Archive | November, 2009

My Review of Up

19 Nov

from July 20, 2009

Up is Disney/Pixar’s sequel to last summer’s Down, the ill-advised animated biography of Satan.

This is the first Disney film aimed squarely at the geriatric set. It opens in 1939. Young Carl Flopsweat is at the movies seeing the latest installment of his favorite serial, The Air Adventures of Stuttgart Nazi. This was the ninth and penultimate chapter. Reich colonel Stuttgart Nazi, in his zeppelin The Spirit of Valhalla, had finally reached the fabled Plateau of Leng. There, following clues laid out in the Pnakotic Manuscripts, he hoped to travel to lost city of R’lyeh and resurrect the Old Ones, which would lead to the Thousand Year Reich. However, in the cliffhanger, Stuttgart Nazi found himself face to face with the ancient Jews of Abraham. Would  Stuttgart defeat the Jews and bring about the Aryan glory of Germany? Come back next week for the final exciting chapter.

Carl Flopsweat was very moved by this. It was 1939 and you could go to the movies all day on one nickel. You’d see a newsreel, a serial, some cartoons, a B-movie, and the main feature. It was possible to stay in the theater all day. This led to long, long lines for the bathroom. It was while waiting one of those lines that Carl’s imagination would soar. “Wow,” thought young Carl. “I wish I could be a Nazi.”

Carl didn’t become a Nazi but he did beat up a man named Goldfarb. However, that was still in the far future.

Young Carl was imaginative and would often pretend to be his hero. He would dress in the official Stuttgart Nazi helmet and junior Nazi Air Ace uniform, goose-stepping his way across town. It was on one of these jaunts, where Carl would pretend to round up “undesirables,” that he met the girl he would love forever, Eva.

Eva was everything Carl was not. She was smart and strong, while Carl was puny and stupid. In fact, on their wedding night, she made him ride reverse cowgirl. The one thing they shared was their love of The Air Adventures of Stuttgart Nazi and a desire for racial purity. Carl pledged that one day they too would fly to the fabled Plateau of Leng and found a nation of racially pure Aryans. However, Eva soon died after a night of autoerotic asphyxiation, leaving Carl old and alone.

Flash forward 70 years. Carl is still alone and racist, living life one heartbeat away from death. Ironically, only his hatred of life kept him alive.

One day Carl was informed by his local council that his house was going to be torn down to build a vitally important shopping mall and that his bedroom was slated to become a Pottery Barn.

“Fuck that,” Carl said. “I’m going up.”

So Carl did the only logical thing.

Did he:
A- get a lawyer and fight the city?
B- move to Florida?
C- die of a heart attack?
or
D- fill a gazillion helium balloons and float away?

The answer is C, he died.

No, he didn’t die. He launched his house into the air in an attempt to reach the Plateau of Leng and fulfill the promise to his dead wife, the same promise he had totally ignored for seventy years. At any time he could have bought a plane ticket to South America, but I told you he was stupid.

Along for the ride is Mungo Jerry, a Junior Platypus Ranger. Mungo has every badge the troop has to offer. He earned the Camping badge, the Squeezing Lemons badge, the Bathing the Elderly badge, and only needs the Befriending the Near-Dead badge, which he hopes to earn with Carl Flopsweat.

The ride was anything but smooth. First, Carl had badly over-estimated the power of the balloons and he shot up to the stratosphere. He barley managed to cut away some of the balloons and come back to a manageable altitude before he blacked out. Secondly, NORAD picked him up on radar and shot an ICBM at him. Only some fancy flying kept the house from being blown to smithereens. Lastly, he left the plumbing unconnected and anytime he or Mungo flushed the toilet, the refuse shot straight down and out the house, hurtling to Earth at speeds usually not reached by feces.

Little by little Mungo Jerry got on Carl’s nerves. “Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” “Where are we going?” “Why do you have so many balloons?” “Who is ‘Adolph’ and why do you have his autograph?” The only thing that kept Carl from firing Mungo out of a window was the question of who would give Carl his sponge bath.

Eventually, what goes up must come down, and come down they did, somewhere near, but not quite on, the Plateau of Leng. The plan was to tether the house to Mungo (he was a bit rotund) and walk it over to the plateau and set it down. However, before they had traveled a yard, they were set upon by the savage Hounds of Tindalos, minions of the mad god Ithaqua, the Wind Walker. Carl, fortunately, was well-versed in ritualistic combat and displayed the five-pointed star of C’thulu, from which the hounds turned and ran.

“Gee,” said Mungo.
“Shut up and pull the house, monkey,” said Carl.

Unbeknownst to either of them, a shoggoth, which is the spawn of the Elder Gods, had settled on the roof of the house.

Also unbeknownst to Carl or Mungo, but very much beknownst to anyone who still followed this predictable film, Stuttgart Nazi was also on the lost Plateau of Leng, and he very much wanted to capture a shoggoth for his own arcane rituals. (This despite Stuttgart being well over 100 at this point.)

As you may well imagine, it isn’t too hard to track a floating house, and Stuttgart Nazi tracked Carl and Mungo and invited him to his Floating Lair of Doom. Of course, he didn’t call it that, he called it Ernestine, but with all the evil Hounds lurking about and the stench of blood in the air, well, Carl should have known better.

Stuttgart took Carl on a tour of his Museum of the Arcane and Eldritch while Mungo ate some candy.Stuttgart showed Carl his human ear collection, the Hall of German Experimentation, and his own private and very personal collection of German shizer porn. Carl was impressed.

Well, one thing led to another, and the film soon degenerated into your standard “who can get the shoggoth first and use him to summon The Lurker on the Threshold?” You’ve seen it a thousand times.

In the end, Carl killed Stuttgart Nazi, proving that even an old man can still kick ass. He captured the shoggoth and sacrificed Mungo in a ritual to bring forth a creature of the Dark dimension, but accidentally turned himself into a banana.

Disney/Pixar’s Up was a hit at the local senior center, where I viewed it with some of the inmates, er, residents. Those who remained awake by the end were both envious and appalled by the characters, with many curious about the shizer porn. Others had just had their meds and were made happy by the pretty colors on the screen.

Pixar is hard at work on Sideways, the stirring story of a man, his pet rat, and a crazy plan to burrow to Mars. It is due out next summer.

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McKee’s Graduation

19 Nov

from June 29, 2009

I went to the McKee graduation last week. Why did I go? I had NOTHING ELSE TO DO. Nothing! Not at all! I don’t want to take anything away from anyone who worked hard last week on their jobs. I’m sure many people were exhausted and worn out from work. Not me. All last week I did the same thing everyday. Show up at work, check my email, watch a DVD, check my email, watch a DVD, surf the net, check my email, and once I fell asleep at my desk. So Friday came around and, faced with the prospect of spending countless (OK, five) interminable hours of extreme boredom, I instead walked down the block to the “historic St. George theater” in the hopes that the graduation ceremony would keep my attention long enough to distract me from the fact that it was close to 90 degrees and humid outside.

The theater is literally down the block and across the street. It is so close that when they had a disco night the light reflecting off the disco ball blinded me in the teacher’s cafeteria. I got there and the entrance was blocked by throngs of family members trying to get in so they could be seated, maybe as many as 30 people. (Is 30 a throng? It certainly isn’t a horde. And no matter how you slice it, it didn’t really block the entrance but it sounds better this way.) I stood in the lobby and looked around for any teachers I knew. There weren’t but I followed a couple I recognized to the door where they walked right in. I was stopped by a student I never saw before and asked if I were on staff. I said yes and walked in. Why all the people wandering around outside in the heat didn’t say the same thing is beyond me. I must be clever.

The theater is very attractive. It was built in the time when theaters were more than just 12 cramped rooms they charge $12 to get into. It was covered in gold statues, paintings, chandeliers, etc. It seemed like at any second Al Jolsen would jump out from an alcove and sing “Mammy” at you.

I left the lobby and stood in the theater itself, a really nice place to see a show if you want to pretend to be in Radio City. It was designed by the same guy and even had an old –style pipe organ off to the left of the stage. I stood around and wondered where I could sit and not be noticed. I was going to settle into a chair in the back when my arm was grabbed by Ms. Zambrano. She is also new to McKee and is my next door neighbor. She is also loud and outgoing and, on this day, high on antibiotics. She grabbed my arm and said “let’s sit in the front.”

I ended up sitting front row center, right behind the graduates. It was about 20 minutes before the ceremony was to start that we noticed that the master of ceremonies, my AP, was standing behind the podium, hunched over, like he was the only thing keeping the wooden platform from launching into space. Ms. Z is not quiet on the best of days, and this was not the best of days. “OH MY GOD, LOOK AT JOE!” she screamed in my ear. So I looked, and the rest of the row looked, and a good portion of the theater looked. He really looked like he was concentrating very, very hard. “Must keep podium on the ground,” he seemed to be thinking. “Must keep podium on the ground.”

Ms. Z was laughing pretty hysterically and I looked around at the rest of the theater, so as to reassure them that I was not with her. Coming up on my left was a nurse escorting a blind woman to the seat next to me. She was about 75 years old, leaning heavily on her cane. She had hair the color of some kind of bright alien plant and an outfit that must have been the hit of 1963. She could barely see and she was tapping her cane against the railing. That was the nurse.

Yes, the nurse.

The blind woman was younger than I was. She walked straight and steadily despite the nurse leaning on her and dragging her to the left. The nurse brought her to the seat, and yelled, loudly and slowly, “Here is your seat. It is under your ass. Sit down.” The blind woman sat and the nurse yelled “I’ll pick you up later!” and hobbled back out of the theater.

On my left, Ms. Z had struck up a conversation with the rest of the theater, making fun of our AP, who was still holding down the podium and looking very determined. On my right, the blind woman gripped my arm and, with a voice that had smoked way too many cigarettes, asked, “who are you?” I told her and she said “I’m going to hold your arm, OK?” I told her I may have to get up soon.

The ceremony began,

My boss began the graduation with all the earnestness of a boy scout turned game show host. “On behalf of McKee High School, it is my PLEASURE to wish you a HEARTY welcome and salutation to this, our 2009 graduation exercises. It will be my honor, my pleasure, and my HUMBLE DUTY to be, your, master of ceremonies. It is now my EXTREME, and very” yadda yadda yadda you get the idea. On stage, it was all the Principal could do to keep from laughing. On my left, Ms. Z was laughing. On my right, the blind woman gripped me tighter and asked if “the guy on stage is on a soap opera?”

It went on like that. At various times the AP would introduce other people who would come up and say whatever they had to say, but he never, not once, left the podium. Only when the guest speaker took the stage did he vacate it for a second. The guest speaker was Dominick Carter, NY1 reporter and his volume only starts at eleven. At one point he wanted the teachers to stand up so the graduates could thank them. Bear in mind that this was only my first year and I taught exclusively freshmen and sophomores. I knew one or two of the graduates on sight, that was it. So when Carter asked the teachers to stand I stayed seated. Ms. Z had shot up like a bolt of electricity had gone through her chair. On stage I could see my AP looking in my direction. Ms. Z tugged my arm and I stood. I looked around and guess what? Every other teacher was sitting! I looked at Ms. Z, who had a big, goofy, high on prescription drugs look on her face. I looked at the blind woman next to me. She had let go of her death grip when I stood up and briefly thought about taking my chance to change seats. Dominick Carter started a round of applause. Ms. Z waved her arms and applauded back. I wanted to disappear.

The ceremony dragged on and I had to endure Ms. Z on my left laughing in my ear about my boss, and the blind woman on the right keeping up a steady stream of small talk. “Am I facing the stage? Did you teach my son? (I did, her younger son.) Is my dress straight?”, and my favorite, “I can’t see, can you?”

Eventually it ended and I managed to both hand off the blind woman to her wizened nurse and ditch Ms. Z.

In the cheesy moment of the day, Dominick Carter had set up a table in the back of the theater. He was shaking hands, signing autographs, posing for pictures and, yes, selling his book.

I bought one.

According to his autograph, I am doing a super job and should keep up the awesome work. I was touched. He knows me so well.

All in all, had I all to do over again, I would have sat in the back.

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