I will agree that woven through some of the negative reviews for Sex And The City 2 has been a not too subtle undercurrent of sexism, but that’s not to say that some of the reviews haven’t been accurate in how terrible the movie appears to be. I say “appears to be,” of course, because I haven’t seen it and I hated the first movie. And as Fern Diaz points out, whatever the series used to be about or mean to it’s fanbase, it doesn’t seem to mean that anymore, does it?
3. This:
4.The other day I had a moment to Crowded House’s gorgeous 80s masterpiece of a song, “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” and today I had a similar experience – well, sort of – to another magnificent pop ditty from the same decade…
That’s “There She Goes” by the La’s and I defy you to not get that stuck in your head now. I defy you! And if you do get it stuck on endless repeat, it’ll be okay, because it’s just a lovely song, whether it be about an actual girl or heroin or whatever, it’s all kind of the same, yes?
Some of the best posts that Maria and I have ever done have honestly just come out of long nights conversing on gmail, working on the various things we work on, and trying to fight off the late night boredom and punchiness that invariably works it’s way in. We’ve come up with some pretty twisted notions in those late night conversations, but some of them I could not be more fond of.
I was going to post one such bit of late night brilliance we had conjured together, but being awesome as she frequently is, Maria totally beat me to it, so you should click here to read our “Tribute to Akon,” one of the hardest working men in this business we call show. And love. And life. And the making of paper and winding and grinding.
It’s somewhat similar, if you will, to that game of catch a falling star that we have done before when talking about celebrities. In fact, if I’m lucky, some day I’ll finally be able to talk Maria into starting a blog with me of nothing but chronicling the erotically mundane and perversely fascinating real life adventures of celebrities as we see them. Maybe some day. Until then… click.
And that’s this week’s episode, which bears the rather low key title of “Vincent And The Doctor,” written by Richard Curtis of Four Weddings And A Funeral, Notting Hill, and Love, Actually fame.
The plot is relatively simple: The Doctor is showing Amy a good time, trying to make up for the loss of Rory in small ways, but it’s more about alleviating his guilt over what she can’t remember. They go to the Musee D’orsay in Paris and notice a scary face staring out from a window within Van Gogh’s painting, The Church At Auvers, and after finding a approximation of the date the painting was done, decide to back and pay Van Gogh a visit in his final and incredibly product days and do a little investigating. And adventuring.
It’s kind of interesting in that all of Moffat’s previous episodes of Doctor Who during the RTD run of the show dealt with things of an auditory nature, repeated scary catch phrases and noises of monsters, and this series it’s primary more about what is seen. And Van Gogh, dealing with his madness, is the only person who can see the alien creature rampaging through Provence, possibly because of his temporal lobe epilepsy (the part of your brain where God and other wonderful monsters live, as the God helmet taught us), and that monster itself happens to be blind.
The episode is pretty light on the plot and much more character-driven and kind of hauntingly wonderful in that regard. I didn’t dislike last week’s episode or “The Hungry Earth” before it, but ultimately I feel that it may be rather forgettable in the long run, and possibly “Vampires In Venice” as well (this episode was shot in the same Croatian village as that episode, standing in for France this time, rather than Venice), but this one is an odd keeper. And that, in itself, is interesting because a quick scan online has shown me that quite a few have actually hated this episode, which I think it’s a shame. It was lovely in a tragic way, but also rather life affirming of the beauty of both the good and the bad we experience in this brief and temporary life, especially since the Pandorica will be opening in a mere two weeks.
The rumored original title of this episode was supposedly “Lend Me Your Ear,” which is just too funny.
I can’t say enough good things about Tony Curran’s rendition of Vincent Van Gogh, who didn’t have a lot to do in this episode, not really, but did all of it with such incredible weight. The way he delivered the line, “When you leave, as everyone always does, I will be left with an empty heart and no hope” was beautiful in an incredibly touching way that just stabbed at you, and was in an amazing contract with the tears that streamed down his eyes as Bill Nighy’s curator character explained the effect that Van Gogh had on the world of modern art.
Also, keeping his natural Scottish accent and having him then assume that Amy Pond was Dutch as well was brilliant.
And then there was that beautiful scene of Van Gogh laying in the grass with Amy and the Doctor, having them look up at the night sky and seeing it from his perspective, the literal transformation from the real into a starry night.
And Karen Gillan was again, of course, beautiful in this episode, and again, felt somewhat wasted. I quite enjoyed her stuff at the end, after her and the Doctor showed Van Gogh how he changed the world of the future, and the way she hoped that they had had an effect on him that would’ve changed something in his life for the better, perhaps helped him to deal with his demons and live longer…
…but finding that their time with the artist only gave him the strength to carry out his life exactly as it already played out.
From her perspective, that is.
And the perspective of a time traveler can certainly be an interesting thing, I think we’ve seen so far this season.
It’s interesting watching Matt Smith’s progression as the Doctor this series, not so much in acting, but in writing. Part of that has to do with the showrunner, Stephen Moffat, writing more episodes at the start of the series, but there’s certainly much more of a weight to episodes like “The Eleventh Hour” and “The Beast Below” and, of course, in “The Time Of Angels” and “Flesh And Stone.” Life literally felt like it was on the line in those episodes, the situations were certainly more dire, and the actors/characters shown a lot brighter, and I’m looking forward to next week’s episode, but I’m really anxious to see Moffat return in two weeks as River Song returns (along with Rory and a whole host of baddies, apparently, if supposed spoilers are to be believed), the Pandorica opens, and silence falls…
…and had a good chuckle. It’s by artist/journalist Chip Zdarsky, which I discovered it via Warren Ellis’ site and Zdarsky’s twitter, but who knows. It’s absolutely mind blowingly terrible. And wonderful. Like this:
I was out somewhere today and this song, “Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House, came on…
…and I just stopped and had “a moment.” Not so much an epiphany, not really. Not really a moment of flashback revelatory importance either, though I did briefly ponder all the moments in my life that I’d heard this song, either on the radio somewhere in my youth, or in a movie or a TV show, or what have you. It was on a mix that a friend gave me years and years ago as I was moving away from a place and doing a thing and leaving a lot behind. The friend said, “Track 2. That’s my favorite track.” And track 2 was, of course, for the purposes of this anecdote, this song. Also, it was played in the TV miniseries adaptation of Stephen King’s The Stand. I remembered that it was covered in the 90s by Sixpence None The Richer (of “Kiss Me” fame), but listening to it, I looked and I searched and I pleaded for an answer, a sign, a glimpse of… something. And what came? Nothing. What lies beyond here? Nothing. Well, probably nothing, but I don’t know. The song sure isn’t answering that question. But it’s just a song. What does it know? Nothing. And just thinking about it reminds me of that episode of Seinfeld, the one where Elaine’s boyfriend is obsessed with “Desperado,” by the Eagles (and the works of Karl Farbman), and he won’t share the song with her. She tries to suggest “Witchy Woman” by the Eagles as something that could be “their song,” but he won’t have it. And so when “Desperado” comes on, and he spaces out listening to it, she starts singing along with it, prompting him to return from that other place and say, “Elaine, would you just shut up for a moment?” That’s how I felt listening to this song today. Well, sort of.
The images in this post are obviously from the influential British science fiction pulp magazine, New Worlds, which expired in the late 90s. From here and here.