The Aliens Have Landed! Maybe...

So...
There's some backstory here that I haven't filled you guys in on... Well, a lot of backstory, actually, and, well, I'm not going to fill you in on it now. To make a long story short, my wife became a lawyer last year. I wasn't allowed to talk about it while she was studying because... Well, for the same reason that I don't talk about stories I'm working on while I'm still working on them.
Yeah... if you don't understand how that works, I'm not going to explain it to you.

Anyway...
As a follow up to my review from yesterday of Captain Marvel, I'm linking this "lawsplainer" my wife wrote about what it might be like if aliens, actual space aliens, ended up in the United States. You should follow the link and go read it. It's both amusing and educational. Witty.
But, then, this is my wife we're talking about here, so witty should be a given.

Venom (a movie review post)

Where do I even start with this? I mean, a Venom movie without Spider-Man? How do you even? Just the idea sounds insane. And with Tom Hardy... I'm sure I've mentioned how not a fan of Tom Hardy I am.

But it's Venom, so I went to see it. Which is not to say that I'm some huge Venom fan, at least not of what he grew into, but, back when he was first introduced, he was a pretty cool and innovative character.

So let's start there, at the beginning. Which is to say that Venom has a very... problematic... origin.

An origin that I'm not going to get into, right now, because it has nothing to do with the movie. I only bring it up because when Venom was first introduced as a character outside of the comics (back in one of the animated Spider-Man shows from the 90s), they needed a non-Secret Wars origin for the symbiote, so they chose to have it be from outer space. Which you can't really argue, anyway, because when the "suit" was first introduced, no one knew it where it came from other than that it was on the Beyonder's war planet.

All of that to say that the origin in the movie is derived less from the comic books and more from a previously established pop culture origin story that more people are probably familiar with than the number of people who know that actual origin of the alien symbiote. That part of it, I can give a pass.

I'm less comfortable with the part of it where Venom is part of an alien invasion force. That coupled with the human names for the symbiotes (oh, yes, there are more than one!) gave that aspect of the movie a bit of a Transformers feel.

And I miss the spider on Venom. That feels to me as if it is part of the character and leaving it off (because in this origin without the involvement of Spider-Man, why would there be a spider?) takes away somewhat from the character.

Overall, though, they did a fine and decent job with coming up with an origin for the character, and I do hope Venom and Spider-Man end up in a movie together... Well, this Venom and the current Spider-Man under Marvel's control, because I think that would turn out to be... great? Yeah, probably great.

Which brings me to Tom Hardy. He was surprisingly good. They made the Eddie Brock character a bit more... I don't know. In the comics, Brock was a loser. Just a loser. A wannabe. He had a beef with Parker because Parker wouldn't work with him, which was because Brock was a no-talent loser. This iteration of Brock starts him out at the top, not just competent but exceptional, then they bring him down and make him a loser. Washed up. Hardy played both ends of that spectrum believably, so I have to give him kudos for that. And he pulled off playing against a disembodied voice, so I have to give him credit for that, too. Maybe Hardy just needs to quit working with Nolan, because Nolan seems intent on making Hardy into nothing more than a mumbling pair of lips.

Then there's Michelle Williams who is a bowl of boiled noodles. Just the noodles with nothing on them. Not even butter. I suppose there are some people out there who like plain noodles, but they don't taste like much and have no flavor or character. Neither does Williams. She's good at delivering her lines, but there's nothing much to her. She's always the same, and she felt more like a placeholder here than anything else.

It was, however, nice to see Jenny Slate, who was so... normal in this role that I kept questioning whether it was really her.

My final analysis is that this movie is better than every single DC movie that has come out. Hands down. In fact, the DC movies don't even get close. No, it's not as good as the Marvel Studios movies, though I'd say it holds its own against Fox's X-Men films, but the only DC movie that's even on the same playing field is Wonder Woman. So, yeah, I'd go see another Venom movie -- and they teased one in the clip in the credits -- though it's unclear whether it will get a second one since it seems to be under performing a bit. Well, you know, you leave out Spider-Man and it loses a lot of its draw. Tom Hardy isn't a big enough name to get people into the theaters on his own, and most people's only experience with Venom is Spider-Man 3.

All of which is to say that you're not going to be missing out if you don't watch this. Unfortunately. It's a pretty standard superhero kind of movie even if this particular "hero" does have a taste for eating brains. But it doesn't tie into anything else, not at the moment, anyway. I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens with Sony's non-Spider-Man Spiderverse to know if this is a critical movie or not.

Dunkirk and the Slow Death: A Movie About Nothing

Christopher Nolan proves once again how easily dazzled people are when something seems deep, because, I suppose, Dunkirk seems like a deep movie, all about the desperation of war and whatnot; but, really, Dunkirk is a movie about nothing. It is a movie that says nothing. It is a movie that does nothing. Well, nothing other than lazily follow the pseudo-protagonist around as he spends the movie running away.

In fact, nearly the whole movie is about running away. It's a movie about running away that is capped off by Winston Churchill's famous we-will-fight-them-everywhere speech.

I know. That's so deep. Except that it's not.

It also contains a bunch of purposeless non-linear elements. And don't get me wrong; I have nothing against non-linear story telling... as long as it serves the purpose of the story, but this felt more like it was there because people expect it of Nolan. You know, it's his signature thing so he has to include it even if it doesn't belong in this movie. So what we get is incongruous shots of a mid-day dog fight cut with scenes of a ship sinking in the middle of the night.

Oh! But maybe that's deep!
No, not really. It's just sloppy, bad story telling.
And that doesn't even touch on how we cut back to the same dog fight toward the end of the movie but seen from a different character's perspective.
Basically, the whole movie is out of sequence. None of it serves the story. And some of it is actually conflicting.

But, you know, Nolan is so deep.

I'm not even going to talk about the acting. Generally speaking, the actors all seemed bored. I think Nolan wanted them to seem bored, so I suppose that's good acting, but it makes a movie that comes in at only about one hour and forty-five minutes feel like you were watching it for three. But, maybe, my problem was that I didn't watch it in the theater. I wasn't fully immersed in the bigness of it.
Except that it's really a small movie.

Look, let's use the potty meter to measure this movie. In a good movie, you don't want to have to get up and go to the bathroom because you're worried you might miss something but, in this movie, you could have gone to take a nice long dump and come back to find that you missed... nothing at all. Maybe some more guys died, because people keep dying all around the pseudo-protagonist, but it's almost certain you wouldn't have missed any important dialogue because there's really not any. Hmm, now I'm wondering how long the movie would be if you kept only the bits with dialogue. 20 minutes?

The biggest issue with the movie is that it is very unclear about who the enemy is. Or any context about what's going on at all. Sure, maybe Nolan just assumes that everyone should know enough about World War II to supply that for themselves, and maybe everyone should, but it's abundantly clear that a vast amount of people don't know anything about World War II and have no context for what's going on. Shithead Nolan couldn't even identify the Nazis as the enemy in the opening text. No, he just says, "They're surrounded by the enemy."

What the actual fuck, Nolan? You can't do better than that? What enemy? Aliens? Goblins? Ravaging hordes of barbarians? No, it was Nazis, and you should have been clear about that.

But, then, it's painfully obvious that this was your go-to for trying to win a best picture Oscar after losing with Interstellar, an artsy movie about WWII. But this movie shouldn't have been nominated at all. It's just a hollow piece of chocolate that is ultimately disappointing because it has no substance. Bad chocolate, at that.

Clone Wars -- "Voices" (Ep. 6.11)

-- Madness can sometimes be the path to truth.

[Remember, you can sign up to join the Clone Wars Project at any time by clicking this link.]

[Well, actually, considering that we're into season six, now, probably no one new is going to sign up, BUT! Hop over to The Armchair Squid for his take on the current episode.]

Sometimes the way we answer questions is to merely remove the question one step back. This is the problem with, say, crediting aliens for creating life on Earth, or, at least, human life. The question then gets pushed back to, "Well, who created the aliens?" It's a poor way to answer a question, basically, a cop out. I feel like that's what they're doing in this arc with the question, "How do Jedi talk from the dead?"

I also feel like this is a question that doesn't need to be answered, not in any concrete way. I mean, how do the Jedi do anything? The Force. It's a mystery to those of us (all of us) who aren't Jedi. Just leave the answer at that. It doesn't need an answer.

Having said that, I think this is a really great episode and an important arc. Top 10 for sure, probably top five.
Yes, I'm biased because it focuses on Yoda, a character who really, despite always being around, hasn't received enough attention throughout the series. Just casually thinking back, I can only think of one other arc that focused on Yoda as a character.

There is a thing I like very much about this episode: It highlights the way in which people, even Jedi, are unable to think outside of the boxes they've put themselves in. When Yoda is troubled and brings his question to the Jedi Council, most of the Jedi but Ki Adi Mundi in particular, dismiss what Yoda is saying as something that is impossible. They've already decided their answers on the subject because they're certain they already have all the answers. Ki Adi Mundi goes so far as to assert that Yoda must be under the influence of the Dark Side and, mostly, the other council members don't reject that notion.

Which, of course, means Yoda has to rely on Anakin for help, seemingly the only Jedi other than Yoda who doesn't get trapped in dogma. Which isn't really a great thing for Anakin in the end, but being trapped in dogma isn't a good thing for the Jedi, either, considering what's in store for them.

Anyway... This is another of those arcs that real Star Wars fans should watch. Which is not to imply that you are not a real fan if you don't watch it, but, if your interest in Star Wars goes beyond the movies, this is an arc you should see.

Oh, one last thing...
There is a question that everyone asks (I use "everyone" loosely.): Why Dagobah?
Why did Yoda choose, of all places, to exile himself on Dagobah? This episode gives some insight into that.

A Deepness in the Sky (a book review post)

Wow, it's been a whole year since I reviewed A Fire Upon the Deep. If you remember back to that book, I said I was only going to read this one if it was better, and it was better, better enough that I wanted to know what happened even though I had some major issues with the book going in. And this one was slow, too, but not quite as slow as Fire. But let's just cut to it...

The first major issue with this book is that it's barely related to the first book in this "trilogy." Vaguely. Like, there's a character... Well, it's like going to a party somewhere and meeting someone who is your very distant relative through marriage. Or, maybe, two marriages. Like, you know, the divorced spouse of your fourth cousin twice removed. That's how related this book is to the first book. They're both set in the same party, um... universe, but there's really no connection other than that.

Which is probably part of why I liked it, because I thought the first book was, for lack of a better word, stupid.

Which is not to say that this book doesn't also have a strong dose of stupid, the main one being a star that turns itself on and off. Yeah, like it has a switch, except that it's on a timer. So for a couple of centuries, it's a faintly glowing dwarf somethingorother, then it will flare to life and burn bright for 50 years or so then go back out. And, somehow, there's life on the planet that orbits the star, highly evolved life, that has adapted to this pattern, something we're not even going to touch, because the problem is the star.

There is no explanation offered for this. It's just some mystery of the universe. Or, maybe, it's an alien artifact. Whatever. We don't care enough to try and find out, and the author doesn't offer any kind of rational explanation for it. Because, you know, physics, and physics doesn't allow for something like this, so the author didn't bother other than that it enabled the plot he wanted.

Look, if you're going to make up some piece of stupid shit like this for your story, you need to at least offer some kind of explanation as to why it exists. Well, unless you're Lewis Carroll and your whole book is full of the absurd.

The next major issue I had was the aliens. There's a problem with aliens in sci-fi and that's that almost always the aliens turn out to be just humans in costumes. Metaphorically speaking. The aliens act like humans, think like humans, pretty much are humans except for the fact that they look some other way, though, frequently, they're also based on bipedal symmetry, just like humans. I have a philosophical difference with this approach to aliens. BECAUSE THEY'RE ALIENS! If they're aliens make them act... I don't know... like... ALIEN! In some way! Make them different other than just cosmetically. Vinge completely fails to do this with his spider creatures.

Look, I get it: Aliens are hard, but at least make the effort. Rather than make the effort, though, Vinge makes excuses and tries to pass it off as the humans (in the book) anthropomorphizing the spiders as they learn about them, and that does work for certain sections of the book BUT there are clearly sections where the humans have no relation to what's going on with the spiders, and the spiders still act just like humans. He barely ever mentions the fact that they extra limbs. It's like they're just hanging around useless... like they would be if it was a human in a spider costume.

For all of that, though, the story was interesting enough to keep me involved, which says a lot about it considering the fact that I came into it with the idea that it needed to do something right away to get me to keep reading it. Mostly, that had to do with the characters, which were much better than the characters in the previous book. I especially liked Sherkaner Underhill; he's probably the reason I kept going at the beginning.

Actually, there are a lot of good and likable characters in this, just don't get too attached to most of them. Vinge is a bit like George RR Martin in that respect. They are all the characters who must die to prove the situation is serious. Or they all could be, and you never know which ones will make it through.

The book is also incredibly topical from a political standpoint, and that part I found very interesting. The political conflicts among the spiders, with their truth-denying conservative faction undermining the more progressive scientific community is somewhat engrossing. It wouldn't have surprised me if dogmatic religious spider had started saying, "Climate change is a hoax." That narrative is definitely worth a look considering the current status of American politics.

But is the book, as a whole, worth reading? I don't know. I would just skip the first one for sure if you think you might be interested in this one. Since this one serves as some kind of "prequel" for the other one in that it happens chronologically first, it might even be better to read this one first. But, really, unless you're just into hard sci-fi, I would give these books a pass. I'm not going on to the third book (but, then, it's the actual sequel to the first book, and I didn't like any of those characters, and I don't care what happens "next").

Last note:
Having said all of that, I do have some ideas about how this book relates to the first book in a more substantial way, but there's no way to verify any of it; it's all speculation on my part and, although it would be neat, it also doesn't matter, not to the story. Maybe if there's ever a fourth book and Vinge pulls all of these threads he's left lying around together, maybe, I'll read that one; otherwise, I don't plan on reading anymore Vinge.

Obliviated

There is, sometimes, a desire to see a movie that you know is going to be bad, but you just can't talk yourself out of seeing it. For whatever reason. Maybe, like with the Die Hard movies, you've seen all the other ones and can't make yourself not watch the newest one despite all the dumb pouring off of it. Or, maybe, there's just some cast member that you just have to see every movie that he's in, like I was with Harrison Ford back in the 80s. Or, maybe, the movie just looks cool and you hope you're just wrong about how bad it's going to be. That's kind of where I was with Oblivion. It just looked cool, and I was hoping, maybe, it was one of those things that the masses wouldn't get into but was really kind of good.

I was wrong.

So here's the spoiler warning, because I'm not going to try to not talk about aspects of the movie, so, if you think, like me, that the movie looks cool and you're probably going to watch it anyway despite what I say (just don't do it. really), you shouldn't read this. If you want to know about all of the dumb (you should!), read on.

I realize this isn't an issue for some people, but it is for me, as I've mentioned before: The movie did that opening narration thing to explain what's going on. I'm convinced that opening narration is almost always a bad thing. If you have to have it, you have either (1) started your movie in the wrong place (2) failed to provide information within the movie in a way that works for the viewer. The Star Wars movies are one of the few places where you can find effective opening narration (in the form of the prologue scroll). And, then, not only did Oblivion open with the narration providing the viewer with an out-of-character monologue of events, but all of that same information was provided about halfway through the movie in almost exactly the same format. Please, do not provide me the same information more than once in your movie. I can almost guarantee you that I got it the first time (which is why I tell my kids to not repeat themselves when they do something they find funny: I did just see it happen).

Despite the opening narration, the movie doesn't make much sense. Ostensibly, Jack and Victoria are a team placed on Earth to defend these large fusion reactors, but, really, why are they needed? There's actually no good reason for them to be there. Sure, sure, he's some technician who has to repair the drones, but that's flimsy at best, because that whole set up is just to support the fact that they want this character that doesn't have any memories, but from any kind of logical standpoint, it doesn't make any sense. I mean, it might (almost) make sense if the stated premise of the movie was true, but you know it's not, because, even if it was, what would be the point of erasing the memories of the support teams? However, with the knowledge that the aliens are really in charge, there is absolutely no good reason to have things set up the way they are. Why do they need humans to repair their drones? And why, after the Jack clones fought for them as their army when they took over the Earth, do they need to trick the clones into believing they're normal humans anyway?

Then there's the problem of Jack having this whole wilderness retreat that he's built, somehow, without anyone finding out. He's able to just turn off the tracking unit in his (what I'm calling) dragonfly ship (which  is very cool, by the way) and go "off comm." What the heck? His navigator person (who never leaves "the tower") doesn't have any idea where he is when he does this and neither do the aliens. Seriously? They just allow him to go off and do secret things without bothering to know what he's up to. Completely implausible. Sure, it makes sense if you believe the story as it's presented at the beginning of the movie, but, again, you know that's not the whole story fairly quickly, and the idea that the aliens (or whatever) would just allow this is beyond imagining. It's what the writer/director do to support the lie and get the audience to buy into it, but those things need to make sense after the truth is revealed, too.

Jack has these dreams... dreams of being in New York before it was destroyed, but that was 50 or so years ago, and he's not that old. My wife kept joking about them being "clone dreams" because, at that point, we were trying to go along with what the movie was telling us. Trying. But we both knew she was right. Right in that being what the movie was going to say they were: memories of Jack's life before he was cloned by the aliens. Seriously? This isn't the 80s anymore, and we already knew in the 80s, even in sci-fi, that clones don't get the memories of the being they were cloned from. The memory flashes work if his mind really was "wiped" before his mission, but it doesn't work as some remnant from his genetic donor. It's just dumb. Why can't we seem to get past this stupid idea that clones have the memory of whatever they were cloned from? (And, again, I just have to point out that Star Wars does not do this, the only sci-fi clone movie I can think of that doesn't fall back on that tired idea.)

Also, the drones, which can follow Jack's "DNA trail" (really? we leave a trail of DNA in the atmosphere even when we're in an enclosed, airtight vessel?) have a problem with his voice identification and consider killing him more than once. I suppose they can't sense his DNA when he gets too close. That's only a long-range thing. (Do you sense the sarcasm there?)

And there's the bit where the drones are flying through the human hideout blasting everyone into cinders but, when one of them corners Jack's wife, Julia (introduced only to be a princess-in-the-tower character), and a bunch of other humans in a dead-end corridor, it pauses and decides to scan them. Again, really? The drone, programmed to kill humans, suddenly needs to stop and scan them? For just long enough for it to get exploded from behind, of course.

And, after all of that, we're not even up to the stupidest part of the movie. I know! I see your jaws hanging. The stupidest part is when he finally flies up to the alien ship, this huge, upside-down pyramid thing, and it's just full of vast expanses of space on the inside! When did this become a thing and what kind of sense does it make? So, yeah, he's flying through this huge space and, every once in a while, he has to fly through an opening in a wall, and the walls are covered in clone pods. The only other things in the huge alien space ship are drones. No aliens. And, when he finally gets to the center to arrive at "Sally," it's just another inverted pyramid thing with a flashing (talking?) red light. NO ALIENS! So tell me why they needed to take over the Earth and use it as a source of material for their fusion reactors IF THERE ARE ACTUALLY NO ALIENS? And, if that's all they needed, why didn't they just stop at any of the unpopulated planets on the way into the solar system? Wouldn't that have been so much easier than having to fight a bunch of humans for the materials they wanted? AND WHERE WERE THE ALIENS?

There was also an even more stupidest part. The part where somehow the flight recorder from Jack's spaceship from when he first got captured by the alien ship went from being in the command module, recording what was happening, to being in the sleeping quarters of the ship even though the sleeping portion had been jettisoned. Because that makes all the sense.

The acting, though, wasn't bad. Not great but not bad, either. And the tech was decently cool. But there was a reason (many of them, actually, as I've pointed out) the movie didn't make back its production budget domestically. So, unless you just have to prove to yourself how dumb the movie is, this is not one I could suggest to anyone.

Neil Gaiman's Bottle of Milk

Depending upon how you look at things, my kids are either very fortunate or dismally unfortunate. They get great stories all the time about, well, everything. So there is the story about the Troll Bridge and Goblin Town and, now, there is an excavation into Goblin Town going on that I haven't remembered to go take pictures of, yet, but I need to so that I can do a post on that, and, of course, DRAGONS! Sometimes, especially my daughter, the kids get exasperated with me because they have such a difficult time getting merely mundane answers from me. Sometimes, I almost feel bad about that.

Sometimes.

I mean, no one has ever just gone to the store or gone outside to play or, even, just gone to the bathroom. He's been abducted by aliens. And, when he comes back, he's been replaced by a robot duplicate or, possibly, a clone. We're never just having chicken for dinner; we're having dinosaur or, depending upon how many times I've been asked that question, one of the children.

And I might would feel bad about it except I hear my children, delightedly, repeating those stories to their friends.

All of that to say that I loved Neil Gaiman's new book, Fortunately, the Milk, about a father who has to go to the corner store to get milk for his kids' breakfast cereal (because, otherwise, they would have to use orange juice, which is not okay on cereal) and get abducted by aliens on the way home. This was a story after my own heart. It also has dinosaurs.

My own stories don't have enough dinosaurs, I don't think.

It's an illustrated book but not, really, a picture book. The one I have, the American version, is illustrated by Skottie Young. His art is whimsical and funky and fits well with the tone of the book. That does not stop me from also wanting the UK version of the book, illustrated by Chris Riddell, which is not so funky but looks no less interesting. Not that I will be getting a copy of the UK version, because I don't want to pay the shipping on it.

So, yes, the story is whimsical and funky and just a lot of fun, taking off at weird tangents. It has everything you could possibly want from a story like this: aliens, dinosaurs, pirates, time travel... okay, well, it doesn't have cowboys, so I guess it doesn't have everything, but it has an awful lot. If you have young kids (or, even, if you don't), this is a great book to pick up. I'm sure it would make an excellent bedtime reading book. Even though I don't have young kids, I may make mine sit down and listen to it anyway.

Maybe, that way they'll know I'm not the only one that does this.

The Religion of Writing: Part Three -- Speaking in Tongues

The debate over speaking in tongues, or glossolalia, is not a new thing. Sure, we look at some of the "Charismatic" and Pentecostal churches and the spouting of gibberish from their mouths while they writhe around on the floor and think, "Man, if that's what I need to do to get into Heaven, then leave me out." [And don't ask me why they're called "charismatic" or why it's the "Charismatic Movement," because I don't see any good reason for the usage of the term (and didn't feel like spending more than the 10 minutes I wasted not finding an adequate answer).] Trust me, I'm with you. Well, I'm with those of you that feel the way I do about it. [Because what I can say is that we don't have examples of that kind of behavior in the Bible. Paul never "sizzled like bacon" while letting nonsense drip out of his mouth.] I am not flopping around like a fish out of water or roaring like a lion or any of that other nonsense that goes on when those people are all being "slain in the Spirit."

Which is the heart of the controversy, actually, because "those people" say  they're not doing it by choice. They're being possessed by the Holy Spirit, and they just can't help it. However, it is what gets you into Heaven (according to them), so, well, it's in your best interest to get in there with them and lose control of your bodily functions.

Now, here's the interesting part (isn't there always an interesting part?):
There has been a lot of research done into glossolalia. Which makes sense, because, if it's real, if people are spontaneously speaking some kind of language they didn't previously know, it would be a mighty strong proof of God or, at the very least, some kind of supernatural phenomenon. Before I go on, there are two types of glossolalia:
1. The kind everyone thinks of when they think of speaking in tongues: speaking an unknown language which no one understands. This is usually thought of as speaking in the tongues (languages) of Angels.
2. Xenoglossy: speaking an actual language that the speaker didn't previously know. Like breaking out into fluent Mandarin without ever even having had chow mein or orange chicken.
Here's the first interesting part: Nearly all of the actual instances of glossolalia in the Bible are xenoglossy. During Pentecost, it was xenoglossy that was happening. Or, perhaps, reverse xenoglossy since it was the listeners that actually heard the speakers in their own language.
If you look in the Bible for an example of what we think of when we talk about "speaking in tongues," we get exactly what goes on these days: a bunch of people (in Corinth) speaking in tongues and boasting about it, "Ha ha, we're better than all of you." Paul had to send a letter telling them to cut it out.

Modern xenoglossy is completely unverified. There are sporadic claims that it has happened, but there are never ever any witnesses or proof or anything of the nature. Usually, it's something along the lines of someone coming back from China and proclaiming to have broken out in Chinese while he was there, but there's no way to know if it happened, since there's never anyone available to say, "Oh, yeah, that guy totally spoke Chinese to me." The few case studies have pretty much shown that xenoglossy was not taking place.

Which leaves us with the gibberish form of speaking in tongues. Study after study after study (after study after study) by both linguists and psychologists have shown that no actual languages are being spoken during these episodes. [I'm not going to get into the technical aspect of how they know that.] There is also considerable psychological evidence that these bursts of "tongue speaking" are psychologically triggered in order to conform to expectations. Like peer pressure. What this means is that neither God nor "the Universe" is talking to any of these people. It's all coming out of their own minds.

Not that you can convince them of that.

And, also, that is not to say that there are not or have not been actual cases of speaking in tongues. I believe that some form of xenoglossy happened at Pentecost. There were potentially thousands of witnesses, and the event is recorded in some extra-Biblical texts. And, sure, there is the potential of the other form of speaking in tongues being real, too, just not in big groups of people the way it is commonly claimed today. So I'll admit the possibility of these things but not the current actuality of them.

Which brings me to the writing part of all of this.

So many, many writers claim to get their stories from "the Universe," or some muse, or some source of inspiration that is outside of themselves. "It was as if the story was just given to me, channeled through me, whispered into my ear," or whatever other nonsense. I'm sure there's no more validity to this than there is in the whole speaking in tongues thing. The human mind is a wondrous thing. Infinitely creative. The idea that we are incapable of coming up with remarkable stories is... well, it's just ludicrous.

It's why it bothers me so much that there are people out there trying to disprove that Shakespeare wrote the plays he's credited with. The idea being that no one can be that creative. What? Did the plays just materialize? Spring forth from the aether fully written? Beamed down by aliens? As with a rose, why does it matter what we call the guy who wrote those plays? Someone wrote them, but, instead of just saying, "Wow, what a creative mind," we have people out there trying to prove that, what amounts to, no one having written them. It's kind of insane.

What I say is this:
If you wrote something, own it. I mean, really own it. Don't try to blame it on some outside force or influence. Take responsibility for it, good or bad. And, if it's bad, keep working on it and make it better. If it's good, say, "I did this! Me!" I don't see why it is that we have to always discredit ourselves and our achievements, like we're not good enough. And that's what you're doing when you try to blame your art on the "the Universe": discrediting yourself.

So, yeah, I will admit to the possibility that "the Universe" or the Force or God or, even, aliens may have influenced someone at some time to write something. Or paint something. Or make music. But, just like with speaking in tongues, I'm pretty sure it's not happening on any kind of regular basis. People are just scared to own their creations, because, like in mass "tongue events," society says pretty consistently, "You can't say that you yourself did a good job." But, not only that, society says that when someone comes along and tells us we did, we have to brush it off and say "it was nothing" or "I was inspired." It wasn't me.
What hogwash.

Don't be scared. Take credit for your work. If aliens want to send us books, let them send us the books. They don't need to whisper them in anyone's ear.

Alone in the Silence

Have you ever looked forward to reading a book? I mean, really looked forward to a particular book. For whatever reason, you've decided this book is going to be good. Maybe it's the author. Maybe you've been told repeatedly that it's the best book ever. Maybe it's about your favorite thing (like a book all about chocolate or Star Wars or coffee or whatever). Whatever it is, though, you finally read the book, and wow such disappointment.

For a variety of reasons, I was really looking forward to Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking. It sounded interesting. It had really good reviews. But, mostly, being an introvert and constantly being annoyed by people listening to stupid things from people that are loud and more assertive, I wanted to know what this book had to say. And people were saying it had a lot to say. I think what I expected was something along the lines of (and, yes, I know I mention this book a lot, but, really, most of you ought to read it) Bright-sided. Something that was like a science experiment. I have a question, and, now, I'm going to do the research and find the answer. And Quiet was sooo close.

As I read through "Part One: The Extrovert Ideal," I thought I had a winner. I thought I had a book that I was going to be able to say to all of you out there that are introverts and writers (because most actual writers are introverts (and I say it that way to exclude people (celebrities) who "write" books but don't really do the actual writing)), "You need to read this book!" But, as it turns out, I was wrong.

So what happened? Well, Susan Cain (the author) did. As it turns out, she wasn't really interested in introversion, she was actually interested in why she was afraid of public speaking. As many people do, she tied the fear of public speaking to her introversion. It's a great stereotype, right? Introverts are scared to speak in public? Except that it's wrong. Numerous studies have shown that the fear of public speaking has nothing to do with introversion. Extroverts have the same fear of public speaking that introverts have. Meaning, if you're scared of getting up in front of people and giving a speech, you are just as likely to be an extrovert as an introvert (possibly more likely, because we think extroverts make up a larger portion of society). The initial section, the research about extroverts and the rise of our extroverted society is quite good and interesting (but it's not worth buying the whole book for it). It's where the actual, objective research happened.

After that, though... well, it begins an exploration of why she's still scared of public speaking even though she's been doing it for years.

She starts with biology and how much of introversion may be nature and how much nurture. Some of that is also interesting, especially the newer child-focused studie that are trying to differentiate the nature/nurture debate. However, as she went on, she relied more and more on "maybe"s and "might"s rather than actual data. Because there was no solid data to back up any of the claims she wanted to make, so she relied on speculation to make her points. Sometimes, it was her own speculation. And I don't have a problem with speculating, but I do have an issue with speculation being presented as evidence.

The other thing she did was to rely heavily on anecdotal evidence, "I heard a story once...," to prove her points. That's just as bad as speculation. I mean, it's the same as me saying "one time, this friend of mine found a dead cow in the woods with all of its organs removed" to prove that aliens exist. Or that aliens target cows because they like cheese (yes, Briane, that was for you). At one point, she even uses a story Mark Twain told. Really? Because he was know for his non-fiction?

The worst part, though, is that she over-generalized her own brand of introversion as being what all introverts are like, and that's just not true. The introvert/extrovert thing is not something that's cut and dried like that. It's known as the introvert/extrovert spectrum, and it's called that for a reason. But she very happily lumped all introverts into her specific type of introversion, and my own introversion is nothing like hers. For one thing, I don't have a problem with public speaking. At all. I spent years and years getting up in front of people and talking, and the only time I ever had an issue with it was 5th grade, the first time I had to give an oral book report. She also equates introversion with shyness, which is also not true. Shyness, like fear of public speaking, is not something that only introverts lay claim to. Again, shyness is something that falls across the introvert/extrovert spectrum. [At one point, she does, kind of, say this, but, then, she goes on talking about it and discussing it as if it was a purely introvert issue.] But she was a shy child; therefore, all introverts must be shy.

If the book had continued to focus on society (as in the first section) and how introverts can make a place for themselves in a society that holds up extroversion as the ideal (by the way, the US is one of the most extroverted societies on the planet), as the full title suggests, it would have been a good read. However, it goes offtrack and explores how introverts can get over their fear of public speaking (because, you know, that's the assumption, that all introverts are scared of this). In short, it becomes a self help book, and I really wasn't looking for a self help book (nor was it marketed as one). I mean, really, she spends probably 1/3 of the book dealing with strategies and studies and plans about how to get over the fear of public speaking. It was like a big bait-and-switch.

Oh, and also how introverts can act more extroverted. There are strategies for that, too. My issue with this is that she spends the entire first section of the book talking about how we shouldn't have to act like extroverts to get along in our society, and I fully support this. [Introverts should not have to pretend to be extroverts to get along. That's just wrong.] But, then, a huge portion of the book is about how to set aside blocks of time to be extroverted and for no other real reason than that people expect  it. Like I said, I wasn't looking for a self help book, especially one I don't consider a "help."

At the very end (for, maybe, 5 pages), she did talk about the issue of children that are introverts in classrooms designed for extroverts, and that was interesting, but it's the kind of thing that really could have benefited from a closer look. It has to do with how, as a society, we mess up our kids by trying to get them to be one way (an extrovert) when they're not. It's the equivalent of forcing left-handed kids to write with their right hands [my example]; it's just not so visual. [And this issue of the extrovert designed class is pretty much everywhere I guess. Desks arranged in "pods" so that students can work together instead of individually. That's prevalent at my kids' school, too, so that was an eye opener that that's what that's about.]

Anyway, unless you have a fear of public speaking and need to do it, I would just skip this book. I wish I had. I dislike finishing a book frustrated at the lack of information the author actually gave.


As you might expect, I have my own take on the whole introvert/extrovert controversy and how it applies to writing, because, yes, the "extrovert ideal" has been encroaching even upon a field that is populated predominantly by introverts.

Prevailing wisdom says that better, more quality work is done by groups of people rather than people working individually. The problem with that "wisdom" is that virtually every study out there shows that this isn't true. Basically, the more people you have involved, the more muddled the work gets and the longer it takes to complete. Group work also produces an inferior product. Let me say this again, virtually every study done on this subject shows it to be true. But it doesn't "feel" like it ought to be true and some very loud and assertive people speak loudly and assertively about how beneficial it is for everyone to work together, so that's the model that businesses are using. And schools. And, yes, writers.

And you know it's true. Everyone says you need your pack of betas and CPs or you just can't write a novel. You'll get better work if you have more and more feedback. It seems so sensible. And it's hogwash. You can't write a book by committee. Not a good one, anyway. As a writer, you need a vision of what it is you want to write, and you need to pursue that vision in solitude. You need to be alone in the silence of your mind until you can hear whatever it is you need to say. I'm not prescribing a particular method here other than that you need to not let other people muddle your story and destroy your vision.

You need to find that for yourself. Find your vision and pursue it wherever it takes you. Don't get sidetracked by others. Don't let their ideas invade your space. Other people can't see your vision and can't help you to fulfill it.

This doesn't mean don't get feedback when you're finished; you certainly should. People that can see inconsistencies or grammar errors or whatever, but don't spend your time writing by trying to fit other people's ideas into your story. They need to take their ideas and go write their own stories.

Anyway, if you're a writer and an introvert, embrace the introvert within! Go lock yourself in a closet or go down in the cave (or, even, the cafe, if that's how you do it) and write your book. Don't try to conform to the prevailing "wisdom" of the extrovert ideal.

Cowboys & Aliens and a Small Favor

Cowboys & Aliens

I finally saw Cowboys & Aliens. It was one of those things that, even though everyone says it's bad, I had to try anyway. Everyone was right. But I don't think it was bad for the reasons I heard. Actually, I didn't hear a lot of concrete reasons; people just didn't like it. I get that. But I think there are some very concrete reasons for how bad it is.

First, though, the good:
Harrison Ford. As I said way back in this post, any time he appears in a role that is not completely heroic, there are often bad things said. What I find most curious about that, especially from people that were old enough to have seen Star Wars: A New Hope when only Han shot (none of this "Han shot first crap), is that Harrison Ford made his name playing characters that, sort of, straddled the edge, and his character in Cowboys is exactly that kind of character. I thought he did a great job; although, it was criticisms of his role that I heard most often from people talking about the movie.

Also, Daniel Craig. However, the thing that made Craig good in the role is that he was playing the part of Harrison Ford. And he did a great Ford impersonation. It really felt to me that the producers (or whoever) wanted Ford for the lead role, but Ford is too old, so they put him in as the mentor-ish, quasi-bad guy and got Craig for the lead because Craig could do a good job of being what Ford was 20-30 years ago. They were fun to watch together; although, it was a bit like having chocolate mixed with chocolate instead of, say, chocolate and peanut butter.

The other good: Sam Rockwell, Clancy Brown, and Walton Goggins.
I love Sam Rockwell. He doesn't get enough credit. Go watch Moon if you really want to see what he's capable of. And, of course, there's always Galaxy Quest. He didn't do much in this one, but it was nice to see him in it.
The same with Clancy Brown. The same in that it was nice to see him in it. He's not around enough.
I hope Walton Goggins is someone that is up and coming. He's SO good in Justified, and he brought that same intensity to his part here, "I always did like you best."

The bad:
Olivia Wilde: Not that she was bad, but she was completely interchangeable. She could have been any of at least a dozen other actresses. And her character was... well, it was one of the things that made the movie bad. The "alien" that chose to look human to blend in in order to kill the other aliens. Oh, and she's the last of her race. Of course, she is. The character was only in the movie to give Craig a love interest, but it would have been better (more believable) if she'd just been human.

The aliens:
Everything to do with  the aliens is bad and wrong. When did the whole trend start with aliens just being ravening monsters? Was it Independence Day (I hate that movie)? Is it because of Alien? Whatever the reason, it doesn't make any sense. The idea that there are aliens that invented technology that give them interstellar flight but they are just beasts (with barely the intelligence to use their tech) is completely ludicrous. I'm more than a bit tired of it, at this point. I think Super 8 is the last movie that gets a pass on this from me (because in that, at least, it made sense).

Oh, and, yeah, they're just here because of... gold. Gold? Really? That's the best they could come up with? But these guys that landed, they're just scouts. If they're just scouts, why have they set up a whole mining operation? That doesn't sound like a scouting trip to me. And they're experimenting on humans to discover their weaknesses, but they view the humans as insects and, therefore, beneath notice. Those two views don't go together. Pick one and go with it, but don't try to sell me both of those.

The bracelet:
Craig's character has this nifty bracelet that he got from the aliens. It does things like shooting down the alien ships. Seemingly on its own. But... well, nothing with the bracelet makes any sense. It only responds to Craig's commands, but it acts all on its own. Okay, which is it? And Craig has this amazing hand-to-hand combat ability that you think comes from the bracelet, but, well, evidently not. So, then, the fighting style is completely out of line with the setting. It doesn't work.

But the worst part? The worst part is that, evidently, there's just one of these bracelets. Craig stole it from the aliens, but none of them have bracelets. Why in the world not? Craig blasts aliens left and right with the thing; you'd think the aliens would want to use them against the humans. Of course, then, the humans would have had no chance at all. So they don't have them or don't use them or... well, it's really just unclear. But it's dumb. DUMB!

The Indians:
I have nothing against Indians, but they were just tossed in so that they could lend a bit of mysticism to the movie, and that was... unnecessary. You have this movie with cowboys fighting aliens, such a cool idea, why do you need to add in mysticism? Just to complicate the plot a bit more? Or to fluff it up? Whatever the reason, it didn't need to be there.

The plot:
Cluttered and completely predictable. What should have been an interesting story was reduced to the mediocrity of being exactly what you expect. No, wait, it was worse than what you expect. But the story arc was completely what you'd expect. Including the fact that if they kill this scout ship then no more aliens will come. Why? If I was an alien and I sent a scout ship to a planet and it didn't come back, I'd send someone to investigate. But, no, according to the "human" alien, if the scouts are destroyed, they'll just leave the Earth alone.

Overall, it was just a huge disappointment. Mostly, because the idea had such potential. And the lead actors were, actually, really good, but the rest of the movie was a huge train wreck. Unfortunately, not in a spectacular way like the one in Super 8. Maybe, that would have been worth watching. This was the train wreck that's been out rusting for months that wasn't even worth cleaning up. The one that kids poke around in when there is absolutely nothing else to do. And, you know what, it wasn't even bad enough to get worked up over it. You can't hate it. It's sort of too bad for that. You just feel sorry for it. Like the kid that should have won the spelling bee but accidentally spelled "of" incorrectly (true story).


Small Favor

Small Favor is the 10th book in The Dresden Files series and another solid entry. In saying that it's solid, I'm saying that I liked it. All of these books are quite above average and surprisingly good considering the genre and that they are, basically, pulp fiction. As I've said before, the thing I appreciate most about the Dresden books is that they are not static. Most books of this sort resort to returning everything to the status quo at the end of the novel so that each successive novel really starts at the same point. Instead of a series of books, what you really have is what I'll call a wheel of books in which each book starts at the same point and proceeds out along a different spoke.

Not so the Dresden novels. Although you could probably just pick up any book and start reading, you really wouldn't want to. Stuff from previous books come back into play, and, honestly, I think it would just leave you feeling a little lost. Take my advice, start from the beginning.

All of that said, let me talk about where Small Favor fails:
Jim Butcher has always used Dresden as his own voice. Used him to pontificate about various topics that actually have nothing to do with the story (or only loosely) but that Butcher wanted said. Generally, this has happened in small doses and has been (mostly) easily overlooked. However, it seems with Small Favor, he got a little carried away with this or his editor/publisher didn't rein him in enough. For instance, he goes on for three pages in chapter 28 in what he sums up with, "We're ostriches and the whole world is sand." He really didn't need to say more than that, and he certainly didn't need to go on about it for three pages. Especially since he's talked about that same subject in other books. I guess he felt like he needed to remind us more strongly this time. He also goes on at one point about how dolphins are smarter than people. And it's not that I disagree, but I don't need him to quote research at me about it when the dolphins in question barely have anything to do with the story. There are more instances, but these were the worst. I found myself annoyed at these much more than usual with this book.

The other place of failure with this book was in the handling of one of the side characters. Remember how I said that Butcher has been really good at allowing growth and change with Dresden? Well, he's also been really good about it with the side characters. Bad things happen, and he allows them all to suffer the consequences. Or good things happen and they take a step forward. This time, though, he decided to lock one of the side characters into a static condition that seemed (completely) unrealistic. Given the choice to do her job better, she refused. And for the flimsiest of reasons. I see that Butcher wants to keep this character a "normal" so that we "normal" readers will have a character that we can relate to, but this time it felt really forced.

Still, I highly enjoyed the book. Just not as much as I have the ones that have gone before it. After 10 books, though, I guess it would be a little unrealistic to expect that there's not one that takes a slight dip.

Four Turtledoves

I recently finished the Worldwar series by Harry Turtledove. This is one of those series that my wife says I should have put down when it became tedious, but I'm stubborn, so I read it to the end. I did, actually, want to know how it ended. That was an unfortunate desire. Let me break it down for you (and there will be spoilers, so, if you plan to read this series, you may want to skip the rest). Actually, let me explain Turtledove, first.

Harry Turtledove has been called the "master of alternate history," and that may well be true. It has certainly been one of the major foci of his writing. He also has a Ph.D. in history, so he has the historical background to pull it off. Generally, he takes a place in history and applies some tweak to it and explores what happens as a result of that one change.

The Worldwar series is set during World War II and explores what might have happened had Earth been invaded by aliens in the midst of the war.

Book One: Worldwar: In the Balance: The United States has only recently entered the war and hasn't really deployed, yet. It is a bit too fortuitous of a set up. Basically, the USA has begun its military build up, but most of its men and equipment are still in the US. Aliens attack.

The background here is that the alien race is ancient, but their technology is not much advanced beyond what we currently have. Except, you know, that they have interstellar flight. They sent a probe to Earth eight centuries ago and expected to find us still riding around on horses and fighting with swords. Technologically speaking, the Race (as the Lizards call themselves) are very slow to advance and just assumed that we would be the same way. Still, they brought nukes with them and begin their attack by setting off  nukes in the atmosphere to disrupt our communications. It works less well then they expect since humans are still using tube-based technology. I'm just not going to get into how little sense it makes that they would have planned on the communication disrupting nukes when they didn't expect us to have any electronic technology. The rationalization is that they always over plan, so, even though they have no expectation of needing them, they have brought along nukes.

The book goes on to deal with the political fallout of the Earth governments in the wake of a global alien invasion. I really enjoyed the first book. There is a large cast of characters so that we get a glimpse into what's going on all over the world as everything happens. Yes, that means lots of hopping around, but there is never a problem keeping up. The books are pretty long and dense, but I still finished In the Balance within a few weeks while also reading a couple of other books.

Book Two: Worldwar: Tilting the Balance: The Earth governments begin to form alliances against the Lizards. No one, of course, trusts the Nazis, especially the USSR, but that doesn't stop them from trying. This book keeps up the momentum of the first one as things become more complicated. Not only are we dealing with aliens, but we have all of the political machinations of the humans. The aliens don't really get politics and are constantly misjudging the humans. They also underestimate the adaptabilty of humans.

I also thoroughly enjoyed this book and read it in a similar timeline as I did the first one. The warning signs, however, were there for what was coming in the last two books had I been looking for them.

Book Three: Worldwar: Upsetting the Balance: The situation grows more complicated as nukes begin to be used by both sides. The humans introduce drug use, in the form of ginger, to the Lizards. Strife breaks out among the Lizards, something unheard of in their culture for eons.

There are some interesting developments in this book, but the reading begins to bog down. Basically, as Turtledove switches from character to charcter, he endeavors to remind us whom each character is as he transitions to them. This happens in the first two books, too, but there's not much to remind us of at that point. By the third book, however, he has two books worth of material to remind us of, and it begins to get really tedious. Especially with one particular character.

The books are told from a third person omniscient view, so we get a lot of what the individual characters are thinking about. Actually, most of the story is told from that perspective. There's one character in particular that I was just hating by the third book. I dreaded any of his sections, because he constantly was re-going over everything that happened to him everytime we were in his head. Any time I would get to one of his sections, I'd have to put the book down and go do something else. After reading one of his sections, I would have to put the book down and go do something else. If he'd still been around for the fourth book, I may never have finished the series.

Book Four: Worldwar: Striking the Balance: A lot of nothing happens in this book. The war has ground into a stalemate and so has the book. It was like Turtledove had written himself into a corner and didn't know what to do, so a whole lot of nothing happened all of the time. That and reviewing what had happened in the first three books. Over and over and over again. It was horrible. Normally, I read two or three books at a time, but I had to decide to not read anything else while I tried to work my way through Striking. It still took me over 120 days to read it according to Goodreads. I just didn't ever want to pick it up and could never make myself read more than a few pages at a time. [The last book that I had such a hard time getting through was Blood of the Fold (book 3 of The Sword of Truth series and the last one I would read), and that was something like 10 years ago.] But, still, I wanted to know how the series ended being so close, relatively speaking, so I plowed on through it.

There was no real resolution to the story, which was more than disappointing. There's  plenty of rising action in the first two books (and that's when they're good), but, sometime in the transition from book 2 to book 3, the action plateaus. There is no real climax to the overall story; it just ends. There is a sequel series that jumps ahead (I'm guessing) about 40 years, but I doubt I will ever read it. It's not that the ending of Worldwar isn't realistic; it's just not satisfying. At least, not to me. Based on the success of Turtledove, the people that really like his genre must not have an issue with the ending. Worldwar is one of his best selling series.

The other thing that I really didn't like about the last book is that there is a lot of character manipulation by the author to get them to do things that aren't really in character for them to further the plot. It was also disappointing, especially with one particular set of characters.

I really couldn't give a general recommendation to anyone to read this series. If you like a lot of military action, you'll probably enjoy it. If you're into alternate history stuff, you may like it. If you're a fan of sci-fi and feel like trying something slightly different, it may be okay. Beyond that... I don't know. I feel like I should get a better feel for Turtledove's writing in general, but I'm not thinking I'm going to try anything else by him anytime soon.

Here are my grades for the books:
In the Balance: B (maybe even a B+)
Tilting the Balance: B
Upsetting the Balance: C-
Striking the Balance: F
Worldwar series: D (No, it doesn't get a pure average, because the ending drags the overall story way down for me. I suppose this is one of those times where you can get a real example of how endings really are the hardest parts to write.)

Edit:
As a nod to Rusty, and I meant to say this initially, but I ended up with less time than I thought I'd have and forgot:
This series is one of those that suffers from bad editing. One of two things happened:
1. Turtledove thought people would not be able to remember which character was which and, so, constantly reminded us of whom they were. A good editor would have said, "hey, you don't need to repeat this information so much," and a good portion of the redundancy could have been cut out of the third and fourth books.
2. The editor couldn't keep track of the characters and had Turtledove add the information in so that readers would be reminded. If this was the case, a smarter editor would have been good.

This series probably could have fit into 3 books if all the repetition had been cut out.

See, I'm not against editing!

Harrison Ford and the Raw Deal

For over a decade, Harrison Ford held the distinction of being the biggest grossing star in Hollywood. That position is now held by Samuel Jackson, but it took more than twice as many movies for him to get there. Ford still has the highest average film gross of any actor (although Tom Hanks isn't far behind). Ford has done something that actors are very rarely able to do; he has become, not one, but two, iconic characters. Almost three, but the Jack Ryan movies never quite became the franchise it was expected they would become (and possibly would have if Alec Baldwin hadn't dropped out after Red October).

He's Han Solo and Indiana Jones; how could he possibly be getting any kind of raw deal? The problem is that he has done that specific job too well. He is so much the rough and tumble action hero that audiences have become incapable of seeing him as anything else. They just won't accept him in any other type of role.

There was excessive grumbling when Regarding Henry came out in 1991. It underperformed, and people blamed it on Ford. The truth is is that he did a fine job in that movie, but people didn't want to see him in that role, so he was attributed with a bad performance. He tried Sabrina. It was felt that Ford was the Bogart of his time, so he would be perfect for the role, but audiences didn't accept him in that role, either. Audiences began screaming with the release of Six Days Seven Nights. There was no lovable scoundrel  in Quinn Harris; in fact, audiences generally felt the character of Quinn was unlikeable, and the film barely broke even. And despite doing well at the box office, I remember the horrified wails that accompanied What Lies Beneath as people everywhere refused to see Ford as a villain. More than any other, it was, perhaps, that movie that drove the final spike into Ford's career as anything more than an action hero. Or, even, anything more than one of his iconic roles (but maybe that will change with the release of Cowboys & Aliens later this summer). Of the seven movies Ford made between Clear and Present Danger and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, only two were hits at the box office: Air Force One and What Lies Beneath. None of the three he's done since Crystal Skull have been hits.

This is unfortunate, because he does have a broader range than that of the lovable scoundrel. It's really not his fault that the American movie going audience can't separate him from his most famous roles. And, in  the end, it's their loss.

We just watched Morning Glory. This movie has a stellar cast. Not only does it have Harrison Ford, but it also has Diane Keaton, Rachel McAdams, and Jeff (does anyone even remember him?) Goldblum. They are all wonderful, and it is an excellent movie. Ford plays a washed up reporter, a former legend, the "3rd worst person in the world." Although I'm sure it wasn't intentional, the role is somewhat a parody of Ford himself. He's become a crotchety old man who can't escape what he used to be to accept what he's become. It would not have surprised me he'd slipped in "I was Han Solo!" as he gave  one of his many diatribes about his former accomplishments.

The sad part is that no one saw this movie. As a Hollywood movie, it was fairly low budget. Only $40,000,000. Yes, that's low in Hollywood terms. Scary, I know. It didn't make a profit. By a lot. Didn't come close. But it was so good, and Ford was... actually, he was spectacular. He played the role to perfection. They all did. Possibly, if Rachel McAdams had slightly more drawing power, people would have gone to see it for her, but that didn't happen. In fact, Ford's non-iconic star has fallen so far, that McAdams got top billing for the movie.

We talk frequently about entertainers only being capable of doing particular types of things, and, sometimes, that's true. More often than not, though, I think it's not true. We've just decided that they are only capable of particular types of roles, certain kinds of movies, specific genres of novels, and we, the audience, won't allow these people out of the boxes we've put them in. I mean, Kevin Smith tried to break away from his formula, partially due to criticism that he was a one-trick pony, and he produced Jersey Girl, a great movie that no one saw, because it wasn't want his fans wanted.

We trap these people into "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situations. Granted, some of them are quite satisfied with the boxes they get put in. Michael Bay comes to mind. He's good at what he does, and he seems satisfied with that. For now. But what if he decides that he wants to make a "serious" movie. To prove that he can do more than blow things up. No, I'm not saying I believe he's capable of more than that, but I'm also not saying that I believes he's not.

If you haven't seen Morning Glory, I suggest you give it a shot. Forget, as you should, that it's Harrison Ford. Don't think about Han Solo or Indiana Jones or, even, Jack Ryan. Think about Mike Pomeroy. Allow him to be that character. I think you'll be surprised and find that he's more than capable of filling those shoes, too.