Stumbled onto the last Bond movie

I missed the cinema. I missed the smell of popcorn, I missed having to turn my phone off (well, put it on silent anyway) and give my full attention to a movie for a certain amount of time. COVID took that away from me. This was not the first movie I watched at a movie theatre post COVID, but from what I have gathered it certainly was thought of as the saviour of the big screen. Was it the fact that this is Daniel Craig's last ride? Was it that not everyone thinks Blockbusters should solely consist of superhero movies? Was it the discounted popcorn that Vue cinemas advertised? We will never know. My money is on the popcorn. 

Consider this a spoiler warning, just because my mother took it upon herself to give away the ending to a whole doctor's lounge and in no way do I want to associate with that type of behaviour. You have been warned. Stop reading. Consider this a second warning. Bond dies.

I have frequently said that I am a nerd and I am a nerd about a ton of nerdy things. I am not a Bond nerd though. I haven't seen Sean Connery's films, I have seen some of Pierce Brosnan and all of Daniel Craig's, but I suspect I couldn't follow Matt Gourley's 'James Bonding' podcast. And I really want to, so I might just have to sit down and watch all of them. I know that some people object to the Daniel Craig take, where Bond is psychologically complex, flawed and physically built to actually look able to carry out all those chases and getaways. I, however, think that these are necessary aspects of an intriguing character in 2021. If James Gunn could make a fuchsia space starfish relatable, James Bond can afford to get a couple of bruises after the bad guys get him. And I will definitely not complain about the less sexist lens to the character, you know, the one where women can do a bit more than just sleep with him and maybe even provoke an emotional response from time to time. 

I thought the movie was great. The hours flew by, the action sequences were fun, the scenery and soundtrack were beautiful and the new characters were likeable. Not the bad guy who was way into plants. I never trusted plant people, it seems so boring a pastime, there must be something sinister going on. But Ana de Armas and Lashana Lynch's characters were amazing and they both had so different and so enjoyable interactions with the main character. And the movie actually got a few tears out of me. I am not saying that was an impossible feat, but it's not like Pixar made the movie and it was therefore a given. I would like to know, if anyone has this information, whether the daughter's eyes were edited post production or they literally searched for a child with Daniel Craig's captivating eyes. He is an amazing Bond and I am not only saying this because he is as hot as he is. Even though I said this right after the captivating eyes comment. He is very hot. I remember a time when people complained that James Bond would be blonde this time round, no wonder the same idiots had a nervous breakdown about a black woman getting the 007 title. 

I am grateful to this film for getting the movie-going rolling. I might be hesitant of small indoor spaces, but very eager to go to as many as there are as long as there is a a big screen at the very front, a smell of fake butter in the air and a bathroom near by, because we all know they water down those Cokes and Sprites.

Stumbled onto Walking Dead

I just want to make one thing clear. I did not run out of ideas, inspiration, time and motivation, hence the hiatus. This was a conscious decision to attenuate the importance of my Conan post, to underline the cultural gap left by American Ginger, to magnify his impact on the comedy scene. No, this was not a holiday break from the blog that turned into abandonment, this was a statement! That statement is that Conan O'Brien's departure from late night should not be taken lightly. 

So what else has happened this summer other than my mourning of the 'Conan' show? And doubt not; I have mourned. Well, I watched all of Walking Dead for starters. And I have questions. My main question is why nobody told me to start the show when Game of Thrones ended  and I needed to fill that void? I wasn't into Game of Thrones for the boobs to begin with, and Walking Dead had plenty of main character deaths, a wee amount of ethical dilemmas a GREAT amount of gore and zombies. And for the first few seasons Walking Dead had plenty of nice plot twists. It eventually dived into repetition but it's not like Game of Thrones didn't; those unexpected armies that unexpectedly infiltrated battles got less and less unexpected. 

My second question is whether we are all in agreement that men can have abs, turquoise eyes, the heights of giants, brains, humour and chivalry, and Jeffrey Dean Morgan would still be the sexiest man to have existed. Best casting decision ever, because no way would I be rooting for the mass murderer that batted my favourite character to death if it wasn't portrayed by that Lucille-loving bastard. Also, are all Arrested Development fans in agreement that the name 'Lucille' has been forever ruined?

My third question is more relevant to the storyline. One had to be. And it is how come they abandon solutions that have worked for them in the past. It seems that looking and smelling like zombies is a 'do not die' card that should have been played a lot more times during the run of the show. They stumble onto that idea quite early, but do not pay it much of an homage, not as much as that alphabet group did. There is an attempt to hold onto their humanity, which I understand, but you know, how about when they go on food hunts? It doubles as a way to keep those that go get the food from eating it all.

I found out a few things about myself; first of all, I can actually like many characters I initially found annoying as long as Norman Reedus does at some point. Next, even though Andrew Lincoln has, I think, a punchable face, I am very much rooting for his return. Lastly, I have realised I would be useless in a zombie apocalypse. My main plan of survival is I would survive until I could get to a spot where I could relieve myself of my breathing duties, as you say, in the least disgusting and absolutely least painful way possible. Not a Gryffindor.  

I am looking forward to the rest of the season, have no idea which way things will swing, as I know the zombie apocalypse does not end from 'The Walking Dead: World Beyond'. There just seems to be no time; we need some sort of a happy ending, even partly so, explanations about a huge number of things and Jeffrey Dean Morgan to die and be somehow redeemed. Or not. If he is not, that will be very interesting. Possibly also disappointing. But certainly interesting. But, let's have him redeemed. 

Stumbled onto superheroes at the movies

Covid has had many impacts on me, the main of which was my reluctance to go to the movies. Second impact on the list is fear of dying. That inevitably meant that I fell behind on my watchlist, opting for Seinfeld reruns on Netflix. Now, technically, these are not called reruns because they are on Netflix and therefore on demand. But as I remember a time where reruns were the way to watch Seinfeld, I am sticking with the 'rerun' sentiment. You might be wondering why I have spent a whole paragraph on Seinfeld instead of the three movies which I recently caught up on and intended to discuss. It is simple, really; the same procrastination that has affected my viewings is featured on this post for your benefit. So you can relate. I will get to it though, I promise. But as a final note on Seinfeld, I am just wondering if it's worrying that I relate with George Costanza and Larry David as much as I do; you don't need to answer that. It is.

The three movies in question are 'Black Widow' (I have been procrastinating for a long time, baby), 'Suicide Squad' and 'Venom: Let There Be Carnage'. Oddly enough, this is also their order of interest to me, with 'Black Widow' being the movie I cannot believe it took me so long to watch. I was trying to coordinate with other MCU friends and life got in the way. And by 'life' I mean 'Hamilton'. We just watched 'Hamilton' over and over again instead. 'Black Widow' was... classic; it was a superhero movie as we know them. Not that that is a bad thing; I miss those every now and then. I maybe wanted something more though, because of this being the first female lead in the MCU (I know, I don't care), because Black Widow is such an awesome character and because Scarlett Johansson is amazing at all of it and deserved that Oscar two years ago and I am still not over it. But yeah, the movie felt like formula and the problems with these things is that, as you get older, you start to notice little nuisances more easily. Like the fact that we see Natasha right before General Ross arrives to arrest her, and then we see her free and ready for Infinity War. But did she fight all of General Ross' team and got away? Did she break out of prison? Wouldn't these be incredibly awesome stuff for us to see? Also, I had not taken a stand on this but it seems I now have to; the accents. There is an argument currently made about whether it is worth having actors fake an accent, rather than just having an unspoken agreement among us that we will pretend they are using an accent. Here is where I am at. I see the benefit of them putting on a fake accent for realism purposes, only if it is indeed realistic. But having English and American actors all fake a Russian accent whilst speaking amongst themselves is just ridiculous. If they are all Russian, why not speak Russian? If the answer is 'let's ditch the realism and go for the most popular language in the world for the audience's sake' let's ditch the realism and have them use their own accents. Those were the main nuisances for me. But I did like it so, I will say this; while a common complaint is that the villain needlessly goes through the trouble to lay out their evil plan for the main character, I think that worked wonders here. Because that is Romanoff's skillset; because when she said 'Thank you for your cooperation' I was so happy I almost pooped. But didn't. I stand by that statement. I will also admit that I quite liked the feminist allegory; I know it's a shallow superhero movie, don't hate me, but it just felt appropriate for this character's backstory. But yeah, no real stakes, no real depth to the characters and overall, it was just not one of the most special MCU releases.

'Suicide Squad 2' I was excited for, not because I have any trust in the DCEU, Warner Bros or these characters in particular. But I have a great deal of trust in James Gunn. I fucking love James Gunn's style; 'Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 1.2' don't get enough credit and they get plenty of credit. Here is pretty much the aftertaste I had from this movie. I thoroughly enjoyed watching it; the direction, the banter, Idris Elba's biceps, but that movie was absolutely pointless. The characters were pointless, the relationships they developed were pointless, the plot was pointless, the fight scenes were underwhelming; I should have opened a thesaurus sometime after the second use of the word pointless. I loved Starro as the main villain and loved that it was given such humanity at the very end. Yes, the psychedelic, giant, squid-like, star-shaped, alien monster had a killer final line. Only James Gunn can bring such emotionality to an otherwise seemingly unsophisticated script. Remember how we all cried when Yondu died? And because all of us were crying no one made fun of us for doing so? Good times.

You see how my paragraph length corresponds to my interest in these movies as stated above? Expect a maximum of three sentences for Venom, I guess. I had written a whole blog post for the first installation, saying that while it was by no means a good movie, it had a lot of potential. So I have lied; I was actually quite excited for this movie. I had sort of placed my bets that this sequel would take all that worked from the first Venom movie and implement it in a good storyline with an interesting villain. Imagine my disappointment when all reviews said that this was so much worse than the first movie. Imagine how I felt when I finally watched it. I felt disappointed, I felt betrayed, I felt exposed, I felt discredited and I also felt right back where I was three years ago. Sticking up for an obviously bad movie, which, however, has just so much potential! The symbiote is a joy to watch, Tom Hardy playing a loser is great fun and the buddy-cop/split-personality relationship would work so well if Sony Pictures would just give this franchise a fair chance. Come on Sony! We are already mad at you for being a potential obstacle to Spidey's Avenger membership; give us a Venom movie with some heart.

"Why did I just waste ten minutes reading this disjointed, superficial commentary on three superhero films that I probably already have a much better articulated opinion on?", you may ask. The only explanation I have is that I hadn't posted anything in over four months and you were wondering if during this break I suddenly got better at writing. Well, joke is on you, nothing's changed. But I did miss geeking out and pretending to have an audience, so feel free to keep checking :) .

Stumbled onto Conan’s farewell to late night

 

The word ‘nerd’ means to me that engagement with some form of content is far from casual; it is dedicated and intense. Well, I am a nerd. Be it Harry Potter or Marvel, which frequently come up on this blog, I am never satisfied with having just covered the basics. I know too many Les Miserables lyrics for it to be mere appreciation of the musical and have read too many of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s notes on Hamilton to be simply following the hype. But for the past four years my nerdom has expanded to talk shows, and not just any talk shows, but American late night talk shows. And there has been one late night show that I am happily obsessed with above all others; Conan. And sadly, last week it came to an end.

I wasn’t much aware of Conan until 2016. I had seen some interview clips but had not paid much attention. I, like most people in Greece, had heard of Colbert, Jon Stewart and John Oliver as the more politically engaged commentators. We do like our political comedy here in Greece as it makes us feel smarter. I had enjoyed Jimmy Kimmel’s high status interviews, and didn’t care much for Jimmy Fallon’s celebrity games, but was definitely aware of him. However, a friend at my brother’s wedding gave me a bunch of cool comedy series to watch and on the subject of late night added ‘Oh, I only watch Conan O’Brien, because he is consistently purely funny’. And I ignored him completely, naturally. Then, about a year later, I went through a Benedict Cumberbatch phase where I watched anything he ever said on YouTube in that deep voice and English accent, and through those interviews I stumbled onto his appearances on Conan (tip: it includes a topless Cumbershower). It was just as that friend had said; laugh-out-loud, out-of-time funny. And that was it. It has been four years that people beg me to stop discussing the host, the sketches, the podcast. My friends have given me a daily restriction to bringing it all up. I have received numerous Conan related gifts and people have been genuinely worried about this obsession and I don’t blame them. It is borderline juvenile.

But I don’t care. I have discovered so many comedians, laughed so much at silly things that somehow work and felt such comfort and compassion. And unfortunately for you, these are not just one-off statements; I will elaborate. First of all, that show put comedians first and comedians have put that show first right back. A lot of great comedians cite the show as their starting point, either in the form of a stand-up opportunity, internship or mere inspiration. They had stand-up sets more frequently than any other show and they have pushed and produced comedians without hesitation. And that appreciation that has been flying around Twitter and Instagram by anyone from Bill Hader to John Krasinsky? I get it. I get why they felt like, back in the nineties, ‘Late Night with Conan O’Brien’ felt like a dirty, little secret and revealed a place in the comedy spectrum for new talent to belong. Which brings me to the second reason I loved the show; ‘Silly’ is such a misunderstood word, often confused with ‘dumb’. Silly is so much more related to the complex and peculiar turns our thought process goes through. Silly can be incredibly smart; silly can be ‘Monty Python’ and ‘The Simpsons’. And it is a revelation, or at least it was to me, that silly is far from something to be ashamed of, but incredibly entertaining and, frankly, timeless. The remotes, Clueless Gamer, even the animal expert segments will always be just as funny, whether it is a clip from 1993 or 2021. I do not want to be misunderstood; all this fascination might be mostly associated with the man, Conan O’Brien, but there are the Robert Smiegels and Mike Sweenies and Brian Stacks that wrote mind-blowing, silly sketches (bring back WikiBear). And still do; Brian Stack’s silly influence on ‘The Late Show with Stephen Colbert’ is obvious and very, very necessary. Necessary, because it adds some comical endurance to an otherwise very ‘current’ show, maybe too current.

I have purposely left the last point for a separate paragraph. ‘Comfort’ and ‘Compassion’. This last bit might actually be a tad more ‘Conan O’Brien’ oriented than ‘The Conan Show’. That self-deprecation that Conan features can be met by no other. He will gladly be the butt of the joke and he never seemed hurtful. Comedy is so often confused with insults that to me, an annoyingly polite and discreet person (that might sound like bragging, but those closest to me can attest to its inhibitory effects), it was refreshing to see someone primarily occupied with being kind, being as funny, noteworthy and successful as Conan. I don’t know if anyone else feels comforted and cosy by that thought, but Conan clips have actually got me through very stressful times for that very reason; no one had to suffer for the sake of a joke, the show was a safe space. It is almost unfair to forego Andy Richter at this point, a quick-witted man that was ahead of his time, socially and otherwise. And again, so comfortable in being the sidekick, so confident in his own worth that any tension that ever came out of the show felt scripted. I guess I am saying that other than an excellent comedy show, this frequently felt like an obscene, yet cosy quilt. Hence its need for when my PhD was  downright sucking the life out of me. God knows I hated those hiatuses they went on.

I decided to wrap this up because I realise this is not even remotely funny and probably not of interest to anyone but me. Their late night run is over, though, and this felt like the only appropriate opportunity to write this post of appreciation. I don’t mind having a juvenile, nerdy fascination if it is for celebrities like Conan O’Brien. I don’t know if he is, but from his relationship with his staff, the Reddit threads of fan encounters and from a naïve belief in ‘auras’ or whatever, I feel safe in admiring this particularly silly comedian and missing a daily talk show that got me through a lot. I thank them all for serving that ‘strange phantom intersection between smart and stupid’ and Conan for choosing this following, lovely quote at the lowest of times:

‘Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen’

(I know it has been used to death, but it is a damn good quote)

Stumbled onto cycling

 

There is a saying that we use when we mean to say that something is second nature; ‘it’s like riding a bike’. Supposedly, no matter how many years pass that you have traded in your bike for an exercise-free alternative, you should still be able to ride one without having to put much thought into the process. Naturally, it is a quote I have never understood as I never learnt to ride one.

I am a child of three, the youngest by a large difference and I think bike-riding lessons got kind of lost in the mix. It’s fine, I did learn how to binge watch Friends much earlier than anyone else, a skill that comes in a lot more useful a lot more frequently, I find. But there were instances that my lack of cycling knowledge brought me shame. There was that one time in a national Scouts Gymboree that we were all asked to ride a bike as if it were the most natural thing in the world and I had to fake a sudden cramp; painful enough that I was excused from the task, but not too painful that my bike-capable team mates became concerned. Well, that day I was also the only one out of 20 people to be taken off rowing duty as my rowing actually hindered movement along the river. Therefore, I think no one was suspicious of my cramp because I think they were more preoccupied with how one person’s imbecility outperformed another 19 people. Needless to say, I didn’t stay a Scout too long.

This shame followed me later in life, so I asked friends to teach me how to ride a bike at the age of sixteen. Thankfully, and also curiously, there were three of us in my friend group who similarly did not learn how to cycle at that age that people do, so the ridicule was divided among us. What I learnt better than I learnt to cycle, is that there are some things that you need to learn to do young, before you can imagine scenarios where you either die, become paralysed for life, or laughed at relentlessly by a whole coffee house that just witnessed the bike slide backwards, living you hanging mid-air and eventually dropping to the ground, somehow still holding your bike position, like a cartoon. Once that knowledge is bestowed upon you, it is a lot harder to accept the risk of bike riding. As a result, in this quest for dignity, I acquired a lot of bruises but did not fall a single time (other than the aforementioned example that defies physics); instead I safely dropped the bike onto the ground and it vengefully bruised me all over. Then, for a few years, I accepted that I would never ride a bike, only to be retaught in England as an adult for about a month. But England is cold, so that didn’t flourish much either. But this warm June, at the sweet age of twenty-six, I have decided I will not go another year under these circumstances.

This has admittedly been made easier by the designated cycling lane in my area, which means I am not risking as much as I would have, trying to learn among the cars. Rumour has it that Greek drivers in particular are not very fond of cyclists. As a Greek driver myself, I can attest to that; bastards slow us down. Our cycling lane is not without its difficulties though. While there are clear bicycle signs drawn onto the lane at various points, pedestrians have somehow claimed the space as their own. They take long, wide strolls and when I say ‘wide’, I mean taking advantage of the whole width of the lane. The bike that I have borrowed from my mom’s friend’s grandson (I am really short) doesn’t have a bell, so I resort to yell, politely, for people to move out of the way. But politeness has not been very effective for many reasons. First of all, I am not known for my loud voice. Or so said pedestrians complain. Secondly, most carefree strollers wear headphones just to make sure that I crash onto them. As I do. Pedestrians are at least quite safe to crash into. My real trouble is at the points where I need to cross the street. I usually wait until there is a sufficient gap between cars to get off my safety lane and cross. However, drivers frequently assume I can manage this cross with ease and gesture me to go ahead while they wait, presumably, for a couple of moments. I am not saying their assumption is groundless; I am over twelve years old, as far as they are concerned I should be able to do so. However, my limited experience in keeping my balance on top a thin metal pole balancing on two wheels and my emergent performance anxiety quickly have drivers regretting those decisions. I swear, I could be doing just fine while on the bike lane and the moment I feel pressured into cycling I turn into Niles and Frasier in that episode they too learnt to cycle as adults. Pedals don’t work, the bike is moving from side to side like a pendulum and I am internally cursing that I happened amongst kind drivers rather than bastards who wouldn't waste a moment to let me pass.

I doubt I will ever travel around Scotland with a bike or do a triathlon, but it would be nice to go pick up something nearby with my bike instead of walking. Not because it would be much faster, or less strenuous. Definitely not less strenuous. But just because if I ever run into anyone from that Gymboree, I will erase any doubt in their mind that I faked that cramp. What if I am not the only person obsessing over this tiny detail sixteen years later?

Stumbled onto body hair

 

This could be a very literal post, where I just stumbled onto a big pile of body hair. Not even mine, fur balls are body hair and if you have seen our Newfoundland at another post, you would know that these are real safety hazards. 

Nonetheless, I do mean body hair in human women, something oddly controversial. This is what dominated the Greek press for the previous week; Kamala Harris’ step-daughter, Ella Emhoff, posted a photo with her armpit hair visibly showing. Triggered by this a, now infamous, young woman went after this whole ‘trend’ of ‘not falling into an endless shame spiral if, God forbid, you have not shaved your body to the point that it looks like baby skin’. Thankfully, the majority of Greek media and the internet condemned this view; unfortunately I don’t think she was trying to convince any one of those that disagreed. Instead, we have taken a page out of the US politics book and it seems that some people make a career by opposing a majority just to gain very vocal minority to support them. And it works.

The video she posted on her private Instagram account characterised pictures of body hair and cellulite and stretch marks as ‘disgusting’ ad ‘disturbing’ and wondered why she had to be subjected to such images just because someone else wanted to share them. On Instagram. Let me say this again. Someone on Instagram objected to seeing what other people deemed postable. On Instagram. I saw someone’s penis on an Instagram story not two weeks ago. I saw someone’s sunkissed toes. I still haven’t decided which one I hated more, but these are the sort of risks you take when you want to be on the platform. Actually, I think one of these images is legally banned, you know, because of all the perverts with foot fetishes.

She then decided that demonising the very natural appearance of a woman’s body would maybe not get enough traction and decided to extend her argument to include gender fluidity. More specifically, she expressed her worry that men wearing makeup and women wearing baggy clothes were a threat to our culture and life as we know it.  I was debating what to comment on here; would it be worth mentioning that if our ‘culture’ and ‘life as we know it’ is restricting anyone’s freedom of expression, maybe it is worth threatening it right out of existence? Or would it be preferable to mention that in the list of threats to life as we know it, makeup and baggy clothes should probably be further down the line? I, for one, am much more worried about our simultaneous overreliance and abuse on robots; should they become sentient, I think that is when life as we know will definitely be threatened (I have started rewatching Westworld).

This obviously got people all stirred up because of the blunt discrimination and absurdity of the video. This excitement got television involved and said lady appeared on a morning show to clarify her statement. She said that she did not object to the existence of these imperfections, nor suggested that should you have them, photographs are off limits to you. And for that I thank her, cause I got worried there for a while; what with my enlarged pores and sun damage? I mean a have a few moles too, what headshot would I put up on LinkedIn if nowhere else? She refined her statement to say that she objects to the glorification of said imperfections as it takes away from the feminist battle of proving our worth. Those imperfections that were characterised as disgusting and disturbing, it’s not that she dislikes them, as demonstrated by these adjectives; it’s just that she is a feminist. And what is more feminist than thinking a less-than-perfect appearance diminishes one’s worth. Basically, she tried to shift the argument towards ‘people are focusing on external appearance, a commonly female issue, rather than actions’ as if one excludes the other and if one makes a statement with their appearance instead of changing a tire, they are a traitor to the sex. It’s like my mother’s spinach pie; it might be the tastiest thing I have ever encountered but she did COOK it wearing a bra and everything. I wouldn’t eat that thing even if the patriarchy paid me to. The same patriarchy, by the way, that does not prefer baggy clothes on women but does on makeup-less men. But it is true that our ‘culture’ and ‘way of life’ currently includes endless filters, retouches and unrealistic beauty standards and these are threatened by such images. She was right about that. What can we next expect; teenagers growing up with more confidence and self-love? The horror.

This refinement bothered me so much more than the original statement, because as one of the presenters said it seemed ‘more understandable’, therefore defendable. But it really isn’t. It was simply phrased in more careful wording so people could back her up saying she was originally misinterpreted. There is nothing misinterpreted about misogyny though, nothing misinterpreted about trying to enforce traditional beauty standards to those that do not feel represented by them. The refinement bothered me so much that it knocked my predesigned pleasant, corny attempts at jokes right out of this post and it just ended up being me rage typing. You can tell when I am rage typing because I use the quote sign ‘’ a million times per sentence. And yes, let me be the first to recognise that as this is not pop-culture related, but more to do with Greek current events, I could have written it up in Greek like a sensible person. But let me also be the first to recognise that such a post would have lost all credibility, if only for the grammar mistakes. And if you are thinking ‘what credibility?’, well, that of a coherent text, at the very least.

Stumbled onto the Friends reunion

 

It feels like we hear about a Friends reunion every couple of years and every time it turns out to be a rumour or a half-assed publicity stunt, with maybe five out of the six friends present. This last one got an HBO announcement, a lot of buzz and the entire main cast signing on. I was almost as excited as Matt LeBlanc looked during the special. I think we were all hoping for a reunion movie, or even an episode, where we would get the actual characters rather than their celebrity counterparts. Because as much as I love Lisa Kudrow since learning she is Conan O’Brien’s ex (which makes too much sense), I wanted to see Regina Phalange. But that is the thing; we would all tune in even if they spent 110 minutes staring at a wall.

I think it has been already commented on plenty, but oh my god, the Botox shared among these six people could kill a baby jaguar. I think it is interesting that Lisa Kudrow, who I think was frequently overlooked in comparison to the other two beauty icons, has aged the best. Or had the best surgery, anyway. Courteney Cox has frequently spoken out about how her plastic surgeries had went overboard and she is actually trying to damage control the situation, but Aniston is in similar turmoil as far as I am concerned. She is sporting the ‘I’m allergic to shellfish, but love me some good shrimp’ look. David Schwimmer and Matthew Perry too. It might just be me but I even think that their speech is a bit off from all the deceased nerves in their faces. What worries me is that these are rich, famous, powerful people and that is the best surgery money could buy; what am I to expect from my own inevitable plastic surgery? One might expect that their very result would put me off, but I am aware of how much I frown and me and said frown have another ten years, at best, before we call it quits. The best looking one is Matt LeBlanc and I think it is those couple of extra kilos Aniston teased him about. We have a saying in my family, that growing up means making a choice between your butt and your face; only one of the two can look youthful. LeBlanc has gone for face and I think that is the best course, really. Plus you get to eat more. Also, while we got guest appearances from Gunther to the barbershop quartet that Ross sent to Rachel’s office once, Paul Rudd was curiously missing. I’m taking bets for which cast member vetoed the unaging actor. My money is on Aniston. These are all cheap shots; of course they grew old and they didn't owe any of us to look great forever. 

One thing that was a bit disappointing is how much the stars did not remember. And I don’t mean the crazy stuff me and my grammar-Nazi friend reference to one another, I mean Mr Heckles. Jennifer Aniston did not remember his name. He had a cameo in Breaking Bad and I am pretty sure his name was still Mr Heckles in sunny Albuquerque. And let’s say that you are as successful as Aniston and have every right to not remember everything Friends-related at any given moment; have a read through a cheat sheet before the special. I am sure they were paid good money for it. I would say that another possibility is just that they were pretending not to remember, but if those table reads showed us anything is that the casts’ best acting days were behind them. Why am I so bitter, anyway?

Was it particularly worth watching then? I mean there were some slightly unnecessary guest appearances in the form of a fashion show and one very unnecessary appearance in the form of James Corden throughout the thing. Why James Corden? Literally anyone else would be better suited, at the very least in terms of nationality. There was one revelation that was worth the time though; apparently Aniston and Schwimmer were actually in love during those first seasons, which probably helped their on-screen chemistry as the famous ‘will they, won’t they’ couple. Now, we were told it never formulated into anything else and no one else indulged, but to be fair, it is not as if we can fact check any of them. Unless one of them loses all their money and writes a tell-all autobiography. This time, my money is on Matthew Perry. I would read it too; I love the Matthew Perry.

I sound very negative towards the whole thing, but truth be told, I cried about five times, laughed a lot more and will now surely start rewatching Friends (I’ve actually already done this by the time this was posted). This sitcom is a moment in pop culture history, it unites and comforts us and is still pretty darn funny. I know some jokes feel outdated and offensive, but I think anyone not looking for trouble can see that it was all well intended. Friends feel exactly like friends and that is what gets us fans to tune in endless reruns as well as 110 minutes of James Corden trying to be funny.

Stumbled onto tonsillitis

 

I have a rhetorical question for you; is tonsillitis ever fun? No, nothing that ends in –itis is. Let’s just say any word that is still visibly Latin is probably a bad thing. However, something being timelessly bad does not mean it cannot be worse under certain circumstances. Like to a hypochondriac during the Covid pandemic. Like during the weekend after a strict six-month lockdown. And finally, like during summer.

Thankfully, I do not get sick much, because if I did, I think I would most likely end up like Chuck McGill from Better Call Saul. Hopefully still using electricity though, because I cannot imagine social seclusion with no Netflix. Also, for a hypochondriac I did mostly keep calm up until, well, the apocalypse. I would medicate, eat soup and greens, avoid others and allow myself to indulge in whatever TV show has a dreamy, male antihero. In other words, pretty much have a good time, all things considered. But I have gotten sick three times during Covid and none have been dealt with in a calm and dignified manner. First of all, none of those times was I seriously sick. I got some light fever and other cold-like symptoms and, this very last time, swollen tonsils the size of plums. All three of these times I swore it was Covid. All three of these times I called the relevant health lines, begged them to diagnose me as Corona positive just to rid myself of the doubts, where they very kindly explained to me that paranoia is not a Covid symptom and I should stop calling. So apart from the obvious ridicule I have been wilfully subjecting myself to, it has also gotten a lot more expensive for me to get sick. For example, I went straight for a private PCR test, which are of no negligible cost, but results are available the following day. In the meantime, I was getting suspicious that the swollen tonsils might be tonsillitis (I do solve crimes in my free time, if you were wondering) and wanted to visit a GP. Therefore, in anticipation of my PCR results I thought it best to waste additional money on a self-test, because I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I felt I could have possibly endangered the good doctor that would confirm my detective work.

Sickness also sucks just a little bit extra after a lockdown. Even the least social of us want to go out, let out some steam, put on lipstick for someone other than the inside of a face mask to see, have a drink, have a bite even. Getting sick gets in the way of that. My tonsils were thoughtful enough though to make me feel as if I didn’t want to do any of the aforementioned things anyway, in order for my psyche to remain intact, I guess. Internal organs are considerate like that. Other than the obviously cancelled plans for those first strugglesome days, I was also put on antibiotics for as long as ten days! That is ten alcohol-free days that I was looking forward to spending, at the very least, as tipsy! At least, my swollen tonsils are just that; mine, so I can carry my pain around without sharing.

Again, I am sure tonsillitis is horrible the whole year round. It is just that the warm tea, which is the first line of defence for any self-respecting Greek, is not as enjoyable in the summer. Sweat is not very pleasant, so drinking something that somehow resembles it is, let’s say, counterintuitive. I know that ice-cream during winter somehow works, but that is a one way street, trust me. Funny thing about that is, an English friend of mine informed me that their remedy for tonsillitis actually involves ice-cream or anything freezing for that matter. You’d think we’d get the ice-cream remedy and leave the lukewarm liquid for them Englishmen up north but apparently not. We want to hoard all the warmth for ourselves, even if it is incredibly unpleasant.

This post is what I would call a filler. Seeing that I am halfway through a lot of pop culture things, I couldn’t think of a post that would make sense now rather than later. On the other hand, I do have a bet with myself to put these posts up weekly for 2021, so I decided to write up my most recent endeavour. Why should you suffer through an irrelevant post, you might wonder. Well, think of it this way; boredom is better than tonsillitis. Although, frequently adjacent.

Stumbled onto Harry Potter and the Gay Fanfiction Novels

You might be wondering if this is the ultimate clickbait title, but I swear it is accurate. And you are coming in to this a lot more informed than I did. Because yes, I am reading gay fan fiction as we speak, but no, I was not aware I was. Let’s start at the beginning.

This year, I made the resolution to read at least 12 books, roughly one per month. I had also made an additional resolution for these books to be Greek, for the sake of my friends and family, who have to put up with my insultingly poor language. And I mean insultingly. It makes people doubt if I ever went to school. I began with a classic, ‘Zorba the Greek’, because Kazantzakis is a renowned Greek writer, this is arguably his most famous novel and I want to see the movie (which, as everyone knows, I cannot do until I have read the book). It is a very nice, funny, thought-provoking book, but seriously low in the plot department. This has caused me to be very, very slow in finishing it; meaning I still haven’t. I have gone through one additional book in the meantime, and that was about ‘Hamilton: The Musical’, which goes against my other resolution of Hamilton detox. As you might have realised with basic math abilities, I am behind on my 12-books-a-year schedule. So when a friend mentioned that she stumbled onto some adequately written fan fiction Harry Potter novels, well, I didn’t pay much attention because I thought myself too good for fan fiction. But when she also mentioned that said fan fiction concerned the four Marauders during their school years and all from Lupin’s viewpoint, I couldn’t contain myself.

One of my first posts on this blog was literally a plea for Rowling to write this very plot. Lupin is my favourite character in the Potterverse and all chapters regarding him and his friends (and enemies) at school were my favourite throughout the book series. I say ‘book series’ in particular, because they were all butchered in the movies. The fact that someone took the time to write this not only gave me a newfound excitement for reading that only Harry Potter could have awakened, but also reassured me that I was not the only one that loved this secondary character like no other. There was no way I was not reading this fan fiction for the sake of my Greek vocabulary, damn my friends and future vocational prospects! All I knew going in has been presented to you in this paragraph. Only you have seen the title of this blog post; I had not.

The book is nicely written; no one can match Rowling’s wit and nuanced character building as far as I am concerned, but the fuzzy Harry Potter feeling was certainly there. And characters are quite consistent and well-defined, so I was very pleasantly surprised that something written by a fan, with no editor notes, was legible. Lupin is very badass, which of course is music to my ears and the rest of the marauders  are also nice, even Pettigrew. At first I noticed some hints, some comments that might lead one to think that Lupin might have a crush on Sirius. But very subtle. So I messaged my friend, the one who introduced me to this literary tale, to see if she had noticed anything similar. She said she had as well. She also said those hints were more and more pronounced as the boys were getting older. I didn’t pay much attention to it; it is not the way I would have gone with the character, but mainly because in any fan fiction I would write, Lupin would end up married with me. But I just assumed it was a bit of a detail to add some depth to a pretty much tame Harry Potter prequel.

I was reading this on Kindle, but the document was a PDF with tiny letters, which would most definitely cause me blindness. I had a look around the web for a Kindle-friendly version of the book in my usual –very legal- MOBI platforms and rest assured, I found it. I also found the author’s forenote which said this this story was part of the ‘Wolfstar’ genre and a ‘slow burn’. I had no idea what that meant, so I googled ‘Wolfstar’. And then I stumbled on it; the subsection of Harry Potter fan fiction preoccupied with the romantic love between Remus and Sirius. I didn’t stay long in this digital wormhole, mainly because a lot of it was porn. Now, I want to make it absolutely clear; I do not have issues with people fantasizing about a werewolf and animagi boning, but admittedly it was a bit of a shock. I was there for the fuzzy, fuzzy, fuzzy Hogwarts fuzziness and the original novels didn’t have much more than a kiss written in. A fuzzy kiss. Not everything I saw in ‘Wolfstar’ was fuzzy. I realised that the aforementioned ‘hints’ were not just a detail, an artistic liberty, if you like, but the driving force of this whole novel! And the reason there are hints instead of ‘Sirius began licking Remus’ fingers’ is that ‘slow-burn’ comment in the forenote. Oh, and I think it is time to say that the books are called ‘All the Young Dudes’. And I know I might seem like a total idiot for not picking up on this, but it is a double entendre for a Bowie song that the boys like. Only I didn’t know it was a double entendre; I only caught the bit about Bowie.

Have I stopped reading since? No, because for the time being, it reminds me of the Harry Potter books and I need to read something Rowling-related that doesn’t make me want to shoot her. I am not sure I want to read about werewolf sex, so depending on how that goes, I might quit for the sake of my childhood’s innocence. It is a risk, I will admit, but if worse comes to worse, you will read about it on this blog. I do have one issue with this character development other than its contradiction to my fictional wedding plans. That is, Lupin marries Nymphadora Tonks in the Potterverse. And Tonks has shape-shifting abilities and is Sirius’ cousin. Does that make it disturbing for anyone else or is it just me? I would hate for him to be asking his wife to turn into her cousin for sexy time. It would certainly be hurtful to Nymphadora and doesn’t fit in with the noble, sensitive Lupin image some of us fell in love with in ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’. But then again, I am only through Year 2 at Hogwarts and surely there are plenty of developments ahead; maybe that is all taken care of in a porn-less, Tonks-considerate manner. Here’s hoping.

Well, once again, it is the Harry Potter novels that have got me reading for pleasure. No! Not pleasure! Leisure! See? This is weird. This whole post is weird. I am going to stop before I make this any more awkward. Well, before I do, let me also mention that Rowling has formally stated that Lupin is particularly well endowed. Now I will stop. Mainly because I don’t think I could make this any more awkward, even if I tried.

Stumbled onto the meatfest called Greek Easter

 After eight years in the UK and one intermediate year, this is the first time in a long while that I have spent a bunch of food related holidays in all their glory and Greekedness. In case it has not been made clear, food is my main motivator for many celebrations. Considering my religious preoccupation is as much as my interest in Formula 1, the only way I would even acknowledge Easter is by indulging in traditional delicacies associated with it.

There are some commonalities we Greeks have with mainstream Easter; mainstream being the lame, Western version the rest of the world participates in. These commonalities consist mostly of chocolate eggs and bunnies, and actual eggs, dyed in abnormal egg colours as Christ himself would have wanted. I have heard that some other countries also favour lamb for Easter, but I am willing to bet most of them do not place a whole, skinned, innocent-looking baby lamb on a skewer over fire and attest children as grillers. We didn’t do that this year as Covid meant we couldn’t have enough people over for a whole lamb to be justified. That certainly didn’t stop us from actively stinking all our clothes with smoke, coal residue and fatty meat odours. But here is where Easter gets different for us Greeks. Supposedly, we have spent forty days abstaining from meat, dairy, eggs, and oil for about a week. Just before vegans declare this the best diet ever, we are still meant to eat seafood. Because, apparently, oil is higher up the food chain than seafood.  We also have numerous fish breaks during this forty days period, where fish is not just optional, but deep fried and mandatory. But I mean, if it is deep fried, need it be mandatory? And to further disappoint our vegan friends, this abstinence period is framed by an insane amount of meat, before and after. And the meat I refer to is far from grilled chicken.

Here is the items that make the Greek meat experience worth discussing. Mageiritsa, kokoretsi and gardouba. I will not stall any longer in revealing the main ingredient for all of these; intestines. And I mean, proper intestines. The organs poo goes through. I only eat two of the three and my main excuse for snobbing the third is that I adamantly believe that these foods can only be consumed under one condition; that you realise how tasty they are prior to finding out what they actually are. The reverse is not feasible. Mageiritsa is lettuce soup with anything internal you can think of; small intestine and liver is a must, our household adds lung to the mix and I have frequently heard of heart and stomach being welcome additions. Based on the previous rule I have mentioned, I have only tried our iteration and will keep it that way. And that, which I have described, is the soup. Imagine what is to come. Next up is kokoretsi, which again is a bunch of internal organs wrapped in small intestine and grilled. And as disgusting as that sounds, it is fucking delicious. And, I will argue, sustainable. If you are going to eat meat, you might as well make maximum use of a single animal. I don’t know if vegans will get behind me on this, but I think they should think it through. Last one is gardoumpa, which is the oven baked version of kokoretsi. And this is basically why my rule is pretentious; I have no credible reason not to eat this, but I won’t touch it for anything less that whatever Jeff Bezos’ wife got from the settlement.

The other element making this meatfest Greek to its core is probably the excess amount of side dishes. More meat, including sausages, kebabs, skewers, meatballs are a must. And because meat as a side of meat sounds a bit extreme, we make sure to have a few classic vegetarian sides as well. Bread, fries, tzatziki (come on, obviously), cheese, pies, salads and stuffed wine leaves. Because as I recall from my biology lessons at school, that is how nutrition works; every piece of fried lamb fat is cancelled by a cheese-filled pepper. Just when all this might begin to sound just a tad extreme, that is when desserts make their appearance. Sweet brioche, milk chocolate based pasties (which we have been supposedly fasting for all this time), baklavas and crème patisserie. And because we don’t want to leave anything to chance, including embolisms, we need to be drinking alcohol throughout this suicide mission. And Easter is ageless; there is no such thing as underage drinking during Easter.

I might sound dismissive but in all honesty, I am so happy to have been here for all these traditional holidays with all their adjacent foods. And all I have to do is eat broccoli for a couple of weeks to counteract these effects on my cholesterol. And you now what? It is worth it. One thing is for sure; I don’t think I’ll be a vegan anytime soon if I am that comfortable with the word ‘intestine’ being written so many times in a non-medical text.

Stumbled onto the Oscars 2021

 

I spent two posts last year on the Oscars; one before and one after Scarlett Johansson was snubbed. This year, I decided to be a bit more mindful of my brother’s time, who is kind enough to read all my posts, and combine the two into one. I am actually combining three posts into one, as I will also include my ongoing complaint about the Oscars going hostless. Efficiency should be my official middle name, I say. Although is it efficient if this ended up being one very large post? You’ll be the judge.

Let’s start with the ceremony as a whole. This year was very different because of Covid and we were all very understanding; I will forgive them for the uglier venue and restricted red carpet, it was expected and applauded. I am not entirely sure, however, if this also justifies that god-awful blue curtain they used as a background to the stage. There are no Covid guidelines for interior design, as far as I know. My biggest complaint about the ceremony is how stiff it was. The Emmy’s did a much better job adjusting to the Covid circumstances and typically the Oscars always have a few gimmicks to keep you going through the 3+ hour runtime. This might seem less important to people in LA, but for us who stay up until 6.30 am to watch the Oscars, we do it for moments like #DaButt. Thank god for international treasure, Glenn Close. If there ever was a year to bring back hosts, this was it. We definitely needed someone to throw a few zings here and there. There are always opportunities for a host or two to make things flow a little bit better, even with Zoom. We are all on Zoom for over a year now; such bits would be welcome just fine. And even without a host, they could, like last year, have someone do something of a monologue, someone fly down with an umbrella to honour Mary Poppins, someone crack a joke other than my new Korean idol, Yuh-Jung Youn. I hope Brad Pitt bought her a drink after. It was a little bit cringe-worthy too, as presenters spent a lot of time awkwardly praising nominees, as if the nomination itself isn’t the sort of praise that I imagine keeps you going for a couple of years confidence-wise. Maybe next year they can have Daniel Kaluuya host, because I still have a few unresolved questions about his parents’ sex life.

I also minded the lack of musical numbers, but I will accept that perhaps this was to avoid unnecessary spit. I am all for avoiding unnecessary spit. The last thing I minded was that unwarranted switch of awards; the Best Picture award is usually the last award to be announced and that makes sense as it sort of encompasses all else. This year, someone decided they would have Actor in a Leading Role as the last award and we all rightfully assumed that they would wrongfully award Chadwick Boseman, as a sort of tribute. However, Anthony Hopkins gave a breath-taking performance and rightfully won that award making the last and seemingly most substantial award of the evening a white male recipient. Which upset people. And it also upset my OCD, which has been used to a certain order of awards all these years. But enough about the ceremony, let’s take a look at the awards! It is not as if these are available at every single website since Sunday.

I am being a bit cheeky and starting off with the more interesting awards, will then continue with awards I have invested no time in, and will then complete the post with the big one. I am trying to sustain readership as much as I can.

Adapted Screenplay

‘The Father’ won. If it were up to me, this movie would have won any award it was nominated for; it crushed my soul and sent me to a very dark place, but it was perfect. I loved all of it; the screenplay, the direction, the performances, everything. I found it very original and very sentimental. Which was the case for last year’s Adapted Screenplay winner, ‘Jojo Rabbit’. I seem to have a special bond with this particular category.

Original Screenplay

Everyone thought it would be Aaron Sorkin’s political tale, I hoped it would be ‘Sound of Metal’, but ‘Promising Young Woman’ won. It was a great movie and my only disappointment is that Camilla won an Oscar. My fellow ‘The Crown’ watchers will know what I am talking about.

Actor in a Supporting Role

Daniel Kaluuya won and proceeded to thank God, and his parents for boning. A great speech, with a bit of help from what I believe was weed and a beautiful performance. Again, I was insanely moved by Paul Raci in ‘Sound of Metal’, but I understand that it wouldn’t necessarily be fair for the Academy to award my two favourite movies all of their awards.

Actress in a Supporting Role

The aforementioned legend Yuh-Jung Youn won for Minari and decided to make the most of it by taking a shot with Brad Pitt. Minari is the one film left on my list, I should have watched it last night, but the effects of the Oscars were that I was asleep by sundown. I am, however, very glad she won and if she could win things every week so we can watch her acceptance speeches, I’d be a much happier person.

Short Film (animated)

Now that I am to discuss the short films, I should disclose I have watched nothing of the sort. The winner, ‘If Anything Happens I Love You’ is available on Netflix, even; I don’t have much of an excuse. I was sort of hoping for another short film to win, just because I was feeling rebellious and didn’t want Netflix to round up half of the evening’s awards. This might seem inconsequential, but so did Lex Luthor. I therefore voted for ‘Genius Loci’, mostly because I can’t wait for ‘Loki’, the TV series.

Short Film (live action)

For this category we trusted our friend who had watched a couple of nominees and supposedly could remember which one was which and so we all voted for ‘The Letter Room’, which she had not watched after all and ‘Two Distant Strangers’ won instead. Ironically, this is very much what I would call me and said friend now that she failed us.

Documentary (short subject)

We voted for ‘Colette’ and it actually won! A shot in the dark alright, but a marksman shot nonetheless.

Documentary Feature

This one said friend got correct; ‘My Octopus Teacher’. This was apparently about a man who became friends with this one octopus and documented it. If I were the octopus I would be weary of his motives; did he actually want my friendship, or did he just aspire to be in the same room with Regina King for an evening?

International Feature Film

‘Another Round’ won. Said friend said it was definitely not worthy, but I guess if I were part of the academy and was shown a film with Mads Mikkelsen, I might have also given the award to that film. But that’s just my pheromones talking. Unfortunately, I have wasted all substantial arguments for my choices on stuff I have actually watched and now I have resorted to the so called ‘horny criteria’.

Animated Feature

I was so happy about ‘Soul’ winning; I have heard good things about ‘Onward’ too, but for me Soul was eye opening and inspirational. I really do wish I had watched this as an early teen. Or on drugs. Works either way as a film.

Visual Effects

‘Tenet’, obviously. Say what you will about Tenet. Where there scientific gaps? Sure. Was it incomprehensible and flat out illogical? Yes. Is anything done by Nolan visually stunning? Always. I actually liked Tenet, come at me, Internet!

Film editing

This technical award was won by ‘Sound of Metal’. This was an amazing film that felt very intense, which, from what I understand, depends on film editing. For those reasons, though, I had voted for ‘The Father’, but as these two were my favourite films of the season, I was happy either way.

Sound

‘Sound of Metal’ very obviously won this award. We should say, however, that they put the very name of the award in the title; bribe much?

Production design

This one went to ‘Mank’. If you have not watched ‘Citizen Kane’, I doubt you will have much incentive to sit through ‘Mank’. I had and I am still not all that grateful about my time spent on ‘Mank’. But I do understand that the production was dreamy and you never once broke out of that Old Hollywood trance.

Costume design and Makeup and Hairstyling

‘Emma’, ‘Mank’ and ‘Pinocchio’ were also nominated for both categories and lost both times to ‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom’. I personally did not like ‘Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom’ as a film, but the costumes were beautiful. What was also astounding was Viola Davis’ make-up; you could tell the year, the weather and the struggle on that make-up. As Lisa Eldridge is teaching us now, make-up can be much more than superficial.

Original Song

The winner was ‘Fight For You’ from ‘Judas and the Black Messiah’. Had they presented the songs during the ceremony as they do each year, I would know if this was indeed the best song out of this category. But as they didn’t, I had no choice but to vote for ‘Husavik’ from the ‘Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of the Fire Saga’ and do not need to explain myself.

Original Score

This one was won by ‘Soul’. I guess this sort of explains why ‘Soul’ wasn’t nominated for best Original Song, even though the music was great! Personally, I was just happy the award went to someone from the Colbert team. Now that the Oscars organisers have an in, maybe get someone from that group to host next year (wink).

Cinematography

Now for the big ones. I count cinematography for a big one, because I feel it is directing adjacent, anyway. This was surprisingly won by ‘Mank’. I think most of us expected ‘Nomadland’ to win, with those out-of-this-world sceneries, but as the annoying Greek commentators pointed out during the ceremony voiceover, ‘Mank’ had a more difficult job to do. And it was pretty, which is how I interpret the criteria for this award.

Directing

This was probably the most expected win. Chloe Zhao won and no one batted an eye. ‘Nomadland’ was beautiful and the direction was special; of course, it won. I don’t remember much about what happens in the film, but I remember it was magnetic and suppose that is the very reason it won best direction and not best adapted screenplay.  

Actress in a Leading Role

I was rooting for Carey Mulligan as a promising young woman, but I am always happy to see Francis McDormand win anything because I love her and want to adopt her. Or have her adopt me. They are both equally unlikely, but I love her is what I am trying to say. And she is always great, ‘Nomadland’ was no exception.

Actor in a Leading Role

This one I have a lot to say about. There was a rumour going round that Chadwick Boseman would win and some felt (including yours truly) that this would be partly because of his untimely death. I didn’t enjoy Ma Rainey much, mostly because it felt like they put no effort in transforming it from a play to a movie. That was my complaint about Boseman’s performance as well. It was theatrical and didn’t really resonate with me in a movie setting. Betting sites had Boseman as the sure winner; Oldman as the runner up. I was very frustrated because in my mind, Anthony Hopkins was amazing and the non-negotiable winner this year. And if not him, then Riz Ahmed, who gave an incredible performance that I would otherwise swoon over. Unfortunately, I am not a betting gal, because Anthony Hopkins was indeed the rightful winner. Luckily, others I know were and even made money off this justified win. I am currently trying to be happy rather than envious for them. I will let you know if I succeed.

Best Picture

And here we are. The big one. The one that should have been presented last, but wasn’t. For this one it is worth mentioning all the nominees; ‘The Father’, ‘Judas and the Black Messiah’, ‘Mank’, ‘Minari’, ‘Nomadland’, ‘Promising Young Woman’, ‘Sound of Metal’ and ‘The Trial of the Chicago Seven’. I regrettably haven’t watched ‘Minari’, which I hear is really good, but I therefore have two films that, for me, were the core contenders; ‘The Father’ and ‘Sound of Metal’. I found them both to be very special and as I have said before, I would have loved to see ‘The Father’ win any category, even Short Film (animated). However, we all knew ‘Nomadland’ would win. I do not exactly object to this outcome, but I do feel as if the importance of the film was already reflected in its win for Directing. As long as ‘Mank’ did not win, I am satisfied. Every year, I need an antagonist movie and this time round it was ‘Mank’. I am sorry it had to be this way, Gary Oldman, but I am sure our interests will align again someday in Oscar season.

And so, here are the reasons I spent most of my Monday asleep. It was possibly less worth it than any other year as the ceremony was dull, the duration long, the premiere was two hours later than back in England and we had Greek narration on top of the speeches. Maybe the ceremony was slightly better during the Original Score and Original Song segments; I wouldn’t know, I was very much asleep during these two. It was a sad but beautiful collection of movies this year, but I am very much looking forward to watching such movies on a big screen next year and spending three different posts on the Oscars. Sorry bro.

Stumbled onto junk food troubles

 

This would have properly been a post in anticipation of the Oscar’s this Sunday, but I had much greater things to discuss that required immediate attention (that, and I haven’t covered as much ground with the nominated films as last year). And is there any greater idea in human history than food delivery to your door? Is there any progression more important than food delivery apps? Be it Deliveroo, Uber eats, e-food, Wolt, Domino’s house system or any of the lesser known ones, they have taken the one necessary trouble of eating in out of the equation; human contact. I would not dare extensively complain for this feat of humanity; in all the good it has done for me, I can take a few mishaps here and there. But some are just funny, and deserve to be mocked. Lovingly and respectfully, but mocked nonetheless.

One such instance was this weekend. Let me start by saying that I was once again attempting a vegan month. Notice the past tense in that sentence. I have prior managed a maximum of 22 consecutive days, but this time round motivation was scarce. I lasted a good four and a half days. And yes, the half day counts, because I didn’t add feta cheese to my aubergines and it deeply pained me. I had already given in to cheese, eggs, milk, chocolate and meat by Sunday night, but they were all on the relatively healthy side. This is what I tell myself to make me feel better for my nutritional treason. Nonetheless, Sunday evening I was to be healthy and, frankly, vegan once more with a roasted sweet potato and carrot soup. But then McDonald’s was suggested and it all went south. Who in their right mind would stick to their 'liquid vegetable' guns instead of that sweet, fake, plastic chicken nugget? These were great, by the way; excellent chicken nuggets by the old fast food clown. The problem was with the sweet, fake, plastic hamburgers we ordered. More specifically, with the filling. Meaning the lack of filling. We literally got two empty buns. No toppings, no burger, just bread. And listen, I am very understanding; Covid has obviously placed a huge amount of pressure on fast food chains and delivery services and mistakes are bound to happen. I can handle mustard sauce instead of mayo, but I most definitely need something to spread either on top. This was another level of forgetfulness or, as I like to imagine, another level of vengeance from a fed-up employ. I like to think they sent out empty burgers all around the area as a small-scale plot to cause an uprising and, slowly but surely, begin their world domination. Maybe I am enjoying this prospect so much, because I, for one, got the chicken nuggets, which, as I mentioned, were excellent.

This was not my first time dealing with main ingredients missing. Again, mistakes are justified, especially in times of pressure, as long as they regard the secondary characteristics of the junk food. A couple of years ago, back in Guildford we had made one of our standard Domino’s orders. They were relatively frequent, now that I think of it; I am not sure how well this reflects on us. We would always go for Pepperoni Passion, and at this stage, I would like to ask anyone who isn’t on a special diet, why they wouldn’t go for pepperoni in an American style pizza. It should be a prerequisite. We ordered our two pepperoni pizzas, waited for ages because it was a busy night and when the pizza finally arrived, noticed something missing. The pepperoni. The sole topping of the pizza. Nothing in its place. In retrospect, and after my recent McDonald’s experience I guess I should be grateful there was any dough in the box to begin with. We called the store and they informed us that they had just run out of pepperoni, so they proceeded to send the order ahead without it. So there was a logic behind it; but not a particularly good one. What were the chances we would appreciate this imaginative solution in that particular case? Thankfully, a friend took it upon himself to call the store and deal with it, because deep inside I know that, had I called, I would most likely have ended up apologising for asking for pepperoni in the first place. The outcome that night was excellent; I got reimbursed, I think they brought us new pepperoni pizzas (including pepperoni this time), we kept the pepperoni-less ones as well and also got a voucher for two free pizzas at another time. Which is precisely why I am adamant; these stories are more entertaining than a trouble with the system. I am still eternally grateful for food delivery.

I guess the McDonald’s mishap was a necessary slap in the face for betraying my healthy soup alternative. I don’t remember what kind of karma I might have been paying back at those Domino’s days, but I have no doubt in my mind that there might have been a fresh salad that I discarded for the sake of fried carbs. I might have created some brand new karma by manically laughing during both those scenarios’ instead of sharing other people’s frustration, but then again Joaquin Phoenix got an Oscar for similar behaviour’s in ‘The Joker’. I managed to squeeze a pop-culture, Oscar-related reference at the very last minute. All is in order. Unlike the orders I described.

Stumbled onto postgraduate marking

 

This is a tricky post as I need to make sure I do not breech any confidentiality guidelines. I mean I couldn’t, because all the scripts we mark are anonymised and I’ve never met the students. But you know, it is in my nature to worry, so I must. This will be a non-pop cultural account of my experience with marking postgraduate students and a horrible choice for a guide to anyone who might be preparing a postgraduate assignment, which will be marked by a poorly paid, frustrated PhD student. There are ways to get on our good side.

First of all, it might come as a shocker that PhD students do some of that marking, but said shock can be easily overcome when you start counting heads in your classroom (or Zoom meeting, as of late) and acquire a ratio of students to lecturer from said head counting. If this did not make sense to you, you would likely be one of the students I would bitch about while marking statistics. In other words, it is not feasible for one lecturer to mark all assignments, so it is most likely that we will do the initial marking and then the main lecturer will second mark some of those scripts. If one wants to ensure that they will get marked by the main lecturer, they could write a terrible assignment that will most likely fail. Then, as PhD students are filled with such guilt that Matt Murdock (aka Daredevil) himself would envy, we will most likely ask the main lecturer to fail them instead. That is what I do, anyway and it is an ironclad technique for better sleep. However, rest assured, we are doing our best to mark you fairly, as we feel that we are being judged on our marking ability as well. We wouldn’t jeopardise future income just so that we can take out our rage for when we were unfairly marked as Master’s students. And we were. I still believe that whoever marked my developmental psychology assignment should burn in hell.

Also, I might have not mentioned this enough, but we are poorly paid. This is precisely why we are the markers of choice. Sometimes to the extent that our formal responsibility accounts to spending 15 minutes per script. Regardless, the only way for me to spend the minimum allocated time on a script is for the student to have gotten a secret copy of our specific marking criteria, ticked off every box, travel forward in time and read my feedback and go back to make additional corrections. Otherwise, most of us reduce our occupational worth in the name of fairness. It is not just marking  each script. I mean, everyone has their own way, so what if mine includes an Excel sheet in order to find key characteristics in each submission, team up all the similar scripts and check that they all fit in the same, beautiful grade band? Does that make me a bit obsessive? Have I wasted a lot of unnecessary time so I can then get complaints from students that they feel I have simply glanced over their scripts?

We have collectively stumbled onto some nice, further advice for students here; please refrain from complaining about your low grade if you have submitted bullet points for an essay. I generally find that the scripts that are on the verge of a better mark, but fall just below hardly ever complain; it is the shitty scripts that I barely gave a pass that come back to haunt me. I guess it makes sense, if one considers something of that sort as an acceptable submission for a postgraduate degree, it must all seem pretty uniform in their world.

Having said that, I must now admit to something that I probably shouldn’t for my future state of mind. PhD students are notoriously stricter markers that seasoned academics. Supposedly, because we have seen less insanely bad scenarios and because we ourselves must reach a higher standard for our work, we do mind when students forget to dot their I’s. And I must admit, the first year I marked assignments, my instinct was to furiously mark down anyone who didn’t properly italise. We must all bow to the God’s of font! But then I realised I would have to fail whole cohorts and decided to overlook the odd, misplaced comma. Sometimes. Some comma’s are very important! Now I find myself writing kind, encouraging feedback to students that dealt with a formal assignment as a ‘Dear diary’ entry. I wish I was exaggerating, but I have actually read assignments about how their best friends were shy and that affected their results. With that type of language.

Okay, time to be sincere. Please do not actually take advice on assignments from this post I wrote up as a break from my marking. It is filled with sorrow and unnecessary irony. However, if I did have to advise anyone submitting anything is to look after their assignment, groom it and make sure that it reflects a good amount of time and effort. I propose that you do for two main reasons; first of all, we do mark good academic language, structure, flow and presentation. These do reflect actual points that can get you from one grade band to another. The second reason is that if we feel that you have put in a lot of effort and perhaps misunderstood or made a genuine mistake, we will be on your side. We will skim that script for extra marks, fight the second marker for that morale boost, or if you have really otherwise fucked up, write a more polite and instructional feedback section. You can’t lose.

Well, look at the time. Time for me to go back to my crazy Excel sheet and see if I can bump up anyone who took the time to read APA guidelines for tables and figures. Those are my favourite people in the world. Run free, my friends, and spread the word to your fellow classmates about when to use indents for headings.

Oh, and reference everything. When in doubt; reference. When not in doubt; become in doubt and, again, reference.

Stumbled onto a (non-existent) head bump

 

Remember when the coronavirus era had only just began? I do. As a hypochondriac, I remember stocking up on antiseptic and pretending to be Bradley Cooper from Limitless, chucking a brainwave amplification pill, but calculating the direction of spit molecules in slow motion. This pandemic has been so overwhelming for my anxiety, I almost forgot about all the other ways I was afraid of dying. But just like everyone else, my mind is just about bored of this situation and a bit more numb to the undeniable danger. This left space for previous fears to reoccur, just so I never feel bored. Or, you know, calm.

I have been avoiding check-ups for obvious reasons (obvious for me, that is) but it was about time that I get a blood test to make sure that my incredible paleness is within the lower, yet acceptable, bounds of Fe levels. I am not sure if this goes for all countries, but here in Greece you are asked to eat nothing for 12 hours prior to the test and preferably be off your period (the second one goes for half the population mostly). I chose to follow the former instruction and forego the latter. The blood test was interesting in itself, as in my anxiety actually stopped the blood mid flow. I wasn’t even aware that was possible! The nurse looked perplexed; she had to pierce a different vein and asked me to think of a beach, or puppies, or whatever calms me down, anyway. I went for James Welsh’ latest video bashing Gwyneth Paltrow; different things work on different people. Once the test was over, I imagine I looked significantly paler than usual, because no one had suggested I sit down for a while prior to the test, but they sure did after. I was guided to a nearby couch and instructed to hang out there until walking was a negligible challenge for my blood pressure. I fondly remember singing ‘My Shot’ from Hamilton in my head, if anything a bit faster than the original tempo, and was pretty sure I wasn’t annoying anybody. I clearly remember going through the first verse, but the next thing I remember is staring at the ceiling surrounded by four torsos staring at me intensely. This confused me as I was expecting the Mulligan’s verse about how the American rebellion was also motivated by caste and socioeconomic status, and that verse never came. I eventually deducted that that the doctor holding my legs up wasn’t inspecting the dirt on my shoes, but I most likely fainted and fell off the couch. My first thought was, of course, embarrassment. This was a public place I chose to faint in and my loss of consciousness involved a number of people I inconvenienced. Is there a greater horror than that for a socially anxious person? Once I got over that particular anxiety, I remembered that as a proper hypochondriac, I should also panic about having hit my head.

I apologised about 50 times for fainting and then proceeded to ask the staff about 50 more whether I hit my head. I was assured that my head was fine and that I fell in a polite and conservative manner from a small height, which we all know is code for PERMANENT BRAIN DAMAGE. I drove home, regardless, as nobody else was convinced that my consciousness was forever compromised. Since then, each day has been a struggle not to Google my potential head bump. I say potential, because the bump admittedly never formed. From previous experience, Googling such events leads to anything from a concussion to multiple personality disorder.  Problem is, I don’t need Google to come up with insane conditions regarding head bumps; I have seen too many movies.

Amy Schumer’s ‘I Feel Pretty’ features the protagonist bumping her head and suddenly seeing herself as much more beautiful than she did before. I am not ready for such a confidence boost at the moment, and cannot even imagine the disappointment of re-bumping my head and thinking I look like that failed Fresco restoration painting. In ‘What men/women want’ the lead characters bump their heads and end up hearing all the thoughts of the opposite sex. And that just sounds immensely boring after a couple of days. Sure, I would find out a few interesting things that people wouldn’t say to my face, but all in all I prefer getting the filtered, edited version of what people around me are thinking. Remember, not all thoughts are interesting.

According to the movies, I might also get amnesia; and just like in ‘Overboard’ someone might pretend to be my wife and steal my fortune. They would have to convince me that I was a lesbian for this scenario and that I have some fortune worth putting up with me for. I might be taken advantage of, but I am definitely not getting the worst end of that deal. Amnesia could make me feral like a wolverine and send me on a quest to figure out my adamantium skeleton and my ageless looks. As a hypochondriac, this not a bad option; Wolverine had self-healing powers and was therefore safe from loads of my other worries. Nonetheless, I would still need to get in writing that my origin story will not include a botched Deadpool and bad CGI.

The world may change once I regain my consciousness. I could be risking a zombie apocalypse where I could be the least prepared person. I’ll set up a reminder to pack a survival bag in case of future head bumpings. I might be the only person left to remember the Beatles and simply rebrand their songs as my own. That is good enough motivation to both practice the piano and trip down the stairs, now that I think of it. On second thought, probably in the opposite order as the piano might otherwise be a waste of time. I might be a mild hypochondriac but I am sure as hell lazy. Seeing as Hamilton was the last thing I remember before fainting, maybe I could claim the hit musical as my own, rather than the Beatles musical anthology. How I would convince people that I came up with two and a half hours of rap lyrics about one of the founding fathers of the US, I am not yet sure; it is not very on brand.

Okay, some of my non-googled, imaginary scenarios were indeed worrisome, but all in all more fun than cancer and paralysis. Therefore, I am happy to conclude that WebMD is officially worse than a zombie apocalypse. Maybe it is worth starting a forum for all anxious people to write down their mountains out of molehills, so that we can all get together and write up the next superhero origin story. Bring down Disney! Get Zack Snyder out of a job (I am still slowly working my way through my Snyder frustration)! Oh my God! I need to bump my head! The world depends on it!

(Is this post indication that I should have my head looked at after all?)

Stumbled onto Zack Snyder’s Justice League (aka The Snyder Cut) Part Two

 

[Eastern music featuring a ceremonial cry] 'Kal-El, no'

 - sorry couldn't resist

Do not worry, my Justice League frustration will not be split into six parts like the movie. After this post, I think I will take a break from dissing on Zack Snyder. I can’t promise though ; because HBO max has already announced the release of a black and white version of the Snyder cut (spoiler alert, I have seen the next post and there is yet another unflattering mention of him). And the movie is already in a 4:3 ratio like an old television set. It is a marketing technique; he is begging for us haters to come after him! I have already made a long post about all the small (and some bigger) details that I did not enjoy in this second draft of the film. This post is a bit more general. It is of course still about my frustration with this movie’s very existence. However, it is also a humble admission of the very bias I pretend is not that big a deal in my previous post. If I am being honest, chances were I wasn’t going to like this movie. But in an attempt to be even more honest, I swear I tried.

In case I didn’t in my last post, I want to acknowledge that there has been wide appeal for this version, from viewers and critics alike, and recognise that it is a coherent movie that looks much less like a jigsaw puzzle than the original Justice League. I also want to acknowledge that Snyder’s aesthetic, despite personal preferences, is better suited for DC comics than it would have been for, say, Marvel. I think the main difference between the two companies, DC and Marvel, is the humanity of their characters; Marvel focuses on this aspect and is much more relatable, whereas DC creates a myth around their heroes and is more inspirational. Both are fine; that’s not the issue. The reason one formula works better than the other, nonetheless, is that Marvel and the MCU have adjusted to the current zeitgeist. Snyder is ignoring it completely. The year is 2021, the original movie came out in 2017; people have made it clear that characterless buff men in spandex doesn’t cut it for them. They want some humane aspect to their idols. Not just because of the MCU, which serves as the obvious comparison; James Bond also adjusted,, for example, and having three dimensional characters (for some of the seasons at least) made an incredibly nerdy, medieval show with dragons and boobs into a global fandom. I am not saying DC needs to have Wonder Woman smash a coffee cup and proclaim ‘Another!’ to highlight that she is out of this world. Nolan, for example, interpreted the zeitgeist differently, but did not ignore it. He didn’t go for relatable and fluffy, but instead deep dived into the trauma, the societal structure, and all in less than four hours too. Well, this was my attempt at acknowledgment, recognition and positivity and boy, did it go great! Let’s move on to the frustration bit.

What bothers me about the entire entity of this cut is that this was more of a reply to Whedon’s, admittedly, butchery than it was a movie. The four hour runtime includes a number of teasers that will lead nowhere because the DCEU has already been cancelled. They are not relevant to the movie, the plot, and they knowingly will not lead anywhere! We all know so and we are all asked to go along with the notion that this is four years ago and these Easter eggs would have lead somewhere had the executives not fucked up. But we, like the Cyborg, are burdened with knowledge. So these teasers that do not add to the movie, nor future movies, are a very childish ‘I told you so’ from one creator to another. I understand that he may have already shot these bits, but if this is to be treated as  piece of film independent of the surrounding scandal, these scenes should have been edited out. And, frankly, these teasers were not better executed than Whedon’s. Yes, I’ll say it! Whedon’s quick peak onto a Green Lantern was more nuanced than Snyder’s insertion of the Martian Manhunter pretending to be Martha (remember Martha?) that meant nothing and even made that one heart-warming scene less meaningful. But that is Snyder’s mantra; less nuanced, more on the nose and baptised grandiose. And might I add, had these scenes not been included, the runtime could be less than half a working day (as pointed out by Ryan George).

It is also useless to discuss this as Snyder’s original vision, as it is not original; this movie is the result of extensive feedback. The Joker is proof of this benefit because, as you may have noticed, he looked and acted quite differently to the Joker from Suicide Squad. They received a lot of hate and criticism for him and they very rightfully changed the character. Which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong; I couldn’t take another shot of that tattoo crazed Joker, but it is the very reason that the talk about Snyder’s redemption is unfair to say the least. And even with all that unfairness on its side, the script still felt like it was made for video game cut scenes. Viewers complained about Steppenwolf’s lack of motive and we had no more than a cut scene where he explains his motive to another villain who, in turn, has no discernible motive, who works for a third, scarier villain with, you guessed it, no discernible motive. Talking about benefitting from feedback, this version also included some of Whedon’s input; the quirky lines, the Batman’s Iron Man-esque responses. Again, good for them, selecting and keeping the good stuff as part of the movie, but this is why this whole debate should not have been so personal.

There is also a problem that might not be Snyder’s fault, as much as I would love to pin it onto him. A lot of it feels unearned. DCEU’s decision to forego the proper set up of its heroes will always mark their movies; the emotional investment just isn’t there. Some heroes have been set up nicely, like Wonder Woman, but even that is not taken to its full advantage. Snyder did his best, bless him, with his slow motion, endless face shots of his pained heroes and numerous paternal voiceovers. But for all those asking for restoration of the Snyderverse, this lack of set up will always be a parasite and I honestly and lovingly think they are best to reboot it.

Nonetheless, I missed pop culture, and bad pop culture is so much more fun to complain about. I guess there is no harm done in having someone complete their vision, you know, other than the four hours each viewer will spend on this movie and the additional two they had spent on the previous abomination. Darn it, I was supposed to end on a positive note.