True Life: I Just Fell in Love with a Pop Album

(I did warn you this blog was eclectic.)

I'll preface this by saying that no, I don't listen to a lot of pop music. I don't drive, and when I do listen to radio it's usually in a gym or bar, where I have no control over what I'm hearing. That said, I've heard enough snippets of Ariana, Iggy, and Katy to know that there's not a lot of substantial stuff in Top 40 pop right now.

At least, that's what I thought prior to spending this past week streaming "1989" and finding that I couldn't stop listening to it. I've been wandering in a fog of infectious tunes for seven days, unable to get the words out of my head (though to be fair I haven't been trying that hard).

I was embarrassed to admit it at first, but now I'll say it for god and everyone to see: this is a fantastic album. I'm not being ironic; I truly like the music, and I like Taylor Swift herself a lot better having listened to it.

It's not that I've ever harbored a particular dislike for Swift, I just thought a lot of the hype was unfounded. Sure, her previous songs have been catchy and cute, but they just weren't for me (probably because I'd long since left my tweens by the time she arrived on the scene). The most notable memory I associated with Taylor Swift was the media circus a few years ago when she was releasing an album and the blogosphere devoted a significant amount of time and research to figuring out exactly which celebrity fling each song was about. Cue exaggerated eye roll.

But "1989" is different. It's a full pop album, for one thing - and I think the best decision Swift and her team made on this record was to lean into that 110%. Every song has a catchy, current hook, and I have no doubt that any of the tracks would fit in just fine with the current fare on the radio. But what sets it apart from the bunch is what Swift brings to the mix: not just the palpable sincerity she brings to each song but the lyrics themselves.

If you've been waiting for this record in the hope of more sappy ramblings about various celebrity boy toys, you'll be disappointed. Sure, some have combed the songs for hints of this, but I think to approach the album this way is to miss the point. To put it in a very simplistic way, this is a much more mature album. Sure, a lot of the songs still have that trademark romantic overtone, but even the ones that are most reminiscent of Swift's earlier work have a new layer to them, an acknowledgement that sometimes you make mistakes in love, and sometimes relationships have to end, and both of these things are okay. Apart from finding this refreshing myself, I love the idea of 15-21 year old girls hearing these kinds of things, and hopefully taking their cues from them.

As for Taylor Swift's "scandalous" love life? Don't worry, it's addressed on this album in a way I don't think she's ever done before. Don't get me wrong, the record is far from being a "fuck you" album, but the way Swift handles it is almost better, and certainly classier. She faces the popular perception that she's boy-crazy and confronts it head on, namely in the track set to be released as the album's second single, "Blank Space". The lyrics to this track (possibly my favorite on the album) are sharply sarcastic, and it really gives a great insight into how Swift has decided to handle her media-imposed identity. She's done pretending it isn't true that she's dated around, and she's done trying to apologize for it. Taylor Swift knows she's a player, and she's openly mocking our singular fascination with that aspect of her life. That kind of empowerment is something I can't help but applaud.

I think the other misconception about Swift is that she's somehow less intelligent than other musicians, perhaps because of the themes she tends to write songs about. While that not only seems like a ridiculous generalization (I do hate the idea that being smart or "worldly" means wholly dismissing notions like romance), you only have to listen to "New Romantics" to see that Swift is smarter than most people give her credit for. The song is a ridiculously danceable commentary on the Millennial generation, and one of the better commentaries I've seen to boot. The titular comparison between the current generation and the Romantics of the 19th century, angst-ridden and eager for stimulation, is astonishingly apt and I could probably write another several pages on that, but I won't.

I guess what I'm saying, and why I felt compelled to write this when I usually stick to literature and politics, is that I think it's time we give Taylor Swift the credit she deserves. By that I mean not just giving her our money or our ears, but giving her actual respect as a feminist, as an artist who has come into her own and made the praiseworthy decision to use her staggering fame to really make a mark rather than simply searching for the next big hit. She knows that there are literally millions of young girls out there being inundated with competing narratives of what a woman should be, and she's choosing to wield that power in a deliberate, responsible way. In my opinion, that's a pretty big deal.

Book Review: The Hunger Games

Yes, I'm late to jump on the bandwagon.  I concede that much.  In my defense, however, I've been burned in the past when it comes to YA book recommendations.  Back in 2008, several once-reliable sources directed me to a book series by one Ms. Stephanie Meyer, insisting that these books were "the next Harry Potter."  I shouldn't have believed them, but I was young and naive and, in due course, sorely disappointed by the trite and often misogynistic prose of the Twilight books.  I promised myself it wouldn't happen again; I wouldn't take it on faith that any adventure/fantasy series could even begin to compete with the likes of HP and LOTR.  So when many of the same sources began crowing about how fantastic the Hunger Games series was, I was reluctant.  I protested and ignored it for as long as I could, even after seeing a pretty epic trailer for the first film adaptation.  But alas, I was in need of books to fill my 2012 reading list (I'm currently 6 books deep on my quest to finish 100 before year's end), and these three novels seemed like they'd make for a pretty quick read.  I was hardly expecting to be impressed by their depth and excitement, or to have my heartstrings tugged the way they ultimately were.  I am happy to say I was proven wrong.

The Hunger Games, as most people probably realize, is the first novel of the series.  I went in with low expectations:  all this book needed to do was hook me, and maintain a pace that allowed me to forget that it was written for a target audience much younger than myself.  Fortunately, it does this and more, introducing us to Katniss Everdeen and a cast of the critical people in her life without feeling too introduction-y.  We meet her family as well as her best friend Gale, who from their first exchange exudes a kind of rebellious spirit that Katniss admires.  As we follow Katniss through her day we are given snapshots of Panem, the futuristic incarnation of America, which is war-torn and extremely oppressive.  We also learn that perhaps the state's cruelest tradition, the annual Hunger Games, is about to take place.  Two representatives, a boy and a girl, from each of the 12 districts, will be selected to fight to the death in a tournament designed solely for the entertainment of the prosperous masses.  We are told that the odds of someone getting picked for the games increase with age and several other factors, and thus it is a complete surprise when Katniss' sister, Prim, is selected for the games, despite supposedly having the lowest odds of selection.  It is, of course, no surprise, that Katniss immediately volunteers to replace her.

As the preparations for the Games revs up, we meet Peeta, Katniss' fellow representative.  He comes across as clean-cut and kind, if a little wimpy.  Oh, and by the way, he's apparently got a thing for Katniss.  That might complicate the whole "having to kill one another" thing just a little bit.

I won't give away the details of how the tournament goes, mostly because a secondhand narration of them couldn't possibly compete with the urgency and pacing of watching it unfold on the page.  Katniss definitely carves out a firm place as a kick-ass heroine, as well as furthering a streak of self-sacrifice and courage that will remain a crucial thread throughout all three books. 

I think this book could have easily succeeded solely as a character piece, investing us the way it does in the lives of Katniss and the various other citizens of Panem.  It would be enough to want to know how the tournament will end, how Katniss' psyche will be affected, and indeed, where her romantic entanglements will lead her.  What Suzanne Collins has managed to accomplish, however, is painting a fully-realized, three-dimensional world that is almost a character of its own.  It is a testament to her skill that it is not tedious to read about the districts of Panem or the way their politics have evolved since the "Dark Days", but both intriguing and necessary to raise the already high stakes.

The Hunger Games could easily stand on its own, as the story wraps up tidily enough, but so much detail and emotional investment has been poured into this installment that it is impossible to not want the remaining loose threads tied up.  Fortunately, we have two more books to see the fallout of an unexpected victory in the tournament, and its inevitable impact on the future of both the characters and the horror-state in which they live.

I recommend this book not only as a satisfying quick read, but as an intriguing concept that gives the reader a lot to think about, long after the last pages have been read.  I'm also intrigued to see how it translates to film this coming March-- it certainly reads with a certain cinematic feel that makes an adaptation for the screen seem like a very natural step. 

Book Review: Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (and Other Concerns) by Mindy Kaling

This book is fabulous.  And yes, that really is the only and most appropriate adjective to describe it, because it came out of the mind of Mindy Kaling, which far surpasses me in genius but which in this book proves to look at the world in a startlingly similar way. 


Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? is a humorous anecdote-based half-memoir, half-manual for living in the vein of Tina Fey's similarly hilarious Bossypants, which I reviewed a few months ago.  Kaling has some similarly awkward tales from her past (I think it's probably no coincidence that I identify most with women who were extremely awkward in adolescence and didn't really come into their own until much later), but a bit of a different journey and stylistic tendencies.  It's hard to really sum up the book in a linear fashion, so I'd like to first implore you to read it at your earliest possible opportunity (it's a quick read, and I'm 99% sure you won't regret it), and then include some favorite passages and a little bit of rambling about why they're awesome.  Bear with me.

"Being called fat is not like being called stupid or unfunny, which is the worst thing you could ever say to me.  Do I envy Jennifer Hudson for being able to lose all that weight and look smokin' hot?  Of course, yes.  Do I sometimes look at Gisele Bundchen and wonder how awesome life would be if I never had to wear Spanx?  Duh, of course.  That's kind of the point of Gisele Bundchen."
She writes a whole lot about the experience of being a fat/chubby girl, which, as a formerly fat and currently chubby ("thick" if we're being generous) girl, I appreciate.  There's something uniquely tough about it (especially if you're like both Kaling and me in that you've tried many things to become acceptable looking) that those effortlessly skinny girls will just never be able to understand.  I appreciate her frankness, but more than that I appreciate her acceptance of her body (which, at a size 8, I don't consider fat at all, despite what Hollywood may think), not just for my own sake but for that of any impressionable younger women who might be reading this book.  I love that she says insulting her intellect or sense of humor would be a much graver offense than a comment about her weight, because I think it's important to have that level of perspective and confidence.


 The Entirety of the "Don't Peak in High School" Chapter
It's just so very accurate.  And hilarious.  Especially the bit about how she would re-write "Jack & Diane."


"...though I have the voice of an eleven-year-old girl, I have no natural rapport with children. I'm not one of those women who melts when a baby enters the room and immediately knows the right age-specific questions to ask. I always assume the wrong thing and offend someone.  "Does he speak yet?  Does what he says make sense, or is it still gurgle-babble?"  Also, I'm always worried I'm going to accidentally scratch the kid with my fingernail or something.  I'm the one who looks at the infant, smiles nervously, and as my contribution to small talk, robotically announces to the parent, "Your child looks healthy and well cared for."
I have almost this exact same reaction around children.  Except I'm usually not even courteous enough to try and ask questions about someone's baby. Just glad I'm not the only one.

The entire chapter detailing the "Matt & Ben" show,and her resulting big break
Because it's hilarious, and also how did I not know this existed?  

"Someone Explain a One Night Stands to Me"
Her concerns about going home for the night with a stranger are blunt and funny and absolutely valid.  I really like that she is unafraid to write this kind of criticism, especially when her own industry spends so much time glamorizing these kinds of often unwise encounters.  Also, in her mock conversation, I am absolutely the friend killing the recently-sexed friend's buzz by wondering about logistics and security measures.

"I would rather have someone read my diary than look at my iPod playlists.  It's not because I have embarrassing playlists called "Setting the Mood for Sex-Time" or whatever.  My playlists are humiliating because my workout mixes have dorky titles like, "Go For It, Girl!" and "You Can Do It, Mindy!"  You might also see that some of my playlists are simply two songs on repeat fifteen times, like I'm a psycho getting pumped up to murder the president."
This.  I makes the world's most embarrassing playlists on my iPod, because they're all completely random, stream-of-consciousness compilations of the five songs I want to listen to at a given moment.  I then listen to the playlist on repeat for days (sometimes weeks) and promptly forget its existence.  And then I look back and just cringe at some of the combinations that have occurred because of this process.  Also, I'm admittedly something of a music snob, but when it comes to working out I am all about the terrible repetitive beats of Top 40.  Embarrassing, but true.

She also spends a long chapter talking about working on The Office which is mandatory for anyone who considers themselves even the remotest television nerd.  And after that she talks about a brief stint writing for SNL, which includes the first of two segments spent gushing about my all-time favorite funny lady (and person I think absolutely needs to write a book of her own, or five), Amy Poehler.

Kaling is a fantastic writer (just take a look at which episodes of The Office were penned by her for evidence), and the book is laugh out loud funny.  Seriously, people were giving me weird looks on the train.  And that, in my opinion, is the very best kind of book.

TV Revew: Once Upon a Time 1.03-- Snow Falls

To be honest, I wasn't crazy about last week's "The Thing You Love Most," which felt underwhelming (and over-hyped) following a stellar pilot, but this week's episode, which centered on how Snow White and her Prince Charming met in their world and their less-than-perfect reunion in ours, sucked me right back into the magic this show has to offer.

These writers did exactly what needed to be done at this point, which is giving us someone else (or a pair of someones, and their star-crossed romance) to root for.  I think I struggled last week because it was difficult for me to sympathize with the villain so early on in the show's run.  If that episode had waited a few more weeks, allowing us to gain a better understanding of the Queen/Mayor as antagonist, it might have been a lot more intriguing.  That said, I think this week's Snow White-driven tale came right in the nick of time. 

The focus shifted from Emma and Henry to lean heavily on Ginnifer Goodwin's Mary Margaret, and the latter delivered an endearing, believable performance.  She was funny and kind of an unexpected badass as Snow White in the flashbacks, but then she was also compassionate and downright heartwrenching as things unraveled in Storybrook.  I have to admit, I was not expecting to get so invested in a romance on this show, given my usual dismissal of the fairy tale ideal, but I like the way the writers have subverted the original version just enough to keep it compelling.  And the soap opera-esque twist of John Doe's "wife" returning had me almost embarrassingly dismayed.

Though the episode was heavy on this plot, we did get a few little steps forward, and new questions raised.  I am interested to see what Mary Margaret does next, now that she is beginning to believe Henry's story could be true (at least, that was what I took away).  Emma too seems to be experiencing a kind of shift in her beliefs-- she's by no means converted yet, but she might not be as closed off to believing as we thought.  I see in her a reincarnation of Jack from LOST:  she's going to stick with science/rationality to explain everything, until she absolutely can't fight faith anymore.  And the slow transition only indicates that when she is converted, the change will be all the more rewarding. 

I'm also wondering about the Mayor and her role in Storybrook.  She seems to have her hands in everything (and being the villain, as well as one of the only people who knows their true identities, it's understandable), and to hold a lot of sway over just about everyone.  But she doesn't seem terribly bothered with keeping this a secret, which makes me wonder if she hasn't slipped up in front of anyone else all these years.  Is there anyone else in Storybrook who doesn't fully trust the Mayor?  If so, Henry and Emma could stand to gain an incredibly valuable ally.

Overall this show is progressing in the way I expected, but that has certainly not proven to be a bad thing.  I am interested to see next week's episode, which will introduce an entirely new character (Cinderella, but with a kind of twist that appears to link her to Rumpelstiltskin), and how that will tie into the larger story.  The writers have done a good job getting us invested and immersed in this fictional world, now it's time to populate it with more of our favorite fairy tale characters, and allow us to see just how high the stakes are for them.

Movie Review: The Ides of March

This is by far the most outstanding film I've seen this year.  All the elements are in place, and it is clear that George Clooney and company are not fucking around this time.  They are gunning for an award (or ten), and this movie makes an absolutely compelling case that they deserve one.

First, let's talk about the fundamentals.  This is one of the most well-written movies I've seen in a very long time.  I honestly don't remember the last time that thought rang so thoroughly through my mind while I was in the midst of watching a film, but it did this time on several occasions.  The script does a brilliant job of plowing right into the meat of the plot, no time for dumbing-down or explanations.  Words are rarely, if ever, wasted in this script, and the various twists and turns are set up with such careful precision that they are unexpected and yet completely logical.  No one is going for sheer shock value or flash here, just plain good storytelling. 

The cast of this film is impeccable, starting with the supporting players.  Phillip Seymour-Hoffman and Paul Giamatti play campaign advisers on opposite sides of the political spectrum, but who both have the same brand of sleaze just oozing from them.  Both play their parts perfectly, giving the audience a simultaneous disgust for their tactics as well as a dull appreciation for their cleverness.  Evan Rachel Wood also has a surprisingly impressive turn in this film as a young intern working on the Mike Morris (the character played by Clooney) campaign alongside Hoffman and Ryan Gosling.  She is perfect in this role, and it is far and away the best performance I've ever seen from her.  And of course, George Clooney plays the handsome, good-natured politician in a part it seems he was born to play.  Though his performance as Morris is somewhat understated (though no less compelling for that), his influence on the film is pervasive, not merely in credit (he directed, produced, and co-wrote the film), but in style.  It is clear that he has pushed everyone, including himself, to be their very best in this film.

And speaking of performers at their best.. no one is more on top of their game in this movie than Ryan Gosling. It is possible that I actually have too many good things to say about Gosling's performance in this film.  I have said in the past that he gets better with each film he appears in (well, the serious ones, anyway), and Ides of March does nothing to disprove this theory.  Gosling's character Steven goes on an incredible and nuanced journey in this film, and capturing the essence of his transformation would be a challenge for any actor, but Gosling makes it look effortless.  And his success in this role can't even be attributed to the fact that he's got a fabulous script to work with; I'm convinced a deaf person could watch this film and read the story in Gosling's face and eyes, and leave with the same overwhelming sense of awe as those of us who could hear his lines.  What is even more impressive is the fact that, among this all-star cast, Gosling genuinely stands out.  He plays well off of all the other actors, but none more so than George Clooney-- they have a confrontation in a kitchen near the film's climax that will just about blow your mind--and Gosling comes out the stronger performer of the two, which is no small feat. 

Overall, this film is everything I've come to want from an Oscar contender.  Actors turning in the performances of a lifetime; a thought-provoking and intriguing script; and perhaps most importantly, a story that is startlingly relevant to our current state of affairs. 

Book Review: The Submission by Amy Waldman

This novel, which made its debut just a few months ago, has already received huge amounts of praise.  Indeed, in the review that ultimately persuaded me to read it the writer hailed it as the best depiction of the post-9/11 environment in America that has been seen in the decade since the attack.  Now having read the book myself (though certainly not having read all of the other texts in contention for that particular article's praise), I can say that in many ways, I agree.

The Submission follows the lives of a handful of characters during the much-publicized debate over how to best memorialize the former site of the World Trade Center.  It takes place approximately two years after the dust has settled, but tempers and fears are still at an escalated level, to say the least.  In the opening chapters, we see a jury of various intellectuals and experts attempt to narrow down the candidates for a design and select a winner from thousands of anonymous submissions.  We meet Claire Burwell, a 9/11 widow who has been given the nearly impossible task of representing all the men and women who lost loved ones that day.  She advocates heartily for a beautiful design that she feels will best embody a message of both remembrance and healing, and manages to capture the necessary votes to declare it the winner.

Of course, the story is far from over.  The winning design is revealed to have been dreamed up by an American Muslim man living in New York.  Mohammed Kahn is as talented and insightful as he is disagreeable and arrogant.  And if that weren't difficulty enough, the news breaks to the press that a Muslim designer has been selected to memorialize the terrorist attack victims, igniting a sprawling and fiery backlash from many corners.  We as readers are provided a vivid account of each player's psyche, and each seems to have something valid to offer, from Kahn to Claire (who now has to defend him to the enraged families she is meant to represent), to a grieving protest leader, to a frightened immigrant husband who lost her husband in the attack but has not been given the right to acknowledge her grief.

As the debate descends into a state of publicity-fueled mayhem, each page offers more and more to consider.  Here in 2011, ten years after that awful day, we have been able to soothe some of our anger, and rationality has largely returned.  It is thus the perfect time to take our patchy attitudes of tolerance and turn them on their heads, to make us question our own values, and most importantly, try to imagine what stance we would take in such an impossible situation.  At first it seems obvious:  the designer who won should be allowed to design the memorial, no question about it.  But as more and more of the story is revealed, as character's truest beliefs and motives come to life, a black-and-white question becomes more and more colored in shades of grey.  And as someone who just six weeks ago was bombarded with the myriad TV specials and newspaper articles commemorating the attacks' anniversary, I think shades of grey might just be the most accurate way to truly summarize this nation's collective feelings about and understanding of what we went through that day, and what it meant.

If there is anything to criticize about this book, it is that the prose itself seems a bit awkward at times, almost as though Waldman didn't consider how it might sound read aloud or how it might be better phrased to prevent the reader from having to stop and start while trucking through dense paragraphs.  Waldman lucks out, though, because the narrative itself is compelling enough to prompt the reader to plow through the rougher bits.  The characters may be clumsily depicted at certain moments, but looking at the vibrancy of the broad strokes allows for a much better picture. 

And the final thing I'll say about this book is something I almost never say about any book:  I think this should be adapted into a film.  I am usually against books being made into films, primarily because so many beloved stories have been butchered by the Hollywood treatment.  However, I think if this book were allowed to become a thoughtful, honest film, it would do a lot of good.  This is primarily because (as judgmental as it might sound), the people to whom this book's message can teach the most are not necessarily the people I envision picking it up at their local bookshop (assuming said bookshop hasn't bankrupted and closed yet).  I hate to admit it, but if this were presented visually, with an attractive/recognizable cast and a script which smooths over the flaws in Waldman's writing, we could have a genuinely compelling, intellectually and culturally important film on our hands. 

I think I understand now, having read it, why that article named this book as the best representation of 9/11's aftermath.  It doesn't seek to sentimentalize anything or take advantage of the reader's emotional connection to the event to tell the story; it simply tells the story from a few narrow viewpoints, and manages to bring you back to that moment in our history without invoking any of the actual imagery that has been so imprinted in our minds.  Waldman speaks not from a soapbox but from the middle of a diverse crowd, offering snapshots of ordinary people dealing with extraordinary circumstances, and attempting to navigate them as ethically as they know how.

Movie Review: 50/50

I definitely had some pretty high expectations going into this film.  It's been hyped for a really long time, and it is based on the real-life events of its screenwriter, Will Reiser.  And that is not to mention the fact that I already loved almost every person in this movie-- Joseph Gordon-Levitt, who gets better with each performance; Seth Rogen, who is always hilarious and sometimes (like in this film) incredibly genuine; Anna Kendrick, who seems like the perfect candidate for typecasting but somehow manages to bring something unique and fresh to each role she plays.  But enough gushing; you want to know how the movie itself is.

50/50 is truly the perfect blend of comedy and drama, delivering subtle laughs and emotional punches that are more potent than I was expecting.  Gordon-Levitt gives a fantastic performance as Adam, the cancer-stricken protagonist, taking us through each stage of the illness in a devastatingly human way.  He shows admirable strength throughout the film, but the few moments of weakness are what make the story stick with you, and what convince me that he deserves some kind of award for this role.  Seth Rogen plays his best friend, who yes, is kind of a trademark Rogen douche at first, but who proves himself genuinely supportive and compassionate, while still supplying steady laughs.

There is a romantic storyline between Gordon-Levitt and Kendrick's characters, which is initially worrisome, as it stands to become extremely problematic if not downright unethical.  However, it is handled beautifully and doesn't cross any of the lines I had feared it might.  It is just a genuine kinship that slowly evolves into something bigger, proving that you just can't help who you fall for.

There are very very few weak spots in this film, but if I had to pick one, it would definitely be Rachael, Adam's girlfriend in the first half of the film.  I won't get into what goes down between them, but Rachael comes off as just plain irredeemable.  She is impossible to warm to, even when she's doing right by Adam, and it just seems implausible that someone as genuine as he seems to be would stay with her for so long.  Perhaps this is the result of sloppy writing, or maybe Reiser just has an ex he still hates (and if these particular events are true to life, she probably deserves to be dragged through the mud a bit).  Either way, it's something you can definitely push past to enjoy this film, and more importantly, allow it to resonate with you the way it is intended.

Book Review: The History of Love by Nicole Krauss

So I finally read it.  I've had many a female friend/acquaintance spend considerable time gushing to me about this novel over the years, and I decided (primarily to get them to stop) that I'd put it on the ol' list and give it a chance.  Two things, ladies, for reference:  first, you were right that this book is absolutely beautiful in so many ways; second, telling me how much you cried over a book is not typically a ringing endorsement to me, so this would fall under the category of an exception.

First, I think it must be said that this book is pretty structurally amazing.  For me the ideal novel has a story that sprawls over space and time without feeling like I've picked up a tome I might still be reading on my deathbed (looking at you, Franzen).  Nicole Krauss, from whom I've read just one book in the past, has a voice that carries you smoothly through the many plot threads with ease and grace.  This was definitely a book where I found myself marking individual phrases and sentences solely for their independent beauty, and looking back on them later to be struck anew by Krauss' skill.

The story itself is in fact several stories, and in a way nearly everyone can find bits and pieces of their own stories in these pages.  I am always (and always will be) a sucker for stories with hidden/unrealized connections between characters who've never met (which, if it isn't a genre already, probably should be), and so of course this story delivered on many counts.  The titular History of Love is a text that has been miraculously passed down from its author, who is unaware it even still exists, to the man who translates it to suit his own needs and publishes it, to the parents who name their daughter after its primary character.  We then get to see this daughter's journey to find her namesake, which would be interesting enough on its own, but Krauss also gives us glimpses of the many other lives that have been affected by this piece of writing, and the love story by which it was inspired.

I realize that my description cannot and will not do justice to the richness and stylistic genius of this novel, so I'll say that it is definitely not as straightforward or cheesy as it may sound.  The History of Love has intrigue, tragedy, and even comedy right through the final pages, and you are left staring at the back jacket, wishing you could start the whole journey over again.  I definitely see myself re-reading this one at some point, and I can now firmly joined the ranks of its fervent endorsers (though I'll probably leave out the bit about the tears).

TV Review: 2 Broke Girls 1.04-- "...And the Rich People Problems"

This episode just might be my favorite yet.  We got more insight into Caroline's character, increased participation on the parts of the supporting players (Han is probably my favorite TV boss right now), and even a glimmer of compassion from Max.

Caroline needs to go to the dentist.  This is the simple premise that allows the rest of the episode to unfold.  As a person who also obsesses over dental hygiene, I was impressed that she could tell her teeth were shifting by studying her bite in an apple (I will learn to do this, mark my words).  But that's not the point.  The point is, as she is currently nursing a zero balance in her bank account, Caroline must face the horror (and it was pretty horrible) of a subway station dentist's office, which has bullet proof glass and definitely looks like the scene of a murder, be it past or future.  Fortunately, Max manages to talk her out of it, and they wind up breaking into Caroline's former home to get her Bite Guard.

I really really enjoyed their tour of Caroline's digs.  Max's reactions were hilarious, and I really did like their little heart to heart about how Caroline was raised; it developed her without seeming too dropped in or insincere.  It definitely made her more sympathetic, and I think the fact that Max thought so too was a good step forward for their friendship.

Also, we're definitely going to need a full karaoke number from Han in the future.  Just sayin'.

TV Review: How I Met Your Mother 7.05-- "Field Trip"

I didn't get a chance to review last week's episode (due to an inexplicable and absurdly severe allergy attack), but that's okay, because it really does go hand in hand with this week's installment, about which I have a lot more thoughts. 

In "Field Trip", the main line is theoretically about Ted taking his Intro to Architecture class on a field trip (in an attempt to "Stand and Deliver" them, according to Barney), but as with some of this show's best episodes, the supporting plots take center stage and provided much more hilarity and interest.  We get to see Marshall in action at his new job, taking the first steps toward saving the planet (embarking on a war that narrator-Ted solemnly informs us they will win).  We also see Barney have a crisis involving Norah, who announces that she hates the Ewoks of Star Wars.  Barney decides to keep her around anyway, but that doesn't mean things don't get dicey for a little while. 

By far the most interesting story belongs to Robin, who has embarked on the beginnings of a relationship with her therapist (who, don't worry, drops her as a patient), played by the always wonderful Kal Penn.  And yes, as Ted and company point out, this sounds like a pretty bad plan on Robin's part, but I am interested to see where it goes.  Robin hasn't had a serious relationship since Don in season five, and on top of that there are many avenues to be explored when it comes to her character.  The producers have said that this will be in many ways a "Robin season", and they weren't kidding. 

Overall, this is a strong episode for its momentum, edging the plot forward slowly but surely, and setting Robin's character in particular on a clear path for the season (or at least the duration of this arc).  There are also some really great moments with the gang, which sometimes feel phoned-in when competing with individual stories.

Also, points for continuity.  It really looks like Barney's going to be wearing that duck tie all season long.

Book Review: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows

I just finished this novel, and I have to say, it is one of the more endearing ones I've read recently.  I am usually a fan of dysfunction in the books I read, of characters who have a darker side and may even be entirely unlikeable, so this was an interesting change of pace.  Fun fact about where the recommendation for this one came from:  a magazine I was reading (I think it was US Weekly) informed me that one Kate Middleton was seen toting this book on her fancy publicity tour.  And because I am not above wanting to be as well-read as the Duchess of Cambridge, I added it to my list.  Let it thus be known that Kate may have her flaws (like being young and interesting and glamorous), but her taste in books is pretty darn good.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (apart from having a mouthful of a title), is composed entirely of letters between fictional author Juliet Ashton, who is looking for her next project, and the men and women of the titular Society, about whom she will eventually decide to write.  This is not only a story of a writer looking for a story to tell, though; it's a study of charming and quirky characters, set against the grim backdrop of WW2's immediate aftermath in England.  Guernsey has only recently been liberated from German occupation, and the impact on its citizens has been enormous.  The Literary Society itself began as a ruse to disguise an illicit meeting of friends from the soldiers, and yet it managed to become a source of entertainment and unwavering support during an impossibly difficult time.

Juliet becomes so enamored of these people and their stories that she travels to Guernsey herself to meet and befriend them.  She immediately takes to the town and its inhabitants, particularly the orphaned daughter of the Society's founder, as well as the man whose initial correspondence revealed to her the existence of the Society and the potential for a story to be found.  By novel's end, Juliet can scarcely imagine returning to the dull bustle of London after experiencing such a wonderful and warm community, and neither can the reader.

I have not read a lot of books about England during this period in history (the most recent being Ian McEwan's Atonement), but I have to say I may look for more in the future.  My studies of WW2 in my history classes have largely focused on America's role, as well as the tragedies of the Holocaust, which I think has left me with less appreciation for the struggles of those living in war-torn Europe during the fighting, just struggling to maintain any sense of normalcy.  The people of Guernsey could easily exist today, could be me or you or anyone, and the story of their experiences and their collective strength is inspiring.  It also doesn't hurt that the idea behind the Society, that books are capable of bringing people together in a unique and profound way, is something that I will always, always advocate. 

This is a genuinely enchanting story and a fairly fast read, as most of the letters are brief and to the point, letting the events speak for themselves without an excess of editorializing.  I recommend it to anyone interested in this period of history, or simply in a tale of people emerging from the ashes of the past to embrace a surprisingly happy ending.

TV Review: Up All Night, 1.2: "Cool Neighbors"

This show is definitely showing potential to only get better, and I'm so glad, because I love seeing this cast on my television every week.  In this week's installment, we see Chris and Reagan doing their darndest to impress their new young, hip neighbors, and as you might expect, hilarity absolutely ensues.  As if that weren't enough, there's also a generous side serving of Maya Rudolph's character Ava being absurdly inept at relating to her friends' new baby.

I could not stop laughing at Chris and Reagan's almost instantaneous assessment of their neighbors as hipsters, nor at how they sought to connect with them, from updating their Facebook pages (Chris occupied himself "liking" numerous pages such as "soup" and "the news", but don't worry, it was only ironically), to trying to conceal their role in trying to shut down their new neighbors' housewarming party.  Also, it led to one of the episode's best moments, with Chris standing in the middle of the crowded, silent party with "Hey Soul Sister" blaring from his pocket (revealing that he'd been the one to phone the police), which he again insisted was an attempt at irony. 

When the two protagonists weren't busy obsessing over their neighbors, we saw them visit with Ava, to whom baby Amy did not immediately take.  Ava was affronted by this, first accusing the baby of being uncomfortable around people of color (debunked when another staffer at her show, a young African American man, hit it off with Amy instantaneously), and later attempting to win the baby's affections by bearing gifts, such as a "baby wallet."  By the episode's end, however, Reagan orchestrated some one on one time between her friend and her daughter, and they finally managed to connect.

What I loved most about this episode was the insight it gave us into the different relationships between the adults on this show.  As ridiculous as their schemes and actions were, Chris and Reagan play off each other really well under almost any circumstances, and manage to balance each other's personalities almost effortlessly.  The Ava storyline also impressed upon us how strong her friendship with the couple and particularly with Reagan really is:  despite being very full of herself and adored by her fans, Ava really does want baby Amy to like her, and she wants her friends to think she is capable of bonding with their child. 

Another witty installment, and one which gave us a much better idea of the tone and shape this show is going to take as the season continues.  I'll be watching next week, and barring any disasters, will probably be incorporating this show into my regular reviews.

Movie Review: Contagion

This movie is both well paced and oddly timely in its release, and manages not to struggle too much beneath the weight of its all-star cast.  Contagion is genuinely intriguing and tragic, and touches on the important issues that emerge in the wake of any kind of disaster without being too preachy or heavy-handed.

The film follows the explosive progression of an unidentified disease in various clusters throughout the world.  Gwyneth Paltrow's character Beth's demise gets the ball rolling, and members of the CDC scramble to determine whether she is the all-important "index patient" responsible for the initial spread of the disease.  Matt Damon plays her grieving husband who is also mysteriously immune to the disease, a convenience which also affords him immunity to the predictable panic, looting, and rioting which ensue as the disease takes more and more lives. 

Director Steven Soderbergh tells the story with his usual talent for scope and depth, though there are a few loose ends not quite tied up by the film's end (though it's very possible that this is intentional).  The acting on the whole is pretty good, though there are definite standouts, including Kate Winslet, Jennifer Ehle, and Marion Cotillard, who all play strong female characters fighting to understand and contain the disease on different fronts.  I think I could have observed individual performances a bit better if I hadn't been so busy cataloging the famous people on the screen (there's an appearance by Demetri Martin, for goodness sake), so I suppose you could call it a bit distracting, though not necessarily detrimental to the film.

What is most affecting about this movie, though, is the moment at which it emerges.  The decision to release it two days prior to the 9/11 anniversary seems very deliberate given the tone and message of the film, which explores not only the possibilities of biological disaster, but the possibilities of our fear and how we might react in such circumstances.  I found it strange to hear some of my fellow audience members laughing at some of the behavior of the panicked citizens in the film, and in a way it was almost affronting.  Part of me wanted nothing more than to turn around and ask if they didn't think they or their loved ones would do the exact same things with their own lives on the line.  I guess this just serves to show that a film like this can either bounce right off the viewer or stick with them in a profound way, and maybe that depends more on the watcher than the material itself.

Book Review: Little Children by Tom Perrotta

There is a lot of suburban dysfunction literature floating out there right now (and I love so much of it), but few people do with quite the same snap as Tom Perrotta.  I've been meaning to read Little Children for a while now, and after reading his novel The Abstinence Teacher earlier this summer, I fast-tracked it to the top of my list.  I can say now that I do not regret this decision in the slightest.

Little Children is a strange book when one attempts to describe it in minimal terms.  It's about two parents who engage in an affair with one another in an attempt to revive their dismal, unhappy existences.  But it's also about a pedophile who moves into the very same neighborhood to live with his ailing mother, and the social ostracism which results.  Sounds like a strange pitch, but the two narratives meld together in such a way that by novel's end it seems impossible to have told the story in its fullness while neglecting one of them.

Sarah and Todd are the two adulterers, young parents who never thought they'd find themselves bogged down with a child and all those other pesky grownup responsibilities.  Their angst as individuals is typical, but their coming together is strange, emerging out of the blue and accelerating in a way that can only spell disaster in the end.  I appreciated Perrotta's depiction for its realism, however semi-tragic it may appear:  both Sarah and Todd believe that this affair is something they not only need but deserve, and both harbor resentment toward just about everyone in their lives outside the affair's bubble, including their children.  Sarah in particular is downright annoyed with her daughter for much of the time we see them together, and while some might read that as too harsh, it's an unfortunate truth:  some mothers just don't like their daughters, and sometimes it's for so small a crime as failing to fill a void for which they were never responsible.  What is a bit wearing about Sarah and Todd's affair, however, is the depiction of their respective spouses.  Sarah's husband Richard is a bit of a pervert but slowly evolves into a complete creep, almost forcing the reader to declare Sarah's adultery justifiable.  Similarly, Todd's wife Karen is the family breadwinner and thus is cast as the obligatory workaholic spouse, who upon learning of the affair promptly becomes even more unlikeable.  I for one didn't need all this extra convincing that Sarah and Todd had considerable motivation for their actions, but Perrotta seems to supply it more for the purpose of enriching the satire than anything else.

Ronnie McGorvey is the town's new pedophile-in-residence, and it's difficult to decide what is more disturbing:  how creepy his every action, word, and mannerism is, or the fact that despite all this the relationship he has with his elderly mother makes them both sympathetic in a strange way.  His mother is to be pitied, that much is clear, but what really enhances this part of the story is the way that, despite all of his horrible behavior, Ronnie does love her very much, and doesn't want to hurt her.  Unfortunately, even this doesn't quite make his alleged kidnapping and murder of a little girl reconcilable.

One of the best things this novel has to offer is its insight into the spectrum of perception and judgment.  Each of the characters plays his or her part in illustrating this, and showing that we misunderstand and misjudge others just about all the time.  Sometimes we think people are much better than they are, sometimes we feel sure we know them and find out we don't at all, and sometimes they're even worse than we could have ever imagined.  Little Children provides a sampling of each, and does it in a way that somehow still manages to leave the shadow of a smirk on your face.

Book Thoughts: Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky

I just finished this book, and I'm struggling a little to put my thoughts together.  It's by far my favorite of the books I've read this summer, and perhaps the most surprisingly so.  Don't get me wrong, I already knew Dostoevsky was a genius having read Crime and Punishment twice for school and analyzed the many many dimensions therein, but this little book made a much heavier impact on me.  Maybe I'm just surprised because it was a little tricky to jump into at first, with me reading a page or five and then ditching it for other forms of entertainment (usually tv or movies), but today I forced myself to sit still and really focus on it.  I was rewarded with the most intense reading experience I've had in quite some time.

It's not that Notes is by any means a thrilling tale-- it's literally one guy narrating bits and pieces from his dismal little life in 19th century Russia.  The narrator isn't likeable (intentionally so, but all the same...), and you're not really rooting for him in the way you might expect.  But the examination of his interior monologue as well as his interactions with the world around him is hugely satisfying.  Dostoevsky is just fantastic at sketching psychologically intriguing characters who are almost frighteningly relateable (though this narrator slightly less so than Raskolnikov, because he at least commits no murders).  Something that I always have as a goal with characterization, and something I admire in all my favorite writers, is to have a moment (several if the writer is truly gifted) where, no matter what the character's circumstances, personality, et al, the reader thinks to him/herself "Yes!  I know exactly what he/she means!"  Take me, for example:  I am obviously not an impoverished, largely misanthropic man living in 19th century Russia, but there are countless moments in this book where the narrator articulates nearly verbatim thoughts that I have had in my recent life (though of course, given that it's Dostoevsky, his are much more eloquent).  The second half of the book in particular, when we move from the narrator's musings to seeing how his views impact his interactions with other people, hits home in a way that, given some of the waxing philosophical in the book's opening, I wasn't necessarily expecting.

The other thing that really got me about this book is how quietly tragic it is.  I found myself tearing up during the last 20 pages or so, and it took me some time to figure out why.  It was the attitude with which the narrator closed the book that really got me, his discussion about the way people want the world to look as opposed to the way it actually is, and our collective tendency to get caught up in notions of heroes and good stories and be bored and disappointed by our reality.  And it dawned on me was that I was a mess precisely because this character and his thoughts were so relateable, and then he arrives at this sort of hopeless conclusion about life and how we're destined to live it.  Way to bring me down, F.D. (don't worry, it was in the best way).

Additionally, I firmly believe that this should be on the curriculum somewhere for college students.  It's a coming of age story-- well, not really, it's more of a coming to consciousness story, I guess-- but it grapples with the very kind of existential crisis that us post-adolescent intellectuals face.  So get on that, professors of America.

Movie Review: Crazy Stupid Love

We all know that I am not a fan of chick flicks (or at least, we all know now).  I make a general rule not to watch them unless coerced, and the trailers for this film looked very cheesy indeed, so I was initially hesitant.  However, Crazy Stupid Love is a pleasant surprise, as far as films of this genre go.  It has heart and some genuinely complicated characters, and a happy ending that, while trite, feels more deserved than in some other films.

The film examines several different stories, the common thread among which is Steve Carrell's character (Cal), who in the film's first scene sees his 20-some year marriage fall to pieces at his feet.  Julianne Moore is his cheating wife (her new interest is a smarmy as ever Kevin Bacon), who appears to be having the sort of suburban mid-life crisis of which I've become so fond this summer.  Understandably, Carrell's character falls into a pit of self-pity and long ramblings on the de-evolution of his relationship (but what is miserable for the character is an opportunity to see Carrell at his pathetic best).  Enter the requisite ladies' man sidekick, a vaguely douchy incarnation of Ryan Gosling (Jacob).

Obviously, Cal is in sore need of a mentor, and Jacob is only too happy to offer his services.  The scenes in which he teaches Cal how to be a womanizer are funny, but they mostly remind the viewer of the potential of these two actors, and the ways in which the sometimes weak writing suppresses their abilities.  I mean, between Carrell and Gosling you've got Emmy, Golden Globe, and Oscar nominations multiple times over, not to mention hours and hours of proof that each is fully capable of vanishing into a role and making even an annoying or despicable character intriguing, not to mention there is an uncanny chemistry between them.  It just seems a shame that much of their mutual potential feels wasted.  There are a few moments, however, particularly toward the film's conclusion, where both are permitted to bust out their dramatic acting chops, and in my opinion, both shine brightest in these scenes.

Emma Stone is charming as always, though you're left wishing you got a little more from her character (she seems to be built mostly on a cliche archetype that's never fully fleshed out), particularly after an unexpected twist leading into the film's third act.  Julianne Moore is similarly short-changed, and it is difficult to sympathize with her or understand her actions, something that feels like it should have been prioritized a little more.  On the whole it seems that the development of the female characters has been sacrificed so that both leading men can be more effectively transformed (but then, what else is new?).

Overall, though, this film provides an interesting study of characters in emotional flux, particularly Cal and Jacob.  It also has some truly cheesy moments that I could have done without, but I guess you can't get away with writing a cliche-free romantic comedy these days.  Gosling and Carrell are worth the ticket price, and if you adore the misery of the (upper) middle class as wholeheartedly as I do, then this is definitely a summer movie for you to check out.

Movie Review: Horrible Bosses--Far From Horrible

Most summer comedies rely a little too much on the fact that theaters are one of the most frequented air-conditioned havens during the sticky months of June, July, and August.  They don't try too hard to be intelligent or well-plotted, and they'll cast just about anyone they can get in order to use big names as a draw.  When I initially saw the promos for this film, particularly the apparent stunt casting of Jennifer Aniston, Colin Farrell, and Kevin Spacey, I was a little wary.  It just didn't seem like this movie could be as entertaining as I wanted it to be.

However, I insisted on watching it because the trio of Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis, and Charlie Day is pretty much my comedy-ensemble dream come true.  All three men are hilarious individually, so it only made sense that they'd be thrice as amusing together.  Very fortunately, this hypothesis proved correct.  Even in moments when the plot seemed a little hole-ridden or shaky, the three protagonists kept things on an even keel, particularly Day, whose character was basically a marginally more intelligent version of the dopey bartender he plays on Always Sunny (but this is a play to his comedic strengths, and it renders the type-casting less problematic than you'd think). 

The plot was predictable at times, but had some twists where they were sorely needed.  I loved that the movie didn't turn the guys into overnight criminal masterminds or anything-- in fact, if anything they seemed to grow less competent as the film wore on.  I also enjoyed the way they utilized the famous faces they compiled, allowing all three actors (who portrayed the guys' respective bosses) to have some hilarious moments without overshadowing the film's main focus. 

This movie has a lot of laughs, many to be found in pleasantly unexpected places (a guest appearance by Jamie Foxx is one notable instance).  And if you can accept the plot as a whole for the ridiculousness of its premise, then the story is pretty damn enjoyable.  Overall, a great summer comedy (though not, I will add, for the whole family-- some parents and their kids were seated behind us and felt obligated to walk out 15 minutes in).  Go check it out in theaters now.

Book Review: The Abstinence Teacher by Tom Perrotta

While this book follows in my apparent trend this summer of reading about unhappy suburbanites and their seemingly infinite discontent, The Abstinence Teacher is a witty, sharp breath of fresh air.  Unlike Franzen's Freedom, which dwells overlong on a range of different tedious thing, Perrotta's story follows two intriguing characters (not to mention a cast of equally intriguing supporting players) as their lives unravel.  Ruth is the titular abstinence teacher, but as a fiercely liberal gal, this is definitely not a career path she's chosen for herself.  Tim is a former junkie and alcoholic who has jumped on the Jesus bandwagon in the hopes of finding redemption for his colorful past.  Perrotta does an excellent job setting the scene, giving us both characters' histories in a way that didn't have me skimming through to figure out what the point was, and paints a nuanced portrait of life in this suburb, from the youth soccer team that brings about Ruth and Tim's first meeting, to the crazy for Christ Tabernacle church.  Most everything in this novel feels so real you could practically reach out and touch it, and it was so easy to imagine real people living these lives almost exactly.  This is what contemporary fiction is supposed to look like.

Some specific things I really enjoyed included the characterization, and the note of sarcastic cynicism that looms over most of the book's proceedings.  Ruth is sharp and funny, her sometimes derisive tone adding color to a character who could have easily fallen too far into the role of victim.  And Tim's alternately dopey and insightful awareness of his world was equally refreshing, though in an entirely different way.  It was interesting to see someone who Ruth initially wrote off as a zealot be humanized in a way that generates true sympathy, even from this devout non-believer.  I also liked that it was a love story that strayed from the traditional construction.  Right from the beginning, the reader (and Ruth, as she later comments) think there might be a brewing "opposites attract" type of spark between the two, but it does not come to fruition until the book's end (and even then it's more of a conjecture of what's to come in the couple's future than anything).  I liked that this book dodged the pitfalls of writing the typical "romance"; I think any attempt to smash Ruth and Tim together before their characters were in precisely the right place would have come off as sloppy and formulaic.  What's great about the tension Perrotta builds, however, isn't that they don't hook up in a cliched way, it's that halfway through the book you almost want them to, just because it clearly needs to happen.  His choice is better, ultimately, but the fact that that moment occurs at all is a testament to the story he's written.

I would certainly recommend this book, which is the first I've read of Tom Perrotta's (more will surely be going on my list now).  It is definitely a great summer read, quick and absorbing but without sacrificing the quality of writing.

Additionally, IMDB informs me that this is currently in development to be made into a film.  I think it has the potential for a great adaptation, and I would be very interested to see it.  Even better, Steve Carrell and Sandra Bullock are rumored to be involved and potentially taking on the roles of Tim and Ruth, respectively.  Guess we'll have to wait and see.

Magic Movie Moments with Harry, Part 7b: Deathly Hallows, Part 1

I am definitely guilty of liking each film better than the last, but I think that, had this installment landed anywhere in the lineup, I would have pronounced it the best adaptation of the bunch.  I'm interested to see if Part 2 will outstrip Part 1; it definitely has its work cut out for it.  There's a long list of things I love about Deathly Hallows Part 1, and I've managed to narrow it down to these few.

The Journey Begins
I really like the opening to this film (after the Minister's speech), where we kind of check in with each member of the trio before they're reunited and see what they're up to.  Ron is at home, visibly dreading leaving his warm, loving family behind; Harry is in the process of moving out of the Dursley home; and Hermione is by far the most tragic, erasing herself from her parents' memories so that they won't be targeted because of her.  Add in the tremendously beautiful swelling music of Desplat's "Obliviate" as they march off toward their respective destinations, and you've got pretty much the perfect introduction to the dark and winding story we're about to embark upon.

Undercover at the Ministry
Okay, so they definitely botch this mission, more than a little bit.  But it's still so cool to see our favorite trio attempt an actual, grown-up infiltration of the ever-more-threatening Ministry of Magic.  Employing Polyjuice Potion, they disguise themselves as three employees and embark on the search for their first horcrux.  I liked the point the film made to use three adults that look like the possible future versions of the three actors in question.

Godric's Hollow Graveyard sequence
Gosh...my heart.  I still get a little choked up watching this scene, just because of what it represents for Harry and his journey.  This scene in the film is particularly well-executed, because just about everything about it is beautifully understated-- the acting, the music, even the scenery-- and it works so, so well.

Tale of the Three Brothers
Round of applause for super sick animation!  Not only do we get a nice little morality tale weaved into an already wildly complex story, but we got to watch it actually unfold on the screen.  I'd been very apprehensive of how they were going to handle the explanation for this, and I think illustrating the story was the best choice they could have made.  And apart from that, there's just something very pleasant about Emma Watson's reading voice, no?

Malfoy Manor
Apart from being one of the more chilling scenes in the film, this is another instance of just taking a look at the talent crammed into one room in these films.  Helena Bonham Carter, Helen McRory, Jason Isaacs, Tom Felton, Timothy Spall...I could continue the list, but won't.  Emma Watson is spectacular in this scene-- I knew what was going to happen and I was still genuinely frightened for her.  That it is the beginning of the slope into Part 2 is icing on the cake, as it provides the perfect segway into the "shit's about to get real(er)" portion of the story.

Magic Movie Moments with Harry, Part 6: Half-Blood Prince

The sixth film in the Potter series, much like the novel which provides its basis, gives us a sense that we are at the beginning of the end.  Foundations are laid in this movie for things that will not be fully realized or resolved until this Friday in DH2.  It is for that reason that some people may have found the Half-Blood Prince film boring or confusing (maybe both), but from the stance of someone who still has that book in a tie for her favorite of the series, it actually comes off pretty well.

Muggles and Magic
Now, this scene is actually a bit of a rewrite from what we get in the opening chapter of the book (which features a conversation between the Muggle and wizarding Prime Ministers), but I think in terms of translating from book to screen, showing the bridge collapse (which is mentioned in the book's version, just not shown), is actually a better choice.  We get the message loud and clear:  this wizarding war is getting out of hand, to the point where it's affecting the Muggles who aren't even supposed to know that magic exists.  Plus, seeing the menacing steel of the Millenium Bridge (which I've walked on!) collapse into the Thames is just plain eerie.

Snape Weaves a Web
Snape has always been a complicated character, and one never very far from suspicion.  Half-Blood Prince plays with this even more, from the first scene in which he appears (a very well-executed retelling of the novel's second chapter, made all the better by the brilliant acting of Helen McRory, Helena Bonham Carter, and Alan Rickman), to the film's climax when he (SPOILER) fires the curse which kills Dumbledore.  By the film's end, as in the book, we are more bewildered than ever as to where Snape's loyalty lies, and this is almost enough on its own to draw people in for the seventh film.

Meet Tom Riddle
An entire subplot of the sixth book is the history lesson/character study of the boy who would become Lord Voldemort, and has Harry struggling to understand what his weaknesses might be.  Because a lot of what we learn about Tom Riddle comes through various discussions as well as peering into Harry's own mind, it is understandably difficult to translate to the screen.  That said, the flashbacks we do get to see in the film are well-executed and definitely try (can't say for sure that they succeed) to effectively convey this part of the story.  I especially like the memory of Dumbledore visiting a very young Tom at the orphanage where he lives.

Draco's Up to No Good
This part of the film is really well done, although that may be me still gushing over Tom Felton's impressive performance.  He does a phenomenal job showing Draco's insecurity and uncertainty as he embarks on a secret assignment from Voldemort, which culminates in his attempt and failure to kill Dumbledore.  Great acting and a very nuanced look at this character as he takes on new dimensions.

A Fitting Tribute
Now, the actual moment of Dumbledore falling from the tower onto the grounds felt a bit forced to me, as did some of the lead-up to his death.  What did really get me, however, was the response of his students out on the Hogwarts grounds.  There is a really fantastic moment where the music swells and, one by one, the students light their wands and raise them to the sky in silent solidarity with their fallen headmaster.  Since they omitted the very poignant funeral scene that the book provides, this is our chance to let Dumbledore's death sink in, and I think if I can't have the closure I'd really like, this is a decent consolation prize.

Only one more film to go before the big finale!  Excitement is building in every corner, and I'm going to have to start avoiding the internet soon to minimize the risk of spoilers.