monoceros blogsSo I haven't seen the film yet, but I plan to do so next week with Dimsumdolly. We'll most likely schedule a viewing of the original Italian version when Tiggie, aka Ms Overacuppa, returns with the DVD in December. As of now, she has it in her apartment in bitterly cold Minnesota! Thank you, Tiggie, for helping me get hold of the DVD.
In anticipation of the films, I thought I'd put up two songs, one from each version. From the American adaptation - Imogen Heap's string mix of "Hide and Seek," a song I like not least because it has a favorite phrase of mine, "what the hell." The string-less version is what you get on the soundtrack, though both are equally surreal, as are unexpected betrayals and disappointments. It's a wonderful contrast, the ethereal vocals and the sharp, angry lyrics.
And from the Italian version - "L'Ultimo Bacio." Carmen Consoli's voice is a dream.
On Monday night, I got round to watching something other than Ugly Betty. It turns out that my supplier also puts up a TV show called Heroes, which I'd seen mentioned a few times on ew.com. I knew that it was one of this season's successful shows but wasn't sure of its premise. All I had were vague ideas that it could be a reality show about ordinary people doing heroic acts.
What finally sent me checking out Heroes was an article about Ugly Betty, which said that the only other perky TV hero of the season is a bespectacled Japanese salaryman called Hiro Nakamura. And it turns out that Hiro on Heroes is played by Masi Oka, the same guy who plays Franklin, the lab guy on Scrubs. How cool is that? (Okay, maybe only a geek would appreciate it.) Masi Oka is a genius with a 180+ IQ. At age 12, he appeared on the cover of Time magazine as one of the Asian-American whiz kids. As an adult, he's done CGI work for Industrial Light & Magic (yeah, that company owned by George Lucas) and he still works there part-time. (Information courtesy of imdb.com - Oka's CGI-work resume is pretty impressive.)
So I stayed up all of Monday night and most of Tuesday morning to watch the first nine episodes of the show. What a ride. It's no reality show, but something rather like X-Men crossed with X-Files, and bursting with cliffhangers, revelations, embedded mysteries. Tim Kring, the creator, is best known for the show, Crossing Jordan, and he has a very able co-executive producer, Jeph Loeb, of comic-book and Lost-and-Smallville fame.
The show has an ensemble cast featuring characters who realize that they possess strange abilites and powers. Some are bewildered, some are indifferent, and some are just plain thrilled, like Hiro. He's a Trekkie, an anime and manga fan, and he loves that he can bend space and time. Telling only his colleague, Ando, about it, Hiro is determined to use his power to do good. And the good deed du jour is saving New York City from a nuclear explosion. To do this, he'll most likely need help from the other folks who are less enthusiastic about their burgeoning powers. The only other fellow whose desire to save the world equals Hiro's - but with less glee - is Peter Petrelli, a former male nurse with a Rogue-like ability to mimic other people's powers.
Perhaps it's because these two are so proactive and eager to help that I like their characters best. Peter's desire to make a difference in the world and in his own life, his quiet search for his destiny touched something in me, because really, don't many of us want to do the same? That is, those of us who still have a fraction of Hiro's wonder and excitement about being alive and delighting in it?
All this hero talk makes me nostalgic for Bonnie Tyler's "Holding out for a hero."
It's raining very softly now, as if the night is weeping and doesn't want the world below to notice.
Tonight, I skipped on to Sunday's poem on the Writer's Alamanc, and found Reid Bush's "Where are Men When they're Not at Home?" For unspoken reasons, it made me sad.
Where are Men
When they're Not at Home?
Different places.
Some are out at the barn checking on the mare that's about to foal.
I know, not many now.
A few.
Some are running down to the corner store to pick up something they forgot.
Be right back.
Some are in offices practicing pitches. Spiels.
Some are phoning from offices—saying they'll be late.
Of course, many are dead.
You suddenly think about them because you're back where you haven't been
in 20 years
and go to look them up.
But they're not there.
Just some widows.
But most are way off somewhere searching for fathers who were never home
enough.
DSD and yAnn write about the passing of the Mee Pok Man of SCGS, aka Mr. Ang Boon Chye. I haven't thought of him in years, but he is an indelible memory - that solemn face with knotted brows, the steady hands as he pulled butter-yellow strands of mee pok from his tray of noodles, and then his arm sliding forward as he pushed a perfect pink bowl of lunch that was worth more than a schoolgirl's 50 cents. Every student knew his stall through the years, it always boasted the longest queue. How my heart leapt every time I spied a queue of only one or two girls; the promise of mee pok tah in a jiffy invariably drew me to the stall, and I would happily buy a bowl even though there were just ten minutes of recess left (pretty dangerous considering what a slow eater I was back then).
Gone, but never forgotten. Goodbye, Mr. Ang, our mee pok man. Go well.
Last night, as I lay in bed trying to find the perfect position to rest my knotty back, I spied the copy of Best American Essays 2006 that a friend brought back for me from the US. Since I've been working on proofs for a grammar book, I chose the essay titled, “Grammar Lessons: The Subjunctive Mood.”
The beauty of a great essay is that, while it remains personal, relating events or thoughts that are unique to the writer, the essay also holds an important question that is universal and pertinent to the reader. Why would anyone care to read how a man handles his daughter and a dead goldfish or about a young woman moving from New York to Los Angeles? Because late at night or during many moments in the day, ideas about death and choices and leaving a physical or emotional place are the very same ones that plague us. Some of the best essays explore questions and issues that we don't always want or dare to talk about; or they remind us of what we have forgotten but should remember again.
Michele Murano gives her essay an innocuous, rather mundane title. We think she is writing about grammar, and maybe it’s going to be humorous, like Lynne Truss’s Eats, Shoots and Leaves. Next, we read the first paragraph and realize this particular "grammar" - more specifically, the subjunctive mood - is referring to the conjugation of verbs in Spanish. Okay then, Spanish grammar, a trip to Spain. This could very well be in the vein of Tim Parks's Italy books or Peter Mayle's writing about Provence. But, no, it isn't. Very much like life, the essay - or any powerful writing, really - never turns out the way you think it will.
Here are the first two pages -
"Think of it this way: learning to use the subjunctive mood is like learning to drive a stick shift. It's like falling in love with a car that isn't new or sporty but has a tilt steering wheel and a price you can afford. It's like being so in love with the possibilities, with the places you might go and the experiences you might have, that you pick up your new used car without quite knowing how to drive it, sputtering and stalling and rolling backward at every light. Then you drive the car each day for months, until the stalling stops and you figure out how to downshift, until you can hear the engine's registers and move through them with grace. And later, after you've gained control over the driving and lost control over so much else, you sell the car and most of your possessions and move yourself to Spain, to a place where language and circumstance will help you understand the subjunctive.
Remember that the subjunctive is a mood, not a tense. Verb tenses tell when something happens; moods tell how true. It's easy to skim over moods in a new language, to translate the words and think you've understood, which is why your first months in Spain will lack nuance. But eventually, after enough hours of conversations have passed, enough hours of talking with your students at the University of Oviedo and your housemate, Lola, and the friends you make when you wander the streets looking like a foreigner, you'll discover that you need the subjunctive in order to finish a question, or an answer, or a thought you couldn't have had without it.
In language, as in life, moods are complicated, but at least in language there are only two. The indicative mood is for knowledge, facts, absolutes, for describing what's real or definite. You'd use the indicative to say, for example:
I was in love.
Or, The man I loved tried to kill himself.
Or, I moved to Spain because the man I loved, the man who tried to kill himself, was driving me insane.
The indicative helps you tell what happened or is happening or will happen in the future (when you believe you know for sure what the future will bring).
The subjunctive mood, on the other hand, is uncertain. It helps you tell what could have been or might be or what you want but may not get. You'd use the subjunctive to say:
I thought he'd improve without me.
Or, I left so that he'd begin to take care of himself.
Or later, after your perspective has been altered, by time and distance and a couple of cervezas in a brightly lit bar, you might say:
I deserted him (indicative).
I left him alone with his crazy self for a year (indicative).
Because I hoped (after which begins the subjunctive) that being apart might allow us to come together again.
English is losing the subjunctive mood. It lingers in some constructions ("If he were dead . . . ," for example), but it's no longer pervasive. That's the beauty and also the danger of English - that the definite and the might-be often look so much alike. And it's the reason why, during a period in your life when everything feels hypothetical, Spain will be a very seductive place to live.
In Spanish, verbs change to accomodate the subjunctive in every tense, and the rules, which are many and varied, have exceptions. In the beginning, you may feel defeated by this, even hopeless and angry sometimes. But eventually, in spite of your frustration with trying to explain, you'll know in the part of your mind that holds your stories, the part where grammar is felt before it's understood, that the uses of the subjunctive matter."
I'd buy a Blendtec, if only it were available here. After viewing the assortment of objects - edible and inedible - that Tom Dickson puts in his Total Blender for the home (imagine what the commercial one will handle!), I'm convinced it's one of the best - if not the very best - blenders on the market.
There are only ten videos so far, divided into stuff you can blend at home and stuff you should just watch in the videos. A couple of these blends can be particularly stomach-churning, like the coke and roast chicken (with bones and skin), and the Big Mac extra value meal for Uncle Floyd who has no teeth.
The rest are pretty incredible to watch as they are ground or pulverized into chips, pieces, dust, powder - golf balls, marbles (glass dust? Don't let that get into your lungs!), credit cards, ballpoint pens (all that ink!), a DVD and a can of coke (can included), a rake handle.
So what would you like to have blended?
Someone asked me about the lyrics to Carmen Consoli's "L'ultimo Bacio." My translation skills are sketchy at best, so I chose only a few lines that I knew I understood.
"L'ultimo bacio mia dolce bambina
brucia sul viso come gocce di limone
l'eroico coraggio di un feroce addio
ma sono lacrime mentre piove
piove"
"The last kiss, my sweet girl,
burns on the face like drops of lemon
the heroic courage of a ferocious goodbye
but there are tears as you cry
you cry"
At a l's request, I'm putting up this recent pic of Hoops and Yoyo (and Piddles) that my brother took. They formed the birthday troupe that I sent to him in Illinois (his other present is a caricaturized figure of Darth Vadar; I never thought I'd ever consider Darth Vadar adorable!).
Piddles is looking very pleased to be in plush version along with her larger pals, and Hoops must be ecstatic that he's finally the largest of them all. Here's hoping this trio of cuteness (the zaniest, wackiest, singing and dancing characters Hallmark's ever had) will get to our shores soon.
Sicilian elements, political lyrics, smoky Italian vocals - these are things that Carmen Consoli offers in her latest album. I'm plesantly surprised that an Italian singer is getting publicity in the US, where few foriegn-language singers receive such entry into the market, unless it's opera or classical crossover work by Andrea Bocelli and Josh Groban and the like. The most successful Italian songstress I can think of is Laura Pausini, but even then, many of her songs are sung in English (several in Spanish).
Carmen Consoli's music has been mainly rock but this recent album is very acoustic, understated, even traditional in the instruments used. It reminds me of a rather famous song of hers, "L'ultimo Bacio" - the last kiss (in the video, look for the lovely Italian actress, Giovanna Mezzogiorno, who plays the protagonist's girlfriend; the long-haired brunette). It was the theme song of the Italian film of the same name, which has been made into the Zach Braff-starring American version, The Last Kiss (opening in Singapore on November 30).
"Eva Contro Eva" is fully Italian, though the track list has been translated for non-Italian speakers/readers. The titles are small beauties indeed -
1. Tutto Su Eva (Eve Against Eve)
2. Maria Catena (Mary Chain)
3. Dolce Attesa (The Sweet Awaiting)
4. Sulle Rive di Morfeo (On Morpheus' Shores)
5. Pendio Dell'abbandono (The Slope of Abandonment)
6. Preghiera in Gola (A Prayer in the Throat)
7. Piccolo Cesare (Little Caesar)
8. Madre Terra (Mother Earth)
9. Signor Tentenna (Mr See-Saw)
10. Sorriso di Atlantide (Atlantis's Smile)
I once paged through a graphic novel, or graphic story collection by Carol Tyler. She's well known in the illustration circles, but took a long hiatus from drawing to raise her family. Late Bloomers is a lovely collection of moments, vignettes, and a few longer stories about her life, her family, her relatives. I enjoyed the references to the seasonals, flowers and shrubs. Most of all, I loved the dedication at the front of the book.
This book is dedicated to anyone who has deferred a dream due to raising children or caregiving, or has experienced a significant setback from emotional hurt, physical or mental illness, pain, injury or loss, or any other blind-side interruption that has impeded the achievement of a goal. This book is dedicated to the possibilities that lie within all of us. This book is a celebration of us late bloomers.
For the first time, I wish I'd been able to take Woodwork instead of Home Economics at school. Although, if I had, I wouldn't have learned to work the sewing machine and made a skirt from scratch, or shucked my fear of hot appliances to bustle about a kitchen. But seeing a simple, elegant chair like this makes me hanker after a skill that might have allowed me to create a beauty instead of merely purchasing it. Not that I could even purchase it if I wished. The Victoria Hagan chair is from Target (several thousand miles away in the US) and it costs a pretty and hefty $120.
I suppose I'll make do with a printed image of the chair, place it in a wooden frame whose color almost matches that of the actual chair, and be satisfied. Some things in life are destined to remain 2-D.
I actually had a little countdown on MSN Messenger with Ms. Dimsumdolly while we waited for the Spider-Man 3 trailer to premiere online. Well, James Franco still looks terrific and the third installment looks like it'll be darker than the first two - excellent.
The trailer for Meet the Robinsons looked a little ho-hum at first, just another CGI film for the family. It's sharp and colorful, of course, but I was hoping for something new, something to set it apart from the parade of CGI films we've had lately. I waited, and I did find the something - check out the dinosaur. He has two scenes and both sealed the deal for me; I'm going to see this for the T-Rex.
Since October, I’ve been reading about a new TV show that's been growing in popularity. Ugly Betty, starring America Ferrara from Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, will remind you a fair bit of The Devil Wears Prada. Ugly, awkward assistant makes good at a posh fashion magazine. But don’t accuse this show of being a copycat - it’s a remake of a Columbian TV show, Yo Soy Betty, la Fea, that started in the 90s, so it’s really copying something else. Another difference - Betty never quite gets the dream makeover that Anne Hathway’s character does. She gets a makeover, sure, but it doesn’t quite work out the way you think. She’s plump, has busy eyebrows, big hair, glasses, and glittering braces. She’s also a Latina from Queens and she’s just landed the job of assistant to the floundering new editor-in-chief - and resident hot guy - of Mode, a magazine of Meade publications in New York. Everyone resents her, makes fun of her, and tries to break her spirit, but she always come through (not without considerable struggle). She certainly comes through and even succeeds where thinner, sexier, and better-dressed Botoxed colleagues have failed.
It’s a successful comedy with lots of heart and a really good message. Reading about how it’s been remade in Russia, Germany, and India, sparked an idea. Since Singapore TV has always been accused of copying overseas shows, how about just going with it and remaking this one for Singapore audiences, claiming inspiration from the original Betty La Fea, or ABC’s Ugly Betty? Salma Hayek, the producer of the American version, heaps much praise on its source, after all. Copying this show wouldn’t be too difficult. It’d be quite believable in fact, for a remake of an American or Colombian production. We have fashion magazines; we have in place the same standards of unattainable beauty; we have gorgeous high-fliers - who could probably be models themselves - working in the fashion world. And we have our minority races. We don’t have Queens, but we have Geylang and Serangoon. You could still cast a Chinese girl in the main role, just play up the whole foreign talent controversy by having a Caucasian expatriate in the role of editor-in-chief. He’d be white, handsome, and shipped in from posh London or swanky New York, but this is why the role would still work against stereotype - he’s one of only two or three people in the company who recognizes Betty’s talent and spirit, admires her for who she is, and treats her with kindness and respect. Of course, he’s still a Casanova and beds any pretty thing in a skirt.
I’d also dare the Singapore production to re-create every character on Ugly Betty’s cast, especially Betty’s young effeminate nephew who wears discounted but sharp-looking Ralph Lauren vests, tap dances and sings like Gene Kelly, and dishes out fashion advice and encouragement to Betty. One scene in the Halloween episode shows Justin tapping and singing for his family, who are supportive but worried about the reception Justin might get in school. Instead of forcing Justin to throw out his Halloween costume and cease his dancing, his grandfather says, "I hope he can sing, dance, and throw a punch!" Some viewers had doubts about a show with a "gay boy" (he's not gay - he doesn't have a boyfriend!), but Justin's pretty much a universally loved character by now.
I’d love to be a writer for the Singapore version, if there ever is one. Of course, anyone in Singapore’s TV industry who reads this post can steal my idea – if it hasn’t already been thought of – and I can kid myself into thinking that someone did read this and brought it to a Singaporean audience. First thing though, we need to have the actual show on our channels! I’m having an Ugly Betty withdrawal period now. I watched the first five episodes on Youtube several times before the admin folks caught on and yanked the user’s account.
There’s still the trailer though (look out for the Guy-Pearce-look-alike model, what cheekbones!). This show is for anyone who feels frustrated that they care too much about what people think or wants badly to achieve something but don’t think they have what it takes. Well, just take a page from Betty’s book. Screw the standards of beauty, the wicked gossip, the judgmental jibes about your appearance, lack of pedigree, graces, or fine clothes, and just forge ahead with guts and an indomitable spirit.