Hooray for you, Mari Sasano.

I liked the movie. It’s very beautiful and is both complicated and easy to follow at the same time (nice that they keep telling you exactly what’s happening). But here’s the thing: the entire reason all those people get involved in that dream-mind-influencing scheme is for a business deal? Wouldn’t it have been easier  to make that happen with lawyers? It would certainly would’ve been less dangerous and probably even cheaper, given that messing with someone’s unconcious mind is illegal. They said so themselves.

And besides, Cillian Murphy’s character (thanks for casting Cillian Murphy!) didn’t seem to be all that keen on running his father’s company anyhow. If they went up to him and said, “Hey buddy, I bet if you dismantled your dad’s business empire, it would really tick him off,” that would be enough to do it.

Anyhow, at least everyone in it was very, very good-looking.

This is basically all spoilers, just so you know.

I was really looking forward to this, because the original Ray Harryhausen stop-action film was so much fun. But instead, I’m infuriated!

It’s cynical, misogynist, and arrogant. The main problem is that they completely erase the role of most of the other gods of Olympus, making it a God VS Satan dualism between Zeus and “Hades”, which is what they’re calling the god of the Underworld. People: Hades is a PLACE. The god’s name is Hephaestus. [I've been reminded that yes, there is a god named Hades, but the '81 version it was Hephaestus, the metalworker. He made Bubo.] And Hades is not the equivalent of Hell, in the Christian sense. But I guess they don’t trust the American public with polytheism, or maybe they don’t want to offend the fundamentalists by suggesting it.

But it’s important: the original film (and Greek mythology generally) showed the gods arguing, bargaining with each other, and finding compromises. That helps explain the seeming randomness of fortune back on earth: there are consequences to intervening in our lives. In order to prevent utter disaster, someone else might have to suffer. It’s a very complex system, and no one on earth can understand it from our very limited point of view.

In the original, Perseus is an innocent, thrust into a confusing world at the whim of the gods. In this new CotT, Perseus is an angry young man who just wants to spit in the face of the gods who “killed” his family. He is singlemindedly vengeful, and is not even interested in adventure for its own sake, or the love of Andromeda. You can even see it in the way they represent the character, physically: Perseus in CotT (1981) is a curly-haired, nearly nude young Harry Hamlin, guided by the playwright Ammon (Burgess Meredith). He learns that the privilege he has is not an accident: his father is a god, and he understands that every man is presented with opportunity and fortune as a result of a history that has nothing to do with him. He fumbles his way through, forgetting his sword but being grateful for the help that he gets.

Perseus 2010 has a shaved head like a military man and rejects any of the help that the gods offer. He is played by Avatar’s Sam Worthington. But even though he prefers to make it on his own, it’s not because he aligns himself with humanity: when he is given a chance, he refuses to take on a leadership role, even when his men need it. He is entirely self-centred, thinking only of his need for revenge. In a Greek play, this hubris would usually lead to something terrible happening; in CotT, he is rewarded.

And women in this film are virtually invisible, and when they appear, they are powerless. In 1981, Hera (Claire Bloom) Thetis (Maggie Smith), Aphrodite (Ursula Andress) and Athena (Susan Fleetwood) all had a say in Olympus. It was love that motivated Perseus, not revenge. By eliminating the role of all but two gods, we remove just about all womens’ voices as part of the cosmic plan. And it’s shocking to hear Perseus 2010 refer to Medusa as “that bitch” after it is explained to us that she is cursed by Athena for being raped in her temple– victim-blaming at its most horrible. And Io, the only other woman with any significant role, is barely a presence; in fact, she becomes a PRESENT, literally gifted to Perseus by Zeus as a reward. She has no say in it, and doesn’t indicate any interest in him along the way, unless you count a parental role or a rape-like scenario where Perseus pins her down during a training fight.

Sure the animation is better now and the Kraken looks pretty cool. But in hindsight, there’s so much more charm in Ray Harryhausen’s stop-action compared to the fascistically perfect CGI of the 21st century, especially combined with the questionable politics of the new Perseus. They even make reference to the Harryhausen film, by finding the mechanical owl Bubo and throwing him away! Heartless.

And that’s the problem with Clash of the Titans ’10.  The playwright Ammon was our guide in 1981. In 2010, we have only soldiers. It has no poetry in it, literally.

We have to go to the Valley Zoo again!

I got to go to a photo op for a baby squirrel monkey this morning, and the zoo in the morning at this time of year is so quiet! I had a quick look around before I went home. The Arctic foxes were very active, and so were the alpacas. I imagine that the cold weather animals are going to be peppier at this time of year. The rest of ‘em are cosy in the winter pavilion.

Let’s go soon!

I hate to speak ill of children’s entertainers, but the more I think about it, the more it bugs me: the science in Ellen Chorley’s The Tortoise and the Hare is terrible. So much so that it kind of ruined the good parts of the show (the performances, the dazzling effects).

In it, the hare is a high-maintenance businesswoman who is hellbent on finding the best fuel source for Storyland’s satellite launch. She’s going to do it by any means necessary, which in this context means toxicity and greenhouse gasses be damned. The tortoise is trying to find a renewable source. Fine, a good message!

However, when the renewable resource ends up being LIQUID SUNSHINE mixed– slowly, natch– into a mysterious photoshynthesis-making solution that creates AIR to propel the rocket, well… I kind of lost it.

Air is not the primary product of photosynthesis. In the simplest of terms, sugar is. Sugar, which burns. Or ferments. They could’ve gone the biofuels route. But AIR? Seriously? Compressed air? And they had to simulate photosynthesis to get it?

Here’s how they could’ve made it awesome: instead of focussing on the product of the research, they could’ve written it as about the process. As in, the tortoise follows proper scientific method: experimentation, followed by careful repetition to see if there are consistent results. Science is all about slow and steady, so it would’ve been perfect. They almost went this route, but no.

It’s a real shame. It’s not OK to lie to kids, even if you think that the message to your story is good. If the message of the Tortoise and the Hare is to be careful and accurate, well, it’s undermined by the sloppy science. It’s kind of disrespectful to fudge the facts so much, especially when the show is all about taking the time to do it right.

So I spent 9 hours volunteering at the AGA today. It was awesome. Here’s why:

Volunteering is, overall, an awesome thing to do. People treat you like a superhero, and you get free pizza. People should volunteer more.

They started the tours on the third floor, where the Miller/Cardiff sound installation is. This means that people go to see the more conceptual media art first. This is good! And people love it! One dude said it was “As good as AC/DC.” I think that people are a little reluctant to see media art because it’s unfamiliar– they understand paintings and sculpture as art, but “sound” and “video” are intimidating. But once they see it, it makes sense. It’s stereo systems and TV’s, and we LOVE those things. AGA, take note! Don’t rely too heavily on old masters.

On the second floor, visitors had a chance to see the Storm Room, also by Miller/Cardiff. It’s a soothing break, and again, the subject of a lot of discussion. People said either, “We live on the prairies so a storm is no big deal,” which is sort of awesome when the idea of the room is simulated reality, or they love the experience of being in a storm, period. Kids love it, though!

I had a whirlwind tour of the Karsh in the last five minutes of the gallery’s hours. It’s gorgeous. And also, a great place to people-watch. My favourite? “Look, that’s Churchill. And Einstein. OOOOH! BRYAN ADAMS!” Or some kid: “Is that Einstein? How old is he?” People instantly recognize his most famous images.

Then, downstairs to the Degas and Goya. I didn’t have a chance to see the Goya, but the Degas crowds were fascinating. The security guard asked me if this was a famous painter. I told him yes, but less famous than Leonardo Da Vinci, who he did know. He was cool– recently immigrated from India, waiting to get landed immigration status to start his EMS certification. Anyhow, some people were put off by the idea that they were looking at casts from original wax sculptures, but I explained to them that sculptors don’t usually exhibit wax, that making bronze sculptures involves making wax moulds for castings anyways. The idea of “original” is kind of grey when it comes to sculptors (and printmakers, and photographers). I think the AGA could make this point stronger, to avoid alarmist “THE STATUES ARE COPIES!” articles like the one in Vue this week. Of course they’re copies. It’s not a big deal. The drawings, in pastel, are real. And some of the frames as original, as pointed out by a grinning Catherine Crowston, who took a shift protecting the artwork!

All in all, the reception to the art was as interesting as the works themselves. People looked in awe, intimidation, or boredom. All fair  reactions.  As crowds walked by, they would smile, or mouth silently, “WOW!” Some people would wait impatiently as their waited for friends to finish looking, ladies would discuss heatedly this or that photo. Gallery educators answered questions, and posed some themselves.

I hope people take advantage of the AGA. Memberships are relatively inexpensive, and they are planning once-a-month free admission (Family Day is the next one). Once the hype has worn down, free days are going to be awesome. You should go! Or volunteer, and get passes. See? Everyone wins.

PS they’re looking for volunteers for the chic Refinery party next Saturday. For $45 a pop, it’s out of a lot of people’s range, but you can go for free (and get a pass!) if you volunteer.

Dear Hollywood, more Paul Bettany please. Even in this, he’s quite lovely.

Legion is, I think , an attempt at the Christian-horror genre. It’s not good, but it’s interesting in its own ways. In fact, as Christian horror, it’s an utter failure, unless you think that the whole angels-as-killer-zombies thing is NOT blasphemous. If you can let go of that, you might have a good time, if you also let go of the fact that it’s deeply silly.

And oh yeah, there’s the whole sometimes-you-have-to-disobey-to-do-the-right-thing problem. I can’t imagine that’ll go over well.

In it, God is so ticked off, he’s wiping the slate clean. But the angel Michael loves us so much that he’s willing to renounce his wings and disobey his boss to help out a group of misfits in an isolated roadside diner. After all, the waitress is pregnant with the blessed child sent to save us all. Kind of like Terminator.

But there’s no flood this time, instead, He’s going with the very inefficient zombie massacre route. Apparently angels can possess the weakest-minded humans to do their dirty work, which give us the pleasure of seeing a little granny go all Exorcist on us, climbing the walls and spitting out hateful theology. The ice cream man even gets a little werewolfy, growing elongated limbs. And there’s a creepy child. There must always be a creepy child.

But really. If God wants to get rid of his most beautiful creation, why would He do it in a way that is so easily thwarted with machine guns? Or why not possess one of the people in the diner?

And the whole love-the-human-race-so much thing is done up much better in Wings of Desire. I would love to see that again.

I think I was unnecessarily mean in my last post, and now that I’ve had a couple of days to think about it, here are some more thoughts:

It sucks that the mainstream media has clout and access, and that’s why I don’t mind aligning myself with them. But that makes me kind of sucky, too. But man, have I ever been spoiled in my career. When you’re with a daily newspaper, people really work to accommodate you. It’s awesome. Sorry for my sense of entitlement; I will try not to be too petulant in the future.

On the other hand, I was still surprised at how many people showed up simply to document the building, which is redundant considering how much coverage that angle has had. The value of writing about the building at this point is to really critique it honestly, but so far no one has really done so aside from the obtuse “waste of taxpayers’ money” kind of argument.

My two cents? It’s a fantastic improvement over the last facility. I can’t wait to see what they do with it. So much more proper, climate-controlled gallery space which will enable proper exhibition conditions for tours. The public areas are beautiful, though I might miss the big donut in the middle of the second floor, which was kind of nice for people-watching across and all the way down the stairwell. I hope, too, that  in the new galleries there are secret pockets and corners for intimate discussions, like the weird little appendix on the far  north east part on the upper level of the former building, or the kitchen gallery. And the theatre really does seem like an afterthought. If the most interesting feature of that room is the ambient lighting, yikes! It makes me worried that the acoustics and other technical considerations were given the short end. I really, really hope I was misunderstood when I asked about projection formats. An art exhibition theatre without 35 and 16 mm film projectors, at least, would be odd considering how uptight media artists are about stuff like that.

I do think that social media types are a long way from legitimacy, and part of the problem is quality control. Some bloggers seem to be heavily invested in the idea of being outlaws, rather than merely independent. And though an outsider view is sometimes valuable, outsider does not equal willfully ignorant. This causes institutions like the AGA to regard us with some incredulity, and rightly so.

So, here’s what I’m doing. I’m having another look, and doing some penance, by volunteering for 9 hours on Sunday. I’ll let you know how that goes.

I don’t have  legitimate arts media accreditation other than my blog anymore, so I figured I would join the other social networking people on a tour specially for bloggers.

I won’t make that mistake again!

Not that I didn’t enjoy their company. I do know and like a number of them. But I felt that we were being treated rather poorly by the AGA. For example, after receiving an email that specifically said we could take photos of the lobby and building (but not the artworks), a security guard barked at those who were snapping pics before AGA staff came to get us. AND THEN! They didn’t even let us into the galleries!

Enough previews have been done  of the building proper by the Journal and other big media, so my interest was in seeing the new exhibitions and the galleries themselves. As far as I can tell, there is more space for artwork, but who knows? And such a disappointment not to be able to preview the work: Degas and Goya on the first floor; Karsh (KARSH!) and George Bure-Miller and Janet Cardiff on the second; and another Bure-Miller/Cardiff on the third.

The theatre seems smaller or the same as before. They couldn’t tell me what formats they supported, which was weird too. In fact, when I asked, the new Executive Director laughed my question off: “Who uses Super 8 anymore?” I felt humiliated and angry, on behalf of the many media artists who continue to use Super 8 and other film formats.

That being said, I will buy a ticket and go see the shows. Probably on a weekday, at full price, so I can properly take the time to see everything at my leisure. I don’t mind doing it. And to be fair to the AGA, a few of the people on the tour seemed uninterested in the artwork, or outirght hostile to the idea of a new gallery to begin with. That’s the difference between journalists and bloggers: research and accountability. I go both ways, but in the future I think I’ll go through official channels and show up with the legit media. In order to do a good job, I need to be trusted to see the pretty art.

It seemed lovely from the outside, anyhow.

When I was 12 or so, I was on a rhythmic gymnastics team representing Alberta. Our group routine was to a piece of music that was sad and beautiful, and even though we were far from the best in the country (Ontario and New Brunswick were– Alberta was the party team), I was always really proud of that piece and loved to perform it. I had no idea at the time, but the song was from Fiddler on the Roof. It took me nearly 20 years before I saw the movie of the play, and it was then that I discovered that not only does it have my beloved Sunrise, Sunset, but a raft of giant hits! That and the funniest, sweetest, most tragic story ever: the milkman, Tevye, has five daughters and a scolding wife, Golde. He tries to maintain authority as his three eldest girls find love and break tradition (Tradition! Another great song!), but finds that there is nothing more important than the happiness of his family in the long run. He is a wonderful character, a cuddly bear of a man played by Theodore Bikel.

The version at the Jube (playing until January 24) is outstanding. Originally, the role of Teyve was to be played by 75-year old Topol, star of the film version. But when he injured his shoulder, they found a replacement in the incredibly energetic Bikel– who is a decade older than the man he replaced! And even though Bikel wasn’t the first choice, he’s no slouch: this is the man who created the role of Baron Von Trapp in the Broadway Sound of Music, and he has played Teyve over 2000 times! His Hollywood debut was in The African Queen! He was nominated for an Oscar! He WON an Emmy! He was in Star Trek: The Next Generation!

Honestly, he fits the role effortlessly. I don’t know how much of his wisecracks are scripted and how much is improvised– you can’t tell. He keeps the jokes low-key, which is a relief in a role that could be taken over the top. It’s funnier that way! And Susan Cella as Golde (who understudied Kathleen Turner in the Broadway version of The Graduate!) is lovely. One of my favourite songs is Do You Love Me? and these two are crusty and bashful and wonderful doing it.

But really, the music is the standout. If I Were a Rich Man? Matchmaker, Matchmaker? HELLO! And lots of fun kletzmer and a little Ukrainian hopak for good measure! I’m not Jewish, but from where I sat, it seems like being Jewish is the best thing in the world: the comfort of ritual (holy crap, the Sabbath Prayer scene!), the recognition of the great sorrow of life tempered by a wry sense of humour and a party-hard attitude (Tzeitel’s wedding!)– it seems very sane. And beautiful!

And then there is Sunrise, Sunset. Ah.

It’s Christmas Eve, so for something fun a bunch of us went to see Avatar in IMAX 3D. I fully expected to be annoyed-to-offended by it, based on the premise: humans have found a planet rich in a valuable mineral, and they are fighting the (understandably) hostile native people, the gazellelike/catlike Na’vi. US Marine Jake Sully, due to curious circumstances involving a dead twin brother, has been assigned to an “avatar,” a surrogate Na’vi body grown from human DNA in order to learn more about the indigenous society, all the better to swindle them out of their land/blow them up with superior military power, whichever is most convenient. And because Sully is a paraplegic living in a time when such things are curable but expensive, he makes a deal with the evil colonel to spy on the Na’vi in exchange for surgery to gain the use of his legs.

Meanwhile, the leader of the avatar science mission Grace Augustine (a wonderful Sigourney Weaver) and nerdy language expert Norm know all of this is going on, but let him do it in order to continue their research. They are really lovely characters, and I wish we had a better idea of how much field work they managed to get with the Na’vi. I guess I’m a sucker for anthropological details.

Sully, however, learns to love the Na’vi, especially one in particular, Neytiri. She is the daughter of the tribe’s chief and its spiritual leader, and has been put in charge of showing Sully their ways. So anyhow, they discover that he is no ordinary “sky person,” and that he has special qualities and possibly a destiny marked out by their Mother Earth type deity.

The whole colonizer-gone-native-turned-saviour thing is annoying/offensive, for sure. Why should we need the mediation of some white dude to understand a culture that seems entirely able to speak for themselves? Here’s the thing, though: the whole avatar part complicates that entire trope.

As an avatar, Sully is no longer straightforwardly human. He is a hybrid. An immigrant. In between cultures. The idea of finding connection and coalition is reiterated as a theme, especially in the partnerships that the Na’vi have with the horse-like and pterodactyl-like animals on the planet. They literally connect, and they must trust one another’s ability to manoeuver  the planet. So rather than merely wallow in guilt, the film posits an actual course of action for those who align themselves with oppressed cultures. I’ve never believed that guilt alone is a valuable response to injustice; it doesn’t do anyone any good to think that participating in someone else’s struggle is a form of oppression. In fact, distancing oneself from another’s suffering is irresponsible.

The politics of Avatar are not without troubling elements. But I don’t think it’s as cut-and-dried as, say, Dances With Wolves. I’m gonna think about this one good and hard. Whether or not you think it’s a good movie (I actually enjoyed it!), there’s certainly plenty to discuss.