2018: The Rundown

2018: The Rundown

I’ve been using precious holiday time to rewatch all the episodes of Downton Abbey. It’s rather silly  for me to revisit something that I’ve seen before, with all the new material out there to watch, but right now watching Downton Abbey is the closest I can come  to a getaway, to being in a place where everyone has manners and life is a lot slower. I always come out of a Downton Abbey haze feeling like I suddenly am a bit more of a priggish, ladylike creature as if the show itself had performed a tricky bit of osmosis and I suddenly have qualities I don’t think I have at all. I like to pretend I’m soft-spoken and elegant and have a clipped British accent, even if I’m not and I don’t. Of course, this is all in my head, but it never hurts to have fun with it, even if the hubs calls Downton Abbey a “total snoozefest.”

So, in the spirit of revisiting the past, and also because I hadn’t gotten to start my usual year-ending video, I thought it would be fun to review everything that’s happened in 2018, as trivial as it may turn out to be.  I always like taking a moment to think about the past for a little bit, before the new year and  2019 comes barrelling in, so here goes nothing!

January  – in hindsight, this wasn’t the best way to start 2018, what with idiots eating Tide Pods, the rapid rise and sordid stories behind the Me Too Movement, and the funeral of my aunt, but it did get a little better in…

February – when the Winter Olympics came around, along with Black Panther and my glasses, even if we did still have people who need way more attention than the rest of us, something I believe is not going to go away, just like the inundation of choices we now live with, that I tried coming to terms with in…

March – where I began feeling particularly paralyzed by choice, although I did rise above it to see the Shape of Water. At least I like to know I have more choices food-wise than voluntary vegans do, anyway. I’ve nothing against their self-imposed dietary restrictions, but I’d be a lot more receptive if their movement wasn’t defined by so much self-righteous preaching.

And then all of a sudden, it was April – where I decided to at least make something about my forays into YouTube with the first Random Youtube K-hole. At least that was something I liked sharing about, although I really don’t share that much otherwise.

It feels like 2018 went by in a blur, and no more so than May – but at least I found a bit of time to document all my excuses (and alibis) for not writing as much,  amidst the excitement of the Avengers: Infinity War trailer being released, which was a good thing, unlike lettuce, which – in May, anyway – turned out to be very bad.

June as a halfway point had me birthing Internet Sausage Links and battling FOMO. In retrospect I feel quite grateful that this was all I was battling with. Others had heavier things to fight, a struggle not all of them won.

July was when we finally took the plunge and got a new bed-in-a-box, trusting that it would all end well (which, happily, it did). Trust seemed to be a theme, along with my trust that Marvel wouldn’t disappoint. It didn’t, not really, although, Ant-Man and the Wasp could’ve been better…

Anyway, August rolled around and I have to say it and September were my favourite months this year, what with our dear Rafa Nadal making everything better at the Rogers Cup and us finally going on our annual trip. The high school reunion was a highlight along with getting to see Hong Kong, which I never got around to writing about. I did get footage though, and you never know, I might just put that together! Still, travel is something I feel is always worth doing.  I love flying, including the challenge of  staying alive in an airbus cattle car. I even gave tips!

The rest of Canada agreed with me about flying, because October was when the North finally got the go signal to fly high without fear. November came with the promise of Chris Pine peen, forced me once again to face the prospect of middle-age, and proved idiocy in 2018 was alive and thriving, by reminding us all again that people will throw parties for the most ridiculous reasons.

And, finally, December. Not much happened, although I did decide to break up with Netflix in favour of Crave and not Jason Momoa, as many might surmise.

Finally, if you’ve made a habit of coming here to read my silly things, I want to thank you for it. I hope your year has been eventful in a good way, and I do hope 2019 will be good to all of us. Now all this remembering has really given me an appetite for putting all the year-end footage together in time for NYE, so maybe I might just do that after all!

Khal Drogo Goes to the Beach

Khal Drogo Goes to the Beach

The problem with Aquaman is that it doesn’t quite know what it wants to be. Half-hearted environmental PSA on the hazards of polluting our oceans? Showcase for all the kaiju that could be unleashed if given a higher budget? Tomb Raideresque adventure quest for a mysterious gold trident? Ridiculous over-the-top fantasy epic, à la Lord of the Rings? The answer shouldn’t be all of the above, but that’s what we’re getting, and we’re getting a LOT of it. At a runtime of over two and a half hours, Aquaman gets pretty hard to sit through, Jason Momoa’s rippling physique bedamned.

You’d think I, as the obvious target audience, would love all the swaggering braggadocio of Jason Momoa letting loose, but I didn’t. Aquaman sucked.  One of the reason’s Momoa’s turn as Khal Drogo in Game of Thrones was so effective, was that there was so little of him. He was spread out through seven episodes; here, it’s two and a half hours of nothing but machismo. That’s all very well, and I have to hand him points for being enthusiastic, but the dude seems to have embraced his Khal Drogo character a little too tightly, and is unable to let it go. It just gets… painful, after a while.

Surprisingly, no one in this movie can act, and there are quite a handful of established actors in this piece who come with cult and  Oscar cred. Nicole Kidman, Willem Dafoe and Patrick Wilson – often found in more highbrow, award-worthy work – as  Queen Atlanna, Vulko and Prince Orm, seem almost embarrassed to be in a superhero epic, and act accordingly. I expected more out of Patrick Wilson, who at least got to showcase a lot more of his skills as The Owl in Watchmen, but nothing can help his performance in this particular movie. The CGI is far too distracting, and perhaps the effort of trying to keep their faces straight began to tell.

Being an Oscar-winner is not a hindrance to doing a good job in a movie with a silly premise, as Robert Downey Jr. has demonstrated so often. It requires a sort of insouciance, and self-awareness, and without it the performance becomes tedious and flat, as Kidman, et. al., demonstrate. You have to really embrace being part of a superhero flick. There is no slumming it. Everyone knows the actors are in it to make money, but they need to project a sense of fun, which none of them end up doing.

Except Jason Momoa. That one is on the opposite end of the spectrum, having waaaay too much fun, like the drunkest guy at the party, capering about while everyone else awkwardly looks on. It might even have been fun if he wasn’t so aware of why he was cast to be Aquaman instead of some blonde, milquetoast boy scout. Do you know how many times he looks flirtatiously over his shoulder at the audience?

Thrice.

Do you know how  many times he goes shirtless in Aquaman?

Too many, and I can’t believe I’m complaining.

The truth is, relying on that body can only take one so far.  It just isn’t enough to distract from the reality of things: although the movie is beautiful and the underwater scenes are a marvel (my favourite visual is of Aquaman and Mera diving into the trench with a red flare, pursued by a thousand sea monsters), it’s  still a disjointed, bloated mess with cringey dialogue, needless backstory and unnecessary exposition.

I’ve had it with these DC movies. They’ve had so many chances to get it right, and they still keep sucking ass. I have decided this will be the last time I voluntarily pay for a DCEU offering. Unless it’s by Christopher Nolan, I’m out.

 

Random YouTube K-Hole: Aughty by Nature

Random YouTube K-Hole: Aughty by Nature

To me, 2001 feels like yesterday, not a space odyssey. If nothing else makes you feel old today, check out these younguns and their music video homages. So nice of them to respect their elders! And to think millennials get so much flak.

Lost in Japan – Shawn Mendes feat. Zedd

Confession: I barely remember Lost in Translation. This is a solid effort, but will Shawn Mendes’ fanbase even get the reference? It’s likely they’ll think it’s just him having fun doing Japanese karaoke, even with that total giveaway of a title. Hell, it took me about a minute into the vid to realize what I was seeing, but I’m like, old, so what do I know?

Fancy – Iggy Azalea feat. Charli XCX

Unlike Shawn Mendes’ ode to Sofia Coppola, Iggy’s oeuvre is pretty clear from the get-go. It technically shouldn’t be included in this post because the movie came out in 1995, but whatever with a capital W and if you don’t get it, you’re Clueless. That’s all I got.

Thank U, Next – Ariana Grande

It’s a video homage en Grande! Not one, not two, not three, but four movies get referenced, in a very legally-bringing -it -on-the-mean-girls-going-on-30 kind of way. While I don’t usually go for Ariana’s 24/7 sex kitten schtick (still don’t) this video is worth watching, if only for the part where Kris Jenner gets all meta as an overly excited stage mom. Bonus points for getting some of the actual stars to cameo, plus a little more for the sheer shade of leaving Lindsay Lohan completely out of it.

Netflix, I’m leaving you

Netflix, I’m leaving you

Dear Netflix,

You were the one.

You were the scrappy upstart, the daring pioneer, the one who put established movies, TV shows and  unique content together, showing me that life without cable didn’t have to be all about streaming movies and shows off of dicey websites and downloading files under threat of jail and insidious malware.

You were the one. I went legit for you.

Oh, you delivered. Some of my happiest times were spent on the couch with you and take-out food. We were good together, you and I. We were happy in each other’s company. You were a part of me, knowing what I wanted before I did, keeping a list for me. You never forgot anything and were always solicitous, suggesting things I might want to see based on something I’d already seen before. We were perfect. We were beautiful.

Netflix, I’m leaving you.

It’s the bajillion movies and TV shows you’ve come up with in the past two years, 90% of which are kind of … garbage.

It’s all the comedy specials I don’t think I’ll ever find the time to see.

It’s the suggestions that make no sense.

It’s the enthusiasm for auto-play, which I didn’t mind at first, but slowly began to resent.

It’s my dwindling attention span.

It’s not you, it’s me.

It’s inflation.

It’s the unjustifiable price increase.

Netflix, you put She-ra in shorts. Shorts.

It’s not me, it’s you.

It’s both of us.

Netflix, I’m leaving you. I’m leaving you for Crave. Crave has HBO, and movies I want to see. Movies I want to see right now, anyway.

Thanks for the memories, Netflix. Le Hubs thanks you for the complete seasons of X-files (before you pulled it) and the complete seasons of The Office. I thank you for the complete seasons of House, M.D. (that I never got around to watching again, damnit), the first three seasons of Orange is the New Black, the awesomeness that used to be House of Cards, the first season of Daredevil, the gloriousness that is The Crown,  and finally, for introducing Jo Koy to the world.

In closing, we both thank you for Black Mirror and Stranger Things. It’s been fun, and a helluva lot of bandwidth. I have no regrets.

All the best,

Me