Monthly Archives: January 2009

Romp, Spidy, romp!

Me thinks, why straight animated movies are more substantially engrossing than live-acted fantasy flicks? The playing field is not lopsided. All story lines behoove to revolve within a particular plot as they build up (or down) inductively or deductively as the case may be. Take for instance the deep-sea-diver Nemo or the jungle-jock Shrek series. Both have successfully departed from being stereotyped and rose above the bar of mediocrity. Even the saccharine love story of the insipid Snow White with her kissing bandit of a prince did survive the test of time and, as everyone knows, live happily thereafter. But that’s a different story all together.

I just got one thing in mind when I popped in Spiderman 3: watch and be entertained. Period. And I’m glad to say that the third installment of Spiderman didn’t fail me in this regard. In fact it ended just in time when I had a little too much already.

I ceased to expect a fluid story from air-borne creatures like Superman and Spiderman(Spiderman being an air-borne superhero is still arguable though). A story line built on trite plots expectedly comes falling flat on its face. And in the case of Spiderman, going round in circles in space just for the sake of the audience seeing him doing a Tarzan act in the city. But that is quite understandable for the following reasons:

· Spiderman (Fine, and Superman) has a vow of celibacy neatly hemmed in the linings of his undies. Having said that, there is nothing much to explore in the romance angle either. He will stay as a celibate bachelor…forever. Although with Superman, carelessness almost always gets the better of him including the haste in wearing the briefs over the skin-tight blue suit. The same rashness that made Superman an accidental father. (Morality seems to be enjoying taking a back seat these days even with our superheroes.)

· Bringing Spiderman aground a little long before you remind yourself to pee has the danger of trivializing its iconic characters which can create more confusion than explanation about his individuality.

· What else with good-guy-versus-bad-guy plot that we haven’t seen and heard of anyway. The theme has been exploited to the tills and every angle overly underscored, one time or another, that nothing can be considered ‘new’ anymore.

If your definition of action is in the tradition of Harry Potter with a generous spice of high tech digital effects from Sony intricately spawned together in a juvenile theme, then Spiderman 3 is for you. Very sanitized… almost bloodless.

And, hey, there must be something evocative about the appended number ‘3’ this time. Spidy was made to fight against three enemies, namely: the Sandman, Venom, even his friend Harry was duped to slipping into the X-men suit of a goblin of sorts (and as a reward, Sam Raimi, the director-cum-writer gave him a shining moment in the end… and with it goes his last breath as well).  And if that is not enough, Peter Parker had to fight against his very nemesis, his black side: himself. If that’s not what you call overkill to the nth power I don’t know what is. But who’s complaining anyway. After all, it’s not Toby Maguire’s movie or Kristen Dunst’s acting vehicle (she was simply stunning in a broadway act where she was seen coming sinuously down the black winding stairwell in a flowing immaculate white tea gown set against the backdrop of a stark starry sky while singing For All The Wrong Reasons; she was such a heavenly sight). The Spiderman 3 is a personal sortie of Sam Raimi hallucinating as Spielberg in one time and Tarantino in another.

No brainer for this one but definitely worth your time. Especially if you’re munching popcorn and gulping lots of Coke.


Isomerization

Either it had to happen or I brought it about. The insanity of this emptiness that’s driving me to indifference and distance. There is absolutely nothing, not even the heaviness of waking up to some days that precede certain damnation. Or to the excitement of great expectations. All efforts to choose have become mere excuses to be distracted, alibis for a temporary exit. Then it engulfs me again completely in its embrace, erasing all traces of meaning. Any inquiry is soon hushed by its commanding omniscience, and my own presence is reduced to the acuteness of each moment as it unfolds and disappears forever. Nothing more, nothing less. Where is this leading me? I don’t know.


Of planes and segments

If love has any dimension, mine is a linear, one-dimension.

Simple, measurable and defined. In its simplicity every single affair in my past, present and future has been and will always be reduced to a dot that defines the length from either end.

There were occasions when one of my end points made tangent with other lines moving in the same plane while on several occasions bisected some.

That is where complications begin.

When two lines meet at one common point, or whenever an area is formed, a two-dimensional plane is forged. What used to be linear by definition has evolved to polar and/or radian. Integers are suddenly thrown into the realms of multiple functions that standing alone they are rendered meaningless unless they are able to relate in terms of the other.

The danger with two-dimension is its vulnerability to further complications if caution is not taken. The strongest point of bisection is also the weakest. An intrusion of a third plane passing through the bisecting point will send the plane into another dimension which graphically may appear attractive and sensibly alive but not for long when solid figures start to generate their actual displacements and eccentricities in reference to a paticular point or axis. I kid you not, not all figures spinning round in space are awesome. Some are capable of haunting the most uncomplicated line all throughout its evolving days. When this happens, the inconspicuous unattached dot is far better off than a shattered line. The ending can be gory. I should know better.

I also acknowledge the danger of my remaining linear. Self-regulation is necessary lest I run the risk of either of the two: caving in to my self or, stretching too far, too much too soon. The former a delimiting factor while the latter, the exact opposite where infinity poses as a challenging end. Keeping a parallel path while maintaining equidistance with the rest of line-nizens is the ideal scenario although equally tedious if not all together herculean.

And as long as I can dream, I can always touch heaven in the fourth dimension.