Lost worlds and ports of call

Author: Anders Monsen (Page 8 of 81)

Additional thoughts on Vinyl

Many years ago, sometime in the distant past known as the 1980s, I used to buy music in the format of vinyl records. At that time I owned a record player, as well as a radio player that also played cassette tapes. I also had a cassette player in my car (until my brother wrecked it), a battered white Renault 4 that struggled up the many hills and mountains in western Norway, but I think I owned less than five cassette tapes. Even then, I didn’t own a vast amount of records, as I was a teenager and had no means to earn money except when relatives gave me money as gifts. I don’t recall exactly how much they cost, but also my tastes back then (as now), were narrow, so it wasn’t a case of running out a buying tons of records. Of the few records I bought back then, I still have them all except for two. One disappeared somewhere, and I have no idea where. The other, warped and bent I sadly discarded. Still, back then records were the main staple for music fans, even though CDs were starting to emerge on the market. They were also reasonably priced. It was an nice experience to stand in front of a record bin and flip through the records, although 99 out of a 100 were ones I’d never consider buying.

Between 1988 and 2016 I don’t think I bought a single vinyl record. By then I’d moved to the US, switched to CDs as I didn’t own a record player; my first CD was U2’s Unforgettable Fire, a gift from my wife. Around 2000, with computers now the mainstay of my life, I started to amass a digital library of music. I thought, at the time, that this was the perfect format: portable, hard to lose or break, and tough to steal.

Vinyl, though, has a strange and enduring appeal.

I’ve bought a few albums in vinyl since 2016. Not that many, as I find it hard to justify some of the costs of records these days. If you buy them new (as long as they’re not imports), the price averages $25 or higher. Wait a few months or years, and the price increases by 50 to 100% or more (unless they are rare Record Store Day editions, bought by entrepreneurs and resold at three or four times the original value; I recently saw Longwave’s first album listed for $250, an insane price. Records have become as collectable as first edition books, despite their fragility.

Meanwhile, the loss of CD space in whatever remains of stores that sell physical copies of music has diminished to the point where buying a CD of the kind of music I like (at least where I live), is next to impossible. I remember the rows upon rows of CDs in the Borders bookstore in the Arboretum in Austin, TX, now long gone. I remember Tower Records on the drag in Austin, as well as a smaller record store along the drag by UT also long gone—vast CD collections, and few actual vinyl records. In San Antonio, there briefly was a small store that sold CDs, but it folded, and if you check out the big box stores you’d be hard pressed these days to find actual CDs in the quantity offered only a few years ago. I don’t know if digital music drove people away from CDs, or the closure of decent music stores drove people over to digital and away from physical CDs. Since most CDs in stores these days are ones I’d never buy as they’re not to my taste, if I want to buy any CDs now, I buy it online either direct from the record company, or from a major online retailer (you know the one).

However, in the 2020s, for some strange reason (nostalgia, eh?), vinyl records are back in a big way. Once in a while, to sustain this strange habit, I head over to a local record store in San Antonio—Hogwild Records—a store that somehow still survives in today’s market. There I sometimes find records I like, but I have to admit that it’s tough to buy records for $25 to $45 and not find a digital download as part of the bargain, given that I could pay $9.99 or $11.99 to download the music and have available on phone, iPod, car, and not need to worry about physical space.

Then again, I do like the physical aspects of things—books, CDs, records. I do listen to music on my computer while working or (yes, I still have one) iPod while flying, and via phone in my car when driving. Transferring music from vinyl to digital isn’t always the same (or as convenient) as using a one-time code to download the music. Having the record and playing it on a record player is fine (though sometime tedious and an exercise in caution to avoid scratches.

Having a digital copy as part of the deal was something I’d come to expect when buying vinyl a few years ago, and now it’s rare to see this option included with records. Recently I bought three records, and just one had the code. Another time I bought three records, and none had the code. Just today I bought two albums and only one had a code to download the music. It annoyed me greatly, I have to admit, and almost made me want to go back to spending $9.99 or $11.99 for the digital copy through such mega-companies as Apple and Amazon.

Records take up space. CDs take up some space, but less space compared to the massive squares of vinyl packages (given that these days many albums are thicker than in the past, having extra packaging and heavier material). A few days ago I repurposed a deep bookshelf to hold only records, and it made me realize—having seen pictures of other peoples’ collections—that while I own hundreds of CDs, I only own a handful of records. If I count them all it takes me less than one minute to count a total of 45 albums and one box set. That’s a humbling number. It almost makes me want to bo out and buy a ton more records…except, the price for modern records is such that buy four albums and you’re out over $100. Imagine the amount of money required to build a decent collection these days. Staggering.

Record Store Day Bust

April 23rd 2022 is Record Store Day (RSD), the 15th one, I believe. It’s the first time I tried to participate in this “event,” and it turned out a bust.

The local record store where I shop handles RSD via a lottery. You submit your requests, and if you win they give you a call. I submitted requests for four albums, and received not a single call. They’d delayed opening the store until 3pm, and at 2:50pm I was in a crowded strip mall parking lot. At 2:58pm I was fourth in line, and within one minute of entering the tiny environs of the store there were 20 people or more inside.

I checked the crowded bins for my wants—albums by The Album Leaf, Camera Obscura, The Cranberries, Weyes Blood. Zip. Nada. Bupkis. Camera Obscura’s album is probably local, available only in the UK, not in central Texas. The Cranberries? Well, the store had received some copies, but I was not among the fortunate winners. As for The Album Leaf and Weyes Blood, the had not received any copies. The latter was intended for my daughter, and the others for myself. As far as RSD, no luck for me.

I did pick up albums by Portishead and Wild Beasts; one of which I had in digital format, and the other I had in no format. As luck would have it, the one I had in no format offered digital downloads, while the one I already had, did not.

I’m not sure I’ll participate in another RSD. The idea of limited editions that may of may not be available, combined with my abysmal luck in terms of any lottery system, means it’s probably not worth my time. Am I bothered? Not too much. At least I’m not among the 93 individuals who failed to get a copy of a Taylor Swift 7″—poor souls, they must be heartbroken, their lives ruined.

The Batman Review

I’ve seen The Batman (2022 edition) twice now, all three-plus hours of it. With a few small exceptions, I think that this installment in the large and varied Batman movies stands as the best cinematic Batman yet. Prior to this movie, I used to think that, as a character, the first Michael Keaton movie turned both Batman and Bruce Wayne into an understandable being, not a joke like the 1960s TV show. In contrast, as a cinematic experience, the Christian Bale trilogy stood above all the rest. Meanwhile, the later movies in-between the Keaton and Bale, the ones with Val Kilmer, George Clooney, and Ben Afleck in the leading role, all were forgettable. This is, as a reminder, simply my opinion.

The 2022 movie is a reboot (again), but it isn’t an origin story. Robert Pattinson’s Batman has been operating for two years in Gotham, but seems to have made little difference in the fight against crime and criminals. Crooks both large and small still operate in the city, the police see Batman as a vigilante, and Batman sees himself only as “vengeance.” Clearly, this movie sets up future sequels, although often sequels are victims of the predecessor’s success.

In terms of the supporting cast, I preferred Anne Hathaway as Catwoman to Zöe Kravitz (although Michelle Pfeiffer remains the best one yet). Hathaway had attitude and presence on the screen, while Kravitz seems almost laconic, too laid back, too invisible. In terms of villains, no one tops Heath Ledger’s Joker, but in this movie the Riddler is far more menacing than the comedic version in the earlier movie, the one played by Jim Carey. (I shudder to think of those earlier movies now, all with big name stars in various roles, and all acting as if they were in the 1960s TV version.) I’m not sold on Andy Serkis’ Alfred, and while I thought Jeffrey Wright was a decent Gordon, Gary Oldman is a far better actor and a far better Gordon. Robert Pattinson’s brooding version is much better than Christian Bale, which bodes well for future installments.

In general, superheroes are tragic figures. Most of them lead two lives. Alter-egos are necessary to keep loved ones from harm, and this means they can’t expect happy lives. Live Superman, they may be invincible, but their loved ones usually are not, and so exposing friends, family, and loved ones would lend their enemies significant advantages. Both Bruce Wayne and Batman remain cut off from happiness; Wayne as a billionaire is guarded less people take advantage of him and his wealth, while Batman must remain behind his mask. When Catwoman appear ( as she has in thee movies), there’s a hint of romance — the Cat and the Bat, as Kravitz says. Would it work? Maybe not. It serves as the typical sexual and emotional tease that’s part of movie and TV-making 101.

These are all fragmentary observations, but having sat through the movie twice, I think I would not mind seeing in a third or fourth time. I don’t think I can say the same for prior versions, though there are snippets here and there in each movie (except for the two Schumacher movies and the later Justice League movies) that are well-made, and if those snippets appear on the TV screen I’ll stick around for a few minutes.

Dune through the mists of time

I’m fairly certain I’ve read Frank Herbert’s novel, Dune. I own a battered paperback copy of the book, bought many years ago. Certain passages in the book are underlined or highlighted, and many words in the detailed terminology appendix are circled. Still, that may or may not be not be my handwriting; there’s a phone number scribbled on the last page, an 800 number with no explanation, and that’s not in my crabbed handwriting, so who knows.

I really wanted to watch the latest movie adaptation of the novel, as the previews looked fantastic. But, timing failed me, or maybe it was the fact that no one else in my immediate family seemed eager to head to the movie theaters to watch it; we tend to make the movies these days an occasion, and for some reason Dune didn’t make the cut.

Dune is on my mind lately, though, because of the movie. I do remember watching the David Lynch adaptation, many years ago, and thought it was too comedic. Setting aside the multiple appendixes, the book clocks in at nearly 500 pages. I’ve not read any of the sequels, of that I’m sure. And yet, if I did read the book, not much of it stuck with me. Supposedly it’s a notable book, one of the major achievements of science fiction. And yet, neither this book nor the series appealed to me, and I can’t remember reading anything else by this writer.

Herbert was friends with Jack Vance and Poul Anderson, and I’ve read far more of their books than Herbert’s books. Yet, for some reason, Dune gets more press than either of those two authors combined. Surely he wrote other stories, and not just books set in this series?

Jack Vance has authored far better stories than anything by Frank Herbert, but maybe they’re not as cinematic. Regardless, I wonder whether it’s worth my time to re-read the novel, and if I do re-read it, whether I’ll remember anything about it two or three years from now? As far as Jack Vance, I remember many details of his stories and novels. Then again, I’ve read them multiple times.

As far as the book goes, when I do think of it, I tend to remember scenes from the earlier movie, and not passages from the book. I find that somewhat annoying, but maybe that speaks more to the lack of excitement the book provided, or the visuals (however unintentionally funny they came across) from the Lynch movie. Dune likely is not a book I’ll ever re-read, not any of the sequels. Still, the previews looked good, and maybe I’ll get a chance to watch the sequel on the big screen.

The Book of Boba Fett, Chapter 7

And so this show comes to an end. Maybe it’s the end of the season, maybe it’s the end of the show. It was a strange show, ostensibly about Boba Fett the great bounty hunter. At times it wasn’t about Boba Fett, and rarely (if ever) was it about bounty hunting. It was a show about what might have happened to Boba Fett after his so-called death in Star Wars: Return of the Jedi. For the fans (and the accountants at Disney) would never let Boba Fett die. Star Wars is a money-making machine, and every facet must be mined for lucre.

Writing this a few weeks after I watched the show seems weird. I enjoyed parts of it, but other parts seemed like it really didn’t fit. This was the battle-episode, with Fett’s forces fighting the Pykes (and everyone else, for many of his supposed neutral allies turned on him).

I won’t rehash the events of the episode, but things seemed to work out in the end. There seems nowhere for the second season to go, as the premise, with Fett taking over Jabba’s empire, is a closed-off premise, unlike The Mandalorian and other Star Wars shows, which can travel anywhere. If this was the show that brought back Boba Fett, I can’t say it did him credit. I think part of the problem is that he originally was an antagonist, and the folks at Disney tried their hardest to make him a likable character. There are few antiheroes that work—Dirty Harry, Eastwood’s The Man with No Name, the Mandalorian, maybe a handful others. Boba Fett did not work as such a character. Still, it was good to see more of the Star Wars universe, and only a minimal amount of Skywalker.

The Curious Mrs. Maisel

I enjoyed the first season of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, released on Amazon Prime back in 2017. The episodic tale of a late 1950s Jewish housewife turned comedian was fresh and funny, for the most part. It had promise, almost like a modern version of Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House. It would have worked as just a single season. But, success spawns sequels, or, in this case, additional seasons, as the show is around episodes long per season.

Sometimes sequels work. Sometimes they subvert and destroy the original material. In this case, the second season actually brought a freshness beyond the first. It introduced new characters new locales, and remained funny. However, the writers seemed unable to let go of the main character’s relationship with her cheating husband. This did not bode well for a third season, for it would seem that the creators didn’t give Mrs. Maisel enough credit to stand on her own.

True to expectations, this relationship issue was part of the downfall of season three. The show also telegraphed miserable decisions by multiple characters, as well as political viewpoints from the 21st century imposed on the 1950s, and I stopped watching the show after the third episode; I caught up on the plot by reading reviews and recaps, which confirmed what I anticipated. The ending was grim, a drastic fall from grace that deflated the very promise of seasons one and two.

I didn’t plan on watching season four, released in February 2022. Reluctantly, I read a brief recap, and it didn’t see too bad. Only two episodes had been released at that time, and I went ahead and watched them both. The misery of the last season has certainly left its traces, but there’s a bit of hope left in the show. I’m not sure what the writers have planned for the season of the season, or the final fifth season. I suspect Mrs. Maisel will return to her husband permanently at some point, thus defeating the very premise of the show.

What makes the show somewhat funny comes down to the characters. Mrs. Maisel, aka Midge, aka Miriam, has her moments. Her mother is annoying, her father unintentionally funny, her husband (or ex-husband), a strange jerk, her in-laws are definite jerks, her best friend is funny in an axe-sharpened way, her manager strange, and there’s an entire array of other characters who are brilliantly written and brilliantly cast.

What makes it unfunny really is her comedic act, and the seeming lack of purpose in her life. She changes gears from perfect housewife to so-called comedian (although she just riffs on views about men/women and religion) at will. She wants to be famous, yet torpedoes her own career. She has a terrible manager, and neither of them have any idea of how to manage money. She floats through life, a privileged life. Her New York is a fantasy. Her whole world is a fantasy.

The show has been renewed for a fifth and final season. This, in a way, is a good thing. Having it continue past it’s use-by date would be a disservice. One can only hope that there remaining episodes of season four shows her the path to success, either professionally or personally, and that it doesn’t end with her wedding her ex-ex-husband for the third time.

Bill Bryson’s Hate Letter to America

A while ago I became fascinated with the Appalachian Trail. I watched documentaries, read blogs and books, including a humorous one by Bill Bryson called A Walk in the Woods; I even watched the movie based on the book (a disappointing, but truly Hollywood-glossed yet tiresome affair).

I wasn’t on the lookout for other Bryson books, but recently I picked up and read The Lost Continent. I slogged through this hate letter to America, trying to find some redeeming value within its pages, but came away empty. There’s so much bile in this book, and I’m sure Bryson meant every nasty word, from personal attacks to snarky comments on road, cities, states, and the various people who inhabited them.

The sub-title of the book is “Travels in Small-Town America.” It’s based on two road trips he took in the autumn of 1987 and spring 1988, totaling 13,978 miles. He covered most of the states in the lower continental US, or at least parts of them. He had mostly nothing good to say about any of those states, or any of the places he visited. Every historical monument is a tourist trap, a bad marriage of run-down buildings, surrounded by gewgaw sellers, and the entrance fees exorbitant.

Although the book makes me want to take a similar type of road trip, driving through multiple states, I’m not sure of the best use of such a plan. A possibility might be a National Parks road trip, trying to see all the National Parks in the US in one go. I’m sure someone has mapped out the most efficient route, if not the most efficient time of year and place to start. Some National Parks require watercraft, or maybe air, to visit, but most are drivable. There are some tricky logistics, such as dealing with crowds in the most popular attractions, and the range of weather from Florida to Alaska. Having only been to four National Parks in the US, and only ones on Texas, New Mexico, and Utah, such a road trip would be epic, a 20,000+ mile voyage spanning many months.

I’ve done a few road trips in my time, mostly in Texas and New Mexico, although a few miles here and there in Colorado and California; the US is a vast continent. There are massive cities, concrete jungles where you take your life in your own hands in one area, and see marvels of human ingenuity a few blocks away. There are pockets of darkness in the wilderness I wouldn’t dare venture, remote areas where you need to weigh your car of choice and your accent carefully. America is like multiple alien worlds in one continuous place. Some of that feeling might be perception from reading books or watching movies.

I’ve visited quite a few places of note, and yes they charge entrance fees. You can’t expect to walk into the Hemingway House in Key West without forking over a few bucks. Not all places can exist solely with the help of unpaid volunteers catering to Bryson’s whims and feelings about walking through someone’s former house as if he was an invited guest.

As for Bryson’s trip, he must surely know that it’s not a uniquely American feature for people to set up shop near places that many people visit. Is that ideal? Maybe not, but it’s the same in virtually every corner of the world. I’m sure there were people in the Red Square during the heyday of the USSR who tried to offload an item or two when people came to visit. I’ve seen the same in many countries in Africa, as well as Norway, England, and other European locales. As a former Norwegian, I sometimes feel sad when walking through Bergen and seeing so many shops and places catering to tourists by selling overpriced crap. The fish market in Bergen used to be a fun place to visit, but not so much any more. The top of Fløien has expanded the viewing area to a point I no longer recognize it. Yet, walk a few hundred meters further, and you’re in forest. Walk the streets of the city away from the harbor, and you find regular shops. It’s the same in the US; step outside the core area of concentrated tourist spots and you still find genuine people and places.

Why Bryson hates his home country so much, one can only wonder, unless it was a gimmick to sell his book. “Look, ” one can image he said to his publisher, “I know Steinbeck wrote a travel book, a glowing paean to America. I want to do the opposite. I’ll do a road trip, and at every stop I’ll rip into everything I see. It will sell millions, just on my name alone. Also, people abroad hate America. This is a win-win proposition.”

And they went for it.

The Book of Boba Fett, Chapter 6

I’m somewhat tardy writing this, as chapter 7 appeared a few days ago, a full week after this one. Chapter 6 is another strange installment, in that the titular character appears only near the end, and contributes nearly nothing aside from a few words.

Instead, this episode continues from the previous one, with the Mandalorian off to bring his beskar gift to young Grogu, that terrible name for the Yoda-like creature he adopted in his own show. Grogu is currently training to be a Jedi under Luke Skywalker. First, however, the Mandalorian must cool his heels until someone can arrive to take him to Grogu. That emissary is none other than Ahsoka Tano. She’s on the same planet as Luke, though in her mind no longer a Jedi. We get a montage of Grogu’s Jedi training, and witness the Mandalorian’s pains as he’s unable to greet Grogu in person, but must leave his gift with Ahsoka. The Jedi, as we know, must foreswear all emotional ties to others, and the feeling is that if Greg sees the Mandalorian, this will taint or ruin his Jedi path. This lack of emotional ties goes against the Mandalorian creed, and seems to be the downfall of the Jedi time and time again. Why, also, does Ahsoka adhere to this view? Didn’t she see what happened to Anakin Skywalker, Luke’s father? At the end, Grogu is given a stark choice: return to the Mandalorian, or remain with Luke and train as a Jedi. We probably already know the answer, but that’s left for another episode.

The episode then concludes with Boba Fett’s forces preparing for war against the Pykes. Who will be on their side? How will they defeat this force? How will this not only end in the 7th episode, but what are the implications for potential other seasons, or even the Mandalorian?

Again, a somewhat strange episode, with the focus not on Boba Fett. It also witnessed the arrival of a Clone Wars character (the animated show), another bounty hunter called Cad Bane. I didn’t watch too many Clone Wars episodes, and Bane seems such an affected character. It’s strange how these characters just never die, but keep popping up decades later, almost merely as a fan service. But isn’t that what The Book of Boba Fett is all about? Fan service. For why else resurrect a character that supposedly died back in 1983 or so?

Robert McCammon’s King of Shadows

Well, hell. Robert McCammon’s latest novel, the eighth in the Matthew Corbett series, is due to be published in 2022. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the hardcover is a deluxe limited by a new press, Lividian Publications. I’m not sure why there are multiple publishers in the series, from Subterranean Press (who publishes most of them) to Cemetery Dance (only one). I like the books in hardcover, but I don’t mind a trade edition. A deluxe limited with a slipcase will probably just cost too much for me to care, and as the book is over 700 pages long, the next edition (paperback) will take a while and just look wrong on my bookshelf. After catching up with all the novels, this may just mean that I skip the next two.

The Book of Boba Fett, Chapter 5

Note: This is more of a summary for myself, so anyone reading this who cares about spoilers: stop now.

This was a strange episode of The Book of Boba Fett, as the titular character didn’t even show ups aside from being name-checked at the end. Instead, it was all about Din Djarin, aka The Mandalorian, who so far has appeared in two seasons of his own show.

At the close of season 2 of The Mandalorian, Din Djarin had completed his mission. He had delivered Grogu, or Baby Yoda as some people still call him, to the Jedi—in this case, to Luke Skywalker (whose Jedi legacy the present regime in charge ruined in the most recent trilogy). He also had earned the Darksaber in battle, by defeating Moff Gideon, and thus thwarting Bo-Katan from reclaiming what once had been hers, though not properly earned.

The episode opens with the Mandalorian on a bounty hunt, where he wields the Darksaber and manages to burn himself as he’s not properly trained in its use. He secures some information, making this a side quest like many of the episodes in his own show, and with that information finds the surviving cohort of Mandalorians who he previously met. Only two remain from that original cohort: the armorer and a massive dude whose ancestor forged the Darksaber. While the armorer trains the Mandalorian in the use of the Darksaber, she finds him wanting almost immediately (apparently, they have not heard of practice makes perfects in the Star Wars world. Here it’s become a master at once or you’re a failure). Because of this, the other guy challenges Din Djarin, loses the battle, but after both being asked whether one has ever removed his helmet in front of others, Djarin is evicted from the cohort. It’s a question out of the blue, but maybe a traditional question after Mandalorian duels. Who knows.

Din Djarin then heads over to Tatooine, hoping his contact there has found him a replacement for the Razor Crest, his previous ship that Gideon’s crew destroyed. What follows is a strange montage as they assemble a Naboo starfighter, one not really suited to bounty hunting work. Shortly after a test flight, Boba Fett’s associate, Fennec Shand, shows up, hoping to hiring him as muscle for their war against the Pykes. Whether the Madalorian joins them or not remains to be seen, for he has another mission he first needs to complete.

Although a great episode, it didn’t do much to further the book of Boba Fett. Instead, it seems to set up season 3 of The Mandalorian. Where tat season goes remains to be seen, but one can speculate: Will he return to Mandalor? Will he try to rule that world, or find a way to pass along the Darksaber?

So far, The Mandalorian has been the best thing about the Star Wars universe since The Empire Strikes Back, which makes me wonder whether such magic happens only on rare occasions, and if so, why? I’d like to think that the no one knew how to bring the mystery of the rise of Darth Vader to life, or what the aftermath of the fall of the Empire would look like. But create a character in this universe like Clint Eastwood’s The Man with No Name, and you have magic on another level.

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2024 Anders Monsen

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑

css.php