Life of Pi

I've not particularly been in a party mood recently, and when considering seeing out 2012, I was pleased when Lawrence suggested going to see the new movie adaptation of Life of Pi. I'd seen the book lurking in bookshops over the years and never felt moved enough to pick it up and dive in. The movie on the other hand looked gorgeous.

We headed out into the cold and wet to Cinema City. Both Lawrence and I happily agreed on the 2D version. Lawrence's preferences are his own; but I don't particularly need to be visually immersed into a film, I find the more whizzy the effects, the more I feel nauseous and uncomfortable. I like big screen cinema in the 2D I grew up with. I don't need it bigger, better, faster, more. Yes, I know, I'm old-fashioned and boring. I'm fine with it.

Lawrence rightly pointed out occasionally Ang Lee disappeared up his own arse to focus on the 3D moments, and it really could have done with a heavier hand in the editing suite. But on the whole I thought it was stunning and the CGI was nigh-on realistic. 

I loved it. 

It made me cry.

Click here for a wiki synopsis and plot spoiler.

As a writer, I appreciated the marriage of the mystical, the realistic and the use flagrant use of metaphor in this sumptuous adventure. I loved the jumping narrative, seeing Pi grow up in Pondicherry; the juxtaposition between that, and his telling his tale to the writer in the present day works. Pi is established as a trustworthy, though dreamy narrator. At the end, it's obvious Pi is not 'telling the truth'. Would it have been a different story without the tiger, Richard Parker? Absolutely. And as the movie points out, it would not have been as palatable. We know which version is the truth and the tiger wins every time. 

Are we more susceptible to the version of Pi's story with Richard Parker the tiger, because of Pi's spiritual nature established so early on? After all, religions use metaphor to tell their stories. Very possibly.

I know which version I would rather. Richard Parker, the tiger is portrayed as a tiger, in all his tigernessess (if you see what I mean?). He's not a Disney tiger that will become a talking pussy cat before the end of the movie. He is a wild and scary animal...and yet, there is glimpse of something within his (CGIed) eyes. There is more. Could I have coped as well with the cannibalistic cook, the suffering sailor and the death of Pi's mother? Not as well. I don't need that much realism in my life. 

It is this something more that makes Pi's enigmatic words resonate at the end of the film.

"And so it is with God."

Sun-shiney Day

Days like today, always worry me a bit; in the back of my mind, because I've had a really nice day off, the rest of the week will be shite.

For Boy and I had a lie-in, read we got up at 8 am, rather than 7. Gee came round for a cup of coffee and a natter, after we put the world to rights we agreed we'd go out to the new and re-vamped Cinema City to see Guillermo del Torro's The Orphanage in the evening. Boy and I then spent the next two hours trying to get across the city (by bus) to the Post Office's Sorting Office, to pick up a letter/parcel that the sender didn't pay enough postage. The people in the snazzy, new bus station sent us to the bus that kind of goes near where the Sorting Office is, after a leisurely walk. When we got on the bus to ask the kind driver to drop us off at the nearest stop, he shook his head and said 'you wanted the Number 11, but only goes every hour." He did drop us off at the right place and we did pick up the A4 letter, with no postage containing my contract with the PCH.

*sigh*

Boy and I then caught the Number 11 back to the city and walked to the Garden Centre on the Ring Road for a coke and some more plants. My plants are not only alive *gasp, shock*, they are actually doing really well, so I wanted some more. I did manage to control myself and not get a trolley and put in pansies, violets, bellis and three types of lavender. Instead, I got an ivy, a French tarragon, thyme and a small dill. I'm still thinking about getting some lilies, maybe even a few tomatoes, peppers and aubergine to put in a grow-bag. Not to mention the lovely orchids I saw.

Boy and I tend to play Eye-spy when we travel and are bored. I've noticed that when we do play, people in ear-shot start looking around and you can just see them itching to join in, but not being brave enough. Which is a shame, because it can be quite fun. We don't play by the rules, you can ask questions and get hints. I always ask 'is it clean?' Boy likes to be obscure.

The best of Eye-spy today was:
S for skin
C for clouds
R for rings
P for pavement
S for shops
D for dust
T for tickets

The Orphanage is a gothic tale (I knew this was so because of the creaky house and bad weather). I'm the wrong person to ask if it was scary because I spent a bit of time hiding under Gee's armpit. I have no tolerance for scary bits, no matter how obvious, cliched or over-done they might be - I still squeak and jump. It was beautifully shot, and the acting was good. However, it was a touch predictable and everything was well flagged and over-explained. I suspect del Torro would have found Pan's Labyrinth exceptionally difficult to follow and whatever he would have done, it would not have been able to match it in terms of beauty, horror and enchantment.

Tomorrow I go to work, so I'll let you know if my superstitions were justified.

Been Awhile

Apologies for the long silence. I've been oop North with the Viking and his family and there was much running about upon my return. Unfortunately, due to his generous nature, I've now got a cold, so all running aroung has now stopped as I indulge in feeling bleugh.

The good thing is that I've had a chance to read and review a book. I've popped my thoughts on the subject on my sister site. It's the first time I've done a book review and I'd appreciate the feedback. Also, if you've read something recently, brilliant or dire, feel free to do the same.

Boy has come back from his dad's early. His grandad did some serious injury to his tendon, so much so that he's needed an op. Boy was just on the phone to him, and he's on the mend. Or will be as long as he keeps off the leg.

One of the things I'm discovering about my Boy, is that he has patience. Obvioulsy, he's needed this virtue when dealing with me and my dramas. Over the Spring, both he and my Viking have been bonding over Transformers. They've been eagerly downloading, watching trailers, going ooo and aaahhh and debating over plot, character etc. They bought tickets to go and see the preview showing for the day after Alix's wedding. Please note, they didn't buy me one, but graciously said that I could come along if I wanted and was quiet.

Unfortunately, both Boy and I had forgotten that the ExH was picking him up stupid o'clock Sunday morning to take him to the Holkham Game Fair. Obviously time with the ExH is sacrosanct and he had to go. Apparently that's when his grandad wrecked his leg trying to push a car out of the mud. Boy said the fair wasn't up to much being soggy, expensive and same old mix of country clothing stalls, displays and food sold from caravans. When he came back, the movie was not playing yet and he had to wait a week before general release. I did go see it with Viking and I'm under the threat of pain of death to reveal nothing. We arranged to try again at an early showing Friday morning. As we were just about to leave the house ExH rings and asks to come over. Grandad has been admitted to A&E for his leg, can he come over and wait at ours: which meant no Transformers.

Boy turned up unexpectedly on Wednesday and unfortunately, I've come down with a nasty bug thing and quite frankly, if I'm not well enough to go to work, I'm not well enough for movies. Not to mention that I'd be terrified at being seen. Norwich is a small place. So depending on how I feel I'll take him to see Transformers on Sunday morning.

If he hasn't self-immolated by then.

Lamb Stew and the Kitchen Sink

Tonight, I feel the need for comfort food. Hence the lamb stew. Boy calls it a kitchen sink meal for good reason. It's a one-pot meal, and I'm not sure which army I was catering for, but I hope they're not going to be late. I have got a HOOOGE potfull as they say here in Norfolk.

Today, did not start well. I was half an hour late for my tutorial with my CP tutor. I was late because I'm a complete muppet; I completely got my times wrong. The 5 minutes we chatted was enough to put me back on track. This week has been a string of 'woe-is-me' meetings with my Course Leader, Student Adminstration and Support and the Critical Studies director, to explain why I haven't done my dissertation and to access the support from the College, which will mean I can finish my final year, this year. I've now got extentions for my dissertation of four weeks, which I'm hoping I won't need. I'd rather not have it impact on the rest of my coursework.

This afternoon, a group of us went to see Pan's Labyrinth at Cinema City. It was better than the reviews suggested. Excuse me as I cycle through my superlatives while trying to find something not clichéd. It was amazing. Everything that a fairy tale ought to be, scary, dark, compelling, with a real sense of menace. Guillermo del Toro juxtaposes the fantasy of the Labyrinth against the reality of Franco's Spain and the result is mindblowing. I did initially want to take Boy along, but the violence is brutal and explicit. It's one of the few occasions I've felt it necessary to restrict his viewing, but there are subtleties that he'll miss at this point. Go and see it!