The Good Word

Yesterday I saw Slumdog Millionaire with friends at an awesome local theater.

By local I mean it’s a two-screen, downtown cinema with the light-bulb studded sign and actual standards of cleanliness. By awesome I mean that this is the only theater I’ve encountered with a bar in it - more on the booze later.

As the credits rolled, Bollywood style, I knew that Slumdog was not only an instant favorite (certainly in my top five favorite movies ever), but probably the best movie-going experience I’ve ever had. But why? There are a couple of reasons.

Like any great experience Slumdog was the result of both serendipitous chance and planning.

The element of surprise came in the beer I drank while I watched the film. Not knowing the theater served alcohol (and also espresso drinks) I was taken aback when I walked in and saw my friends all with beverage in hand. Even though the bar happened to be out of both my first and second draft choices, I was so delighted by the surprise of it all that it didn’t matter.

Planning too, however, played its part (though, as always, aided by providence).

When I entered the theater last night not only had I never seen a preview or movie poster for Slumdog, but I hadn’t even watched an interview with one of the stars or heard a radio review - never even so much as stumbled across a still shot in all my daily blog reading.

--HERE THERE BE (EXTREMELY MINOR) SPOILERS---

I went in completely blind and it was awesome. Not only did I have no idea what company made the movie, but I didn’t know who the star would be, nor the setting or even the genre. For some reason I was a little surprised that neither Dustin Hoffman, nor the guy who played Harvey Dent was in it.

I’ve never had a more pure movie experience. Every single moment was a surprise. The music was amazing, the plot was tightly knit and fairly unpredictable, and the no-name actors were either extremely capable or I didn’t have the ability to pick out sub-par acting in Indian children and teenagers (probably both).

It’s amazing how much even a preview sets you up with ready-made prejudices (good or bad).

Also, who knew that God apportions every single country their very own Regis Philbin? Was it just me or was that guy awesome?

It had just enough romance, just enough suspense, and an endlessly pleasing soundtrack.

Do yourself a favor and go see this movie before you hear any more about it.

So, find the nearest theater, sneak in a beer, and let me know what you think.

(Disclamer: Strange post, good song – hit up the Playlist.com widget to the right even if you don’t make it through the post itself.)

Whenever I start getting uncomfortable about Roman culture, when I'm lecturing on the minotaur (born from the coupling of Phasiphae and the Cretan bull), or the Stymphalian birds (which either had teeth and ate human flesh or shot arrows from their mouths - there are conflicting accounts), I think about what archeologists are going to find during digs in the ruins of New York City a thousand years from now.

Archaeologist 1: It appears that the primitive Americans were most frightened by dolls capable of locomotion and sewer dwelling clowns. Also, really big dogs.

Archaeologist 2: Well, that conflicts entirely with my research which seems to suggest that the Americans encouraged their children to worship a gigantic bird and his woolly mammoth friend, and that a certain redheaded clown was considered the patron deity of the McBurger – their primary food source.

Archaeologist 3: No, no, no. You have it all wrong. Clowns aren’t a source of horror or food – they are their teachers. Their legendary Bozo was a philosopher whom they honored during their most sacred Saturday mornings along with the ever-industrious Smurfs and heroic Thundercats.

But seriously, Rome isn’t that bad. I mean what society’s cultural apex doesn’t contain numerous and flagrant literary accounts of incest? Okay… maybe a bit far, but we do have Star Wars.

And speaking of weird brother-sister vibes, it’s Donnie and Marie…doing Star Wars (skip to about 1:30):

No, don’t bother watching both parts. And yes, that was Kris Kirstofferson as Han Solo. Right on the tip of your tongue wasn’t it?

And now, another, much more entertaining video from someone else who has never seen Star Wars:

Are we there yet?

Five more days of school. That's 24 classes, assuming we don't have any two-hour delays. I won't go so far as to hope for a snow day.

So far my Christmas break (I'll be in MI from Dec. 20 to Jan 3rd) includes:

1. House-sitting in Clare while Vivian enjoys an Alabama Christmas
2. Guild New Years
3. Young Life Christmas in Hillsdale
4. Some time in GR with Natalie, The Richardses and possibly Ashley
5. The Motor City Bowl with Brad on the 26th
6. All day shopping trip in Lansing before Christmas (I'm surely not going to pay $15, $40, $100, for additional checked bags)

If you've got something to add to the itinerary just let me know.

Yesterday I had my first Saturday in a coffee house with my new laptop, and in addition to the Kanye disappointment I downloaded: The Weepies, The Fleet Foxes, the complete Killers discography, Viva La Hova - the Coldplay/Jay-Z mash-up, Vampire Weekend, T.V. on the Radio, the new Feist CD, and a String Quartet Tribute to Norah Jones.

Overall, I've gleaned some good songs from each (excepting Kanye), and really enjoyed Feist and The Killers. I'll do my best to broadcast what I've found over the next couple days.

I also realized that my new laptop has a DVD player and so I headed to the library where I picked over the well-gleaned racks for something that wasn't a documentary and ended up with Charlie Wilson's War and The Squid and The Whale. I watched both yesterday before going to a poker party, which involved much drinking, tons of food, and very little poker.

Charlie Wilson's War was entertaining, despite Julia Robert's face. Tom Hanks is always fun to watch, especially when he's a womanizing, alcoholic congressman from Texas. As for The Squid and The Whale, I'm not sure yet what I thought of it. I love Jeff Daniels, and I was relieved that this wasn't another Royal Tennenbaums/Rushmore movie, but it was still mighty strange.

Which reminds me. It's almost time for my annual reading of Moby Dick.