Filed under: Events | Tags: allie moss, be ok, bess rodgers, david ford, girls and boys, holiday hop, ingrid michaelson, newton faulkner, the chain, the yule logs, tla, town hall
Since my last writing exploit, I’ve had the pleasure of seeing a stellar talent of epic proportions perform twice in my neighboring cities of New York and Philadelphia. Along with my two fellow comrades (and former roommates), I set sail for the TLA in late November in order to see our latest musical obsession, the very lovely and talented Ingrid Michaelson. We became turned on to Ingrid for a myriad of reasons; I listened to her hauntingly sing-songy debut album ad nauseum during my stint at a local bookstore, and my roommate became familiar with her when she unknowingly befriended Ingrid’s back-up talent’s brother. The love grew deep and thick, so I scored tickets and scooped them up for a belated birthday night on the town. The theme of the first night revolved around a ballroom bash, so we donned some fancy duds and enjoyed the sweeping sounds of David Ford (whose incredible, one-man looping tracks left us in awe), Newton Faulkner, and Ingrid herself. Little did we know, our friend’s sister is the ominous talent on many of our favorite tracks, including the catastrophically beautiful song The Chain. After the pitch-perfect show, Ingrid happily posed for some of our personal Polaroids, and David Ford chivalrously walked us to our car.
Last night hailed her second annual Holiday Hop, which was conveniently hosted in her home state of New York. We reprised our roles and meandered to Town Hall to sit sandwiched between obscenely obnoxious chatterboxes and inebriated superfans. Regardless, the show was incredible, boasting cellists, a full choir, and a harmonizing Christmas quartet (Ingrid and company sporting red pinstripe shirts and faux mustaches). Despite the nose bleed seats and 11:00 venue curfew, we had an excellent view and a packed night. And the best part? My old pal at the performing arts center I worked at for years just booked her for next year’s agenda. It’s good to have pull.
Filed under: Movie Reviews | Tags: casino royal, daniel craig, gemma arterton, james bond, judi dench, marc forster, martin campbell, olga kurylenko, quantum of solace
In my true nature, I did indeed draft Boyfriend in order to scurry out and take in the newest of the re-birthed James Bond vehicles, in which Daniel Craig dons his best and most dashing of Bonds. The series – which, although it has only produced two films thus far, can still very well be pegged as an impending catalogue – promised a new foundation for the 007 empire with its starkly incredible debut Casino Royale just two years ago. Martin Campbell, the film’s director, brought forth a more humanistic – at times even fumblingly adorable – James with brick wall Craig, and we quickly washed away any trace of those dreadful Pierce Brosnan years with his nauseating cleft and gummy-toothed grin. The story was deep, dark, wet behind the ears; it was raw, twisting, enthralling. It was slick enough to slide right through you, but gritty enough to get caught up in your innards. It was a new Bond, a rebirth, an homage, and a new hope. Alright, so perhaps I really just loved this former flick.
However, not much of the same can be said for the second installment. With a new director at the helm, the film falls flat in story, jumbled in cinematography, and short of the finish line. Sure, I entered the movie theatre expecting to love it, no matter the actual outcome. And thus, I did not outwardly dislike the film whatsoever, but I did indeed find it to be quite a bland Bond, despite the efforts of thousands of over-the-top explosives. Bond himself seems to awkwardly adopt the “shoot now, ask questions late” theory and takes it nearly to the grave, and his leading lady (Olga Kurylenko) falls shy of being memorable due to a lack of epic flashbacks and general empathy. And just when we begin to think a new, more relatable Bond girl (Gemma Arterton) is going to be added to the mix, she is disappointingly retired long before she could reach her prime.
The problem with Quantum is that it feels underwhelming; it’s short on story, high on explosives, and riddled with drawn-out action sequences. We do not feel for the characters with the exception of Bond, and it becomes otherwise forgettable in the end. A friend and I agreed that this film would have been more excellently utilized as an epilogue in a Casino Royale two-disc special edition, and not as a full theatrical release. It would have greatly benefitted from a few meatier flashbacks as well as about a half an hour of grounded plot. And of course, we all could use a little more Judi Dench. Couldn’t we?
Filed under: Everyday | Tags: christmas shopping, freelancing, ocean, rock band, star wars, substitute teaching
Aye, I have been whisked away from the blogging stratosphere in order to attempt a move toward my impending careers (notice the plural). I have thus spent my every waking moment freelance writing articles of all makes and natures, substitute teaching heathen children of all shapes and sizes, and nannying for one very imaginative five year old with an undying love for Fruit Roll Ups and the complete Star Wars saga. However, I have been able to squeeze in some semblance of a social life, most of which has included employing Boyfriend to feed me, take me Christmas shopping, and provide me with a wholesome place for an occasional nap. In between bouts of career stalking, I’ve been busy hunting bargains online and signing for packages, shipping suitcases across the continental United States, slaying all other opponents in Rock-Band-to-the-death tournaments, and baking an array of seasonal goodness. It’s been hectic, yes, but I am proud to announce that my Christmas shopping, which took on a mind of its own this year, is nearly completed and has been adorably wrapped with ribbons and personalized tags. And now the rest of the state of New Jersey is sitting pretty in a snowglobe, while I watch the freezing rain collect in the ocean, and wonder how long it will be until we’re all underwater.
