Twilight: Vampires! Love! Robert Pattinson!,The Best Art Ever
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Drink lots and prosper It’s not often that a science center dedication finds me sitting cross-legged on the floor in the very front, a drunk and swooning fan girl with my rapt attention focused on the speaker. Then again, it’s also not often that a Starfleet Commander graces Darby Gymnasium. I found out that Walter Koenig ’58 (Chekov) would be part of the Noyce dedication about a week before it happened, then ran around ecstatically telling everyone I knew: “Walter Koenig! You know, Star Trek? Nuclear Wessels! On Friday!” Then someone gently reminded me of the last thing that I had been ecstatically excited about: “Oktoberfest! Amana Colonies! German Beer! On Friday!” Upon waking up, I found myself faced with one of the most difficult decisions I have ever had to make. How could I pick between a party with free German beer and the fulfillment of my life-long Trekkie status? I asked the Captain (my roommate, Anna), who recommended Star Trek. But the German beer called to me and my only-just-recovering-from-study-abroad-in-Berlin psyche. Who else could I ask who would really understand? Suddenly, I knew. The man who would truly understand my difficulty. The Ambassador Sarek to my Captain Spock, the Admiral Kirk to my Dr. David Marcus, the Worf to my Alexander, the Number One Dad to my special 12-year-old version of Picard in the episode “Rascals”! On Wednesday afternoon, I called my German-speaking, beer- appreciating, Captain Picard action figure-owning, Chemistry professor father in his office. With no preamble, I posed my dilemma. “Dad, what’s more important: Walter Koenig or Oktoberfest?” “Both?” Though he had not taken into consideration the physical limitations (my lack of a transporter being one of the most pressing problems), he was right! Combining the spirit of Oktoberfest with the nerdiness of Star Trek! Hell, I do that every week with the Star Trek Drinking Game. Created sometime second year by the Captain, our friend Brock (Lieutenant Commander LaForge) and myself, the Star Trek Drinking Game is an integral part of a Friday afternoon. The basic rules are simple: drink for awkward sexual tension (two drinks for awkward sexual tension from beyond the grave) or when someone who knows the rules better says to. I don’t remember what episode we watched that afternoon, but there were enough speeches about humanity from Picard or badass Riker moments that we quite happily wended our way to the Dining Hall afterwards. We took our box dinners straight to Darby Gym and eventually found ourselves right next to the speakers, less than twenty feet from Koenig’s chair. I have no idea what happened when Koenig wasn’t speaking. When the program was over, it was our chance to finally meet him, a man of the stars and the stage. We ran to the door through which he had disappeared and learned that he had already left. Disappointed but not deterred, we deduced that following the line of distinguished alums would lead us to his next stop, where we sat on a bench outside the Dining Hall feeling out of place and anxious. We spotted him coming through the crowd and ran up to him. But now there was a new problem. What do you say? Luckily, the captain solved that one. “Hi.” Giggle. “We’re really big fans.” Quantum of Solace brings action but forgets the plot Bond (Daniel Craig) shields Camille (Olga Kurylenko) and fires at a fuel cell as flames engulf Medrano's suite at Perla De Las Dunas. The dominant theme of Quantum of Solace is revenge, and the idea makes sense. The 22nd James Bond film picks up not long after the elegant and crisp Casino Royale leaves off, with Bond (Daniel Craig) losing his first great love, Vesper Lynd, at the hands of the mysterious Quantum organization. Casino Royale was a smart and effective reinvention of the Bond franchise, and so hopes were high that Quantum of Solace would take another step in the right direction. Sadly, Quantum is the idea of a great movie, not the execution of one. There’s something missing at its heart: we’re left waiting for catharsis or closure that never comes. After slamming viewers into the story with several chase scenes (by car and on foot) that are both unnecessary and shakily presented (director Marc Forster excelled with the poignant Monster’s Ball, but seems less sure of himself in an action film), Bond comes into contact with Camille (the beautiful Olga Kurylenko), and the two team up to pursue the villains on the typical Bond movie jaunt around the world. Bond is multitasking: tracking down those in Quantum responsible for Vesper’s death while also keeping tabs on the villainous Mathieu Amalric (the unconvincing Dominic Greene). Amalric wants to buy up desert land in Bolivia so he can overthrow the government and manufacture a drought so that he can become the country’s sole water supplier. Camille is out for revenge too: her family met their ends at the hands of a corrupt South American military dictator who is also in cahoots with Amalric. Understand? No? Too bad—it’s time for another chase scene, this time by plane! The idea of two grieving people seeking revenge together is a nice thought begging to be better explored. The writers throw Camille a few lines of dialogue to explore this issue, something along the lines of, “I want to know what revenge feels like,” and later to Bond, “I wish I could free you from your prison.” But before we can get behind the attractive duo, something else has exploded and they’re walking through the desert. It’s a big miss that with two fine actors portraying two intriguing characters with compelling back stories, we don’t care about them as much as we could. Yet somehow, the principal actors all acquit themselves. We know what Daniel Craig is capable of as James Bond from Casino Royale, and so we can give him a pass inQuantum . Casino Royale allowed Craig to show quite a bit of range—cunning spy, dangerously physical assassin, passionate lover, wayward agent, and grieving soul (to name a few). But inQuantum , Craig is required to play everything so close to the chest that it becomes difficult to identify with him. We know logically that Bond is suffering and that his actions are motivated by loss, but the film gives him no opportunity to show his grief or to let his emotions go. He does gain some momentum in his scenes with Judi Dench’s M, who is as much of a boss as a parental figure. But Dench somehow speaks more than Craig does. It’s a personality bypass, and it’s a testament to his acting that we still root for him. It’s also very indicative of the problems of Quantum: not enough heart, clarity, or insight, just a lot of unrealized potential. Oscar picks from an obsessed Oscar fan As an actor, I basically live for the Academy Awards, and while Slumdog might be a lock for Best Picture, there are still a number of close races out there: Best Actor: The race comes down to two superb actors who are neck-and-neck for the prize: Sean Penn for his passionate, transformative, and fully invested turn as gay San Francisco City Supervisor Harvey Milk, and Mickey Rourke for his stripped down, soul bearing turn as the washed up Randy “The Ram” Robinson. While Rourke’s character has a little more sting, my vote goes to Sean Penn for an earnest and uplifting performance. Best Actress: We have another two-way race here (with Anne Hathaway’s revealing turn in Rachel Getting Married as a long shot) between what I think are the two greatest actresses of our time: Meryl Streep (who holds the record for the most nominations of any actor—15!) and Kate Winslet (who, at age 33, holds the record for the youngest actor ever to have been nominated six times). Winslet, still without an Oscar, deserves it: her performance as an SS guard is simultaneously engaging and repellant, but ultimately heartbreaking and brilliant. But Streep (who has won twice, but sadly not since 1982) and her clever performance as a hardened nun shouldn’t be counted out. Best Supporting Actor: Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that Heath Ledger will win for a chilling and intelligent portrayal of the Joker in The Dark Knight. Best Supporting Actress: Arrgh! This is the category that is going to break my heart. Viola Davis should win in this category. Her performance in Doubt as Mrs. Muller, a mother whose son might have been abused by a priest, is wrenching. Davis gets only one extended scene in the movie (around 10 or 11 minutes long), but she still manages to delivers a master class in acting, single-handedly defining the soul of this flawed film by showing us a woman who is conflicted, protective, but sadly helpless to truly protect the child she loves from dangers at school and home. While she should win, I think that Penelope Cruz will pick up the Oscar for her comic and controlled performance in Vicky Cristina Barcelona. And finally… The Reader should, in my opinion, win Best Picture. It’s a film that unsettles you and stays with you. I’d also hand out Best Director to The Reader’s Stephen Daldry for his wonderful control of tone. None of that matters, though, because the feel good Slumdog Millionaire is going to come out on top, and its director, Danny Boyle, will claim Best Director honors.