Christopher East

Yesterday, Jenn and I and a big group of great friends headed down to Carson for the inaugural game of the new Women’s Professional Soccer league, between the LA Sol and Washington Freedom.  The weather was cool and comfortable and a crowd of 14,000-plus turned up to support the new league.  LA’s team features some very impressive talent, including Marta, who is apparently one of the best in the world (and dazzled the crowd more than once).  I was particularly impressed with Aya Miyama, who seemed to be everywhere at once.  The Sol treated the hometown fans to a 2-0 opening day win.  It was a great, fun afternoon — here’s hoping the new league really takes off!

Sometimes the source material for films about historical figures can handcuff them dramatically — truth stranger than fiction, perhaps, but not as structurally satisfying.  Breach (2007) isn’t exactly a biopic, but it is based on the true story of notorious FBI spy Robert Hanssen.  By focusing on the case that brought him to him to justice, rather than the entirety of his life, it avoids the usual pitfalls of biopics while still delivering the interesting insights into its central figure that biopics demand.  It’s also a cracking good, authentic espionage yarn.

The story opens when young FBI recruit Eric O’Neill (Ryan Phillipe) is pulled off terrorist surveillance by hard-nosed agent Kate Burroughs (Laura Linney) for a special assignment.  O’Neill is to become the assistant for an old FBI hand, Robert Hanssen (Chris Cooper), in the establishment of a new department ensuring the IT infrastructure of the Bureau.  Hanssen is under suspicion for sexual deviance and Burroughs wants O’Neill to watch and report on his every move…but it quickly becomes clear that something much bigger is going on, and that O’Neill has become a major part of it.

The mystery here isn’t so much “what did Hanssen do?” as it is “why did he do it, and how did they catch him?”  I thought the film suceeded brilliantly in answering both questions.  Central to the appeal of the film is Cooper’s brilliant performance as Hanssen, bringing the notorious spy vividly to life.  Patriotic, cantankerous, religious, smart, slimy, and formidable, Cooper is unforgettable in the feature role.  And crucially, the script provides him every opportunity to elicit a fascinating psychological portrait of this complicated traitor, which is essential to understanding his motives.  As for the “how” of the case, it’s a subtly unfolding mystery that quickly accelerates into a suspenseful operation of realistic intelligence-gathering, and quite satisfying in its own right, perfectly clocked and well produced.  The acting is quite strong at all key points, with Phillipe and Linney both very effective, and able support coming from an impressive supporting cast that includes Gary Cole, Caroline Dhavernas, Dennis Haysbert, and Kathleen Quinlan.  It’s definitely worth checking out, especially if you’re a fan of this kind of story.

Story collections tend to get short shrift on my leisure reading list, largely because of the high volume of short fiction I read for Futurismic.  But now that I have this blog going I’ve got an added incentive to work them back into my reading rotation, and I hope to do so now and then.  First up is Maureen F. McHugh’s Mothers & Other Monsters (2005), and it’s an impressive book, both for the quality of its writing and the classy look of its production by Small Beer Press.

I’ve been a fan of McHugh’s for a while now, based largely on the strength of two of her novels — China Mountain Zhang and Nekropolis – both of which should be required reading for fans of “futurismic fiction” (if I may be so bold). Mothers & Other Monsters, however, shows that McHugh can produce excellent work across a much broader spectrum of genres.

Among the fantasy stories that impressed me here were “In the Air,” a deceptively simple, elegant story about a thirtysomething woman haunted by the memory of her stillborn twin brother; “Laika Comes Home Safe,” a dark and engaging tale of white trash werewolves; and “Ancestor Money,” perhaps my favorite, an eery, atmospheric journey through the afterlife.  Even “Wicked,” a brief, sharp vignette that might be considered a throwaway, is an engaging read with a slick and effective punchline.  (Stories of this length almost never work for me — this one did.)

It’s the science fiction stories in this volume that push my buttons the most, though.  “Nekropolis,” which serves as the opening section of the novel of the same name, is a particularly strong scenario about the plight of programmed slaves in north Africa.  There’s also dark, topical, probing stories like “Presence,” “Oversite,” and the particularly effective “Frankenstein’s Daughter,” which considers the ethics and ramifications of cloning.  My favorite, though, was probably “Interview: On Any Given Day,”  a “multimedia format” narrative involving rejuvenation treatments and their potential consequences.  These near future tales aren’t flashy and full of eyeball kicks, but they’re evocative and powerful, probing, and well detailed, and they tend to resonate long after reading.

There is definitely a dark edge to most of these stories, and sometimes a sadness to them, but there’s also hope here, and insight, and a quiet strength.  Overall it’s a classy and powerful collection.

Last Friday was the final episode of Battlestar Galactica.  I think it ended at the right time.  I really wish it had ended in a different way.

Avast ye maties, spoilers ahead – avert yer eyes if you haven’t seen the finale (and give a shit)!

The new Battlestar Galactica was much, much better than I expected it to be, and way better than it had any right to be, based on its source material.  In my view, the BSG redux started strongly, gradually improved through its first couple of seasons, peaked in a big way at the beginning of season three, and then gradually declined as it wound down.  The fourth season was a dreary, dark journey filled with anguish and alcohol, and to me it lost much of its urgency.  I was ready for it to pay off with an at least partially upbeat ending, but the one it provided stressed many of the aspects of the show I didn’t like, and downplayed  many of the things that had always captivated me.

To me, BSG was at its best when focusing on political issues, the hard choices of government and leadership, the question of what-is-human, the camaraderie of military service in war time, and the ethics of what is acceptable behavior in the pursuit of survival.  The series finale provided plenty of that for its first half, maneuvering all of the characters into position for a big final mission, providing plenty of action and excitement.  The show’s best moments came during that stretch, in particular a memorable, perfectly played discussion between Lee Adama (Jamie Bamber) and Dr. Gaius Baltar (James Callis), and a great, great scene wherein President Roslin (Mary McDonnell) says goodbye to Dr. Cottle (Donnelly Rhodes).  These scenes exemplified what I liked best about the show — the tough questions of leadership, of personal responsibility, and the deep  friendships engendered by desperate situations.  It didn’t even matter to me that the mission itself — rescuing the hybrid child Hera from the evil cylons — totally didn’t do anything for me.  Let it be a MacGuffin, motivating the conflict — no problem!

The series lost its way for me, at times, during its soap opera relationship business, but moreso when it strayed too far into fantasy territory — fates, prophecies, and spiritualism.  At times the religious angles were fine; a science fiction show entertaining questions of  science vs. religion is all well and good in my book.  And certainly Baltar’s disingenuous pose as a movement-leading Christ figure late in the run was often worth the price of admission, if only for his  facial expressions.  (Of all the characters on the show, Callis’ brilliant Baltar is the one I’ll miss the most — despite nearly a season-plus of tiresome Six flashbacks.  His unwavering, and yet constantly evolving, self-centeredness is truly a thing to behold.)

Alas, the second half of the finale, and basically the final, resonating notes of Battlestar Galactica, emphasized these aspects of the show, in particular the show’s strong but until now highly ambiguous religious lore.  In many ways, I think the finale was handcuffed by its lore, in fact, and worked way too hard to explain its many mysterious loose ends — such as the shared dreams in the opera house, and the godawful Jimi Hendrix music business (by far the series’ most execrable and inexcusable decision).  I would have much preferred a more open-ended resolution to these mysteries, leaving something to interpretation.  But the latter half of the final episode comes down squarely on the side of the supernatural, the divine, the otherworldly.  I mean, it’s one thing to tell us our favorite characters are cylons…but angels?  WTF?

Even more upsetting, the ending comes down squarely against science and technology, implying that all humanity’s problems were caused by science and technology, as opposed to the beliefs and motives of the people misapplying it.  Which isn’t to argue that science and technology don’t have their drawbacks, obviously…but is this the message we want science fiction telling us?  I’d like to think there’s more hope for reason and knowledge and progress than that.  That blatant subtext, leaving most secular thought out in the cold, depressed me more than the fates of any of the characters.  (And don’t get me started on the present-day “coda”…I’m trying to pretend it never happened.)

Anyway, alas, the finale disappointed me on many levels, and left a sour taste in my mouth on a few.   And yet, on the other hand, it did manage to do what a good finale should — say goodbye to itself.  I’m still going to miss the show, and its difficult subject matter, and its talented cast and solid production values and strong stories, and its memorable characters (especially Baltar, Roslin, Tigh, and — weirdly — Cottle).  For a while there, anyway, it was one of the best things on TV.  So says me, anyway!

A couple weekends ago I saw Watchmen (2009), but it’s taken me a while to write up the review, for a couple of reasons.  One is that I decided to read the 1986-7 Alan Moore comic book series it’s based on first, and another is that the story is pretty complicated!  But here we go, finally:

I read comics quite a bit when I was younger, but somehow I never tried Watchmen, despite universally positive reviews from my other comic-reading friends.  It may have been my Marvelcentric reading habits, or maybe my pointless contrarian tradition of resisting trusted recommendations only to “discover” them years later and feel like an idiot for having waited.  At any rate, I went into the movie version of Watchmen (2009) with no preconceived notions.  And I’m kinda glad about that, actually…I seem to like it more than some of the original series’ fans.

One thing’s for sure, Watchmen isn’t your typical comic book (at least, not at the time it appeared), and it’s definitely not your typical comic book movie (even now).  Set in the mid-1980s at the height of an alternate Cold War, the story involves a group of superheroes, now disbanded in the wake of anti-vigilante legislation, who get drawn back into their pasts when one of their own, The Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), is murdered.  The only remaining active vigilante, Rorschach (an intense and perfectly cast Jackie Earle Haley), concerned that someone might be “knocking off masks,” investigates the killings and warns his former partners-against-crime.  But what at first appears to be a possible serial killing spree turns out to be a much more complicated conspiracy, as the disillusioned, mostly retired heroes find themselves drawn back into world events.

The plot is quite complex, and the story unfolds in an intricate, extremely non-linear fashion, as the “present” track — the heroes investigating the conspiracy, against a tense backdrop of impending nuclear apocalypse — flashes back continuously to the history of this alternate universe, enabling us to learn the origins of the characters and their teams, as well as the vastly different political backdrop their existence has greatly influenced.  As a viewer, the movie pushed all my happy Mission: Impossible analytical buttons, as narrative tracks and plot points ricochet across the screen to eventually reveal the puzzle, culminating in a mostly effective and genuinely surprising ending.  In fact, I think certain details of the film’s ending were actually better than the comic book’s, and though I’m guessing many fans of the original are decrying some of the things that got left out of the film, I think the final edit made mostly smart decisions about what to cut.  In light of the length and complexity of the original, the film does an impressive job nearly accomplishing a next-to-impossible task condensing it all into a three-hour running time.

For all the deviousness of the plot and story, a big factor setting Watchmen apart from similar comic books — at least, the old group titles with which I’m familiar — is that it examines the moral questions of vigilante heroism in a much different way.  Like many spy novels of the Cold War era, it asks the question:  in the fight against evil, is it justifiable to use evil means?  The “heroes” of this universe aren’t your standard square-jawed good guys standing up for justice and the American way.  They’re sociopaths, and mad geniuses, they’re glory-seekers and narcissists, and disaffected tools of the government…all of them with strained, sometimes twisted relationships with their “hero” status.  The psychology on display in Watchmen makes Batman seem like a simple, happy guy.  And that makes them all the more fun to watch.  (I can only imagine how much more impact these types of characters must have had in the 1980s, in the context of a much tamer comic book scene — we’re a lot more used to neurotic, gray area heroes nowadays.)

So the film, in terms of structure, visuals, sound (yes, even the period music, which I think actually worked — in spite of myself!), story, and action, succeeded for me on just about every level.  The acting was more of a mixed bag.  Haley and Morgan are both great, I think, perfectly capturing their characters from the books, while Patrick Wilson (who plays Nite Owl) is probably the only actor to improve his character from what was on the page.  Many of the other characters, unfortunately, deliver flat, unexciting, or overly affected performances.  Beyond that, some occasionally unimpressive makeup work (that was Nixon? really?) and a tendency to over-show violence that the comic book more effectively implied are maybe my only real complaints.

Which isn’t to say it’s an otherwise perfect film, or that it perfectly captures the series.  But, as a newcomer to the universe here, I found  it pretty satisfying.  I would venture to say that if you’re at all a fan of the genre, the film and the graphic novel should both qualify as “required consuming.”

For some reason, I haven’t read any Neil Gaiman.  I’m not sure why that is; I have a feeling, on one level, that I’m just not his audience, but I think another factor may be that I’ve seen dramatizations of his books and found them wanting.  Coraline (2009) joins that (admittedly rather short) list, reminding me of other Gaiman material I’ve seen:  often clever, always inventive, dark, slightly funny, somewhat off-putting, less than gripping, and messily plotted.

Coraline (voiced by Dakota Fanning) has just relocated with her mundane, work-obsessed parents (Teri Hatcher and John Hodgman) to an odd boarding house in the Pacific Northwest, and is no big fan of this change in her life.  Bored and restless, she cynically explores her new surroundings, to discover an odd, locked, painted-over door, which she ultimately learns leads to a parallel dimension.  Perfect, alternate versions of her family seduce her into visiting often…until it becomes clear that the utopia behind the secret door isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

As a story, it’s a nice high-concept fantasy with some engaging ideas, but the plot seems a bit seat-of-the-pants, and there doesn’t seem to be a very solid theme here.  It’s got a lot of a flashy ideas, but it doesn’t amount to all that much.  The film is very striking visually, and the stop motion animation is impressive, but I think that may be part of the issue; the grim, real reality and the cheery alternity behind the door are both equally fantastical, so there’s some necessary contrast missing.  We also saw this in 3D, and to me this added nothing to the film — it muddied out the color and lacked sharpness, and didn’t really contribute to the story-telling or spectacle of it.  The sound, on the other hand, was fantastic, and there was a unique original score that was very effective.

Overall, a pretty mixed bag — it has its impressive aspects, but on the whole it didn’t do all that much for me.

Jenn and I had plans to visit my family in Buffalo this Christmas, but they were scuttled by blizzards and we ended up staying here in LA. To make up for it, my parents came out to visit for several days starting last weekend.  We had a great time catching up, seeing the sights, and eating entirely too much!

On Sunday, we went downtown to Walt Disney Concert Hall to see the Los Angeles Philharmonic perform. My parents are both classical musicians who play professionally and they were both keen to hear something at Disney, which has legendary acoustics. The first half was Ravel: first Le Valse, and then the Piano Concerto in G, performed by the wonderful Martha Argerich.  My mother is a pianist and she performed this piece, which used to drive me crazy — when I was a surly teenager, my bedroom was directly above the piano room, so I frequently heard this one through the floor. Eventually I heard it with the full  orchestra and grew to love it, especially the fast movements and the sick woodwind parts.  After intermission was Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 5, which is another favorite of mine. It’s a lengthy one and not as immediately likeable as the Ravel, but I find many of the passage very stirring, and the performance was fantastic. I’m by no means a big fan of classical music, and my “repertoire” only extends to maybe a dozen pieces, so it was a stroke of luck to find a concert with so much music I knew and liked on it. And the LA Philharmonic is a really good group — thumbs up all around.

Other highlights of the visit:

• We drove up to Santa Barbara for a day — walked out on Stearns Pier, ate seafood, visited the UCSB campus, and strolled State Street. Also spotted some dolphins in the ocean on the way back!

• We caught two films at the Arclight Sherman Oaks: Watchmen (major thumbs up) and Coraline (thumbs…level) — full reviews forthcoming.

• On Tuesday we went up to the Griffith Observatory to take in the view, and came away very impressed by the astronomy exhibits. Unfortunately I got a flat on the way back down, so we had to call for service, but fortunately it didn’t take too long. (We waited near a tunnel that I was convinced had doubled for a border crossing on the original Mission: Impossible, but further DVD research proved me wrong…oh well!)

On top of this, we hit at least half a dozen of our favorite restaurants and ate far, far too much awesome food. It was a fantastic week!

Oooh….”Syfy!” Amber, did you hear about that hip new channel? Let’s go watch!

Okay, Crystal! What’s on?

It’s a TV movie about a giant mutated iguana who tries to eat several college kids! And mostly succeeds!

I saw something like that on the Sci Fi Channel, but it was pretty geeky and nerdy, so I changed the channel. I bet this one is much less geeky and nerdy, though!

Why?

Because it’s on “Syfy!” And look at the shampoo commercials…

—

Way to kick your own fans in the teeth, Sci Fi Channel. But then, now that BSG is wrapping up, they don’t really have any science fiction shows anyway, so I guess they got the timing right…

This one’s been on my to-read shelf for a few years, and while I started it a couple times over that span, it never quite got its hooks into me. Now that I’ve finally read it through, I feel a bit foolish for having waited so long. Lydia Millet’s Oh Pure and Radiant Heart (2005) isn’t just a good book, it’s a pretty amazing one, an insightful, haunting, funny, and tragic story with politics, history, faith, science and time travel, among many, many other things. There is a lot going on in this one.

In 2003, three key scientists from the Manhattan Project (J. Robert Oppenheimer, Enrico Fermi, and Leo Szilard) mysteriously awaken in the contemporary world, spirited forward in time as alternate versions of themselves, spawned at the moment of the first nuclear bomb test. Eventually they converge in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where they become entangled in the lives of a young couple, Ann and Ben. They find themselves in the curious position of being able to research their own life stories, and — more importantly — the consequences of their world-changing work. Their studies put everything they know into a strange new context, and a harrowing new perspective.

It’s a slow-building novel that picks up speed and wins you over, as the trio first assimilates to their situation, and then — with the patient, often bemused help of their modern hosts — comes to learn all they can about the post-WWII era they’ve helped create, a sobering journey of discovery that moves them ultimately to action. But as their crusade to promote nuclear nonproliferation is appropriated first by naïve but well meaning peaceniks, and later by despicable religious wack jobs, it increasingly becomes clear that the times have changed on them, and their faith in the power of reason will be tested.

There is so, so much going on in this book, it’s kind of hard to know where to start. At times it feels like a quirky, amusing Jim Jarmusch film, at others like a madcap Monty Python scenario. It’s simultaneously science fiction and fantasy and mainstream and historical fiction. By turns it’s a biting satire, a sobering history lesson, a thoughtful character study, an angry political screed, a platonic romance…and I still don’t think I’ve covered it. But I think its most powerful aspect is the intriguingly depicted culture shock central to the scientists’ situation. These are three remarkable men, whose legends were made during truly trying and historic times, and casting their old-fashioned natures and reasoning and values against a vastly incongruous post-9/11 backdrop proves at once enlightening, hilarious, and disturbing. Millet does a fantastic job bringing these three famous figures to life — Szilard’s child-like pretentious can-do attitude, Oppenheimer’s stately reason and charm, and Fermi’s haunted thoughtfulness — while Ann and Ben serve as sympathetic and realistic modern viewpoint characters, searching for meaning in the wake of their unexpected and bizarre circumstances.

It took some work for me to get started on this one, and there are moments — particularly in the third section, I think — where the pace bogged down a bit. I doubt it will be to everyone’s tastes, but for me, ultimately, it proved to be a highly enjoyable, thought-provoking, and rewarding read.

There’s an excellent article over at the Onion AV Club about television spy shows. It’s like it was written just for me…

I can see how they missed The Sandbaggers, but how did they miss Spooks? Other than that, though, it seems pretty darn thorough — with much love for Mission: Impossible (the original, not the evil movies) and a very funny clip on the second page that makes me think I need to check out The Middleman. Almost everything you need to know about TV spy fiction — nice!