Orlando (an opera review post)

After having said, just this week, what I said about the general director of SFO and more traditional productions of classic operas, here's one that's... not. Which does not change the validity of my statement; the productions have still been trending toward "traditional" rather than "experimental" or "updated" or whatever you want to call anything that isn't set in its traditional setting. But, yes, Orlando gets a more modern setting, and it's a very good thing. I'm not sure how I would have felt about it if it had been done as written. As it is, I'm still conflicted over it.

Orlando is by Handel. Yes, that Handel, the Messiah one. Which means it's pretty. It's also everything that people who have never seen opera think opera is: people singing one line over and over again for five minutes. Okay, maybe three lines, but Orlando is really like that. This could be reduced to a not-even-very-long short story, even shorter if it was dialogue-based.

All that, and it makes use of one of my least favorite writing devices: the deus ex machina.

However!
This production is set during World War II rather than it's original setting, and the opera becomes something much more interesting than having the problem solved by "god" coming down and making everything right. In this case, it's solved by a rather pompous psychiatrist and electroshock treatment. Of course, the electroshock treatment does seem to affect everyone involved, not just the receiver of the treatment, but it's much better than Zeus waving his hands around and making everything good again.

Here's something fun:
My brother, who is six years younger than me, sang in a boys' choir when he was probably about six or seven. Due to his association with that particular choir, I picked up a few tidbits of information about choirs of that sort, the main being that in the not too distant past, even, it was not uncommon for the best of these singers to be castrated before puberty so that they could retain their high-pitched voices into adulthood. Yeah, I'll just let that sink in a few moments...

You ready to go on yet?
Good.

So... Handel had a favored lead male singer who was one of these men who had been castrated to retain his voice, and Handel wrote the part of Orlando for that specific singer. Needless to say, it is, at best, a difficult role for a male to play these days, so SFO cast a woman in the role, which seems to be the norm. I don't know; I haven't done any research on the history of Orlando and at what point it became commonplace to have a woman in the role.

Anyway... None of that has any bearing on the actual opera production. It's just free trivia for you.

It took me a while to get into this one. It starts with this whole thing with the doctor/wizard Zoroastro trying to convince Orlando that he should forsake love and get back to his duty in the war because, you know, he's a war hero, and there are still Nazis to kill. That's probably advice Orlando should have taken because the woman he was in love with was in love with someone else, and so we have a conflict. It's a much more complicated conflict than that, though, more like a love tangle than a love triangle. After awhile, the story got interesting enough to draw me in. It just takes a while when it takes half an hour to cover a few sentences of story.

The set was pretty interesting. They set it in a hospital because Orlando has been wounded and this is where he had been making his recovery. It was, on the surface, a fairly simple set, just a spinning wall that could be different rooms as they turned it from one side to the other. It was very effective.

In the end, I liked it. A lot more than I expected to. It's sort of a stand-in-place-and-sing kind of opera, but the director turned it into a piece that plenty of movement and action. It was good. It helped to pull the audience, or, at least, me, into the performance.

Christina Gansch, who played the nurse Dorinda, really stood out. She was clever and funny and, really, made her role the center of the performance.

I don't know that I'd want to see this opera again, but I'm glad I saw this production of it.

Sundiver (a book review post)

I had high hopes for this book. Okay, well, that's not exactly true; it's just that I haven't read a book I really loved in a while now, and I was just hoping to at least like this one. It's an award winning book, and my wife liked it and the other books in the series back when she read them, though that was a long time ago at this point. Needless to say, I was disappointed. In the book, not my wife.
I was disappointed a lot.
Not Snow Crash a lot, but a lot nevertheless.

But I think I get it, why sci-fi fans like this book and Snow Crash and other books like them: They're responding to the concepts, the ideas, rather than to the book itself and the actual writing. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for a good idea, but I think if you're going to make it into a book, you have to back it up with some writing that supports it, and this book didn't have that. Nor did Snow Crash.

So, yeah, yadda yadda, uplift, yadda yadda. The idea is that older alien races will find pre-sentient lifeforms and raise them to sentience and be their patrons. There's this whole galactic system for it. Yes, it's an interesting idea, but the book... Man, it was hard to read.

Mostly because the protagonist was his own deus ex machina. As it turns out, Jacob, the main character, had a split personality, and he somewhat inappropriately referred to his alter ego as Mr. Hyde. Basically, any time Jacob ran into a situation he couldn't handle he could whip out Hyde and Hyde could do it. Because Hyde could do everything. Need a lock picked? Hyde can do that. Need to pocket someone else's belongings without anyone else seeing? Hyde can do that. Need to shit flying monkeys out of your ass? Well, Hyde didn't do that, but it wouldn't have surprised me.
It's lazy writing, though, having a way for your protagonist to personally meet any and all challenges on his own with his own secret weapon. Actually, it reminds of a horrible 80s movie, The Dungeonmaster, in which the hero had a laser-firing, computer watch that would defeat all of the bad guys.

As a total aside, that is one of the strengths of the Harry Potter books: Harry can't do much of anything on his own. I mean, he needs help, a lot of it, and he gets it by having a support team around him. Secret Harry never pops out of his head with all of the correct spells to accomplish whatever he needs to do at any given time. It makes him believable as a character.

Having a split off personality hiding in your brain does not make for a believable character.

Not to mention the part where anytime the story would get stuck because the characters didn't have enough information to move forward (not to mention the audience), Hyde would pop up with an insight and move the plot forward. Not that it was an insight Hyde had any right to have, but, hey, when the author gets stuck with how to move the plot along... Yeah, just toss the new info in from, basically, nowhere.

As if that's not already asking a lot from the reader in terms of accepting things, we also have to believe that we've managed to make spaceships that can fly in the sun... using "refrigerator" lasers. And I'll buy that. I mean, I will if that's the thing the author is asking us to accept but, then, he has to throw in aliens that live floating around in the outer layer of the sun. And other stuff... All together, it was just too much to put up with at any given moment. Something was always coming across as dumb to me because there was just too much to buy into.

Mostly due to the issues with the protagonist. But when you have that going on, when I can't buy into the main fucking character, then I can't buy into the rest of the story.

And, as if that wasn't enough, the author kept adding things in that really should have been a part of the fabric of the book. It was as if, as he was writing, he'd have a brilliant idea about something that should be in there and, from that point onward, that thing would be in the book, but he never wove those things back into the story that he'd already written. And maybe that's just me, as a writer, who is seeing that, but I know how that kind of thing goes and, if you're unwilling to go back and work those things into the bit you've already written, then leave them out of the book.
Seriously.

So... I suppose the real question, now, is whether I'm going to go on to the next book in the series. Honestly, I don't know. I have the books here and had planned to read the series because I had thought I was going to enjoy it and all of that. And it's one of those things where I have this question poking at me now about what people have seen in these books. Maybe the next one's better? Book two does, actually, have higher ratings than this one. For the moment, though, I'm going to read something else. Once I finish that book, I'll see how I feel about giving Startide Rising a chance. I'd say it's not looking good but, then, I did read all of that Lovecraft shit and L'Engle's mess, too.

Gibbon's Decline and Fall (a book review post)

All right, this will probably be the last Tepper novel I do for a while. Not because I've grown tired of her books or anything but because I'm out of all the ones I have and I don't plan to go book buying any time soon. Not until I finish some of the other books I have sitting around. Or unless I decide I just need the sequel to Grass.

That said, overall, I didn't enjoy this one as much as her others, and I'm going to tell you why, which means, yes, there will be spoilers, so, if you plan on picking this one up, you may want to bypass this. Not that I think any of you are making that plan because, if you were, you would have picked up The Gate To Women's Country, which is something you should certainly do.

Let me give you some context:
The book was published in '96 and is set in '99. The coming millennium looms over the events of the novel though it actually has little to do with the action. When it came out, it was a contemporary novel, though the present that Tepper shows is a bit removed from ours. Chimpanzees, elephants, and many other species are extinct in the wild. Prisons are full of pods that they sentence people to sleep in. Far Right groups roam the streets... Wait, that doesn't sound too far off.

Basically, Right-wing groups of fanatics of every flavor around the world are making their presence known in violent ways, mostly against women but, really, against anyone who doesn't agree with them. They've taken over the politics in the United States and, really, everywhere else, too. People who do not belong to these groups have fewer and fewer places to turn for help.

The beginning third of the book actually felt very prescient.

The action of the book revolves around the disappearance of one of the women the book is about. At least, that's the only theme that carries all the way through the book as the conflict is rather fluid other than that. That's all stuff I'm not going to get into. Why spoil everything, right? The supernatural element that Tepper so likes plays into this, and it's ultimately what ruined the book for me. Or what it leads to, which is an actual deus ex machina ending.

Let's just say I'm not a fan of having a god step in at the end to save everything, especially when that god was a character in the novel beyond a mere spoken about concept.

However, the real problem area for me was the antagonist. In a general sense, the antagonist is "men" and their antipathy toward women, or, at least, their antipathy towards women's rights. The unifying factor among all of the far Right groups in the book is their belief that women should get back in the kitchen, so to speak. They should be no more than baby makers and food preparers and house cleaners. The book deals a lot with how shitty men can be and how they systemically undermine women and their potential roles in the world.

And we're all good as far as that goes, because all of that is true. However, Tepper then sabotages her point by having the main villain, Webster, be an interstellar entity that is causing men to be the way that they are. Well, maybe he doesn't cause it, but he exacerbates and intensifies it, so, really, except in a few cases, it's not really their fault.

This is a problem because the men she portrays in the book are not caricatures or exaggerations. They are exactly the way men are. But Tepper gives them, gives us, an out: Oh, really, men, they're not that bad; it's just all of these really bad outside influences that make them that way. I really don't understand why she chose to go that route. It pulls the teeth out of any social commentary she was trying to make.

Not to mention the unresolved nature of the denouement. Or, rather, the fact that the resolution is unrevealed to the reader. This is a tactic that would work if Tepper had left the reader with a question which the reader needed to answer for himself, but that's not the nature of it as none of the choices the protagonist is given are choices any of us can actually choose, so we're just left to wonder what choice she made and that's the end of it. It was... unsatisfying. And it left with the feeling that Tepper herself didn't know how she would choose so just left it hanging. Rather like the end of Inception where Nolan left the ending hanging because he didn't know which way to go with it.

So... yeah... brilliant beginning, but she failed to nail the landing. It's not a book I would recommend. Which isn't to say I didn't enjoy it -- it was certainly much better than many other books I've read -- but, again, I'd say go out and get a copy of The Gate To Women's Country.

Rebels: "Droids in Distress" (Ep. 1.2)

"Your formal Jedi training starts tomorrow."

"Droids in Distress" actually opens with the distress of Ezra, distress over not being taught to use the Force by his would be mentor Kanan Jarrus, but it quickly moves to the distress of the entire crew of the Ghost as they lament over needing a job or not being able to keep the ship running. [I was strongly reminded of Firefly during this whole exchange.]

The droid part doesn't start until they actually begin their job, which is when we... Well, let's just say I was surprised to run into R2-D2 and C-3PO, basically, right off the bat for the series. They are the droids who are in distress. Okay, C-3PO is the droid who is in distress, but what's new? Of course, C-3PO believes that R2 is also in distress but, as we find out, R2 is really on a secret mission. Also sound familiar?

The episode gives us some the background for Zeb, one of the remaining of the Lasat. We get to find out why. I'll be interested to find out how this particular thread develops. It seems to me to be more along the lines of what Lucas originally had intended for the wookies before Chewbacca happened to them.

There's also what we'll call a cameo appearance by Bail Organa, somewhat like the way he shows up at the end of Revenge of the Sith. Organa was one of the movers behind the Rebellion, so I'm curious as to how often he's going to show up. I think my vote is for "more often," as long as he doesn't become some kind of deus ex machina device.

Transformers: Age of This-Movie-Should-Be-Extinct (a movie review post)

I have a soft spot in my heart for Transformers. I'm sure I've mentioned that before, so I'm not going to go into it. I like all three of the other Transformers movies. I'm not even going to apologize for it. I like the Transformers.

Also, I like dinosaurs, and I know I've talked about that before. The merging of the two things in 1984ish with the introduction of the Dinobots was, to put it simply, amazing. It was with no small amount of excitement that I received the news of the Dinobots being in Transformers: Age of Extinction. And my 13-year-old, who inherited my love of dinosaur robots, completely geeked out about it. Like, a virtual geek meltdown. We went to the early showing of the movie because my son was so excited about it.

The short review of this movie is that even my 13-year-old walked out of the movie like, "What was that?" He really enjoyed seeing the Dinobots, especially Grimlock, but he, my 13-year-old, had a list of all the stupid things in the movie, so, considering he falls right in line with "target audience," he shouldn't have that kind of list.

To put it simply: This movie is a mess. I haven't seen a movie with a story so all over the place since Robocop 3 (which upset me greatly because it was Frank Miller that had made such a mess of it). There were just too many story lines all trying to happen at once and it would have taken at least two more hours of movie to make sense out of them, and that's saying a lot for a movie that's already bumping the three hour mark. Someone really needed to step in and tell Ehren Kruger, "Stop writing! It's time to edit," which I'm pretty sure they just skipped.

In order to keep this to a somewhat readable length, I'll just talk about a few of the biggest issues in the movie for me. There will be spoilers.

1. Lockdown. Lockdown is the robotic villain of the movie; the problem is not so much with him as it is with the story around him. See, he's not an Autobot or a Decepticon but some kind of Transformer bounty hunter working for "The Creators" who want Optimus Prime back. As it turns out, Optimus is some kind of knight for them who deserted his post at some point in the past. It appears that Optimus remembers being this knight but has no knowledge of these Creators. And, you know, as if Optimus needs some other special thing attached to him. Mostly, though, the story here is too sketchy to follow; there are just too many "Why?"s involved.

2. The movie opens with Optimus near death. Again, why is it we're always dealing with the death or near death of Optimus Prime? [Okay, that's really because, other than Bumble Bee, he is the only Autobot that goes from movie to movie, and we could ask "Why?" about that, too. Personally, I'm annoyed that, basically, every movie, they introduce a whole new collection of Transformers. Where are they coming from?] He's found by Cade Yeager, who thinks he's just a truck he can strip down for parts but discovers he's really a Transformer; at which point, he begins repairing him. They make a huge deal out of the fact that Optimus is in such bad shape and that they have no way to fix him unless they can get him to the other Autobots. He may not make it.

Then they get attacked, and he takes some more beating, and it's a wonder he can still function. Then they find out that Ratchet (the Autobot medic) is dead and Optimus has no good way of getting repaired. I suppose, by that point, they were tired of dealing with the fact that Optimus was barely able to function, because they just have him scan a new big rig and take that form, and, voila!, he's all better! If that's all they need to do to become repaired, why ever bother to do anything else? Just scan a new vehicle. Or store your scan and re-use it. That whole bit was dumb.

3. The banter. The characters have a continual flow of inappropriate conversations during combat situations. Part of the problem is that "Cade Yeager" is written just as if he's Sam Witwicky, and Wahlberg, as much as I like him, couldn't pull it off. None of the characters could, as the stream of mouth diarrhea flows from one character to the next, none of them believable in any way close to Shia LaBeouf (do you see the irony in that statement?).

4. The Dinobots. As my son said, there is no build up to them. They are a complete Deus ex machina. They're just prisoners in Lockdown's giant spaceship. At the point when the Autobots are going to be overwhelmed, Optimus releases them and threatens to kill Grimlock if they don't defend the Autobots. Hmm, yeah, that fits right in with the character of Optimus Prime. So the Dinobots destroy the Decepticons then go on their way. They also never speak, which was more than a little disappointing.

5. Everything to do with Lockdown's spaceship. The Autobots allow the humans to go off on their own. Dumb. There are booby traps. Dumb. Lockdown knows almost as soon as they've trespassed that he has unwanted guests, but he doesn't have a clue when Optimus disengages part of the ship. Dumb. Yes, I could go on.

6. Optimus Prime. This was a very unOptimus Optimus. He was angry, and I lost count of the number of times he said, "I'm going to kill you!" to people, robots, whoever. In fact, he's so full of anger and hate through most of the movie that it's actually out-of-character for him to stay and help the humans at the end of the movie. It was rather like, "Well, we're already here, so we may as well." Plus, he blasts off into space with his magically appearing boot jets at the very end. What the heck?

And, actually, I could just go on and on about the stupid in the movie, but there's not a lot of point in doing that. I'm sure you get the idea. So I was trying to think of any good points about it, but I'm not really thinking of any. Well, I did enjoy Stanley Tucci (he's difficult not to like), but he has the same problem all the characters have with random-seeming statements at inappropriate times which made his inevitability shaky at best. Still, he was better than most of the characters. Kelsey Grammer played a pretty good villain as the part was written, but it was hard to buy into the character. I mean, the President sends word that he wants to see him and his response is something along the lines of, "I don't have time for him." That doesn't make the character a badass; it makes him unbelievable. That's not what you say to your boss.

Um... some of the Transformers were pretty cool looking, like Drift and Crosshairs. Even Lockdown. That was offset by how ridiculous Hound was in robot form, though, so even that was a mixed bag.

Basically, unless you're just a die-hard Transformers fan, you should probably just skip this one. Even if you are a die-hard Transformers fan, you might want to skip this one.