Why Characters are Better Than Actors

It's an argument as classic and pointless as cat vs. dog, but I firmly believe that book vs. movie is a no-contest affair. The standard advantage of books is that they have greater depth and detail than movies (being more a collaboration of your own imagination with the author's guiding words); whereas movies are inescapably structured but instantly gratifying. Yet, beyond all the surface comparisons, what struck me the other day was how dangerous actors are to a movie, and all it took was a drag queen.

The great advantage of characters in a book is that they are unique to their tale. Sure, there are stereotypes (the wizard, the old wise man, the young and stupid protagonist) but even a line-up of blond cheerleaders can be differentiated in some way! So you never see a book-character outside of their world and they stay pure. This is most definitely not the case with actors who change costumes and stories with each new gig. Hurray, for them! They are employed! But what are the consequences?!

• Oskar Schindler gives up his whore-mongering ways to become a rogue Jedi-master; then, years later, starts exploring his sexuality under the name Dr. Alfred Kinsey....Qui-Gon, noooooo! (This awkward transition brought to you by Liam Neeson)
  
• A bi-curious, Australian drag queen morphs into a sentinel in the sham of life that is the matrix and then escapes said matrix to rule over Rivendale as Elrond. (Agent Smith's got some nice gams! Thanks, Hugo Weaving.)
• After successfully winning a film award for a failed amateur porn movie, Andy Sargentee transforms into a giant, surfing penguin who loves clams...I saw those in reverse order but the whole porn movie had me thinking of penguins. (Jeff Bridges)

So when watching a movie you get story-line backwash from other parts the actor has played and that can interfere with the story itself. Especially for movies based off of books, I think no-name actors should be cast so that I'm watching the character and not the career.

Maybe I shouldn't complain, though, because this way I get to enjoy the characters on a whole new level. Afterall, once you've seen Hugo Weaving in fishnets you can spot something almost sassy in the way he plays Agent Smith...and who can gripe about that? ;-)

Prehensile Giraffe Tongues, Depressed Wallabies, & Chipmunks

A high-pitch noise erupted from my friend, Andrea, that could mean several things: a large bull was charging her down, an axe-murderer had begun stabbing her, or a bird had landed on her head. Needless to say, when I spun around I expected her to be facing down a terror, and there, crouched before her (battle-ready!) was a chipmunk. Aside from their unarguably fearsome aspect, chipmunks also were the most numerous of creatures at the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo in Colorado Springs; they were in every enclosure: gorillas...chipmunks, tapirs...chipmunks, penguins...you get the idea.

One of the great lures of the zoo was its wallaby enclosure. We had spent happy hours in Australian zoos petting their marsupial cousins - the kangaroos - and had high hopes for this one. What we found was an enclosure filled with a lazy, sparse population, hand sanitizers, and a general sense of hands-off (rather museum-like, really). And while we tried to enjoy what we could of it, the contrasts between American and Australian outlooks were undeniable. The over-protective, rule-centric petting enclosure seemed to speak of an American paranoia that taxes even the most innocent of activities. I felt a wave of regretful nostalgia as I looked at those sloth-like wallabies, so distant from their Aussie relatives.

One herd that was not depressing, though, was the giraffe herd. Cheyenne Zoo is actually renown for its sizable and healthy giraffes. Their scientific name, Giraffa camelopardalis reticulata, means "camel-leopard-like one who walks swiftly"; they had an unnatural fascination with licking the wooden poles and concrete walls (even though crackers were being proffered); and they smelled like musky hay. We bought crackers that seemed more like cardboard to me and feed them to the eel-ish prehensile tongues sticking through the fence posts. One of the other girls feeding them scolded, "That's no way to proposition a lady!"...but I really think it depends on the lady ;-)

It was overall a lovely day filled with animal shenanigans and remembrance, but, most of all, chipmunks. Vicious, photogenic, little chipmunks.

Nesting...

It has come to my attention that I am in love with my new home. It's smaller than the old one, yes, but cozy and complete with pool, fitness center, and a patio/psuedo-balcony overlooking a retirement home's public pool. (*shudder) It's also cheaper than my old ghetto-hole of an apartment which was the main lure in the first place. (FYI, I hear financial prudence is the new black!) The entire place just has a homey feel to it that I delight in. I even sleep better, no longer plagued by reality-dreams and now firmly back into WTF-zone where people are plants and I'm a turtle-princess.

What amuses me about my own fondness is that it displays a tendency found in other aspects of life. A decision was made based on what was practical and logical and love blossomed afterward. It's almost as if my heart needed the go-ahead from my brain before it merrily saluted and exploded all over the newly cherished apartment. I wonder if it's actually a form of rationalization or coping...something to make people happier with what they need to do.

I truly doubt it will ever extend to my current career situation though - I've been stewing a delicious sense of injustice over that for 10 months and I think it's just about ready for eating. Something I did notice with my new second job in play is a Stockholm-Syndrome-like sense of loss over Microcenter. Call me crazy but, on some level, I miss the place. Until this weekend, my computer-store love!

So, in conclusion, life is weird, I love odd but highly sensible things, and my true nature is that of a turtle princess which I think we all knew. Bow! - - - - - Slowly.