Spectre
Saw Spectre the
other day … and liked it a lot. Not loved
it, but enjoyed it. Not a big fan of Daniel Craig’s James Bond. Too dour,
moody, thuggish. I grew up on the Roger Moore James Bond, and while that
characterization descended into clownishness at times, I miss the humor and
suave sophistication Moore brought to those roles, particularly those in the
70s. Sean Connery, I guess, is the best Bond, bringing together the perfect proportions
of physicality, light-heartedness, and, when called for, ruthlessness. A
balanced Bond, unlike the robotic incarnation we’ve seen over the past decade.
Anyway, Spectre is
more back to form, back to the 007 we grew up on and loved. I’ve always thought
that the villain, and his egomaniacal world-dominating plot, were equally
important, if not more so, to a Bond movie. And face it, the villains from the
past few Craig flicks – Le Chiffre, Green, Silva – couldn’t hold a candle to
Blofeld, Scaramanga, Drax, Stromberg. But now Blofeld’s back, played by the
excellent Christoph Waltz, and he’s got his lair, and he’s got his world
domination scheme (although I still pine for a more SF-ish MacGuffin).
Still hate the revisioning, though. But overall, I’d
grade Spectre a solid B.
X-Files
Been watching the new X-Files reboot with the wife. Both of us were huge X-philes back in
the day, twenty-some-odd years ago. But the new series strikes me as tired and
aimless. Mulder looks bloated and drugged up; Scully looks like she went a little
overboard with the botox. Both seem to be struggling too hard to recapture the
magic. The first four episodes have been uneven, focusing more on gore than legitimately
intriguing theories outta left field. I’d grade them, in order, D, C, B, and D.
For a series that peaked with its first motion picture installment in 1998, The X-Files: Fight the Future, I’m not
so sure the whole thing should have been resurrected.
But I may be biased.
I love reveling in nostalgia. I re-read those goose-bump-inducing
books I originally cut my teeth on thirty years ago. I initiate my children in
the cinema of my youth. I seek these things out, actively, like a detective,
and the rediscovery and re-visitation give me great pleasure. For years I
hunted for my beloved physics book, the book that made me major in the subject
in college, and I am still searching for a comic book I read, and re-read, and
re-read, way back in the fourth grade. Ah, nostalgia.
So I thought I would enjoy revisiting the original X-Files series. A friend has it on his
FIOS stick thingie, and he lent it to me. The wife and I settled in for
nostalgia overload over the past couple of nights and we watched the pilot and
the first two episodes from Season 1. And you know what? I didn’t feel
nostalgic at all. Instead, I just felt old.
Not sure why. Well, actually I have a pretty good
idea. It’s because I was an adult when I saw the show’s original run. Not a
kid. Now I’m just an older adult. And it’s not a comforting feeling.
Don’t know if we’ll continue to watch Season 1. We
have the FIOS thingie for another five days. I think if, perhaps, I got Little
One into it the show might deliver a good vibe for me, but the wife doesn’t
think she’s old enough yet. I dunno; I’ve watched John Carpenter’s The Thing and Vin Diesel’s Pitch Black with her, to no ill effect.
But I’ll capitulate to the Mrs. on this. Probably because I’m feeling old …
Miscellanea
Movies on Deck:
The
Walk
Everest
Current TV rage:
Portlandia
Current musical infatuation:
Mozart, particularly his piano concertos
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