Swordwhale Walking: illustration, stories, photojourneys, videos

I grew up on the likes of Star Trek; which, despite rampaging Klingons and Salt Vampires and the guy in the red shirt getting eatern by the alien slime monster, showed us a pretty hopeful future; touch screens and slidey doors and tricorders and fliptop communicators that would beam us all up to Big Adventure.

So I'm not much for dystopian apocalyptic futures. I like worlds you want to go live in, worlds I can explore, worlds I can run around in. Worlds with galloping horses and rising moons and trees and Elves who talk to them. Maybe that's a bit escapist. J.R.R. Tolkien said something about that, that of course you'd want to escape your dreary mundane grind. But fantasy and SF are not escapist; you step out from under the trees of your own forest (into the world of the story) so you can see your forest more clearly.  Good SF/fantasy is a Hero Journey (go ahead, read some Joseph Campbell, George Lucas did) in which the Hero crosses a threshold into another world, journeys there, overcomes obstacles (with the aid of magic, tech, helpful wizards, talking animals, Obi-Wan and Gandalf, etc.) and returns to his/her world with a boon for the home village; a Grail found, a One Ring or Death Star destroyed.

The Hunger Games fulfills the Hero Journey model, down to the Hero(ine) being a rather ordinary person, no Warrior trained from birth, no "you're the last of the Jedi", no "you're a wizard, Harry", no "you know that ring you got from the little gnarly guy in the cave? You know all those Black Riders out there lurking in the shrubbery? Well..."

I first heard about The Hunger Games in a program on YA fiction at Balticon 2011. It sounded interesting. It gives us a girl who does far more than obsess over pale glittery boys with weird teeth and no frontal lobes. Katniss is a Hero in the finest sense of the word, an ordinary girl from a coal mining district (which echoes Appalachia, pre-WWII... in fact, it IS Appalachia, post apocalypse) who offers herself in place of her very young sister for The Games. Teens put their names in a lottery; the more you enter, the more supplies you get for your starving family... and the higher your odds of being chosen for The Games.

The Hunger Games are a penance, a (ironically, Rue, one of the characters, is a synonym for pennance as well as an herb) for an uprising against the Capital. A teen boy and teen girl are chosen from each district, each year. They fight in an unsettling cross between a reality show and Roman gladiatorial combat... only one emerges the victor...and alive.

The Capital is rich, everyone else is poor. The Capital is decadent, baroque, over the top. It's as if Elton John's designers had taken a tour through the Baroque period, the hot pink section of a toy store, and collided in a black hole with Andy Warhol and the dark side of Tim Burton. Brilliant creativity from the film's designers; it gives just the right cringing vomitive aura to the hideously artifical world of the villains. The "luxurious" apartments that our Heroine is escorted into are a sterile museum of artifice. When she picks up a remote and cues a holographic wall it shows her, first busy city streets, then a desert, then her own forest; the only "real" thing there is an illusion.

The poverty stricken coal mining district at least has the forest at its back, where Katniss practices her woodcraft and archery skills (her name is related to the Latin word sagittate, meaning shaped like an arrowhead). Some of her opponents are trained warriors (kids from rich districts who are trained from birth for the Games). She is not. She is a more classic hero, the Luke Skywalker, the Frodo Baggins, the one who takes on the Journey even though "I do not know the way" (Frodo, the LOTR films). Like all classic White Hat Heroes, she doesn't strike first (even though the point of the Game is to kill off everybody else). She runs. She hides. She uses woodcraft. She waits. She shows compassion. She sacrifices. She kills when cornered, and then, reluctantly. Actress Jennifer Lawrence (Katniss) is ... well... just wonderful, "providing a much higher level of acting than is normally requird in action films" (Clint O'Connor; the Plain Dealer). I belive her, I relate to her, and so do, apparently many others, teens or older. And it was nice to see Josh Hutcherson (Journey to the Center of the Earth) all (mostly) grown up.

There is a lot of reference to things Latin and Roman in the names; well worth researching. It adds layers of meaning to a story already awash in it.

The cinematography left a girl in my row reaching for the dramamine. There's a lot of handheld shaky camera (as if someone was running through the woods chasing the characters with a cell phone). There's the woo-woo-woozy camera effect when Katniss gets stung by hallucinagenic wasps. There's the PG-13 rating which doesn't let a gory story reach the level of say, 300; the shaky camera covers up much of the gore... and much of the martial arts. (whattheheck IS going on there?!?!?). In a book, even a YA, you can write anything (just not TOO graphic), and the reader will make their own movie in their head according to their experience. A nine year old told me she had no trouble reading Inkheart, but was going to wait till a bit older to see the film. A film puts the images right out there in front of you on a huge screen in surround sound, so the "let's hide stuff" camerawork gives you the sense of chaos, danger, panic...without the gore. Just bring the ginger root and dramamine.

As for me, I may have to check out the books.

Here's a brief description of the plot (wiki):
     In an interview with Collins, it was noted that the books tackle issues like severe poverty, starvation, oppression, and the effects of war among  others. The book deals with the struggle for self-preservation that the people of Panem face in their districts and the Hunger Games in which they must participate. The starvation and need for resources that the citizens encounter both in and outside of the arena create an atmosphere of helplessness that the main characters try to overcome in their fight for survival. Katniss's proficiency with the bow and arrow stems from her need to hunt in order to provide food for her family—this necessity results in the development of skills that are useful to her in the Games, and represents her rejection of the Capitol's rules in the face of life-threatening situations. The choices the characters make and the strategies they use are often morally complex. The tributes build a personality they want the audience to see throughout the Games. Voice of Youth Advocates (VOYA) names the major themes of The Hunger Games as  "government control, big brother, and personal independence". The Capitol makes watching the games required viewing. The theme of power and downfall, similar to that of Shakepseare's Julius Caesar, was pointed out by Scholastic

And here's a review:

http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20120320/REVIEWS/120319986

“The Hunger Games” is an effective entertainment, and Jennifer Lawrence is
strong and convincing in the central role. But the film leapfrogs obvious
questions in its path, and avoids the opportunities sci-fi provides for social
criticism; compare its world with the dystopias in “Gattaca” or “The Truman
Show.”  Director Gary Ross and his writers (including the series'
author, Suzanne Collins) obviously think their audience wants to see lots of
hunting-and-survival scenes, and has no interest in people talking about how a
cruel class system is using them. Well, maybe they're right. But I found the
movie too long and deliberate as it negotiated the outskirts of its moral
issues." (Ebert)



 

Arthur Christmas



When I was a kid, Rudolph the  Red-Nosed Reindeer was the height of animation technology, it aired every  Christmas without fail, and if I failed to see it, I had a ten year old
meltdown. As an adult, I note the awfulness of the very basic stop motion
animation, and the awesomeness of the classic Hero Journey structure of the
story (read some Joseph Campbell if you don’t know what a Hero Journey is). As a
kid I related to the misfits (Rudolph; Hermie the Elf who had the coolest job on
the planet but wanted to be a dentist) and their struggles to find their place
in the circle of life...
 
...oh, wait, that's another story.
 
Enter the 21st century. Ho ho ho  hum, another chipmunk movie, another rom com,  another...
 
What's this? Another offering by  the awesome geekiness that is Aardman (or is it Aardmaan???). Those brilliant  Brits who brought us Wallace and Grommit (and the Wrong Trousers), Curse of the
Were-rabbit, a moon made of real cheese, a pet rat who gets Flushed Away, and a  riff on WWII prison camp escapes called Chicken  Run.
 
They have left behind their  clever stop motion animation, trading it for CG, as the Santas trade in the old  sled of carved and bent wood for the S1 (which looks as if the USS Enterprise
had spawned an illegitimate hatchling with a giant space squid). The CG still
has the look of Aardman, of their great characterizations and designs (the S1 is
actually quite awesome, and it's resemblance to the Enterprise may or may not be
intentional; it certainly looks like what our generation thinks of as a
spaceship). It's just easier to do snow, and hair, and stuff blowing around with
CG (it's impossible with stop motion).
 
Arthur is the younger, geekier son of the present Santa and Mrs. You know, the one who can never do anything  right, the one who has the Perfect Older Brother Who Will One Day Be Santa (if
the present, rather absentminded one ever ever retires!). The Older Brother With  SixPack Abs, Christmas Camo, and a military haircut... it took me half the movie to realize his closecut goatee was in the shape of a Christmas tree.
 
It's the stuff I loved about Rudolph in the 60s. Here, though, is a family we can identify with, imperfect, complex, warm, funny, the characters go beyond stereotype. They may begin as
archetypes, but then they take off at mach ten in their own mad directions.
There are fine little clues to character; Mrs. Claus, after playing the grandmotherly role of getting dinner ready and herding the family together, sitting down to the table with her sewing... we see some slashes on her jacket she is mending... she says something about polar bears and it's really good I took that defense course...

 There's Grandsanta, using a  reindeer antler as a crutch. The old reindeer in the doggie Elizabethan collar (those things you put on dogs to prevent them from bothering a wound). The
stable of young reindeer (animated beautifully; the artists clearly studied  reindeer) whose first flight is rather like beginner surfers on really big  waves. 

And the Elves. Despite my love of  Rudolph and Hermie, my idea of Elf is Legolas from Lord of the Rings. Steely  eyed and longbow wielding, able to talk to horses, trees, or rocks, run on snow,
and take down a hundred orcs with only a  knife.

Well, these are short, funny  looking, squeaky voiced... and somehow hilariously real. Sort of like the minions in Despicable Me...or not. Diverse. Bryony the Wrapping Elf who comes
along on the journey (using her skills as a wrapper of gifts) is beyond  brilliantly funny and quirky. Although I only figured out at the end of the film that she was a girl (must have been the mohawk). 
 
It is a film suitable for smallish kids…that will entertain the adults thoroughly. Up there with Pixar,
with the finest offerings of Disney. Of Miyasaki. It is a film without villains.
There is no grand battle of Good and Evil, only the quirky interactions of a
hilariously real family. There is grand adventure; eye-popping “effects”, action
that makes the price of 3D worth it. Each character has their own set of
obstacles, their own Hero Journey to accomplish (even GrandSanta and the ancient
reindeer). It has huge imagination. Small moments of warmth, of humor (the Elves
holding up cell phones with pictures of burning candles, rather than real
candles… the seal sliding off the surfacing S1… the polar bear who wanders into
Santaland because, darn it Arthur, SHUT THE DOOR, IT’S THE NORTH POLE! 
 
It bears watching a few times  over; there are a plethora of nifty details you’ll miss the first time…or the  second…or the 48th. It’s  one you want to own, and savor over and  over.
 
Move over Hermie; Bryony kicks  butt!


 

Why would a kayakin' sleddogin' birdwatchin' scubadivin' nature-lovin' horsewoman in her 50s care about a movie full of stuff blowing up and giant butt kicking robots???

Well, keep your vampire weddings, I'd rather go back and see more stuff explode. And the Transformers song (from the 1984 TV cartoon) keeps running through my head. (Two red Transformers inhabit my bookshelf to this day). I remember the cartoon, I was 29 when it appeared; a 29 year old woman training horses, doing living history, camping in mosquito infested salt marshes, backpacking, and randomly knocking guys upside the head with rattan broadswords. I loved Saturday morning cartoons, and this CARtoon was one of my favorites. Why? It was obviously designed for 12 year old boys with a technology fetish.

Or was it?

The thing I liked about it was the characters, the eternal Battle Between Good and Evil. And now, looking at it from the perspective of an artist/writer with a fascination for myth and legend, I see it's mythic roots.

The first thing that comes to mind is an archetype I can't quite put a name to. I saw it in the Jungle Books (Kipling's version) which I read as a kid. I wanted to be the kid in the jungle with a bear, a wolfpack, a black leopard and a thirty foot python for buddies (take THAT mean girls!). Or Bud whose best buddy was a dolphin named Flipper. Or the boys who had Big Black Wild Horses for buddies (Joey and Fury, Alex and the Black Stallion, Zorro and Tornado). I caught a glimpse of it again with Arnold's Terminator ("Cool! My own terminator!") in Terminator 2. Sam (boy) and Bumblebee (Autobot) are the same pair.

The next thing is the archetype of the Shapeshifter. Every culture has stories of shapeshifters. Animals who become people, people who become animals, and beings who are both, or somewhere in between. Some Native American Coyote tales seem to star a humanoid who is called Coyote, or  maybe it's a coyote who can talk, or is it a being that looks like Wile E.? Shapeshifters trick humans into better behavior, help put the stars in the sky, awaken the first humans, teach, lead...

...transform.

Early humans had only to look around them to see shapeshifting at work: the egg that becomes the nymph that becomes the dragonfly; the tadpole that becomes the frog; the nut that becomes the tree. Old tales tell of barnacles that become geese, horsehairs in the water trough that become worms (admittedly, their grasp of natural history was a little vague).

Easy to transform those legends, adapt them (shapeshifters are adaptable) to our technological world.

And finally: our relationship with technology. I hate it, I loathe it, I detest it. OK, not entirely, I need the computer, the digital camera, the car, the van, the pickup truck, the microwave. I just don't understand them (despite occasionally catching the hilarious and helpful "Car Talk" on NPR); they are as alien as autobots, and less friendly. I can relate to the (hysterically funny) scene in Dark of the Moon where Sam's cheesy car breaks down and he pounds on it in frustration. You can have a conversation, an argument even, with Bumblebee, but not with a cheapo hatchback. Lots of films, from Matrix to Terminator to Star Trek, have dealt with our relationship with our technology, and whether we are using it wisely, or whether it is out of control. Humans, as storytellers, tend to anthropomorphize; animals (talking animal fairy tales, bedtime tales, and cartoons), trees (see Tolkien and CS Lewis, and JK Rowling, whose trees didn't talk so much as whomp), forces of Nature (all those Greek, Norse, Celtic etc. Gods and Goddesses), psychological archetypes (more Gods and Goddesses). Surrounded by technology, with most of us clueless as to how it actually is made or how it works, we anthropomorphize it.


...and its two sides, dark and light; Decepticons and Autobots arise from the collective unconcious, playing out our deepest fears and triumphs on the big screen. Superficially, it's a 3D CG cartoon, a boomfest of big cannons, bigger explosions, buildings crashing like the Titanic (while our doughty heroes scramble, unscathed, through oceans of shattered glass). If you look a little deeper, you catch references to our deepest cultural scars: 9/11. Falling towers, paper fluttering down like snow, evil lurking under the sane surface of the mundane world, leaping out and catching us by the throat when we least expect it. I lost count of how many times someone said "Let's roll!" But that's what faerie tales do; they address our fears, failings, obstacles, triumphs. They point the way, they give us hope.

That said, Transformers is a bit more than just two hours of explosions, of awesome effects, incredible mind-boggling animation, Shia LeBeouf's cute self (or the sleek runway model, running from danger in ridiculous high heels, for you guys), muscular military guys, daring stunts, stuff crashing and burning, giant robots crashing into each other, cars crashing into each other and giant robots, stuff blowing up.... there is actually character development. While many of the characters are pretty loosely sketched (Hot Girl, Beefy Warriors), many are archetypal. Optimus Prime is the iconic Hero King (even to his long-legged, broad torsoed build). Wang is the iconic Geek Science Guy (with some seriously hilarious quirks). There's a young warrior who is the first to volunteer for the "kamikaze" mission, he manages to make us care for the few moments he's onscreen. 

And finally, there's just A Boy and His Car. Sam and Bee are the core of it, the buddy team we all want to be part of. The Boy who nobody takes seriously until he proves (again) his great worth as a hero. The Man who finds himself helpless against huge odss...and finds a way. The bumbling autobot who is somehow more human than many flesh and blood actors.

Wish my car would do that....

Well told story is well told story...the rest is just shiny paint and a flame job.

About thirty lightyears ago, I heard about a new film with starships and aliens and wicked cool new effects. There was no internet, only the SF mags and word of mouth and the odd movie trailer and TV ad. I heard about it after it had already exploded onscreen with a Death Star sized bigbang. SF/fantasy fan that I am, I went. I went out of the theater going, "hmmmm, that was cool." I thought about it for a few days. Went back with more friends.

I went back something like 25 times. Star Wars was one of those nifty turning points that introduced me to a whole new world: friends of like mind, SF cons, fantasy illustration, real world adventures that sprang out of all that.

That is the point of well told stories. They connect us. They inspire us. They teach us. They say something about our past. Our future. Our choices.

I like James Cameron films. Terminator 2 and Titanic are on my ten best list (although I think that may include several dozen by now). He understands Joseph Campbell's concept of The Hero Journey (see my earlier blog or look it up on Wikipedia). He talks about the relationship between humans and technology; the use and abuse of it. The dangers we face if we blow it. Our relationship with each other and Nature. He's a Leo, born two days after me and one year earlier. He's definitely from the same planet.

And now here's our planet.

I heard about Avatar much the way I heard about Star Wars; after everybody else knew about it. Yeah, I have internet access now. I even check my email once a week or so. I blog or twiddle the website when I can. This week I was running sleddogs, hacking my way through Suckway (unlike my Disney princess namesake, I hate food service), eating fattening PA Dutch food with relatives over Christmas, wrangling my friend's young, enthusiastic Malenois, ducks, free range chickens, horses, goats and other critters while Mona and Joe escaped to the great white north. I watched the great white north melt into mud before Mona could break a sled dog trail around her farm. I hashed out the rest of my Christmas presents ( I don't Mall anymore, mall, that's a verb, a four letter verb).

"I should probably see this." I said. "After all, it's James Cameron, how bad could it be."

I bought a black leather jacket at a yard sale and learned to play the Terminator theme on a Native American flute. I bought the action figures (uh, it's for my nephew). I asked Bob Ballard (the guy who found the Titanic) a more or less intelligent question at a program at the Baltimore Aquarium. I leapt off of several perfectly good floatin' boats in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean (well, we were out of sight of land) to look at the sunken boats. One of my dive buddies did that 'soaring on the bow/king of the world' move on the bow of one of those sunken boats. I went to the Titanic exhibit at the local museum, stood with my nose inches from things that had lain two and a half miles down in 375 atmospheres of pressure (that's how geeky this gets).

Yep, I'm a fan.

I considered that fact that this could be one more of those grand heartless fx extravaganzas. Blow lots of stuff up and nobody will notice there isn't a plot or character development.

Ok, I'll go watch stuff blow up for three hours, at least once.

The James Horner soundtrack hooked me from the beginning. After looking him up on Wikipedia (easier than going through my CD collection or my own memory banks) I realized he's scored a bunch of my favorite films. I love "Echoes" on National Public Radio; that sort of soundtracky, epic stuff with spacey electronics and indigenous instruments and voices. This soundtrack captures that quality; epic, emotion, eerie, otherworldy. Horner's a Leo too, born on the same day and two years earlier.

I could analyze the film for hours; it's a place you can get lost in. "Haven't got lost in the woods?" the badaxx Colonel says to Our Hero. Of course I have, I know those woods.

This is the archetypal Garden. This is the place we all remember (well, some of us do). This is the place Richard Louv talked about in "Last Child in the Woods". In his book he shows how this generation has become plugged into their 'avatars'; Game Boys and cell phones and computers. How they've lost the ability to run soundlessly through the forest, to read the trail, to bond with other living things, to just sit and look and feel and experience. Louv tells us the cure for ADD and a thousand other modern afflictions is to just go outside and play.

He's right. When the SAD felt like a space marine's backpack, I hitched up two dogs and slogged through a foot of snow on half a trail in a sunlit wood. I felt like I might keel over a few times. The dogs hadn't run more than in the dogyard all fall. I had sleazed off the rider and the stationary bike for weeks.

It was good! Ooooraahh!

The plot was described by someone as "trite". No, not trite, not stereotypal, archetypal. The Hero Journey. Sure, I knew how certain scenes, certain situations had to play out. I knew how I'd write them. Same way I know that stuff in a good Disney flick. I know the pattern, I've been over this trail before. But every time you go over the trail, it's different. Different animals have walked there, leaving different signs. Different weather, different seasons, different things blooming, fading, dying, rebirthing.

This is a rebirth of the Hero Journey.

Tolkien gave the old archetypes back their power. Rescued the Elves and Dwarves and Wizards and dark things from the nursery and made them tall and strong; a Force of Nature to be reckoned with. Lucas sent them to the far far away edges of the universe, and showed us that those tales are, well, universal. J.K. Rowling showed kids that they too had power, and must learn how to wield it.

Cameron has shown us the place we come from and that there is still time to change our course. Change our relationship with Nature, with technology, with other living things. Much of the film has already happened in real life: we know that, not from our history books, which always tell the tale from the viewpoint of the winners, but from listening to Native American, African, Australian Aboriginal, Polynesian and other indigenous authors/storytellers/bards/artists/teachers. (The excellent Wes Studi, a Native American actor, is the voice of Neytiri's father). The concept of communicating with animals (on levels beyond verbal) is not new to anyone who's ever worked with them. The concept of trees communicating chemically or electrically is not new to science. The idea of a world organism, the Earth as one big biosphere is not new either. What is new is putting it all into an action-packed, thrilling adventure that twelve year olds will absorb.

And maybe they'll go home and think about it.

Maybe they'll pick up a bow, because Neytiri made it look so cool. Maybe they'll try riding an earth horse. Or flight. Or diving into the clear waters that are still left. Or saving the rest.

200910.25 letter to Mike Argento, York Daily Record

Argento is a brilliant, hysterically funny columnist with a wit sharper than a Na'Vi arrowhead. He can write serious stuff too, but mostly he sends up the Morons of our culture (no shortage of those in York County). This was my (not entirely tongue-in-cheek) plee to him to save our tweens from the vampires.



The rise of the New Moon sparked a deep, insistent urge to lurk at my computer, biting deep into the bloody depths of the Thesaurus, and Spell Check. Then I considered that you only write articles of Deep Social Meaning, sending up the Idiots of Society.

Wait; this has Deep Social Meaning. We must save our young girls from the ravages of...

...a meaningless life obsessing over boys with bad hair and weird eyes.

I noted your excellent send-up of 2021, or 2012... or 2010, no wait, that was Real Science Fiction, written by a Real Science Fiction writer; Arthur C. Clarke.

We need, in this benighted age, Mikey the Vampire Slayer. Or, perhaps, Van-argento.

J.K. Rowling gave us a complex, unique world of Wizards and Good and Evil. She addressed the Deep Questions of The Meaning of Life. She gave us three Heroes on a Hero Journey that made sense and resonated with our own lives (note that one of them is an intelligent girl, with a career, and a Life, and a Purpose, and cool guy friends, and... a cool guy). Rowling gave us Quidditch, and Time Turners and an owl delivery service and a large drooly dog, and a larger droolier gamekeeper, and the wonderful vision of turning a horrible relative into a hot air balloon.

J.R.R.Tolkien and C.S.Lewis gave us entire planets to run around on. Middle Earth and Narnia with their Elves and Orcs and Centaurs and Talking Animals had plenty of room for each of us to pick up our longbows and broadswords and learn to slay the evils in our mundane lives. To ride into the sunset, to wax poetic over the song of gulls in the dark, to talk to trees, to ride without saddle or rein, to have seven meals a day, to sail with the Corsairs of Umbar, to ...

Oh, yes, I digress...

George Lucas and Gene Rodenberry eschewed the use of initials and went with their full names, which may be why they gave us the whole universe to play in. Go ahead, snicker at the kid whomping womp rats on his game boy, or the girl with the pointy ears at the sci-fi convention doing the Vulcan salute, but when your computer breaks down, or your rover is stranded on Neptune; who 'ya' gonna' call?

In the wake of these greats, yea, in the Twilight of their existence, comes a saga of a girl and a vampire. And some other vampires who are not as nice. Although the main one isn't very nice either, at first. I tried very hard to finish the first book, but after two hundred pages of a very boring teenager obsessing over a badaxx boy I had to donate the book to the Library for the Literary Impaired, and go find a copy of Treasure Island, which, despite its political incorrectness, is a romping good yarn, and contains a young hero who acts impulsively but with good heart and wins out in the end. I also plowed through several thousand pages of the Inkheart Trilogy, which contains a heroine who has better things to do with her life than obsess over boys with bad hair and weird teeth.

I think you should do an interview with the vampire's girlfriend: it would go something like this...

“So, Bella, how was school today?”

Her eyes glaze over. Hoarsely she whispers. “Edward.”

“Ah. What are you studying?”

Her eyes have now developed a strange shape, like those anime or manga characters: little hearts. They seem to be twitching in a weird rhythm. “Eeeeedwaaard.”

“Um, went by the animal rescue earlier this week, I think you should have a dog. What kind would you like?”

“Edward.”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Edddddddward.” The eyeball hearts are definitely thumping like manic bunnies. Bunnies, bunnies, ohgawd, what do bunnies do best?

“You realize this is kind of gross, I mean, he's dead and everything...”

She's stopped talking, only the weird little thumpy hearts are visible. You knock her upside the head, duct tape her to a chair and make her watch all three...extended DVD... Lord of the Rings films. At least Orlando Bloom and Viggo Mortenson aren't dead. Then you drag her kicking and screaming to the library.

Save us Argento-wan, you're our only hope.

The rest of us will sling our longbows over our backs, our swords, lightsabers and phasers at our hips, mount our steeds of Rohan (or centaurs, or landspeeders, if you're horse-impaired) and sally forth to rescue True Fantasy and Science Fiction from the clutches of the Pseudo-vampiric hordes. Some of us will probably settle down with a good Anne Rice book, or a Sookie Stackhouse novel. We might, (gasp) even turn on the TV and catch a drop or two of True Blood, or a rerun of Buffy.

Live Long and Prosper...