"So bad it's terrible" movie: Alexander

I have many complicated emotions about a movie I saw recently. That movie was "Alexander," and is the story of Alexander the Great, the Macedonian/Greek conquerer. If I were as conflicted about these feelings as Alexander himself, I would undoubtably spend nearly three hours of movie time and my entire life looking sad and upset, make many pointless speeches, cry frequently, somehow conquer several kingdoms, and kiss my mother full on the mouth. Some alternate titles that surely were considered for the movie were "Alexander: Pining and Whining His Way Through 300 B.C." and "Alexander: Where Every Accent Imaginable is a Greek Accent." Was it an awful movie? Oh my, yes. Was it fun to watch. Yes, my friends. Yes it was.

Apparently the movie came in under the radar almost three years ago and was considered at the time to be on of the most horrifyingly, vomit-inducingly, terrible big-budget movies ever made. This is suprising considering the usually solid cast consisted of Colin Ferrell ("S.W. A.T.," "Daredevil" and he was in an episode of Scrubs that I like), Anthony Hopkins ("The Mask of Zorro"), Angelina Jolie ("Tomb Raider," "Tomb Raider II,") and from director/writer Oliver Stone ("Platoon," "The Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen Mysteries").

Ok, enough movie-talk junk. I watched this movie (a clean-flixed version, incidentally), a few weeks ago and have rarely ever howled with more enthusiasm at the badness and utter confusion of a movie. A few general notes.

1) Too many speeches! There are at least three speeches, long-winded, quasi-philosophical speeches given before Alexander (young or old) ever says anything.

2) To many Greek diety names used in common vernacular! I did a rough count and came up with at least 13 examples of "For Hera's sake!" "By Dionysis, you'll pay for that!" during the course of the movie.

3) A soundtrack that consists almost entirely of triumphant victory music! This is oddly the most true about the first half-hour of the movie, before anything remotely triumphant has happened besides several speeches (see above). Perhaps the most victorious music is when young blond Alexander horse-whispers a so-called untameable horse. This same scene and triumphant music and horse-whisperage is alluded to during the final showdown battle when, with the same horse, Alexander attacks an elephant in extremely slow slow-motion (which makes less sense than when I just described it).

4) For a movie about the most sucessful conquerer in the world, not enough sucessful battles! There are two, excessively violent battlest, the first of which I had thought Alexander had soundly lost (he rode a horse and yelled a lot and seemed extremely upset about something, but then his men started cheering, so I guess he had won. Perhaps the ancient tradition is that which ever side thinks to cheer first are declared the winners?). And in the second battle, Alexander does lose in a spectacular fashion (see the elephant showdown above), and is wounded, apparently causing a piece of red Saran wrap to be placed over the lense of the camera indicating . . . pain? Loss? Blood?

5) And, (last the best), terrible, terrible dialouge! While writing this, I once again, I got caught up in the small details (other terrible details of the movie) and haven't built up enough focus for the crowning jewel of the awful movie. Here are my favorite moments of dialouge:

From Anthony Hopkin's character the old, confusing narrator: "Things are never simple. And yet, this was."

From a Maceonian commander, to his troops, in 350 B.C. in an Irish accent (yes): "I don't appreciate any belly-achin'!!"

And the greatest of them all, from Alexander to his mother: "You birthed me in a sac of hate!!" (notably, he kisses her, and not in a pleasant "love ya' Mom" way immediately afterward . . . it's gross, pointless and weird).

Verdict: This movie was gross, pointless and weird. If that's your cup of tea, then I'm sure you'll enjoy. If you are a normal human being, however, I'm sure that you won't.

More daily inspirational calendar

This week, the author discovered a wad of papers folded up and propped underneath a desk leg to keep it from wobbling. Replacing the wad with a small pamphlet that was on hand ("The A-B-C's of Table Leg Repair"), the author read the papers and was pleased to discover more inspirational quotes which he will now share, forceably if necessary, with everyone:
August 30th
"Life is like a box of chocolates: the more money went into providing it, the more likely that each and every possibility it provides will be terrific." - Jonas Lancaster, warden at the Rochester Correctional Facility

October 9th
"If I were a magic mirror, I think I would get tired of people saying, 'You need to pause for some personal reflection,' just to be funny. But I would probably laugh politely, you know, so they don't smash me." - Daryl Stovens, Sanitation Director, West Elkridge High School


October 12th
"There is nothing cuter than a puppy trying to run on ice. Also, there is nothing sadder than a puppy trying to run on ice. I suppose that the wolves rushing in to attack the puppy kind of affect the situation somewhat." - Byron Handy, former wildlife documentarian

October 23rd
"Hardly a day goes by where the earth doesn't rotate 360 degrees on it's axis." - Dean Matthis, CEO, 'Dean Matthis Ironic Coffee Cups'

October 24th
"Every now and then I like to let my hair down. Of course, then I have to remember where I put the box I keep it in. And then my wife complains about the mess. And did you know that hair salons don't like you to bring your own broom and dust pan?"- Stephen Moss, 2 time winner, Unintentionally Creepiest Man in Iowa City 1989-1990

October 25th
"Never take everything literally. You get in trouble from your boss for burning the midnight oil and the song, "I Left My Heart in San Fransisco," will just creep you right the heck out." - Janet Dufrain, photographer, Dolphin World Monthly magazine

Frequent(ly Dumb) Fliers and Bonus !! (Another Overheard Line)

Over the course of 24 hours I have seen two stupid fliers hanging up around campus. (There are certainly more out there. Jack Bauer can kill dozens of allegedly guilty people over the course of 24 hours, you'd think I could track down a few more stupid fliers . . .)(Note: find out if Jack Bauer jokes are still funny i.e. worth doing)

1st Flier: "Tired of walking to class?! JOIN THE BYU RUNNING CLUB!!"

. . . I certainly can't think of a better way to stop being exhausted by putting one foot in front of the other as I trudge daily to, all the heck over, and then away from campus than to put my feet in front of the other thousands of more times than I currently am.

Is the argument, "Tired of walking to class? Then RUN to class silly!!"? Is it that I can avoid walking by running? Because if it is, then in my mind an equally logical flier could read "Tired of being stabbed?! Then start THROWING YOURSELVES ONTO KNIVES!!!" Because certainly the result would be different . . . somehow. . . .

(Also, I don't want anyone to defend this flier by saying that "you'll be in better shape," or "you'll be healthier" or "maybe you wouldn't mind walking to class so much if you hadn't eaten at least eleven fun sized Baby Ruth bars last night." The flier is dumb. End of discussion.)(And I DID eat eleven fun sized Baby Ruth bars last night. That is true.)

Second Flier: "Is Isaiah easier to understand in Hebrew? Do you want to find out? Take Old Testament 545."

My first thought was to pencil in "No" after the first question and "Not really" after the second question as these were my honest and literal answers to those questions.

My second thought was, what if you sign up for the class and the huge, thick textbook is blank except for writing on the first page that says, "Leading experts characterize the writings of Isaiah as 'confusing' and 'not easy to understand.' They go on to state, 'Even in Hebrew.'" And then hundreds of blank pages. Of course, this textbook would cost approximately two-thousand dollars, and the bookstore will refuse to buy it back at the end of the semester.


Special Wednesday Bonus!! An Overheard Line:

As I was walking to the computer lab to write all this down I heard the actual following conversation behind me:

Girl: "Yeah, Utah drivers are horrible!"
Guy: "I know!"
Girl: "And the people who walk are the ones who are too stupid to drive!"
Guy: "Yeah!!"
Girl: "Like today, a guy walked out in front of my bus. . . Oh, yeah, I take the bus, 'cause I don't like to drive."
Guy: "Oh, yeah. I usually walk 'cause I don't driving either."

Worst. Roommate. Ever.

Rich D says:

My worst roommate ever ironically was the kid who moved into my apartment over the summer after my most interesting roommate moved out. The interesting roommate was a 7' 1'' Brazilian basketball player from Sao Paulo. He was a cool guy. And even though he wasn't the biggest or the fastest on the team, I never made fun of him. And that was only partially due to the fact that he could have palmed my head and torn it into tiny, Brazil-nut sized chunks. I miss that crazy, huge, skinny guy . . .

But the worst roommate was also crazy, and also skinny, but he was teeny. And when I say crazy I mean it in a pretty literal way. I'll call him Estevan. I had the normal complaints about Estevan that I imagine are bubbling up in your brains right now as you comtemplate your worst roommates. Estevan treated the apartment dishes in much the same way that you or I might treat a paper towel from the bathroom, or perhaps that smart but quiet guy who sits behind you in class and helps you with group answer questions: very convenient, even essencial when it's there for you to use. But after you use them, they make absolutely no impression on your life whatsoever. It is as if those dishes, that paper towell and Eric(?)(Jon? Dave?) never existed at all. It stands to reason that Estevan also wouldn't care about clean clothing or bedding (he slept right on the mattress and pulled his one sheet over him . . . ). After not too long (probably, oh, about a day), my other roommate Mike and I began to see that the battle against the rising, unhygenic practices of Estevan were a lost cause. Mike slept at the apartment still, at least occasionally, but he suddenly discovered how much he loved to eat out and be with other people. People who didn't create unholy smells in places where some of us were known to live.

Those are the basics, and probably I could stop there. But what pushes Estevan into the number one spot were the general eccentricities, the quirks, the peculiarities, the overall feeling of "creepy" that Estevan had running out of his ears and pooling around him. Before moving in with Mike and I, Estevan had spent six months living in Japan in a student exchange program. Somehow near the end of his stay in Japan, Estevan, an ultra-skinny Caucasian with protruding features and a heavy eyebrow (singular, although there were occasionally two, but only in the right light), became aware that modeling agencies in Japan were interested in the aforementioned skinny Caucasian-type with said features. (Their feelings on eyebrows and the plurality thereof are as yet unknown). I do not doubt that this is true. However, this became not just a curious factoid about Japanese culture for Estevan but an actual occupational choice. I also am confident that Estevan could do all right living the lifestyle of a model (heck, even I wanted to throw up when I was around him!). Here are some things that were witnessed, probably daily in my apartment:

- Estevan, waking up (10ish?) and eating his breakfast of banana and flavored water.
- Estevan, shirtless, watching hours of Japanese school-kid dramas (?) and/or comedies.
- Estevan, still shirtless, polishes off a yogurt and a bowl of something that is mostly bran using what I suspect are the bowl and spoon that were wedged between the couch cushions. I know they aren't the bowl and spoon I washed that morning, because I have started keeping a set of my own dishes in my desk drawer and letting the kitchen and sink go to whereever it is going. In a handbasket.
- Estevan, doing sets of pushups, still shirtless, with TV still on something produced in the land of the rising sun. Occasionally these are girl-style (on the knees pushups). There's nothing wrong with that (in principle)(but it does help paint the picture, doesn't it?)
- Estevan, on the phone talking about his modeling prospects with persons unknown (Did he actually ever model? Make money modeling?! This is unknown).
- Estevan (need I say shirtless?) checking his muscle definition in the mirror and making more room for the scads of manscaping products that continued to overflow the sink and countertop.

It occurs to me that none of these things on their own really sound all that bad. Added up however, and you get a skinny, fairly smelly, little Gollum of a Caucasian, Japanese model.

Opinion Poll: Finish this T-shirt

Which of the following would make the funniest T-shirt?



" I was addicted to prepositional phrases but ______________"


a. "I got over it."

b. "I worked through it."

c. "I got around it."







My Answer: (a)

Are there any other options that I should be considering here?

Various Urgent Letters to Various Recipients

To Unilever Company and Procter & Gamble (makers of Surf and Tide laundry detergent respectively),

Dear Sirs/Ma'ams,

If I could point out to your respective selves something that has weighed upon my mind for some time now. Surf? Tide? Really?! Those are the names for you freshest, best-smelling detergents?! Have you ever SMELLED an ocean? Have you ever been on a beach?! Really?! If I were to draw my clothes out of the washing machine to find them smelling like salt, clumps of sea weed, and hot garbage I would be inclined to think "Hmmm. Smells like the Tide." Mr. Unilever, if you'd like to argue that Surf is also a verb -- one can "go out and _____" as well as "smell like the stinky _____" with the word surf--, I remind you that surfers (or "those who ____") smell like (see above) salt, sea weed, and garbage, but with added funks clinging to them of suntan lotion, wasted youth and Teen Spirit.

I enjoy the smells of your laundry detergents and encourage you to not make the radical shift toward odorousness that the names of your products imply.

Also, if you could please forward the contents along with the general tone and intent of this message to Mennen company, producers of Teen Spirit deodorant. Have you ever SMELLED teenager?! Honestly.

Respectfully yours,

Rich D


To the two perfectly pleasant but completely lost freshman girls who stopped to talk to each other and consult their map of campus at the top of a busy staircase,

Dear Ladies,

Since I don't know your actual names, I shall call you Tiffany and Maria. C'mon. I mean, really?! On a staircase at noon?! Are you that lost? That disoriented and confused? Should I be using the term self-absorbed here that you should overlook where you were standing, side-by-side and completely blocking the only way of passing either up or down? Is "clueless" the right term? If I make these statements into questions does it make me seem less judgemental? Less like I'm overreacting? I'm afraid the answer to all these questions is yes.

Tiffany. Maria. Let's review: You didn't even seem to be talking about directions when you stopped to look at the map and then talk to each other. Clearly, at least three people were trying to move around you, turning their bodies and leaning in, hoping you'd notice and step out of the way. I, in my most non-confrontational attitude, casually bumped your backpack, Tiffany, so that you'd notice that there was someone behind you in addition to those trying to come up the staircase. And Maria, when you causally unslung one of your backpack's shoulder strap for a moment, making us think that you were going to open it or maybe to draw out another object unrelated to the current situation or your state of being lost so that you could continue your conversation about what clearly was not the most pressing aspect of your situation . . .

It is to your credit that you both chose to finally move and end the madness that you had caused (I pray inadvertantly). But I'm afraid that I must remove a bit of your credit, just snatch it right back from you, because you chose, not to go down the stairs, as you both were poised to do, but to turn and move back through the gathered crowd of people behind you, the very people you had blocked as effectively as hefty chunk of cholesterol on the wall of an artery.

And so, saddened and crestfallen (my crest has fallen right the heck down!), I end this letter with the even now understated hope that this never, ever happens again.

Ready to shiv you in the back with a mechanical pencil,

Rich D

All Warm and Buble Inside

A month and a half ago, Michael Buble performed a show in Salt Lake. I didn't attend the show (not being a female, nor fiscally wealthy enough to entice a female to come with me to the show . . . .). I did however read in the paper the next morning a review of the show, which apparently turned out great.

Near the end of the show, Michael, in deference to all of the men in the audience who had been dragged to the show by wives and girlfriends told them that he would do a song just for them. And true to his word, and to make sure that no one's masculinity felt threatened, went ahead and sang a song just for the boys:

Y. M. C. A.

Follow-up question: Was he being ironic?
Extra follow-up question: Did you know that he was from Australia? I didn't.

Overheard Lines - Specialty Shoe Store Owner to a Friend

A friend of mine, after receiving a flier that a specialty shoe store was have a "huge, blow-out sale" she went to check out the deals, which turns out were neither huge, nor blown-out. The only shoes on sale were the too-big or too-small for any normal sized human. She had the true following dialouge with the owner.

Kim: "So which shoes are on sale exactly?"
Owner: "Well, all of the shoes here are FOR sale . . ."

Classic.
Coincidentally, I recently became aware of this website, which is a treasure-trove of dumb overheard lines like this (Note: PG-13 language on some of the overheard lines)

Here's my favorite one:
Tactful Waiter (In Singapore) Dissuading Woman From Breast-Feeding In Public
"I'm sorry ma'am, there's no outside food allowed."

Classic