Random Musings - 3 geeks on life, the universe and everything.

Get Smart Review

Written on September 10, 2008 at 11:00 pm about Films by Paradox
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Well first off this film has received allot of slack by people who don’t seem to realise that you’re not supposed to take this film too seriously. Once past that you might be able to form an opinion. So here is my fuck you to all those reviewers out there that have been brainwashed by spice girls albums and Kiera Knightly.

So let’s set some context:

Spoilers May Follow.

You have been warned.

Cast your mind back to 1960s spy spoof TV series ‘Get Smart’ and the most you’ll remember - if you remember anything at all, of course - is its bumbling hero Maxwell Smart (played by Don Adams) removing his shoe and using it as a phone. True to form, Adams’ big-screen replacement Steve Carell can be found at one point earnestly talking into his size 10. The film rendition also features its own special brand of amusingly implausible Q-style gadgets. But you know those things are ok in this kind of film.

In difference to the TV show it smartly goes its own way, faithful in spirit but charting a new course for Maxwell Smart and company. With Steve Carell in the lead, this Max is a likeable, reliable paper-pushing analyst for spy agency CONTROL, who dreams of one day of becoming a top agent out in the field himself. When CONTROL headquarters is attacked and nearly all the other agents identities are compromised, he gets his chance. The Chief has no choice but to bench his number one, Agent 23, in favour of Max, now Agent 86. Max teams up with Agent 99, a far more competent and experienced agent, in order to thwart the terrorist plans of KAOS, lead by Siegfried and his right-hand man Shtarker. This Get Smart is a full-out action-comedy with the emphasis on action. The actors make all the derring-do and wild on-screen antics believable and some of the gags and lines are rather amusing.

ACTING

Also to distinguish himself from Don Adams, Steve Carell has choose to take his Max in a different direction. This is no imitation at all, but a fully fleshed out bumbling guy with dreams of his own. Carell is very funny trying to deal with gadgets, using code language, getting his signals mixed up and trying to be a decent partner for the much smarter 99. Hathaway makes this 99 a bright woman who is obviously light years ahead of all her male colleagues. Both stars skilfully handle the considerable physical humour required here. Dwayne Johnson continues to show his comic timing as the superstar agent who is grounded against his will. Stamp and Borat’s sidekick Davitian are amusing characters but stuck with rather one-dimensional, over-the-top villain roles. Arkin is perfectly cast as the beleaguered Chief, while James Caan as the U.S. President has little to do but does it well, and of course Bill Murray’s well placed cameo in a tree, sitting, crying, where he belongs.

To be fair, the film is slightly more concerned with action than it is with comedy, which means that the gag rate isn’t quite as high as it should have been. But I can forgive the film for that as the action is competent and parts of the film stand out as being good.

Get Smart is an entertaining comedy thriller that should please fans and newcomers alike.

(P.S. Fuck You reviewers that I read. I won’t name you for legal reasons but you know who you are)

Like a phoenix, I rise again. And again. And again. And a … holy crap, I’m on FIRE!!! AHHHHHH!

Written on September 7, 2008 at 9:07 pm about General, Life, Musing, Pen and Paper Role Playing by Chris
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Well, after Tom’s cheerful rant below, I figured it was time to share an update of my own.

Well, it’s notable that the Salford WARPS should be reasonably secure for this year. Hopefully the student union takes it’s thumb out of it’s ass and actually gets some advertising up. After a while of negociation and checking, it appears we require 15 student members to be ratified as an official society. Since we have 10 with just the guaranteed re-sign ups from last year, that’s not too difficult an issue, since the union appears to have woken up to the idea that they need to actually make sure the societies have ROOM to work in.

In addition, Phoenix, my DnD4th ed modification, continues at a steady pace. It’ll be ready for testing come the new university year, anyway. Barring any exceptional circumstances, I should be ready to work on a 2nd stage book set (The Titans Manual, Campaign Guide and Academy Training book) after this first test (Which is the UNMC player’s handbook, the vehicle manual (New and unique), the field inteligence guide (Monster Manual equivalent) and the GM’s manual). I’m also working on several stories in the setting, which should be interesting.  At the time of writing, I also have an initial scenario written up to 4th level, and plans for beyond that point in note form.

Unlike DnD, Phoenix is intended for an episodic campaign, dropping in at the key points in the character’s lifetime, as opposed to a continual campaign. This means GMs can limit what equipment the players get, as well as ensure that even if the campaign is going to cover several years, players don’t spend lots of time sat around twiddling their thumbs.

Anyway, in other areas, I’m generally doing ok. Probably re-sitting the year at university, but that’s not really a big supprise, and to be frank, I’d actually prefer it in some ways. Obviously not the cost, but most ways, I’m fine with it.

Oh, and in a final bit of news, Manchester has officially recieved 1 year’s worth of rain in a month, as of now.

Fuck my life.

Written on September 7, 2008 at 4:59 am about Life by Tom
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The title of this post seems to be my motto nowadays. As much as I hate to admit this, even online, I think I’m fighting the big D. There’s no logical reason for it — things are going better than ever for me to anyone looking in from the outside. I’m back at school, my classes are all good — fuck, my family’s even putting a nice addition on the house. I have squat to bitch about compared to plenty of other people.

And yet…and yet, I’m not happy.  I feel lonelier than ever, in fact. As much as I deride people who act ‘emo,’ I find myself slipping into a funk. And it’s all centered around one thing — my utter failure to find that perfect girl. Yeah, I know, people who measure their happiness by having a girlfriend are losers. Well fuck you, whoever said that, cause this isn’t about status or peer pressure or society. This is human loneliness, plain and simple. Hell, the only reason I can even write this here is because no one reads this blog; it might as well be a journal.

I mean, for fuck’s sake, I meet the perfect kind of girl that I’ve been holding out for for literally years, and still I strike out. And this shouldn’t bother me because I have 18 years of striking out under my belt. I should be a pro at letting go and moving on. But I can’t. I’ve slowly over time lost that ability to go “Oh well, plenty others out there.” Because guess what? There aren’t.

Oh, sure, there’s a lot of females out there, but that’s just statistics. What I mean is similar personalities. Common souls, if you want to get philisophical about it. There’s next to zero people out there like me, it seems, or at least not here in New England. You know what a big stumbling block is? Smart girls. Yep, call me sexist, but I have a real hell of a time finding a girl I can actually talk to about geeky things I find interesting. I’m telling you, they don’t freaking exist.

Part of it might be normal hormones and shit, freaking out and telling me I’ve gotta pass on the ol’ genes, but part of it’s just the fact that, aside from a couple of friendly hugs here and there, I don’t get any kind of real physical intimacy with anybody. And I don’t mean intimacy in the adult sense, either. I’m talking basic human contact here. I might as well be in a biohazard suit. It sounds stupid even to type it, but…I just want to be held. I want someone to hold hands with and hug and caress. And it’s just getting harder to go on without that.

If this makes me some kind of unmasculine girly-man, so be it. If you’re going to accuse me of being hypocritical and emo, go ahead and get it out of your system. All I can say is that I can’t keep living like this. I’ll go crazy. It’s really only a matter of time. The hair-trigger temper that I’ve managed to subdue for so many years is resurging again. The propensity to get pissed off at the drop of a hat, the sudden loss of all reason and desire to just break something or someone, the barely held back crying jag…It’s all stuff no one ever sees, I think, because I’ve grown very good at hiding it over the years.

As I said earlier, I don’t like admitting that I’m an unhappy person. I used to think that denying it would keep it from getting worse, and keep me from wallowing in unhappiness. Now I hope that acknowledging it will help me fight it off. Because I can’t deny it any more. Normal people don’t wake up and immediately try to fall back asleep, because they prefer the dream they were having to reality. Normal people don’t wonder if it’d be better to get hit by a bus crossing the street. Normal people don’t sit in their car, alone, and scream, because if they don’t they’d explode from all the repressed anger and sadness and tears. I’ve crossed that line, the point of no return, where I have to admit that something is seriously wrong here.

I don’t want to seem melodramatic. I’m not doing this to look for sympathy — if I was, I wouldn’t be posting this to an unread blog. This is meant to be more catharsis for me. It’s a free shrink, a stranger to listen to my problems, where I don’t have to worry about them being a part of them. It’s an electronic Freud, putting me on the couch. I don’t want your “it’ll get better” and “You’re a great guy, just be patient” and “Someday you’ll find the right person.” I just need to get this off my chest, before I haul off and start smashing up my car with a tire iron or something.

And that’s the thing, that maybe I want to break stuff and hit things, because at least then you’d notice me. At least then you’d see that I’m here. You’d know I exist, I could prove it. I broke that window, see! I’m here, I’ve always been here. That’s what it seems to come down to. That’s why I’m ‘that guy’ in class, the one with the bad jokes and the snarky comments. Because any attention is better than no attention. Because maybe if I’m clever enough you’ll love me. Because maybe if I make you laugh you’ll see I’m better than the rest of those guys.

That’ll never happen though, because it seems to me, and some of my mates as well, that as much as women complain about chivalry being dead, us nice guys still finish last. As much as you tell us you’re looking for a sweet, sensitive, intelligent guy, you keep on going for the football captain and prom king. As much as you complain about the latest jerk move your boyfriend pulled, you never see us as anything outside the friend zone.

Anyways, I really hope this funk of mine ends sooner rather than later, or at the very least I can stay busy enough to stay ahead of it.