Cloverfield

Well, I finally saw the subject movie, after all the hype — including some that friends of mine got swept up in with their role-playing game, Alpha Omega — and I must say that I was surprised: I wasn’t nearly as nauseated as I expected to be (admittedly, the big screen at home is probably better than the movie theatre for avoiding that particular effect), and, overall, I was entertained.

I found the acting a bit spotty, but I was surprised by how good it was at times. And I can’t put the bad parts all down to the actors either, as a big part of what kept kicking me out of the later scenes was their general ability to avoid shock (in the medical sense, and I’m not just talking about how much blood they did or did not lose), remain calm and keep going. That all them could do that, and not really experience any sort of cumulative trauma, as it were, was a bit far-fetched, in my mind (but entertaining, as I said).

I liked how it included moments of levity, and I really liked the concept of recording over an earlier recording; it made for a great ending.

Alice Munro’s The Children Stay and Eyes Wide Shut

The Children Stay reminded me of the pot-smokin’, bedroom scene in Eyes Wide Shut.  That scene really disturbed me.  For months — and even years — afterward, I found myself wondering whether a mother could really feel that way: the immediate, almost undeniable, urge to leave everything — even her young children — for a stranger.  I even asked a few women in my life for their opinions; those that I didn’t feel too sheepish asking, that is, as even then I was aware of my implied naivety.

I was skeptical of Kubrick’s, and co-screenwriter Frederic Raphael’s, ability to truly know any woman.  (While I did read Eyes Wide Open by Raphael — partly in an attempt to glean a better sense of whether this understanding was there, no doubt — I did not read the work the script was adapted from — Arthur Schnitzler’s Traumnovelle — for some reason.)  Now, finally, Munro offers a compelling, female perspective on the subject.

The story cast the novel Anna Karenina in a similar light, so now I’m curious about it again (even though I don’t feel up to tackling Tolstoy right now).

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Metamorphosis

• Spock’s response to the boisterous hellos: “Fascinating.” :-)
• Loved Cochrane’s opening lines; it’s like he’s become used to thinking aloud to ward off loneliness.
• I really liked the commissioner: very professional; really nice outfit, actually. (Less professional near the end, of course. :-) )
• Cochrane: “I already know [what you're doing here]… You won’t like it.” :-)
• Wow, the commissioner’s breakdown was surprising, but heartfelt; just as you’d expect an intelligent person to quickly grasp the implications and their real horror.
• Cochrane’s eyes are so alive as Kirk is telling him about what life is like now. He doesn’t have to say a word; his expression trumpets his excitement.
• Cochrane’s reaction to Spock’s device reminded me of Stockholm syndrome, but, again, well before that psychological response was widely reported in ‘73. This show is absolutely fascinating, as Spock would say.
• I liked the music that played when Cochrane and the companion came together each time.
• Uhura: “It’s a big galaxy, Mr. Scott.” :-)
• Spock’s characterization of the Cochrane’s relationship with the companion was so eloquent; just perfect. I couldn’t think of a better counterpoint to Cochrane’s attack on what he perceives as their lack of morality.
• That actress playing the commissioner, Elinor Donahue, was amazing! That achingly long moment when the companion-commissioner discovers loneliness is heartbreaking!
• Donahue really reminded me of Jewel Staite, an actress who played Kaylee on Firefly. A quick search confirms I’m not the only one who thinks so:
  

  “Anyone… seen folks on other shows that… they’ve thought… could be related to… insert favourite [Firefly] crew member…?”

  “Elinor Donahue from Father Knows Best… and Trek classic… She’s totally related to Kaylee…”

Thoughts on Heinlein and Card

I made some notes as I read Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land and Orson Scott Card’s The Worthing Saga:

• Heinlein as Jubal Harshaw on the compulsive reading of news or Gossip Gone Wild: most neuroses can be traced to worrying about the troubles of five million strangers; and
• Card: the premise that civilization requires the institution of marriage (presumably the monogamous sort); setting aside whether a population can be successfully seeded from a relatively small number of couples, does this stand to reason?

The Mormon mind-set is prevalent, but this isn’t a criticism of Card. First, I don’t think I could’ve picked two more diametrically opposed views of the perfect society than in SIASL and TWS. Second, if I’m honest with myself, Heinlein’s mind-set was probably no less prevalent in SIASL; it just so happens that his is closer to mine than Card’s is.

On telepathy and lying: in TWS, Martin tells his daughter, Faith, that she can’t lie to him. I don’t think this stands to reason. Children experiment with lying from a very early age, and, as they get older, successfully lie to their parents, partly because their parents assume they know them so well. Even in the case of a telepathic parent and child, each of whom can block the other’s thoughts, I can see this working. Experimenting with familiar thought patterns, with a reasonable level of privacy during adolescence, etc. I believe a child could convince a parent that they were being truthful, by exhibiting a familiar, if highly complex, facade.