Lisa Carey's THE MERMAIDS SINGING

I find it amazing that Lisa Carey remains as obscure as she does. She is a brilliant, beautiful, lyrical writer who crafts complex and intersecting masterpieces about everyday life and tragedy.

Her first novel remains my favorite work of hers- in fact, it's my favorite book of all time, though my introduction to it was quite unorthodox. When I checked it out from my local library it was misfiled in the YA section. You can imagine how my poor little 12-year-old eyes bugged out of my head when I realized that I was reading graphic sex scenes. I did finish the book, however, and realized how absolutely stunning it is. I've read it probably more than ten times since then, and each time I discover something new.

The book starts with a poem by W.B. Yeats, which is always a win. It's my favorite poem, entitled "When You Are Old."

We are introduced to Grace, who rises "quietly, so as not to disturb her lover." Grace, we learn, has cancer. She also has a teenage daughter, named Grainne (Graw-nya). Quickly, we learn that life is not a fairy-tale for these women, who seem unable to communicate with one another since Grace contracted cancer. Instead, they leave notes for one another on the fridge, or in the night.

The story unfolds along so many paths that it is hard to explain them-it ducks in and out of the past, and weaves between Grainne's present and the past, when Grace was alive. Grace dies quite early in the book, however that is not the end of story. As we follow Grainne into her own confused future-her move to Ireland from the U.S. to stay with her grandmother, and her exploration of herself as a young woman- we move into Grace's past and explore the decisions that this young, fierce, free spirit made which led to her having a child and never speaking with her mother again.

Grace's mother, Cliona, takes Grainne in. Eventually, part of Cliona's past is revealed. What is truly a feat of Carey's is how she is able to create a mother and daughter who fight so fiercely, and who absolutely cannot get along, yet who both garner our sympathies. Even proud Cliona, who admits her wrongs years later when looking at Grainne and realizing that Grace "got it right" gathers our sympathies effortlessly.

The exploration of tragedy is certainly present as Grainne tries to cope with the loss of her simultaneously best friend and mother, and Cliona tries to come to terms with the death of a daughter she neither knew nor understood. But the search for meaning and heritage is overwhelmingly present as well, as Grainne strives to meet the father she never knew. And romantic love isn't lacking either. Grainne slowly and rewardingly falls for childhood friend Liam after destructively lusting after her mother's 28-year-old boyfriend Stephen for several months. Cliona explains the conception of Grace and the confused illusions of love which accompanied it; she also justifies why she settled for a man whom she loves domestically. But the most compelling stories of love come from the brazen, beautiful life of Grace; she is destroyed by her first love, Michael, and is brought back to life by the enigmatic, idealistic Seamus.

The craft of the book itself is incredibly lyrical. It is poetic writing personified. Phrases themselves are delicious reading apart from their contextual meaning. I cannot begin to describe the poignant melancholy and simultaneous pleasure and pain I get from reading this book. The final element which completes the design of such a wondrous piece is the element of myth; the mermaids are continually referred to in the moaning wind, and Grainne almost falls into the water after claiming to have been drawn there by something in the water; Grace assumes it is a shark. We know that it is (possibly) a mermaid; we want to believe that it is a mermaid. The real world and a world of legends and myths have collided and created a penetrating, epic story of love and loss.

-elln

Isn't It Good, Norwegian Wood

Coming of age stories have been a staple in the literary world for centuries. Many know the trials of Huck Finn and his quest on the raft with Jim or Holden Caulfield and his distaste for phonies. Then there is Norwegian Wood, written by Haruki Murakami. Norwegian Wood's protagonist is Toru Watanabe and tells the story of his struggle to find his place in a world that seems to only feature suicide and the injustice of unattainable love.

Haruki Murakami is one of the most prominent figures of contemporary Japanese literature. He is known for his avant-garde works; such titles as Hard-Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World spring to mind. But then he emerged with Norwegian Wood.

Norwegian Wood transformed Murakami into a star in Japan, much to his dismay, and the Japanese youth cleaved onto the novel. However, many of Murakami's contemporaries saw Norwegian Wood as a mere love story- something that Murakami should never have deigned to write.

Despite its mainstream formula, Norwegian Wood is one of the most poignant and moving "love stories" that I have yet to come across, and the beauty is in its simplicity.

Toru Watanabe is a college student in 1969 and is majoring in drama, but has no aspirations or goals. His single devotion is to Naoko. Naoko is the beautiful and fragile girl who is the only remaining link to his happier past. Naoko was Toru's best friend's, Kizuki's, girlfriend. However Kizuki inexplicably commits suicide.

This sends Toru and, even more so Naoko, into a downward spiral. Soon Naoko and Toru become involved with each other, culminating when Naoko and Toru sleep together on Naoko's twentieth birthday. Consumed by guilt, as she never slept with Kizuki, Naoko flees to a remote sanatorium to convalesce.

Toru continues his life at college where he soon finds himself drawn to a vivacious and sensual student, Midori Kobayashi. As his friendship with Midori grows, his contact with Naoko wanes; the more extroverted Toru becomes, the less sane Naoko becomes.

Norwegian Wood, though at times too neatly wrapped up in its own tragedy, heartbreakingly tells the story of one person's simple love story and his journey to adulthood.

-Acerbec

When the Nicholas Sparks Formula is Trampled by Wild Horses (Nights in Rodanthe)

So on the plane ride back from Italy, I was subjected to the latest Nicholas Sparks movie-turned-novel slush-fest that is Nights in Rodanthe. Now, granted, I adore The Notebook, I think it's a great movie and there are reasons for that. I have much more mixed feelings about A Walk to Remember (namely the vomitatiously flawless, marytred characters). But Nights in Rodanthe sealed my opinion that, with The Notebook, Sparks, thanks in part to director Nick Cassavetes, struck gold for the first and last time.

Basically, Adrienne Willis (Diane Lane) is an almost-divorcee whose marriage seems to be falling apart. In the interim, she is running her friend Jean's house-turned-hotel on the beach in The Middle of Nowhere. And in walks Paul Flanner (Richard Gere), a successful, well-dressed doctor who has some mysterious tragic purpose for coming out to Bumfuck. Turns out he accidentally killed a patient because he was distracted by his personal life during the operation (except that in a later, garbled explanation, it turns out she was actually allergic to the anaesthesia, so Gere neatly slips out of that moral noose). And then they fall in love.

Which would all be fine if the resolution to the possibly interesting moral obstacle weren't solved so quickly and easily and by such a nice, forgiving man as the dead lady's husband. It's lucky the acting is good, such as Scott Glenn's performance as Robert Torrelson, the dead woman's husband, or else you might as well have substituted cardboard cutouts in for the characters.

And then there's the script. Ugh. This is the key problem in the film. The dialogue is so melodramatic, so ridiculous, and so contrived that it's hard to keep a straight face even when Diane Lane is sobbing hysterically and clutching a letter to her chest because the whole story has been so goofy. Especially priceless are the arguments Lane has with her daughter Amanda, played by Mae Whitman. Then you have lines like:

Lane, looking wistful and tracing the tabletop with a single finger: "I gave up art...when I got married..."

oh yeah. Real subtle.

Then there's the deep conversations between Lane and Gere during their courtship:

"What's this box, Adrienne?"
"I made that. It's to keep special things safe."
"Yes, Adrienne, but what keeps you safe?"

"..."
"Your PENIS!"

But seriously. Maybe people in real life do say idiotic stuff like that to each other. Not me.

I won't discuss the tornado scene. Let's just say that it was possibly one of the most confusing, ill-constructed scenes in a movie I've ever seen.

Even the one original plot twist is screwed up by goopy, icky slow-motion flashbacks of the tragedy and how it EXACTLY happened so that the audience can, purportedly, be further tortured and shed buckets of tears. I was rolling my eyes, and I'm not even a cynic.

Seriously, this movie was awful. The culmination of all of this awfulness, however, was the wild horses. We're clued in at the beginning that, because Lane says, "No, the wild horses never come this far up the coast," that exactly the opposite will happen. And then, at the end of the movie, Lane is walking down the beach melancholically and what do you know? Thirty, count 'em, thirty horses or more come galloping full-speed down the beach, manes billowing brilliantly in the wind. I know that horses are naturally herd animals, but when I was on Chincoteague I never saw more than two or three horses together at a time. Perhaps the movie would have been more interesting if Lane was trampled at the end.

-elln

Into the Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro's masterpiece)

I saw this in theaters, when whisperings of its greatness were just beginning to seep into the media. In fact, it had such a limited release that I had to go a half-hour away from my house just to find it! And was I pleasantly surprised--I left the theater speechless.

I'm certainly not speechless now.

In the 2007 Academy Awards, Pan's Labyrinth was nominated for six awards including Original Score, Foreign Language Film, and Original Screenplay; but it took the awards for Cinematography, Art Direction, and Make-up.

The movie takes place in the violent aftermath of the Spanish Civil War. The main character, a young girl named Ofelia, moves to the countryside where her pregnant mother is to wed a brutal Captain of the Spanish military who is overseeing the extermination of remaining rebel groups.

From the very beginning, the audience gets the sense that Ofelia has never belonged in this world; this feeling proves true when she is visited by a creature of the underworld. The creature, a faun, brings her three tasks. If she can complete the three tasks, she can return to the underworld as the reincarnation of a princess who lived there long ago.

The stories run in parallels with one another, for there is the dark, historically fictional plot which follows the cruel captain as he violently murders various revolutionaries, as well as the struggle of Ofelia’s nanny, Mercedes, who is a spy for the oppressed visionaries. Then there is Ofelia’s plight- the desperate struggle of a young girl to save the mother who is doomed to die, to face the hatred of her soon-to-be stepfather, and to prove herself worthy of being the princess of the underworld. Of course Pan, faun and servant of the underworld, is there to guide Ofelia along the way- but the question is constantly in the viewer’s mind as to whether or not the faun is a creature of good or a creature of evil.

The acting is superb; Sergi Lopez is particularly despicable as Captain Vidal. Maribel Verdu plays a Mercedes who is valiant, lovely, and admirable. The directing is equally gorgeous, and colors appear bright and beautiful and seem to jump off the screen. Vivid images such as the giant golden toad, and Pan stepping out into the blue moonlight remain in my mind.

But my favorite part of the movie? The score. In a business where scores often "do their jobs" and nothing more, Javier Navarrete's score is breathtakingly wondrous. It is truly eerie and eloquent in its creepy lullaby repetition, underscored by soft violins, vague piano notes, a delicate hum, and the occasional Spanish horn. The score adds to the sense of other-worldliness for this fantastical movie that is both violent and beautiful at the same time. Pan's Labyrinth brings a new meaning to the word “tragic"; it is both sorrowful and hopeful, and the ending is delightfully ambiguous and left up to interpretation.

-elln

The Best of WEST INDIAN GIRL

Another of my four favorite artists of all time, my friend's uncle is actually in West Indian Girl (he's at the top in the middle), and when I found out I made such an uncharacteristic squeal that I had to clap my hands over my mouth. I mean, I am just not the squealing type.

West Indian Girl is tripped-out dream pop, with lovely, luscious walls of sound and druggy lyrics, often resulting in psychedelic poetry. I mean, come on; they're named after an infamous strain of acid. They're also 100% Californian.

So without further ado...the Best of West Indian Girl

From their debut album West Indian Girl:

Trip- Immediately we're introduced to the psychedelic quality of their lyrics: "Alone on a hill in the summer time/You could dial your mind...it's so hard to leave, waiting for the World to kiss the sky." Trip opens with an echoing harmonica line, and by the time the synth comes in, you know you're in for a really slow, relaxing trip. It's exactly what the song (and most of the album) induces; it's lazy and slow, and tries to capture those timeless summer days when no one seems to care about anything, but everyone feels good.

Hollywood-This is as close to social commentary as West Indian Girl gets, saying "In Hollywood, your fears come out to play," but Hollywood is also painted as a magical playground where anything can happen. The tight little harmonies and soaring backup vocals, done by the lovely Mariqueen, only add layering to the teeming, sumptuous wall of sound. This song is, perhaps, more trippy than "Trip"

Dream-possibly the most kaleidoscopic of their songs; wonderfully introspective and poetic, "Dream" is exactly what the title describes. Again, it's laid back, but there's actual meat in the song unlike the equally mellow "Hollywood":

But still you're asking why

love is
across the frozen lake

that always seems to break

when you walk to the other side

What Are You Afraid Of?-I saved my favorite for last. I can't explain my love for this song; it's absolutely gorgeous. It opens with acoustic guitars layered with piercing siren-like echoes which, of course, never fail to remind me of the seashore. The chorus is calm, but still manages to pack a punch with hard-hitting guitar chords. But I never fully appreciated the song until I listened to what the chorus says:

What are you afraid of?

when all the years fade away

What are you made of?

from the ties that hold us down

What are you fighting for?

to feel them all

What are you dying for?

to be free.

Also, don't miss the end when Mariqueen really let's it rip on the vocals and Robert James shows off his guitar skills.

From their sophomore album 4th & Wall:

To Die in L.A.-the sounds on 4th & Wall are a lot more solid and less vague and filmy the sounds on West Indian Girl are. The beat starts slow on this song, but then the guitar chords kick in for the chorus, roaring sirens appear, and more crazy synth makes alien abduction noises. The vocals are a bit harsher than on the previous album; a strength of West Indian Girl is their balance in male and female singers, something rare now-a-days.

One thing that does remain consistent: the lyrical content. It neither diminishes, nor surpasses the quality of West Indian Girl.


Sofia- I love this song. Firstly, it has some of the best lyrics EVER. It just reminds me of a snowy night where all the little houses look so warm and glow faintly, but you're on the outside looking in. A little lost, but not necessarily sad.

If I leave and never return
light a candle and let it burn
cause light transcends time

If you see a light just off the road
a line of footsteps in the snow
don't stop; you're almost home
knock three times and ring the bell
you'll hear a voice you knew so well
it takes you from the cold.

This song is absolutely brilliant; the violins and piano at the beginning seem caught between playful and melancholy. Honestly, I've always tried to think of who Sofia could be, and funnily enough I end up thinking of that cute dog that's on the cover of 4th & Wall even though Robert James specifically says "she." Probably because Mariqueen's voice is so coaxing when she tells Sofia to "come home."

Indian Ocean- another of my favorites, this hearkens back to the easy, floating listening of their first album. The singing is pretty non-focused and lushly layered until Mariqueen jumps in with the solid line "How does it feel?" and the true lyrics start. The synth pulses gently in the background for much of the song to create a feeling of disconnectedness, of being spacially confused. Of course, the fare isn't all that light. It's partially about suicide.

My left foot's on a stone
Your toe's in the sand
I wonder if we'll make it
this time I'll never wake up

I always picture them standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump (even though James says "window ledge" a couple of times). They even jointly say that this is their "last chance to make it right"...it's quite a dark message for such a relaxed atmosphere.

Up the Coast-if I wanted to introduce the band to anyone who'd never heard of them, I might very well use "Up the Coast"; it starts out slowly with some nice steel drums other types of African drumming. Then the chorus starts up, the horns kick up, the girls sing it out, and the song, while not completely free of the melancholy which tinges every West Indian Girl composition, is upbeat and lively.

Solar Eyes-well, if you are going to do drugs, you might as well have a good soundtrack, right? This is your song. It's 8 minutes long, and has an addicting melody that's almost entirely electronic. The chorus is a pleasant acoustic guitar with an underplayed pulsing base. This is truly the music to get lost in. Towards the end, it seeps into minor territory and kind of flirts with becoming truly evil and menacing, but manages to walk the fine line well until the end of the song, which comes rather abruptly.

Back to You-then, if you're the slow ballady type, "Back to You" is as close as they're going to come. It's slow and pretty and pensive, filled with Mariqueen's usual oohing, and actually quite polished-sounding.

They've been compared to Jane's Addiction (and I can hear it, too), and it comes out on tracks like Northern Sky, and the more melancholy Miles from Monterey, both of which I'd also recommend.

Part of the success of West Indian Girl also comes from their image. Their logo is slick (see it on their website) and the designs of their website, T-shirts, and CD covers show that they're obviously not just talented musicians. They also have remix CD's out for each of their albums, which are much heavier on the electronic/dance end of their spectrum-but they are obviously not limited by genre or creativity.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

-elln

Markus Zusak's I AM THE MESSENGER

A long, long time ago, I can still remember when this book was fresh and unbent on my desk. I opened it up in the dead of night and read the first page. It may not have made me dance, but it was definitely one of the most unorthodox orthodox books I've ever read.

So let's hop to it.

The first thing to know about this book is that it is designed by Zusak from the ground up to be a cliché so hackneyed that at first you're going to want to gag. But as you read through it, you'll be so far into the hero's mind that you won't even notice the time go by.

But the question is, who is this protagonist? Who could be so cliché and yet so entrancing? Why, Ed Kennedy, of course. He's simply a deadbeat, underage cab-driver in a nameless city in Australia with no aspirations, a verbally-abusive mother, three equally deadbeat friends, and a dog who smells like the plague. And by the end of MESSENGER, you're going to love him.

A teacher once said that hind-sight is twenty-twenty, and it's true in the case of MESSENGER; you'll find yourself looking back at Ed Kennedy a lot. What appeared to be a story about a mysterious Ace that came in the mail will suddenly look like one man's philosophical journey from apathy to moxie. What appeared to be a neatly wrapped tale, complete with bow and ribbon, will be revealed as a story so powerful you'll actually consider keeping your new year's resolutions. And most of all, someone who appeared to be a schlemiel turns out to be a hero you would actually cheer for.

Throughout the book, moments of clarity and success bring each section (nonchalantly marked with card numbers and suits) to a cohesive close before pulling the reader back into the story. Symbolism between elements of the story and the cards' suits add a nice touch to an already glowing flow of events.


-Yarn

John Green's LOOKING FOR ALASKA

Absolute brilliance.

Those are the adjectives I would choose to describe John Green's first novel, Looking for Alaska. I read it for the first time the year it came out, in the summer of '05. I turned the final page knowing that it would be one of my favorite books ever. And I was right.

Looking for Alaska is about Miles Halter, a 100% normal kid from Suburbia who decides to step into the Great Perhaps (his words--or rather, the famous last words of a dead author) and go to an elite prep school his senior year of high school. And then it's about Teenage Delinquency and All The Bad Things Miles Does With His New Friends, which is why it's getting banned from school vitae right and left. Wait, that sounds familiar--wasn't The Catcher in the Rye viewed as pornographic when it was first published? Admittedly, Alaska does have some graphic sexual scenes, but if you truly want to investigate the contemporary American teenager, then they have to be there.

The group consists of Chip Martin, known as The Colonel for his war-like approach to prank-planning; Takumi, hyper-active and talented at extemporaneous rapping; and Alaska, the title character. She's enigmatic, gorgeous, and unattainable, every teenage boy's fantasy; she quotes Vonnegut, quickly goes from manic to melancholic, and spouts casually cynical truths about the world as she sees it. Miles is taken in by this ragtag bunch of prank-planners and drug-abusers, dubbed "Pudge" (a misnomer), and begins his new life.

Miles is an incredibly sympathetic narrator who is fully aware that he is "normal," aside from his penchant for memorizing the last words of the famous, and his ability to quietly observe from the sidelines. We understand his desire to be greater than himself, to be extraordinary and romantic. And because Miles falls in love with the brazen Alaska, so do we, the reader. We find her irresistible. We see only strange snippets of her, and not enough to piece together the whole picture and decide the answer to the question she continues to ask throughout the book, the last words of the dying Simon Bolivar: "How will I ever get out of this labyrinth?" Or to puzzle out the mystery that Miles and his friends desperately try to solve at the end of the story.

And while it may be romantic and tragic, the book is genuinely laugh-out-loud funny. Alternating between cutting sarcasm and deadpan, Miles recounts the pranks as they occur, and the various miscreant behavior he and his friends become involved in will undoubtedly perpetuate a grin from the reader. The prose itself is sophisticated, yet inviting.

The book is a meditation on life and death; there's no other way to compress those themes. It's an incredible introspection, and it also explores the idea of true love versus loving the idea of a person. It's, in short, a masterpiece. The credit goes to John Green, who is a compelling, incredibly entertaining human being himself. In fact, the book is shaped by events which took place in Green's own life, including his attendance of a boarding school much like Culver Creek, and two student deaths during that time. You can read an excellent interview with him about the book here.

Paramount Pictures has the rights to the movie; it's supposedly coming out in 2010. And yes, I will be there at the premiere at my nearest movie theater, in a tent the night before if necessary.

-elln

Christopher Paolini's BRISINGR

After learning that this book sold 550,000 copies on its first day of sales, the only thing running through my mind was that 550,000 people wasted $27.50 in US dollars. Admittedly, I never much liked the previous two installments in Paolini's Inheritance Cycle. His first novel seemed to me as if the characters from The Lord of the Rings had been inexplicably inserted into the plot of Star Wars... and then the whole unoriginal nightmare had been stuffed with filler ideas from myriad other fantasy novels. Now, many people will doubtless disagree with me, as demonstrated by the number of fans who lined up to buy the third book. So I shall strive to write this review as if the first two novels were literary masterpieces.

The titular 'brisingr' is a word meaning 'fire' in the magical ancient language of the series. If you are intrigued by fictional languages, you'll be happy to know that the book is filled with useless phrases in a plethora of invented languages, most of which you'll look up in the glossary only to discover that they are a variation of, "Good day, Sir Dragon Rider. May the many stars of the heavens shine down upon your life, bringing happiness to you and your dragon." You can also learn to pronounce these phrases in the ever-useful glossary- just in case you wanted to say "Let's go mine some rocks," in Dwarfish next time you pick up your date.

As for the actual substance of Brisingr, half of the 700-some pages are probably unnecessary. The novel opens with a promising 5-chapter-long subplot; but when that thread ends, so does the action of the book. The entire middle section is tedious and arduously long. The reader gets as frustrated as the protagonist at the lengthy and uninteresting proceedings of dwarf politics. Meanwhile, the rebels fight hordes of not-quite-zombies. Constant allusions to the plot twist of the last book (Eragon discovers that the evil rider Morzan is his father) set up the latest twist in the story of his parentage: Just kidding! His father is actually Brom! The equivalent is Luke finding out that no, Darth Vader was lying: Obi-Wan is his real father. All of the potentially interesting inner turmoil is sucked out of the character in an instant.

Speaking of characters, the natives of Alagaësia are as unsympathetic and difficult to relate to as ever. There is little to no character growth in the book. In fact, I think that out of all of the characters in the book, I would probably be happiest to meet the chief Urgal. I would also like to point out that while critics of J.R.R. Tolkien have said that there is too much descriptive detail in his novels, the same can easily be said of the Inheritance Trilogy. Description reaches the point of meaningless monotony. But descriptions alone aren't enough to fill up 734 pages: the book is also stuffed with random scenes that try to teach vague lessons on morals (or something) without relating to the actual plot at all.

But there are times when snatches of good literary content shine through; when a poetic phrase or two made me want to struggle onwards; when there is actually an original idea, or the hint of a real plot, or a character poised for change... in conclusion, I'd just like to say that with all the Twilight hype, I'm glad that people enjoy reading this book... because it's about fifty times better than anything Stephenie Meyer has written thus far.

-kitanra

Buffy: More Slaying, Please (Twilight the Movie)

"I'd never given much thought to how I would die...I would not have imagined it like this," Bella Swan muses. I, personally, never imagined that I would want to die in a dark movie theater watching a dull romance about two teenagers, one brain-dead and one undead. But there I was, staring at the screen and then at my pencil, temptation playing itself out.

Stephanie Meyer's overblown and overrated (called the next Harry Potter and the greatest love story since Pride and Prejudice) Twilight series has been swept off bookstore shelves and into the hearts of teenage girls and their developmentally arrested mothers. Twilight tells the "epic" story of an ordinary adolescent girl, Bella Swan, who falls "irrevocably" and "unconditionally" in love with the "devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful" century-old vampire Edward Cullen. On November 21, 2008 the film adaptation of the first novel, Twilight starring Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson was brought to the big screen to the delight of young and impressionable girls.

Stewart is well-cast as Bella Swan, possibly the most awkward and self-doubting 17-year-old ever documented in fiction. While Bella’s blandly whiny self-absorption is grating in the series, the transition from book to movie makes her infinitely more likable, as her most puerile thoughts remain contained in her head.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Robert Pattinson, whose range of emotions run from extremely tortured to only mildly tortured. The characters are flat and lack real personalities: Bella is defined by her insecurity, a severe inner ear problem, and an eerie dependence on Edward, The Perfect Boy, whose favorite activities are staring longingly at Bella and sparkling like a supernatural disco ball.

The movie isn’t helped much by the terrible script and inevitably improbable plot. Twilight in a nutshell: “Suffer-in-silence type” Bella is adored immediately upon her self-imposed exile to Forks, despite her lack of interest in any of the other kids in school—she has eyes only for mysterious and beautiful Edward. Edward appears at first to be repulsed by Bella, which attracts her even more. One car crash and several awkward conversations later, Edward confesses that he is in love with both her and the smell of her irresistible blood. Bella decides she’s okay with that: no relationship is perfect.

After Bella and Edward get together, the rest of the film pretty much consists of the two of them gazing chastely at each other in fields, trees, etc. and hanging out with his equally mysterious and beautiful vampire family. Then the evil vampire trio arrives and decides that Bella’s blood would indeed be delicious, not that the audience cares by this point. The film culminates with Edward and Bella dancing together at prom while Bella plots ways to convince him to turn her into a vampire. Because after a month, she knows they’re meant to be together forever.

Highlights: vampire baseball, Edward advising Bella to “hold on tight, spider monkey”, Bella whispering how beautiful he is (to which Edward responds by ripping off his shirt and bellowing that he has the “skin of a killer”), and Bella’s complete and total overreaction when Edward suggests that their relationship might end someday (“WHA-You just can’t say stuff like that to me. EVER.”).

The movie is an improvement over the book, but there are things no director can fix. Twilight can’t decide whether to be a supernatural fantasy or a teenage romance and settles for a clichéd hybrid that substitutes shaky close-ups of the character's faces for an actual plot. The theme of dangerous first love between a human and a vampire has the potential to be a decent story. Unfortunately, Meyer’s tale of teenage obsession over an indestructible and iridescent vampire fails to meet it.

Fans of the series may enjoy. The rest of us will quietly suppress our nausea.

-Acerbec and Riding

The Delays' FADED SEASIDE GLAMOUR

I’m not sure if there’s a way to describe my love for the strange Indie pop the Delays produces. It can be soothing and immensely relaxing, energizing, or heartbreaking and introspective.
I was introduced to them after buying the Veronica Mars soundtrack, which had this little gem on it titled “Long Time Coming.” Funny thing: I legitimately thought Greg was a woman until I looked the band up. And realized that there aren’t any women in it. And I still had to look twice to believe it.
So, let’s take a look at Faded Seaside Glamour, their first, most exploratory, and most diverse album.
1. Wanderlust-don’t be jarred by the first few notes, sung in a soaring falsetto. And yes, he’s a guy. “Wanderlust” is an interesting composition for the Delays, mostly because of the steel drums the guitars are classic Delays. The steel drums ain’t. But it all works, and brings a really chilled-out flavor to the music. It’s hypnotic and cathartic.
2. Nearer than Heaven-this is as close as The Delays come to “the charts” on this album. Again, we have the sunny guitars, chorusing falsettos, and generally laid-back atmosphere.
3. Long Time Coming-one of my favorite songs of all time. The siren-like noises at the beginning somehow just capture the seashore for me, the feeling of elegiacal summer days; the lyrics don’t make a whole lot of sense, but it’s so easy to sing to, and Greg’s vocals are gruffer than usual. It’s simply…perfect.
4. Bedroom Scene-definitely a huge shift in tone from the happy guitars of the previous three songs; “Bedroom Scene” is a strange little introspection, dark and moody but without much heavy weight. A looping piano adds to the melancholic atmosphere; this is where the poetry in the band comes out.
5. No Ending-another introspective piece, I feel that “No Ending” is much more successful than the previous track. It switches gracefully from a wistful verse to a building climactic refrain, which teases us before sliding right back into a verse. Strings play an important role here in lending to the sad tone; there is a lovely lush bridge of purely chorus in the middle, too. Some of my favorite lyrics of all time are here in the opening:
I've seen you hanging from blistering skies Holding yourself with a grace that defies
6.You Wear the Sun-we’re out of sullen waters here. This song is nice, easy listening; in terms of their upbeat songs on this album (which are pretty evenly weighted with their more brooding pieces, a contrast to later albums, where the former far outweigh the latter) “You Wear the Sun” does well. There’s not much to say, although an interesting combination is a cheerful piano tune combined with the usual echoing guitars.
7.Hey Girl-a little piece of glistening pop, nothing comes off on the album quite as easily and with as much simple pleasure as "Hey Girl" does.
8. There’s Water Here-weird little experimental song. Probably my least favorite on the album.
9. Stay Where You Are-this song is actually a hint of what’s to come on future albums, especially the mean chords at the beginning and “fuck-you” tone, complete with the “spoons in the back room” drug references. It’s a much more cohesive effort, though not the best for this album; it kind of sticks out like a sore thumb. The one problem which is fixed on later albums is the lack of a punch in the chorus.
10. Satellites Lost- the joy in listening to this song comes, for me, in the simple lyrics of the chorus. Seriously. Apart from a really nice, easy guitar line, and some really pretty harmonizing on the chorus, the words are the best part.
11. One Night Away-again, a more cohesive effort for this album. “One Night Away” is still a little meandering and mellow to fully predict what’s to come on You See Colours (their sophomore album), but it’s there.
12. On-obviously the lyrics aren’t the highlight of this song, since they basically consist of one word-the title. But we still get an idea of why the Delays are talented. They can take one word and make it into a good, pulsing, addictive song. Voila!
-elln

Baz Luhrmann's AUSTRALIA

Australia is supposed to be Baz Luhrmann’s magnum opus, right?
He spent seven years making it. He thought up six different endings and shot three of them.
So after Moulin Rouge of “truth, beauty, freedom, love” fame, why is everyone disappointed by Australia?

I. LOVE. IT.

It's three hours long, and the plot deals with a myriad of elements which center around the romance of cattle driver Drover (Hugh Jackman) and aristocratic, prim landowner Lady Sarah Ashley (Nicole Kidman). It’s part action film, murder mystery, romance, and war movie, and hearkens back to classic Hollywood where characters weren't exactly complicated. Actually, it reminds me in some ways 0f Gone With the Wind. The characters are still likeable—Australia isn’t meant to be a complex character study—if you think otherwise about any of his films, you’re reading too deeply. They're mostly about tragically tragic romances told in ridiculously entertaining, tear-jerking ways.

But that's not the true highlight of the film. The cinematography— the homage to the Australian landscape— is the true meat of the movie. Each panorama is filled with dry rock and desert and a sky so blue it looks as though it’s part of a dream; the scenery is truly breathtaking. Equally brilliant is the directing; arguably the most stunning scene in the movie involves some three-hundred cattle charging toward Nullah (Brandon Walters), Sarah’s adopted half-aboriginal son, as he stands at the edge of a cliff. The technical effects are seamlessly integrated with the actual film; the scene looks entirely realistic.

The musical score is nothing to snub, either, with sweeping orchestral arrangements capturing the beauty of the romantically barren land.

It’s a fun adventure and the filming is drool-worthy; if your thing is dark, edgy, psychological films, or complicated studies of human nature, then Australia probably isn’t for you. If you enjoy the sappy romance of something like, say, The Notebook combined with edge-of-your-seat action and sparkling scenery...then I highly recommend it.

-elln