blurred, they call in the nephew of their deceased member, horror novelist Don Wanderley, whose brother also died under mysterious circumstances, hoping he can help them get to the bottom of what's happening. And that's about all I can say about the plot without getting into spoilers.

My first impression of this book is that it's extremely well-written, but not very scary to desensitized contemporary readers. But then about half-way through, the story started to work its way into my nightmares, and I found I was as reluctant to read it before bedtime as I was to put it down. Part of the plot is a little predictable, but that's more the fault of the fact that it was written in 1979 and that particular formula has been done to death since then. Even so, it was an engaging and sufficiently creepy read, and did I mention extremely well-written? Because today's would-be authors would do well to take notes on Peter Straub's use of language and imagery, and his masterful way with voice and dialogue. I know I did.

Book Review: Going In Circles

I knew that I'd previously reviewed Pamie's first novel, Why Girls Are Weird, at this blog, and after about half an hour digging through posts from 2006, I found it, buried in this post about jogging (you guys, remember when I took up jogging? And how short-lived that was? I know you do because I can hear you laughing your hinder off from clear over here). Although it's not so much a book review as it is pseudo-stalkerish gushing. Anyway...

Speaking of Going in Circles, I had kind of a weird circular moment while reading this, the third novel by renowned blogger, TV writer and former Young Americans recapper Pamela Ribon. As I sat reading this while camped out in my patio chair, where I usually sit and pine for a beach somewhere in Mexico, I came to a scene that was set on a beach somewhere in Mexico, and remembered how I read Pamie's first novel while camped out in a deck chair on a cruise ship bound for Mexico, and, you guys, I just really want to go back to Mexico.

But that's not really the point of this post, which is actually this: I really enjoyed this book, the tears of frustration it induced over the fact that I was NOT on a beach in Mexico notwithstanding.

Going In Circles appears at first glance to be a book about roller derby, but that really just serves as the back-drop for a story about human relationships and learning to cope when life lobs hardballs at you. It captures the complexity of those relationships really well -- not just romantic relationships, but adult child/parent, friendships, pseudo-friendships and co-worker relationships, too. Pamie has an easy-going writing style that makes humor look effortless, but she also captures well some really poignant moments and difficult emotions.

I read this book in a weekend, which for me is pretty fast, and I ended up neglecting a day of scheduled housecleaning in favor of hanging out with this book. Part of the reason I couldn't put it down was that she crafted well-rounded characters who are mostly the kind of people I would enjoy hanging out with in real life, and that was a real pleasure to read. I've read all three novels by Pamela Ribon, and enjoyed them all, but I think this is her best work to date.

If you'd like to order it, I'd appreciate it if you helped out this blog by using the affiliate link up there in the post; but for the Amazon- & affiliate-link-phobes among you, and so you don't think I'm just talking up this book to get my tiny commission, here are some non-Amazon, non-affiliate links to purchase Going In Circles:

• Barnes & Noble
  
• IndieBound
  
• Powell's Books
  

Not Lovin’ It

I try to do the frugal thing and make my own coffee in the morning (or, depending on the budget, make my sleepy self wait till I get to work to partake of the bitterly nasty yet free coffee). But this morning, I overslept, and had neither time for breakfast nor coffee preparation, so I swung by McDonalds for a cheap breakfast burrito on the way to work. As long as I was there, I figured I might as well try their new fancy coffee.

But first, let’s talk about those McCafé commercials. You know the ones. Two pretentious GenXers hanging out in a coffee shop, where one of them mentions snidely that McDonald’s has started selling “upscale” coffee. Their companion starts to scoff, but then tentatively approves, leading to an “Oh thank God!” moment when they both admit that they hate having to do the whole pretentious coffee shop thing in order to get decent coffee and then prattle on about all the “normal” things they can go back to doing and all of the useless things they can stop pretending to care about in order to appear intellectual. Because as we all know, all coffee shops are havens for pretentious intellectuals with goatees and long skirts and glasses who read only read Tolstoy and Kafka and travelogues and such.

Where to begin? For one thing, this caricature is so fifteen years ago. Note to McDonalds: Starbucks beat you to “McDonaldizing” coffee before anyone even knew what “McDonaldization” was. Sure, intellectual types still flock to coffee shops, but so do... well, just about anyone who likes steamed milk and special flavor in their coffee. And then my favorite part, in the commercial with the two women: “I can wear high heels again!” and “I just wanna show my knees, y’know?” Because...why? High heels and short skirts aren’t allowed in coffee shops? And let us not even touch on the sexist overtones that suggest the only way a woman can be truly comfortable is if she’s showing off her legs. I mean, WTF, McDonalds? Seriously?

Anyway, back to my original point, which is the coffee. I ordered a caramel latté. I cannot say that I’m impressed. Like Sonic’s version of same, it tastes like it came out of one of those cappuccino machines they have in convenience stores, or like a powdered mix. It left a funky aftertaste in my mouth that I’m still trying to get rid of. It’s not horrible, mind, and if you want a fancy coffee but don’t want to pay for Starbucks’ overpriced fare and there aren’t any other coffee shops around, you could do worse. Then again, you could just run down to the Quicky Mart and serve yourself the same thing for a buck.

This all leads me to conclude what I already suspected: that McDonalds’ target market for their coffee is people who never go to coffee shops because they believe that they’re still filled with the kind of people in the commercials and probably only ever drink cappuccinos from convenience stores or International Foods mixes and wouldn’t know the difference anyway. Which is all well and good, except that if those people are also trying to avoid overpriced coffee, for what they’re getting at McD’s, they might as well stick to their International Foods and save some money.

Something to say Woot! about

Woot's item of the day for today is a pair of refurbished Sandisk Sansa 1GB MP3 players for $14.99. I tell you this because I bought a pair for myself and Husband the last time they were offered about a year ago, and we have both been very pleased. 1GB might not sound like a whole lot these days, but mine currently holds several CDs with enough room left over for rotating my favorite podcasts. I listen to it while I work out, and it has been dropped many, many times, because I am clumsy even when I'm standing still, and it's still plugging along.

Back then, I checked Amazon and found that one of these was going for $90. I don't see this particular one for sale there now, and their 1GB players have come down considerably; but you still can't get 2 for fifteen bucks. This is a good deal.

The Ruins

Husband wanted to take me to a movie for my birthday. The current movie offerings are pretty dismal, so we almost skipped on the movie altogether, but finally, we settled on The Ruins, figuring if it was as bad as we expected it to be, at least we'd have something to make fun of for a while.

Sometimes it pays to set your expectations really low, because then if they're not met you get to be pleasantly surprised.

This movie was both better than and different from what I expected. I guess it's a sign of my older-gettingness that I really wasn't looking forward to a movie about barely-out-of-their-teens twenty-somethings getting eaten or slaughtered or whatever horrible thing was bound to happen to them, and I expected a lot of mediocre acting. My hopes on that front raised when I saw Jenna Malone and cutie Shawn Ashmore, and the other kids all held their own pretty well. That the characters tended toward the idiotic can't really be blamed on the acting, but I don't think it's a flaw in the writing, either, since it made for some pretty darkly funny scenes. I wasn't sure whether the dark humor was intentional at first, but seeing that it was produced by Ben Stiller convinced me.

My only real criticism is that it stuck to certain horror movie conventions so much as to be predictable in its outcome, but then again, those conventions have been played around with so much in the last two decades that it's actually kind of surprising when they're adhered to so faithfully.

At any rate, it was a refreshing change from torture porn and J-Horror remakes, and with plenty to make you squirm, gasp and jump out of your seat, it's a nice little addition to the horror fold.

Beowulf

Husband and I really wanted to go see this movie in 3D when it was playing at the IMAX over the holidays, but it just never worked out. Having watched it on DVD on our sad little regular-def 19" TV this past weekend, we now know what a tragedy it is that we missed the chance to see this much awesomeness amplified by like a thousand.

We watched the unrated version, which was pretty no-holds-barred with the violence and gore...which is part of what made it so damn awesome, actually. It was a fantastic take on the story, and I was riveted to the screen for most of it, the only exceptions being after the exceptionally cool bits when we'd start geeking out over what a perfect medium this would be for A Song of Ice and Fire; but then that just gave us an excuse to rewind and watch the cool bits again, so that worked out.

As for the animation, at times it was mind-blowingly realistic, but at rarer times it missed the mark by a wide enough margin as to be mildly distracting, but that's a small quibble. This movie has earned itself a permanent spot in our collection. And if it ever makes it back to the IMAX, or even just to a big screen somewhere, we are THERE.

Cloverfield

First things first: if you're the least bit prone to motion sickness, you should take your favorite motion sickness remedy before going to see this movie, or else you WILL get urpy and nauseous.

I meant to take Bomine before we went on Saturday. That stuff got me through even the storm-tossiest nights of my honeymoon cruise with nary a tummy flip-flop. But it only works if you remember to take it, which I didn't, so about a minute into the movie, I realized that I was screwed. I spent the rest of the movie with my head bowed and my hand over my eyes, looking up every few seconds to make sure I wasn't missing any cool parts, and forcing myself to keep looking during said cool parts.

So I think I saw all of the important stuff. I at least saw (and heard) enough to say confidently that, physical misery aside, I enjoyed this movie. I thought it was well done. I didn't feel like it was too gimmicky (although I do think that they could have given us a narrator who knew something about how to hold a camera still for two seconds), and it had what all of my favorite horror movies have: a slow build that allows you to get familiar with the characters and their surroundings and develop a sense of comfort and confidence before getting whapped upside the head with the realization that SOMETHING'S NOT RIGHT, followed by relentless action, tension and danger that never lets up for the rest of the movie.

THIS is what a post-modern Godzilla movie SHOULD be, Roland Emmerich: a balls-out disaster movie where you genuinely fear for the lives of your protagonists, NOBODY knows where this thing came from or what the hell is happening, even the military is so taken by surprise that they're disoriented and scared poopless, and you have the sinking feeling that the only hope the rest of the world has is to nuke the dadgum thing to kingdom come, and God help anybody who's left in the way when that happens. It's a feeling of inevitable doom so intense that you know any kind of happy ending would feel like a rip-off, and that makes any of the quiet, caring, sometimes even laughter-filled moments between the characters all the more tragic and poignant. They know they're screwed, YOU know they're screwed, and you know THEY know they're screwed, but they keep moving, keep trying to survive as long as they can. Giving up is not an option, no matter how hopeless it appears to be. And that's the sort of thing J.J. Abrams excels at. It's why I keep coming back to LOST no matter how many times it makes me feel screwed over. Because giving up is not an option. I'm on this crazy ride all the way to the bitter end.

Also: Good on you, Drew Goddard. I'm sure this is just the beginning of your movie writing career.

Pop Culture Roundup

First, breaking news: I have barbecue. Now don't you wish you were me?

Yeah, I thought not.

***

It's been a while since I've done one of these, but I've been saving so much up, I might as well cover them all at once.

Dr. Who (vague spoilers follow) - I'm two episodes into the third season (not counting the Christmas special) and -- say it with me, now -- I miss Rose. But so does the Doctor, and that does my heart good. In my vague recollections of the old series, the Doctor never spent too much thought on ex-companions, so that proves that Rose is speshul and he loves her! Sigh. Maybe Ten and I can both move on together.

I enjoyed Donna, brash, plus-size, inelegant redhead that she was (not like she reminds me of anybody), and was all set to accept her as the new companion, when she went and proved to have too much sense to go gallivanting off to who knows where with a mysterious alien with genocidal tendencies. Actually, I think it might have just been that last bit that put her off.

Martha has yet to witness the Doctor's dark and deadly side, so for now she can get away with being all wide-eyed wonder and glee. The flirty-jealous angle is cute, too, although I'm much too hung up on Rose to ever hope that that blossoms into anything real. So far, I'm liking Martha. I like her family, too, and hope we see more of them. Rose's domestics were one of my favorite parts of the new series, one that I thought anchored it and gave it a lot of heart. I miss Jackie and Mickey almost as much as I miss Rose.

Mostly, I just love that the Doctor loves strong, intelligent women. It makes him quite the sexy.

Can't wait to see where this season is going.

***

Spamalot - Tess and I took in some culture this weekend (what? Okay, yes, it's Monty Python. But it's also musical theater, so that makes it culture, so there!). I can tell you this: the show is not the movie, although it does share several classic scenes. It makes a lot of changes, too, though, and not just the increase in song and dance numbers. Most of the changes, I approved of. There were times, though, when I thought they got a little too wink-wink-nudge-nudge, we know we're on a stage, who needs a fourth wall? At times it crossed over from irony into preciousness territory. I also thought some of the lines were over-delivered, and it seemed like the lead actor was playing Tim Curry playing King Arthur instead of simply playing King Arthur. Those are all minor nitpicks, though, and overall, it was hilarious, and I loved it, and I feel I ought to point out that the Lady of the Lake was nothing less than fabulous. And I wish I'd bought myself a pair of killer bunny slippers.

***

Cosmo - What? Coffee shops are too pop culture. This one is on Memorial, just north of 71st, across from Woodland Hills Mall, and from the outside looks more like a bar than a coffee shop. As I learned when Husband and I met our potential new BFFs there Saturday night, it's actually both, and also has a menu combining the best of both worlds of deli and bar food. All ages are welcome, although you have to be 21, natch, to approach the bar or get a shot of Bailey's in your cappuccino. They have a comfortable combination of restaurant-style table and chairs and coffee shop couture sofas and comfy chairs, with the requisite free wifi and a diverse selection of board games.

We killed a few hours there playing Apples to Apples and Trivial Pursuit, and killed a few more just hanging out and conversating. It was a pretty comfy and relaxed atmosphere, without a lot of the pretension you tend to find in a lot of Tulsa establishments. They also let us hang out there for a ridiculous length of time without giving us the stink eye, so that was nice. I liked it, and can see it becoming a regular hangout. My only quibble was some of the menu prices, which led me to expect bigger portions than what I got; but for the most part it was all pretty reasonable, and very much made of yum.

***

Books - Last week I finished off The Android's Dream by Scalzi. That, I must say, was an enjoyable read. I've never been into hard-core SF, and this isn't really that, so that worked out pretty well. I'm trying to think of something to liken it to, and I'm having trouble coming up with anything. It's not quite wacky enough to compare to Hitchhiker's Guide, although there are moments where it comes close. At any rate, I found it to be a pretty good blend of action, adventure and satire, and there wasn't a single paragraph wherein I felt anything less than entertained. Good job, Scalzi.

Now I'm re-reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I waited a bit long to decide I want to re-read them all before I read The Deadly Hallows, but it shouldn't take me too long to breeze through them, even at my slow reading pace. Especially since I can skip the parts I find a bit tedious (I can understand wanting to keep newcomers in the loop, but really, one description of how Quidditch works is quite enough for me, thanks). And in other HP news, I still haven't seen the movie.

***

And now I have cobbler. Go ahead and hate me now. I'll understand.