Saturday, June 29, 2019
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Sunday, July 24, 2016
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Jim Steps Out WIP
Jim Pevensey was by no means a man who stood out in the crowd. He did his best to remain mostly unnoticed in most social situations. At the local grocer he maintained his routine of going at times he knew fewer people would be out and about so as to get his shopping done privately, and whenever possible he took back roads and little forgotten routes to face as little traffic as possible.
He was a quiet man, liking a simple life and seeking simple pleasures such as sitting on his back porch and reading quietly, or going for walks by quiet brooks in the park. He often sought escape from the stresses of the noisy world in comedy series on his small television as well, finding solace from distressing memories of his younger years in the nonsensical exploits of animated rabbits, and angry ducks.
Although Jim led a quiet life of a predictable routine, of late he'd begun to tire of it and long for more than this dull repetition. Deep down Jim was a dreamer and always hoped there'd be more to his life than a boring routine of an excited youth who had slowly eased into a bland adulthood like a well worn, brown easy chair in your grandmother's sitting room.
Jim was sure, first of all, that he would have had a spectacularly beautiful and exciting companion by now, and yet he lived alone in a small flat that never looked like it sat straight up and down. Jim liked to compare this to the leaning tower of Pisa, but in truth, it really wasn't worth noting, and it mostly just played on people's sanity.
Jim longed to be traveling the world and translating his adventures into fairy tales in his own novel. Instead, Jim worked for a dilapidated university in the internet technology office. The building that Jim's IT office was in was a large, drab brick that some giant had carved offices and classrooms inside of. The structure sat in the middle of a concrete lot so as to remove it as far from nature and greenery as possible.
Deep in the inner recesses of this box, far from the world's light and life was Jim's IT office. And deep in the center of that, in a dimly lit, stuffy closet was Jim's daily station. In ways he liked the isolation so he didn't have to endure the raised voices of people disagreeing with one another about politics. But it also left Jim feeling like a ghost, separated from the land of the living and the world of neon wildlife.
WIP
He was a quiet man, liking a simple life and seeking simple pleasures such as sitting on his back porch and reading quietly, or going for walks by quiet brooks in the park. He often sought escape from the stresses of the noisy world in comedy series on his small television as well, finding solace from distressing memories of his younger years in the nonsensical exploits of animated rabbits, and angry ducks.
Although Jim led a quiet life of a predictable routine, of late he'd begun to tire of it and long for more than this dull repetition. Deep down Jim was a dreamer and always hoped there'd be more to his life than a boring routine of an excited youth who had slowly eased into a bland adulthood like a well worn, brown easy chair in your grandmother's sitting room.
Jim was sure, first of all, that he would have had a spectacularly beautiful and exciting companion by now, and yet he lived alone in a small flat that never looked like it sat straight up and down. Jim liked to compare this to the leaning tower of Pisa, but in truth, it really wasn't worth noting, and it mostly just played on people's sanity.
Jim longed to be traveling the world and translating his adventures into fairy tales in his own novel. Instead, Jim worked for a dilapidated university in the internet technology office. The building that Jim's IT office was in was a large, drab brick that some giant had carved offices and classrooms inside of. The structure sat in the middle of a concrete lot so as to remove it as far from nature and greenery as possible.
Deep in the inner recesses of this box, far from the world's light and life was Jim's IT office. And deep in the center of that, in a dimly lit, stuffy closet was Jim's daily station. In ways he liked the isolation so he didn't have to endure the raised voices of people disagreeing with one another about politics. But it also left Jim feeling like a ghost, separated from the land of the living and the world of neon wildlife.
WIP
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Bears
#2
An Interesting Fact About It:
There are only eight species of bears, but they have a wide range. Bears are found in Asia, Europe, and North and South America.
My Favorite Examples In Animation:
Baloo is certainly one of the greatest fictitious bears out there. He first appeared in the Disney animated film, The Jungle Book, in 1967, and made a comeback in TaleSpin in 1990. His good natured, best friend, teacher, mentor attitude makes him the kind of companion I’d love to have.
The original voice actor of Baloo in The Jungle Book, was Phil Harris. Mr. Harris’s jolly, booming voice led him to several live action and voice acting jobs, but in my mind his best work is in animated films. He was O’Malley the alley cat in The AristoCats, Little John in Disney’s Robin Hood (another bear), and his last role ever was the narrator in Don Bluth’s Rock-A-Doodle. This boisterous, best bud sounds like the voice of my childhood.
Other notable animated bears include Glen Keane’s masterfully animated bear in The Fox and the Hound, Winnie the Pooh (my favorite), and Brother Bear, notable for how terrible the story was. Brother Bear is one of my least favorite disney films, and a poor film in general, but the moose brother commentary bonus feature on the DVD is hilarious.
Personal Experiences:
It was a late night in 2007 or 2008. A gray, sleepy house sat on the side of a hill, shrouded by a large tree, in the midst of a drowsy wood. All was quiet but for the sounds of a television playing cartoons in the large, burnt orange carpeted living room. Amongst the couches set up like logs ‘round a campfire, a boy of about 19 lay in repose, beginning to feel sleepy.
Four younger children were already long asleep in their beds on the second floor. The second boy in his large green carpeted room, the third and fourth boys in their blue carpeted, small, bunk bed room. And finally, the youngest, and only sister slept in her little room at the end of the hall which was clustered with pink things. The father had not yet come home from his concert playing oboe with a large orchestra.
The eldest, Christopher, had begun to drift off in the living room among the couches, watching cartoons. He was considering relocating to his small, corner room filled to the brim with clothes and piles of books and junk, when he heard something.
At first he thought he was imagining it. There were strange noises in the woods at night all the time. Inexplicable crunching in the woods, various animal calls. Perhaps it was just a rabbit or a raccoon. Perhaps it was just the wind blowing the trees, and felling a branch in the back yard.
Christopher sat bolt up right, wide awake as distinctive noises sounded from his back door. Inexplicable sounds, yes, but never this close. His eyes began to dart back and forth to various windows surrounding him, looking for any clue as to what these sounds might be. Thinking it might be a robber for the first time in his life at his isolated house, he searched for lights and signs of human activity.
Finding none, he was forced yet again to acknowledge the forceful sounds at the back door. Heart pounding, his sock covered feet padded softly into the kitchen at the back of the house. Gray heel rolled to white foot rolled to gray toe, painstakingly, softly groping the unlit tiled floor, as the door loomed ever closer.
He was at the door. Tension built in his chest; he held his breath; he reached out his arm; he put his finger to the light switch; and then….
In an instant the void of blackness beyond the dim door frame was pulled back, revealing three, large black forms. Three large heads ponderously turned towards the light which had disturbed them. Three toothy snouts, with large black noses, thrust towards Christopher, pointing at him accusingly.
Christopher jumped back in shock and well placed fear. Three large, dumbfounded black bears looked confusedly towards him, shocked from their blissful pillaging. Below them the wreckage of two garbage cans and their contents was strewn about, parts of the mess still in the large, spiky claws of the three bears.
For a moment nobody moved. Neither man nor beast was certain of what should happen next. The three bears were considering if this was a threat and if it was worth leaving food for. The boy was wondering whether he should walk away slowly, grateful to be alive, or stand and fight, defending his right to his rubbish.
Finally, the bears turned back to their sorting. This was no real threat. The light was blinding, and they couldn’t really see much, so they might as well go back to feasting. Christopher stood there in disbelief. Close enough to touch, but for the window on the door between them, these bears continued their ravaging unabashed. He nearly laughed in spite of the situation. How absurd this all seemed! He could pet these beasts if he felt so unwise.
Trying to figure out what to do or how to scare them off, he looked around. There seemed to be nothing for it. He began to open the inner door. As he pulled in, the suction of air from the inner door, made a familiar pounding sound on the outer, glass door, and then the three bears were off. Without looking back, they bolted. Ears told the beasts what their poor vision could not: the threat was real and imminent. Fortunately for the boy, their ears couldn’t tell them what kind of odds they were facing.
The boy opened the glass door and breathed a sigh of relief. Looking at the ground and the mess, he couldn’t believe what had just happened. He giggled stupidly to himself, feeling giddy at the rush of what had just happened. He turned around, looking in every direction, trying to make sure this was real, and searching for someone to tell this to. There was no one of course, so he wobbled back to the living room, sitting down on the edge of the couch, pressing play on the cartoon without knowing what he was doing.
After a few minutes had gone by, he began to sag back down on the couch, his eyelids beginning to droop again. The magic began to fade.
But then again…
Another noise sounded from the back door. Christopher leaped up. Half running back into the kitchen, Christopher turned on the back light at the door again. Three large heads rolled towards him yet again, but this time quickly went back to what they were doing. Now Christopher was jumping up and down excitedly. His heart was racing even faster than before, but rather than reaching for the door, he went back into the dark hallway and into his room.
Tripping and jumping over piles of stuff, Christopher stood on tiptoe and reached to the upper shelf in his closet. He felt the cool metal against his fingertips, and pulled down a long black thing. Hopping over to a dresser he opened the top drawer and pulled out a plastic container and a black, metal, heavy can.
Moments later Christopher was in his kitchen holding his fully assembled Tipman 98 Custom with the flat line barrel, hopper and CO2 tank attached. Complete with orange paintballs that splattered pink paint, he was now fully equipped with his trusted paintball gun. Turning towards a different door, Christopher walked into the bathroom just next to the kitchen. In the dark he crept towards the window which looked out over the garbage pails. Shakily he pulled back the blinds millimeters at a time. He undid the lock; he pulled up on the window. He could see the bears through the window, right there in front of him.
He was practically bursting with excitement, and this time with more confidence. An entire wall stood between him and the bears now, not just a flimsy, glass outer door. This was so perfect: he couldn’t fail. Inch by inch, droplets of sweat forming on his brow, the window was opening. A little more, just a little more. The bears were greedily raking at piles of garbage. The wrinkles on Christopher’s forehead grew deeper, his upper arms began to ache, his shoulders trembled.
SCRRRAAAAPPPEEE.
He couldn’t keep the old window from crying out as he pulled it upward. The bears were already lumbering into darkness and the obscurity of the woods.
Christopher flung the window the rest of the way open, lined up barrel to opening, and stock to shoulder, and began firing. 5, 10, 15 shots into the black woods. But it was already too late. The bears were long gone before he could get a single shot off. In disappointment he continued firing, but to make sure to scare them off he fired a few well placed blots at the slide of his old swing set. The tin looking slide made a magnificent din as ball after paintball hit home.
The bears didn’t come back, and Christopher didn’t worry they would. He couldn’t sleep. Half an hour later a car hummed down the long stretch of driveway, and excitedly the boy ran out to greet his father in the night, jumping up and down and showing off his paintball gun as he recounted the story to his father.
An Interesting Fact About It:
There are only eight species of bears, but they have a wide range. Bears are found in Asia, Europe, and North and South America.
My Favorite Examples In Animation:
Baloo is certainly one of the greatest fictitious bears out there. He first appeared in the Disney animated film, The Jungle Book, in 1967, and made a comeback in TaleSpin in 1990. His good natured, best friend, teacher, mentor attitude makes him the kind of companion I’d love to have.
The original voice actor of Baloo in The Jungle Book, was Phil Harris. Mr. Harris’s jolly, booming voice led him to several live action and voice acting jobs, but in my mind his best work is in animated films. He was O’Malley the alley cat in The AristoCats, Little John in Disney’s Robin Hood (another bear), and his last role ever was the narrator in Don Bluth’s Rock-A-Doodle. This boisterous, best bud sounds like the voice of my childhood.
Other notable animated bears include Glen Keane’s masterfully animated bear in The Fox and the Hound, Winnie the Pooh (my favorite), and Brother Bear, notable for how terrible the story was. Brother Bear is one of my least favorite disney films, and a poor film in general, but the moose brother commentary bonus feature on the DVD is hilarious.
Personal Experiences:
It was a late night in 2007 or 2008. A gray, sleepy house sat on the side of a hill, shrouded by a large tree, in the midst of a drowsy wood. All was quiet but for the sounds of a television playing cartoons in the large, burnt orange carpeted living room. Amongst the couches set up like logs ‘round a campfire, a boy of about 19 lay in repose, beginning to feel sleepy.
Four younger children were already long asleep in their beds on the second floor. The second boy in his large green carpeted room, the third and fourth boys in their blue carpeted, small, bunk bed room. And finally, the youngest, and only sister slept in her little room at the end of the hall which was clustered with pink things. The father had not yet come home from his concert playing oboe with a large orchestra.
The eldest, Christopher, had begun to drift off in the living room among the couches, watching cartoons. He was considering relocating to his small, corner room filled to the brim with clothes and piles of books and junk, when he heard something.
At first he thought he was imagining it. There were strange noises in the woods at night all the time. Inexplicable crunching in the woods, various animal calls. Perhaps it was just a rabbit or a raccoon. Perhaps it was just the wind blowing the trees, and felling a branch in the back yard.
Christopher sat bolt up right, wide awake as distinctive noises sounded from his back door. Inexplicable sounds, yes, but never this close. His eyes began to dart back and forth to various windows surrounding him, looking for any clue as to what these sounds might be. Thinking it might be a robber for the first time in his life at his isolated house, he searched for lights and signs of human activity.
Finding none, he was forced yet again to acknowledge the forceful sounds at the back door. Heart pounding, his sock covered feet padded softly into the kitchen at the back of the house. Gray heel rolled to white foot rolled to gray toe, painstakingly, softly groping the unlit tiled floor, as the door loomed ever closer.
He was at the door. Tension built in his chest; he held his breath; he reached out his arm; he put his finger to the light switch; and then….
In an instant the void of blackness beyond the dim door frame was pulled back, revealing three, large black forms. Three large heads ponderously turned towards the light which had disturbed them. Three toothy snouts, with large black noses, thrust towards Christopher, pointing at him accusingly.
Christopher jumped back in shock and well placed fear. Three large, dumbfounded black bears looked confusedly towards him, shocked from their blissful pillaging. Below them the wreckage of two garbage cans and their contents was strewn about, parts of the mess still in the large, spiky claws of the three bears.
For a moment nobody moved. Neither man nor beast was certain of what should happen next. The three bears were considering if this was a threat and if it was worth leaving food for. The boy was wondering whether he should walk away slowly, grateful to be alive, or stand and fight, defending his right to his rubbish.
Finally, the bears turned back to their sorting. This was no real threat. The light was blinding, and they couldn’t really see much, so they might as well go back to feasting. Christopher stood there in disbelief. Close enough to touch, but for the window on the door between them, these bears continued their ravaging unabashed. He nearly laughed in spite of the situation. How absurd this all seemed! He could pet these beasts if he felt so unwise.
Trying to figure out what to do or how to scare them off, he looked around. There seemed to be nothing for it. He began to open the inner door. As he pulled in, the suction of air from the inner door, made a familiar pounding sound on the outer, glass door, and then the three bears were off. Without looking back, they bolted. Ears told the beasts what their poor vision could not: the threat was real and imminent. Fortunately for the boy, their ears couldn’t tell them what kind of odds they were facing.
The boy opened the glass door and breathed a sigh of relief. Looking at the ground and the mess, he couldn’t believe what had just happened. He giggled stupidly to himself, feeling giddy at the rush of what had just happened. He turned around, looking in every direction, trying to make sure this was real, and searching for someone to tell this to. There was no one of course, so he wobbled back to the living room, sitting down on the edge of the couch, pressing play on the cartoon without knowing what he was doing.
After a few minutes had gone by, he began to sag back down on the couch, his eyelids beginning to droop again. The magic began to fade.
But then again…
Another noise sounded from the back door. Christopher leaped up. Half running back into the kitchen, Christopher turned on the back light at the door again. Three large heads rolled towards him yet again, but this time quickly went back to what they were doing. Now Christopher was jumping up and down excitedly. His heart was racing even faster than before, but rather than reaching for the door, he went back into the dark hallway and into his room.
Tripping and jumping over piles of stuff, Christopher stood on tiptoe and reached to the upper shelf in his closet. He felt the cool metal against his fingertips, and pulled down a long black thing. Hopping over to a dresser he opened the top drawer and pulled out a plastic container and a black, metal, heavy can.
Moments later Christopher was in his kitchen holding his fully assembled Tipman 98 Custom with the flat line barrel, hopper and CO2 tank attached. Complete with orange paintballs that splattered pink paint, he was now fully equipped with his trusted paintball gun. Turning towards a different door, Christopher walked into the bathroom just next to the kitchen. In the dark he crept towards the window which looked out over the garbage pails. Shakily he pulled back the blinds millimeters at a time. He undid the lock; he pulled up on the window. He could see the bears through the window, right there in front of him.
He was practically bursting with excitement, and this time with more confidence. An entire wall stood between him and the bears now, not just a flimsy, glass outer door. This was so perfect: he couldn’t fail. Inch by inch, droplets of sweat forming on his brow, the window was opening. A little more, just a little more. The bears were greedily raking at piles of garbage. The wrinkles on Christopher’s forehead grew deeper, his upper arms began to ache, his shoulders trembled.
SCRRRAAAAPPPEEE.
He couldn’t keep the old window from crying out as he pulled it upward. The bears were already lumbering into darkness and the obscurity of the woods.
Christopher flung the window the rest of the way open, lined up barrel to opening, and stock to shoulder, and began firing. 5, 10, 15 shots into the black woods. But it was already too late. The bears were long gone before he could get a single shot off. In disappointment he continued firing, but to make sure to scare them off he fired a few well placed blots at the slide of his old swing set. The tin looking slide made a magnificent din as ball after paintball hit home.
The bears didn’t come back, and Christopher didn’t worry they would. He couldn’t sleep. Half an hour later a car hummed down the long stretch of driveway, and excitedly the boy ran out to greet his father in the night, jumping up and down and showing off his paintball gun as he recounted the story to his father.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
The Ant
#1
What I know about it:
The ant is an insect which is known for congregating in a sort of hive, or colony. Ants form hills or create nests in a variety of places, and work together as a community to mine resources, defend themselves, and reproduce.
Examples in Animation:
There have been three animated movies made about ants that come to my mind off the top of my head, DreamWorks Animation's Antz, Pixar's A Bug's Life, and The Ant Bully by Warner Bros. Some have Criticized Antz for being a flagrant ripoff of Pixar's A Bug's Life. Antz came out a month before Pixar's A Bug's Life. A Bug's Life was Pixar's second animated feature.
The Ant Bully came out years later in 2006. The film cost considerably less than either of the films that preceded it by about a decade, and flopped with flying colors.
A Bug's Life was the most successful of the three films, just about doubling it's $120M budget, but that's still not the great success studios hope for these days.
Ants must have also been the inspiration for the Zerg in StarCraft, the video game. The Zerg are a race of creatures that form a hive colony and who operate completely in concert. All structures they build are biological, and they grow and evolve by mining resources. They work together for what is called "The Overmind," and seemingly have no personal will.
What I've learned About it:
Ants are found in every part of the world except for Antarctica and some remote islands devoid of life. Ants form societies and communities, and through this create a division of labor, communicate between individuals, and are capable of solving complex problems. The makeup of their society is therefore compared to humans fairly often.
Personal Experience:
When I was growing up my siblings and I, specifically my younger brother and I, loved to explore the woods in our back yard. We loved to climb trees and make forts, wandering along paths and looking for a good walking stick/sword on our journeys.
There was a particular tree in our side yard that was a pine tree. A small, scraggly thing, probably a virginiana pine, with thin branches and long, soft needles. It was really easy to climb with branches low to the ground and at regular intervals, so my brother Daniel and I used to climb it and call it our lookout or fort. It had sap running down its narrow trunk, and there were often ants running up and down the bark, getting stuck in the sap.
When I was seven or eight, and Daniel five or six, for some reason it occurred to me that it would be a good idea to try to "survive" by eating ants as a gathered food in the wild, as we ventured in the forest, looking for shelter, exploring the unknown wilds, and bolstering ourselves against enemies. Daniel may deny it, but I think he tried one too; I remember eating several. They were tiny, the really little kind of ants. The little ants never bothered me, especially compared to those large, extremely fast ants, that always seemed to cling to your arms and tickle and terrify you as they looked for food. With these little ones, I would pick one up, crush it with my fingers (because I never wanted something alive in my mouth), and then eat it. Probably not the safest plan, but I lived.
There was another time in the woods in our back yard when we found an old, rusty bucket, half submerged in the dirt. The bottom was nearly gone, and the whole thing was red and rotten with rust. I think Daniel sat on it, or picked it up, and was quickly overwhelmed by thousands of ants filling his clothes. He literally had ants in his pants. I vaguely remember him running screaming out of the woods and Mom helping him get the ants off of him. He was probably four or five.
What I know about it:
The ant is an insect which is known for congregating in a sort of hive, or colony. Ants form hills or create nests in a variety of places, and work together as a community to mine resources, defend themselves, and reproduce.
Examples in Animation:
There have been three animated movies made about ants that come to my mind off the top of my head, DreamWorks Animation's Antz, Pixar's A Bug's Life, and The Ant Bully by Warner Bros. Some have Criticized Antz for being a flagrant ripoff of Pixar's A Bug's Life. Antz came out a month before Pixar's A Bug's Life. A Bug's Life was Pixar's second animated feature.
The Ant Bully came out years later in 2006. The film cost considerably less than either of the films that preceded it by about a decade, and flopped with flying colors.
A Bug's Life was the most successful of the three films, just about doubling it's $120M budget, but that's still not the great success studios hope for these days.
Ants must have also been the inspiration for the Zerg in StarCraft, the video game. The Zerg are a race of creatures that form a hive colony and who operate completely in concert. All structures they build are biological, and they grow and evolve by mining resources. They work together for what is called "The Overmind," and seemingly have no personal will.
What I've learned About it:
Ants are found in every part of the world except for Antarctica and some remote islands devoid of life. Ants form societies and communities, and through this create a division of labor, communicate between individuals, and are capable of solving complex problems. The makeup of their society is therefore compared to humans fairly often.
Personal Experience:
When I was growing up my siblings and I, specifically my younger brother and I, loved to explore the woods in our back yard. We loved to climb trees and make forts, wandering along paths and looking for a good walking stick/sword on our journeys.
There was a particular tree in our side yard that was a pine tree. A small, scraggly thing, probably a virginiana pine, with thin branches and long, soft needles. It was really easy to climb with branches low to the ground and at regular intervals, so my brother Daniel and I used to climb it and call it our lookout or fort. It had sap running down its narrow trunk, and there were often ants running up and down the bark, getting stuck in the sap.
When I was seven or eight, and Daniel five or six, for some reason it occurred to me that it would be a good idea to try to "survive" by eating ants as a gathered food in the wild, as we ventured in the forest, looking for shelter, exploring the unknown wilds, and bolstering ourselves against enemies. Daniel may deny it, but I think he tried one too; I remember eating several. They were tiny, the really little kind of ants. The little ants never bothered me, especially compared to those large, extremely fast ants, that always seemed to cling to your arms and tickle and terrify you as they looked for food. With these little ones, I would pick one up, crush it with my fingers (because I never wanted something alive in my mouth), and then eat it. Probably not the safest plan, but I lived.
There was another time in the woods in our back yard when we found an old, rusty bucket, half submerged in the dirt. The bottom was nearly gone, and the whole thing was red and rotten with rust. I think Daniel sat on it, or picked it up, and was quickly overwhelmed by thousands of ants filling his clothes. He literally had ants in his pants. I vaguely remember him running screaming out of the woods and Mom helping him get the ants off of him. He was probably four or five.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Negative Truth
(Some SPOILERS for Captain America: The Winter Soldier in the fifth paragraph).
I've realized that sometimes I won't just keep quiet about my qualms about things, not because I want to be negative and don't want to be positive, but because I feel I am being dishonest if I don't explain why I didn't love something: a film, situation, or event.
After seeing Captain America: The Winter Soldier the other day, I wasn't nearly as positive about the film as everyone else seemed to be. People were raving about the movie, saying it's the best super hero film so far. I was underwhelmed. I liked it, I thought it was good, but I didn't leave the theater feeling overly satisfied or impacted.
I kept racking my brain: what didn't I like about it? What didn't work for me? Does this matter? Should I say anything because I didn't like it as much as others, or should I keep quiet unless I affirm that it was well done? So far I have kept mostly silent, now and then telling people I thought it was really good. I did! There were some excellent sequences, lots of great acting, and a solid story overall. And I don't need to be negative. There wasn't anything I disliked about the film. Should I even say anything about my dissatisfaction about the film?
Thinking about it for a while, just telling people I thought it was good didn't entirely feel right to me. I felt I was being dishonest by not telling people my true perception of the film. But even to fully express my reaction, the feeling is still perplexing. Though there isn't anything in particular I didn't like, for whatever reason, the film didn't hit the mark for me overall. Maybe I didn't know enough of the back story or the history of the comics, but some of the twists were not what I was expecting. I wasn't shocked by the twists, but I didn't really know how to feel about the twists at all. It was like I was numb while things happened in the film. Events took place, and I barely reacted. In the aftermath, I didn't know how to feel.
(SPOILERS in this paragraph):
Parts that I did like were some of the biggest action sequences. The action in this film is very well directed. The camera tells the story, rather than cutting away from it for the mind to fill in the blank. My favorite sequence in the film is when Cap escapes SHIELD and takes down a jet in the process. Very exciting, very classic Cap, and very well executed. It was one of those moments where the whole audience jumps up after an amazing touch down--where you feel the excitement in your chest. I also really liked Captain America's character. They really get him and his inner struggle in this movie. He's just who I want him to be.
But maybe this is where it doesn't quite work for me. Even though we know who Captain America is and he's who we want him to be, who we know him to be, it doesn't feel very personal. It's like there are too many things going on in this movie, and we don't get a good chance to really get close and personal with the characters. Lots of events happen, lots of plot and exposition happen, and lots of action happens. Now and then we get a few lines from a character about how they feel, but it's so short, it's like a fly over of scenery. You get a glance of the richness below you, but before you get a chance to understand it fully, it's gone.
I'm not saying I want a heart throb drama, but my favorite stories have characters who I almost consider friends because I grew to know and appreciate them so well. In Captain America: The Winter Soldier, there's not enough time to get a deeper sense of who these people are. There is character development, and we know these characters better than we did before the film. But I can't help feeling like we're only scratching the surface of who these people are, and that makes me feel unsatisfied. I just needed to say that.
I've realized that sometimes I won't just keep quiet about my qualms about things, not because I want to be negative and don't want to be positive, but because I feel I am being dishonest if I don't explain why I didn't love something: a film, situation, or event.
After seeing Captain America: The Winter Soldier the other day, I wasn't nearly as positive about the film as everyone else seemed to be. People were raving about the movie, saying it's the best super hero film so far. I was underwhelmed. I liked it, I thought it was good, but I didn't leave the theater feeling overly satisfied or impacted.
I kept racking my brain: what didn't I like about it? What didn't work for me? Does this matter? Should I say anything because I didn't like it as much as others, or should I keep quiet unless I affirm that it was well done? So far I have kept mostly silent, now and then telling people I thought it was really good. I did! There were some excellent sequences, lots of great acting, and a solid story overall. And I don't need to be negative. There wasn't anything I disliked about the film. Should I even say anything about my dissatisfaction about the film?
Thinking about it for a while, just telling people I thought it was good didn't entirely feel right to me. I felt I was being dishonest by not telling people my true perception of the film. But even to fully express my reaction, the feeling is still perplexing. Though there isn't anything in particular I didn't like, for whatever reason, the film didn't hit the mark for me overall. Maybe I didn't know enough of the back story or the history of the comics, but some of the twists were not what I was expecting. I wasn't shocked by the twists, but I didn't really know how to feel about the twists at all. It was like I was numb while things happened in the film. Events took place, and I barely reacted. In the aftermath, I didn't know how to feel.
(SPOILERS in this paragraph):
Parts that I did like were some of the biggest action sequences. The action in this film is very well directed. The camera tells the story, rather than cutting away from it for the mind to fill in the blank. My favorite sequence in the film is when Cap escapes SHIELD and takes down a jet in the process. Very exciting, very classic Cap, and very well executed. It was one of those moments where the whole audience jumps up after an amazing touch down--where you feel the excitement in your chest. I also really liked Captain America's character. They really get him and his inner struggle in this movie. He's just who I want him to be.
But maybe this is where it doesn't quite work for me. Even though we know who Captain America is and he's who we want him to be, who we know him to be, it doesn't feel very personal. It's like there are too many things going on in this movie, and we don't get a good chance to really get close and personal with the characters. Lots of events happen, lots of plot and exposition happen, and lots of action happens. Now and then we get a few lines from a character about how they feel, but it's so short, it's like a fly over of scenery. You get a glance of the richness below you, but before you get a chance to understand it fully, it's gone.
I'm not saying I want a heart throb drama, but my favorite stories have characters who I almost consider friends because I grew to know and appreciate them so well. In Captain America: The Winter Soldier, there's not enough time to get a deeper sense of who these people are. There is character development, and we know these characters better than we did before the film. But I can't help feeling like we're only scratching the surface of who these people are, and that makes me feel unsatisfied. I just needed to say that.
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