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Marvel's Avengers - 3D
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Film
- Hits: 1677
We wanted to see "The Raid - Redemption", but it had stopped playing, and so we were looking for something that might come close.
Nothing came even slightly close.
So we decide upon "Marvel's The Avengers", because he doesn't want to see "Bully", because, really, who would?
Tickets, it's sold out, 2 hours until the next show. 2 hours killing time in the mall.
I wanted to see "The Raid", could have seen it, but he's had school commitments all week and wouldn't have been able to make it. So I've saved it for the week-end, but as luck would have it it's no longer playing.
And this, The Avengers, it's popular, and so we kill time in the mall waiting for it to start.
At 10:10 we try to get a seat in the theatre, but there's a line, we're about #150 in line. Nerds. The line is filled with Nerds.
I have no expectations, none good, anyways, I know the Ironman (Robert Downing Jr) is in it, otherwise I'm not comic guy. I know nothing. But I'm not hopeful. No expectations, easily pleased.
"93% on the Tomatometer" the boy tells me, and I take his word that it will be passable.
Line, trailers, finally film. 3D Glasses, I'm impressed by the 3D ness of it all, better than I remember 3D. Amazing. But after 4, 5 minutes amazing is off, the effects are taken for granted, and your focusing on silly things like dialogue and plot.
Oooops.
The film is shit.
I'm not comic guy, the plot confuses me, the hulk, the black widow, the Ironman even, it's all a bit confusing. The introduction of the Norse gods Thor and Loki is especially confusing. But if you're comic guy/girl, you get it. The jokes are obvious, and the plot points are predictable. The Ironman, Robert Downing Jr, has about 5 minutes of dialogue, the rest is all CGI, I'm embarrassed for him and explain to the boy that he probably didn't read the script, and if he did he's probably in desperate need of a couple of Kilos of blow.
The 3D glasses, in the end they're there to prevent you from gouging your eyes out with a spoon. They should have provided earplugs as well. The laws of imaginary physics are rewritten and violated at least a dozen times. This 3D action spectacular is more 1D adolescence than anything I could have imagined. Even the boy feels it, slouches, knows he's in for a roasting.
And it drags. Over 2 hours, on my own I would have left after half an hour, indifferent to the plot or outcome, but with the boy along I feel obliged to stay. I find out later he shares my thoughts.
****
I fucking hated it. Inane, shallow dialogue, plot, it was a load of shit. The audience , on the other hand, seemed to love it. How it got 93% on the tomato-meter is beyond me. It was bad. Bad even by comic-book standards. They had Gwyneth Paltrow, but she only had at most 3 minutes of screen time. But this was the same for all the actors, Captain America, The Hulk, etc. The rest was all CGI. The plot, shit, the dialogue, true to a comic I never read but imagined was written for illiterate 9 year olds. Fail fail fail. 93%? How I ask? The people that would see it would be biased in it's favour, true, but even then 50% seems generous.
In summary, "Marvel's The Avengers" - No bananas, leave early and do something productive with your life. Or simply don't go at all. Complete, utter, load of shit.
Things We Forget
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Link of the day
- Hits: 1377
Little inspirational post-it notes. Some are quite good. Like 863: "Want Something You've Never Had? Do Something You've Never Done."
Link: Things We Forget
The Last Supper
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1810
Finally, and what a night. Apparently I'm not held to working Monday.
Tonight we're busy, the book filled to overflowing, the owner has been relentless in his taking of reservations.
We're overbooked. A full flip, and then some.
It's been a long day, the early morning for garage sales, trivial chores throughout the day.
The last day, I suspect.
At work, J (former waiter, friend of owner's) has picked up a case of sausage for my final meal. We have this and rice, the sausage is delicious, it's a treat.
And the owner corks a bottle of champagne, cheap bubbly, and his skepticism aside toasts and wishes me well on my quest.
This is leaving as it should be, good terms from the restaurant where no one leaves on good terms. My second time, and somehow I feel I've earned a medal. The champagne's a nice gesture, but given my lack of sleep and the busy, busy night ahead I can't relax.
The set-up done, nothing to do but to wait.
M gives me a present, a fine bottle of Scotch, I'm touched, he didn't have to. He shouldn't have. But I like the gesture. Z promises to take me for lunch, Indian buffet, he's Muslim but wants me to drink. I don't need to drink, need to drink less. But the lunch is a courtesy.
People are decent.
The night progresses as anticipated, the slow degeneration, people waiting at the door for 45 minutes on reservations, tables that were given out times lingering far beyond their allotted - and informed - slots. Crazy busy, and this is the shift to fire me out the door. The nephew is with the customers, complete pains but they tip well. I'm for the principal, if you're told you have to leave, admitted on the condition your have only so long to dine, then leave. And let others take your seat. But not all of our customers agree.
It's a long, long night. Midnight, late, especially for us. And when finally we lock the doors, I've returned the keys, given the farewell hugs to all and sundry the Nephew, G and I are off to the bar.
A few drinks, more hugs, laughs, recollections, I'll see them again before I go to pick up my cheque.
This is the last supper.
Week 1 - Garage Sales 2012
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1933
Now a misleading title if ever there was one, because it's also my last day at work - I hope - and this posting should reflect both.
Days pass. Few customers know of my leaving - few would care, only Z tells them in his efforts to bond with them. The Nephew and G, they've accepted my departure, G not happy as he suspects he's losing his day off, I've offered to help out the 2 weeks I'm around (research to be done, other things), he doesn't want to accept.
Whew.
The Owner has been manageable, in a better mood, as it were, now that I'm leaving - or he knows that I'm leaving, quiet about trivial things, he as well wants it to be on a good note. They're bringing in the Talking Waiter as my replacement.
I threaten the nephew with the keys to lock up, they'll be his next, he declines, never in a hundred years could he deal with that responsibility, M enters the conversation "I wouldn't take them either....", he has his own reasons, the nephew reassures him: "not to worry..." , meaning, of course, that he's not long for the course. A shame, I rather like him. M doesn't get it. It's almost too savage, this rivalry of theirs.
Those few customers that know I'm leaving, they express their admiration, some tempered jealousy. It's curious, they didn't flesh me out that deep. Some even go so far as to pretend they'll miss me. Polite. To do what you want, that's a luxury. I don't disclose how ill I can afford it. The staff, they'll miss me, some bitterness, they presume I'll be back, when exactly do I think?
Never I hope, but I'm merely optimistic. I say nothing, don't want to burn my bridges, merely point out that if things work out I won't have to ever come back.
The biggest proof of failure would be to return. The goad in my side, walk farther, search harder, make sure you never have to return.
Better to die in the field than return.
That said, I'll miss them. My family, G, The Nephew, The Owner, even M and Z - of dysfunctional sorts - the past 2 years almost.
It's not easy leaving, and to an uncertain and precarious, ridiculous even, future, doubly so.
I'm amazed - really, by the slight resistance I've encountered. A crazy idea, to me even, but few - only a couple, have pointed it out. The rest - politely, reserve their opinions, a few ripost me as I might them about bears and the perils of the North Woods, but still wish me well, marvel at the adventure (the adventure I'm not feeling even slightly at the moment, only the pressure of organizing countless tiny chores ...), this is curious.
Even myself, I'd give me 50/50 for breaking even and 1/1000 for getting rich, I see the inherit insanity of it, the other side which I imagined to be invisible to everyone else is transparent. The owner talks to me outside, quiet, having a cigarette, of the folly of property, ownership, we should all live on the move, on the wing, he feels it as well.
Pressure. There's a lot of people not to let down. Fail at this and I don't just fail myself, but the children, my co-workers, friends, any number of people who felt themselves trapped in a box from which there was no easy escape. I've come to look upon it as an exercise in the force of my will, failure proof of my countless bad qualities, success as the tangible, demonstrable, exemplary proof of my ideals.
***
That said there's much to be done, and the imminent departure only adds to the stress.
I compose lists.
Things to buy, research to do....
Maps, Hip Waders, Nesting screens of varying gauges, build a sluice-box, water-filter for drinking, cheap watch with altimeter and barometer, pepper spray and flare guns, learn to use GPS, annotate maps with notes and history, existing claims, find places I think will yield profit. The more I think upon it, the more I need. Groceries, miscellaneous household chores, renovations, art projects, writing projects.
The lists become endless.
They only add to the stress. The staff, they imagine I must be looking forward to this, I am, but not yet, there's too much to be done.
***
The week conspires to tell me I've made the right choice. Every lunch tables stay late, every dinner tables arrive early. Lunch table leaves 3:00, Dinner table arrives at 4:30. Lunch table leaves 4:30, dinner table arrives 4:30. I'd be mad, livid, but it's always been this way and I'm almost done. It confirms my decision. The customers, Money and Power, other assorted criminals of different stripes, everything is telling me I'm on the right track. The job is killing me. The new job will be better.
Now to make it work.
***
It's the first week of garage sales and today I take advantage of a slight break between shifts to dash out and hit one. It's Terrific, buckets of vintage costume jewelry at discount prices, I rifle through it all, pick out some pieces that I like, there isn't time enough, really I could spend hours, some parting souvenirs - cufflinks, jewelry, for the staff. Mixed media for myself. An auspicious start to the weekend.
***
And now, 6:30 AM, The Good Samaritan Rummage sale in 2.5 hours, I'll be in line in an hour, after that St. Lukes and other sales, a big morning before the last night at work. Lots to be done and searched for, Urban Prospecting as it were...The weekend will be reported on and rated as it passes...
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