DadCentric

You Can't Swim in an Ice Age

We were supposed to go see Ice Age 7:Dawn of Tony Orlando or some such nonsense.  I was then going to post about it here for your reading enjoyment.

Enjoyment is such a strong word.

However, I'm fairly confident that I can review the movie for you anyway.

The Kids' Movie Jerk

So I know WALL-E came out way the hell back in 2008, but a quick stroll through the DadCentric archives of posts marked with the tag of “Film” or "Movies" (which differ from one another in that movies aspire to mere entertainment, whereas films actually seek to make aaaaart and actually fail in this mission if they provide any significant entertainment beyond leaving the viewer depressed, confused, pained, bored, or angry that they’ll never get those 90 -  212 minutes back) shows me that there exist no posts on this particular dadblog related to WALL-E.

WALL-E currently stands as my eldest son’s favorite movie. I don’t know if WALL-E knows yet that it will eventually be replaced as my son’s favorite movie many times over, or if that is a heartbreak yet to come. I would think WALL-E, even as young as it is, would have already experienced this betrayal from any number of young people, and would know that it’s only in store for more of it, that it is destined to be a temporary favorite. Perhaps it is satisfied merely being loved, even if its status as a child’s favorite is so fleeting.

I’m not going to bother with much in the way of synopsis because if you’re reading this, you’re likely a parent, and if your kids are young enough, you’ve already seen it. Perhaps more than once! And a lengthy synopsis at this juncture would only serve to further thin the shoestring hold I currently have on your attention span. Suffice it to say that it’s a film about a future where the Earth is fucked, and humans did the fucking. It’s a film about a humanity that has long since abandoned the Earth for greener galaxies because it’s unfit to support any life other than roaches and robots. There are robots of every kind, be they cute, scary, OCD, purpose-driven, all designed and manufactured to take care of our every human whim. It’s a nightmare scenario of corporate power gone all wrong. It’s a film about people at their worst and their best, about snapping out of complacence and doing something.

And yes, it’s a kid’s film, and one that adults can dig on, whether they act their age or not.

The first time we watched WALL-E, I loved it. This was in spite of the fact that there are any number of  issues with it that, if present in more “grown-up sci-fi”, would have every dungeon master, ComiCon attendee, Klingon speaker, lightsaber craftsman, fan fiction author, and Summer Glau drooler-over racing to their keyboard to register their DISGUST with the filmmakers’ ineptitude. This stuff occurred to me at the time, but it didn’t bother me in the least. It’s a kid’s movie, and a great one at that. It tells a fantastic story, it looks great, has a wonderful message, and manages to do a hell of a lot with minimal dialogue, a true achievement considering that most kid’s movies seem to follow the throw-enough-shit-at-the-wall-and-see-what-sticks approach to dialogue. Not to mention the fact that it’s a nice introduction to science fiction for the wee’uns. I figured I didn’t need to go getting my boxers all in a wad over a few relatively unimportant details, especially if they’re the boxers with the little tigers all over them because it’d be a shame to mess those up.

The thing is, I’ve seen the movie a few more times since that initial viewing. And some of these details are, well, they’re starting to get to me. I’ve tried to fight it, to ignore it, to pretend they don’t bug me, but they’re still out there, throwing pebbles at the window of my brain and urging my inner asshole to come out and play. So if you don’t mind me getting all ComicBook Guy on WALL-E’s ass, I present to you my list of Stuff Wrong With WALL-E I Should Get Over, or SWWWISGO for short.

• Stuff all works way too well, and presumably has been for some 700 years, and all without much in the way of human intervention. Sorry, but I’m pretty sure that ship would be a floating graveyard waiting for a pack of Reavers to come along and salvage it.
• Fuel - what’s that ship running on? In fact, what is any of it running on? Where does the food come from? If we humans had to leave Earth because we trashed the place, then it stands to reason that we weren’t so great at reducing, reusing, or recycling. I find it hard to believe that we’d figure all this stuff out in space fast enough to keep the race alive.
• WALL-E takes a ride in space on the outside of the space ship. He’d have frozen up solid.
• Shouldn’t there be some human remains here and there on the planet? No way did they get everybody on that one space ship. They left some people behind, presumably those who couldn’t pay the fare for a multi-generational pass.
• Robots, most of them anyway, already have human emotional functions at the beginning of the film. They love, they worry, they get angry, they get uptight, they connive. We’re supposed to just take this as a given with no explanation for how they got that way.
• Where are those kids coming from? Given that the humans here can’t even stand up on their own, I doubt they’re getting made in the conventional way. I can only assume that there are other robots on that ship that never make an appearance onscreen.

Man, it feels good to get that off my chest, even if it does mean I have to reveal my inner asshole to you all. Maybe next week I’ll post about drinking the last beer in your fridge or taking the last cup of coffee without making more.

Rotting Dead Things

There was a deal at our local Green recycling center; Encinitas residents could get a brand new Smith and Hawken Compost Bin for only $30! Naturally, we had to have one. $30! For a big plastic bin! Which would hold our compost heap! To be sure, we did not currently have a compost heap, nor would we know what to do with one if we actually did have one, but $30 seemed a small price to pay to do our part to Help The Environment. Plus we could use it to teach the kids all about composting, and how important it is. (I was a little fuzzy on this as well; will composting save the whales? The spotted owls? Humanity? Who knew?) 

The guy at the Solana Center was a Composting Expert. He gave us the rundown; what to put in (leaves, coffee grounds, some fruits and veggies, untreated sawdust), what not to put in (dog shit, citrus, the neighbor's cat), how often it should be stirred, when to add water, what it should smell like. What will we be able to do with our compost? Why, use it as fertilizer. Or build a hut out of dried compost bricks. Or build a compost-powered rocket - out of sheets of pressed compost, of course - and fly off to some faraway planet, there to start the human race anew. He held the title of Master Composter; he was a scientist and alchemist, and a True Believer. Compost will save us all, his eyes said. Only the Composters will survive - and when the world becomes one vast desert, the non-Composters will be consumed by the giant sandworms that will rule the planet.

Monsters Vs. Aliens: The DadCentric Review

Years ago I worked at Sea World. During that time, the higher-ups who ran the park were constantly talking about "competition" from other tourist-y type places, namely Disneyland. We must all do more, they would say, because we are competing with Disney for the hearts, minds, and dollars of tourists. Those of us in the trenches would listen to the Management talk about the "competition", and we'd laugh, for really, there was no competition. It was DISNEY. All of Sea World could, back before the California Adventure park was completed, fit in Disneyland's parking lot.

I was reminded of this while watching Dreamworks' latest attempt at providing Pixar with competition, the accurately named Monsters vs. Aliens. Once again, Dreamworks has rounded up a great cast and put them in an utterly forgettable, at times yawn-inducing computer-animated movie.

The "Where The Wild Things Are" Trailer: Awesome!

Maurice Sendak + Spike Jonze + my favorite Arcade Fire song = cannot wait to see this. (For the best possible computer viewing experience, go here.)

"I Love You, Man" is So Uncool -- A Review and a Rant

The flashbacks came in waves as I sat in the theater Friday afternoon -- in a row populated only by me, my tub of lightly buttered popcorn and a pack of Sour Patch Kids --  watching the new "bromance" comedy I Love You, Man.

During one scene of awkward card playing and projectile vomiting, for example, my mind turned back to when I was a corporate hack in my early 30s. A bunch of balding, paunchy VPs in their 50s decided to have a poker party. For whatever reason, they invited me along.

In two hours, we played 37 variations of poker, all but four of which I had actually heard of before and only two of which I understood how to play. During that time, every sentence my tablemates spoke from their cliched cigar-clenched-in-their-teeth lips featured a string of George Carlin's Seven Dirty Words.

"Give me two, you cocksucker asshole shit-for-brains," one would say.

The First Five Minutes of Race to Witch Mountain: A Non-Review

Yes, that's the Rock.  The fucking Rock, aka Dwayne Johnson, whom you may recall from such hits as this musical number.  He is currently starring in Disney's latest attempt to negate my childhood Race to Witch Mountain.  Due to my wife finding said Rock to be hot funny "we" decided to go see it.  I went begrudgingly.

I Am Now Excited For The "Where The Wild Things Are" Movie

This is how you do a movie poster for what promises to be a very cool interpretation of the greatest kid's book ever written. Spike Jonze, directing. Dave Eggers, screenwriter. Shot on location in weird parts of Australia. After reading this interview with Jonze, I was optimistic. After seeing this poster (is Max howling in elation or fear?) I'm geeking out. What do you guys think?

Our Star Wars Obsession, Explained

I was going back through the archives and it occurred to me that we really spend a lot of time talking about Star Wars on this site. (www.lukeiamyourfathercentric.com might be a better URL.) In fact, I defy you to find a male between the ages of 36 and 42 who doesn't make reference to, say, wrestling a Gundark or bullseye'ing womp-rats in our T-16's back home at least once a day. Ok, it's kind of weird, and frankly many of us are glad we're married because the single ladies, they are not impressed with tales of aerial womp-rat marksmanship. Most dads of our generation understand why this is so; however, we recognize that a fair number of female, older, and younger readers might not grasp why George Lucas' magnum opus holds such a grip on us, decades (yikes) after the first film was released. Wonder no more, because the following should make it all clear.

A Karate Man Bruises On The Inside

The first week of 6th grade sucked. A new school, and I was a geeky kid with a bowl haircut and glasses, big brown tortoise-shell framed glasses. Bullymeat. I knew that going in, and on that Wednesday I was told in no uncertain terms by Jeff T. and Gary M. that they would be waiting for me after class that day, the goal being to kick my ass in front of an audience. I was a fairly sharp kid, possessing the sense of humor/irony that would serve as a lifejacket as I grew older. I did the math. Me against two bigger kids while a bunch of other kids watched and did nothing = broken glasses, teeth, soul. I didn't know how to fight (that would come later), so I did the smart thing, told the principal, and had my mom pick me up from class that day. And the day after. And the day after that. I would eventually discover a back exit that opened up on a cornfield, across from which sat my house. It was a straight shot. I sprinted across that field for weeks. Doing so helped me to become a better soccer player. Doing so made me feel weak, a victim, a coward.

The world never quites lowers itself to your expectations; I did eventually strike up a friendship of sorts with both of my would-be asskickers (we all ended up on our school's soccer team, and a little wit goes a long way; I had a pretty deep well of Polish jokes, which were all the rage in 1980). I forgave, but did not forget - I knew both guys for a couple of years, and every so often, out of the blue, in the lunchroom or on the soccer field, I'd think about putting my fist through Jeff T. and Gary M.'s skulls. Hurting them. Taking back a piece of myself that they stole.

A few weeks ago, we enrolled Lucas in karate class. We had kicked the idea around for a while, but it was when we took Lucas to see that Clone Wars flick that the decision was made to sign him up. By the way, business owners and marketing types? If you ever want a sure-fire way of drawing new customers, tie in your product/service to Star Wars. See, at the movie theater, some students and teachers from Lucas' karate school were there in the lobby, putting on a demonstration and passing out invitations to the karate school's Free Learn To Be A Jedi Knight Night . "Karate", read the flyer, "can teach you discipline, patience, and fighting skills - JUST LIKE A JEDI!" Of course Lucas immediately glommed on to this and asked us if he could "go to Jedi School". (See how that worked? You know who'd really benefit from this? Dentists. Dr. Ira Goldstein, Jedi Dentist! I'm telling you, 10-year-old boys and 39 year-old shut-ins alike would line up for blocks to get a Jedi Root Canal.)

The first night was a success - Lucas did some karate stuff, and watched, transfixed, as one of the teachers did a sword demonstration that would have put Darth Maul to shame. And...this was where the hooks were set...he listened. To the instructor's every word. Sat still. Stood. Bowed. We whipped out the check book. There was a brief moment of concern when, after the class had ended, Lucas asked us when he would get to learn how to use a lightsaber. "Well," we said, "that will happen when you are older and have learned all of the other Jed-er, karate stuff." Figuring we'd cross that bridge when we come to it.

I have to say that, several weeks later, we're convinced that this was a great thing for the boy. He loves going, and we've noticed a significant change - fewer tantrums, and an eagerness to obey that wasn't there before. And something else - the kids earn stripes on their belts for learning new things and being good listeners. Lucas practically beams with pride when he gets a new stripe, as do we. Self-discipline and self-confidence are worth their weight in gold. As is the ability to give some bullying asshole a flying spin kick to the jaw.