#and i will FINALLY know this after having memorized the folk opera and then the live stage recording...

[marnz]

got tickets to see Hadestown on halloween 😎

[aion-rsa]

How the Jaws Scene in Back to the Future Part 2 Predicted Modern Blockbusters

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Back to the Future Part II is a strange movie. As a sequel that director Robert Zemeckis and screenwriter Bob Gale never intended to make, the ambitious follow-up to one of the greatest sci-fi comedies of all time was put into production simultaneously with Part III, which may have ultimately hurt the middle chapter since Zemeckis was still shooting scenes filmed in the Old West while editing Part II’s trippy vision of the then distant future…of 2015.

Even so, there are elements in the second Back to the Future that still play like gangbusters today, particularly in the sequences set during 2015. To be sure, part of the charm now is what those wild guesses about the future got wrong—such as the idea we’d all be driving around in flying cars, or even simply own cheap cars that didn’t run on fossil fuels. There were no real hover boards in 2015 (or 2021 for that matter), nor even automated Texaco pumps. Yet what Back to the Future Part II got very right is the numbing horror of something like Jaws 19.

Indeed, one of the best bits in the whole film is a slight dig at BTTF’s own studio, as well as the legacy of the film’s producer. The original Jaws is of course the first modern Hollywood blockbuster and it put Steven Spielberg on the map. With its innovative storytelling of leaving the monster to the imagination before finally providing the spectacle in the third act, Jaws is a masterpiece in narrative restraint that could still play for all audiences.

…Which is something no one would say about the three cash-in Jaws sequels that Universal Pictures green lit in the span of 12 years after 1975. In fact, when Back to the Future Part II was released in ’89, it’d only been two years since Jaws: The Revenge, the one where the ghost of Jaws went Bahamas and chased the Chief Brody character’s widow to the Caribbean while on a vendetta for what happened in ’75. It’s kind of hilarious.

As is the scene in Back to the Future Part II. In that sequence, Michael J. Fox’s Marty McFly stands slack jawed in the middle of Hill Valley’s town square, the same space that was so memorably used in the first BTTF film where Marty was forced to finally accept he’d traveled to the year 1985. In the sequel, he comes to realize what it means to be in 2015 when he turns around to face the local multiplex, which has only one film on its marquee: Jaws 19. And then to demonstrate to Marty the state of 21st century special effects, the “HOLOMAX” release teases its thrills as a holographic Great White Shark emerges from the building and descends on Marty’s head.

Perhaps like many an audience member who choked on their popcorn kernels in ’75 with fear, Marty screams bloody murder—and then realizes it’s just a movie and scoffs, “The shark still looks fake.” Yes, it always did, but at least in the first movie that didn’t matter so much.

At the time, the scene was a nice dig at Universal’s expense as well as the Jaws franchise as a whole. What was once the most revolutionary Hollywood movie of 1975 had become a punchline by 1989: a once glorious title that’d been run into the ground with endless cash grab sequels. And the joke is even funnier because of the “19” in the title. Nineteen movies of the same franchise. Could you even imagine?!

Oh, how sweet the irony is, then, that one of the most absurd notions in Back to the Future Part II turned out to be the most true! No, there haven’t been 19 Jaws movies (yet), but that might be by virtue of the studio churning the franchise’s mystique into putty before Gen-Xers and Millennials could grow up with it beneath unsullied nostalgia glasses. Nevertheless, the future where Jaws 19 could exist came true.

Consider that we scoff at the idea of 19 Jaws movies being made in 40 years, but Marvel Studios has released 25 pictures in only 13, with two more due out before Christmas 2021. And that doesn’t even include the television shows that are now coming to dominate Disney+.

I know what some will say: Marvel movies are a series of interconnected franchises, as opposed to one amorphous content farm. But that’s not entirely accurate. There are exceptions, of course, which stand out as singularly distinct from other MCU efforts. There’s Black Panther, for instance. That 2018 Oscar nominee is totally removed from the events of The Avengers, you might say. Then there’s Guardians of the Galaxy and its wacky space opera shenanigans occurring literal light years away from the events of Iron Man 3.

And yet, the appeal for most moviegoers, and the brilliance of Marvel’s marketing strategy, is that they all seem like the same thing to the undiscerning eye. And even to the discerning one, there is a pat familiarity to the formula, story beats, and sitcom-esque ability to wink at the audience at its own silliness. Tonally, they all feel of one piece. Hence why the first Shang-Chi movie was gladly welcomed by the industry last month as Marvel’s latest blockbuster hit—a feat borne in large off it being the next Marvel movie, as opposed to a new original property without a built-in audience.

It’s an aspect to the whole series which caused Dune director Denis Villeneuve to suggest that some Marvel movies are “cut and paste.” It’s also a formula which aids the studio to force its millions of fans to see it “as all connected” and be encouraged to go see the Ant-Man sequel they might otherwise skip in order to discover how its post-credits scene will set up the deus ex machina for Avengers: Endgame.

And that aforementioned Black Panther originally had its protagonist introduced in Captain America: Civil War, an Avengers movie by another name. It’s also the only “Cap” flick to cross $1 billion because they stuck Iron Man in it. Similarly, James Gunn’s Guardians films are genuinely auteur-driven, yet they still worked as a years-long tease of Avengers: Infinity War and Endgame’s big bad: Thanos. Hell, Infinity War’s biggest selling point in the trailer was seeing the Avengers and Guardians meet face-to-face for the first time.

The methods and talent being used to produce these endless sequels are far more sophisticated and entertaining than the hack work which produced Jaws: The Revenge, but then that’s why Jaws only lasted four movies and Marvel’s already mapping out its 30th “event” in the next few years.

This is not meant to only criticize Marvel, however. They are simply the most successful studio at exploiting their intellectual property in the 21st century. Universal’s own Fast and Furious movies aren’t half bad at that game, though. This summer just saw the 10th “Fast Saga” movie when you count Hobbs and Shaw. And while Vin Diesel claims the 11th main line Fast and Furious movie will be the last, you just know with its own Avengers-sized cast that Hobbs and Shaw will be merely the first spinoff franchise from “the family.”

Even Spielberg, who was reportedly never happy with the Jaws sequels and what they did to his first masterwork, has been much more ready to “open up” later successes like Jurassic Park. Considered a “smart” blockbuster entertainment in 1993 that inspired genuine awe from millions of moviegoers, that film’s fourth sequel (which was produced by Spielberg, like all the follow-ups) reveled in watching dinosaurs stalk around a haunted house, as if they were Frankenstein and Dracula. Next year’s Jurassic World: Dominion is supposedly intended to be the “final” film of the three most recent, Chris Pratt-led sequels, as well as another sendoff to the original 1993 movie’s cast. Yet it seems dubious that it’ll be the last film set in that “universe.”

After all, the “Skywalker Saga” ended with a whimper in 2019’s Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, but Disney is preparing to churn out more Star Wars movies and TV shows than ever before in the next decade.

This is not to say you should feel ashamed for enjoying any of these movies or franchises. Folks like what they like. But what Back to the Future Part II perhaps unintentionally predicted was that audiences would have an appetite for a proverbial Jaws 19.

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When BTTF became a trilogy, sequels were still seen as a creatively risky proposition. Filmmakers often maintained artistic credibility by attempting to turn sequels into a larger thematic whole—often as a trilogy. Lucas set that standard with Star Wars, and only after his buddy Francis Ford Coppola claimed he’d never make another Godfather movie after Part II. Spielberg originally walked away from Indiana Jones after three movies, and many likely wish he’d stayed firm about that in retrospect. Meanwhile, Zemeckis and Gale have done the near impossible thing: refuse to allow Universal to make a fourth Back to the Future movie or reboot the series entirely.

But equivocations in the industry about a proverbial Jaws 19 are long gone. What was once a cheeky riff on the dystopian Coca-Cola billboard ads in Blade Runner have become a modern day reality in 2021. And hey, there’s now a real holographic Times Square billboard ad for that, too.

The post How the Jaws Scene in Back to the Future Part 2 Predicted Modern Blockbusters appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/39HMnzU

[cywscross]

From @lightveils on Twitter (free to use wherever!). I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. I definitely have enough fics to fill it lol~

-0-

A Fic You Love Without Knowing The Source Material:

I was born for this by esama (Assassin’s Creed | Altair x Desmond | M)

Juno did her best to lead him to her preferred fate, but the end is coming and Desmond has doubts.

A Fic With A Premise That Shouldn’t Work But Does:

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24 (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | G)

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

A Fic You’ve Reread Several Times:

Hooverville by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | E)

Town to town, train to train, tent to tent.

By 1932, the dust had begun to blow and the jobs were gone.

Anonymity was a byproduct of looking for work, which made it both necessary and convenient.

Stiles had enough secrets of his own to know to look the other way when he saw something that shouldn’t be possible.

The ghost of a tail giving enough balance to disembark a moving train.

Near silent Latin whispered on the edge of a tent encampment.

A flash of burning eyes.

He had more than enough to worry about without adding the oddities of others, and besides- having unusually sharp teeth certainly didn’t make a man worse than the ones running from the wife and kids they couldn’t feed.

So Stiles kept his observations to himself. He kept his everything to himself.

Until he met a man. One with eyes so blue they seemed to glow- and then they did.

Stiles tried to look away, but for the first time he was stopped.

“Don’t be like that sweetheart. Aren’t you curious?”

A Fic You Still Remember Many Years Later:

All True-Hearted Souls by mardia (Temeraire | Laurence x Granby | G)

“For God's sake, if someone doesn't talk Laurence out of these constant heroics, I wouldn't bet a farthing on his chances; no, and not ours either.” Four times that John Granby helped save William Laurence's life. Laurence/Granby. Spoilers up to Empire of Ivory.

A Comfort Fic:

Nothing Improper by Bunnywest (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | G)

“How long since someone touched you, sweet boy?” Peter asks, his voice barely a breath in Stiles’ ear. “Days? Weeks? Months?” Stiles nods imperceptibly at that last one.

“After…after everything, after Allison,” is all Stiles manages to get out.

A Cathartic Fic:

Swing by ShippersList (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles wants to fly.

A Fic You’d Print And Put On Your Bookshelf:

Nose to the Wind by Batsutousai (HP | Tom x Harry | M)

While Harry had been content with his second chance, that didn't keep him from thinking what he could have done different, how many people could have survived if he hadn't been set on the very specific path he'd walked. Third time is the charm, though, right?

A Fic You Associate With A Song (x2):

Strange Duet by BelleAmante, thiliart (thilia) (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | M)

The past three years have been a series of shocking, or not so shocking, successes for 2018 Tony award winner and two time Grammy nominee, Stiles Stilinski. You don’t typically find classically trained opera singers singing alternative folk rock to crowds at Coachella. Nor do you find indie singer/songwriters winning best actor awards at the Tony’s for their Broadway debuts. Stilinski has made it his lifetime habit to defy and exceed all expectations.

-or-

A Steter fic loosely based on Phantom of the Opera

~

Full Circle by Nike Femme (FMA | Roy x Ed | T)

Edward Elric returns with amnesia. He has lived the past four years as Auric, a Gatekeeper. But there are some battles that only he can fight. Will his friends be able to awaken Ed, and what happens to Auric if they do?

A Fic That Inspires You:

Off the Line by esama (FFVII | Cloud x Vincent | T)

In which Cloud gets a Virtual Reality Dream Console – ShinRa's latest in virtual reality technology. Aaand everything pretty much goes downhill from there.

A Fic That Brought You On Board A New Ship:

Me and Mine by linndechir (Fast and the Furious | Deckard x Owen | E)

The last time they'd spoken, Deckard had told Owen that he was tired of cleaning up his messes. But the first thing he did after breaking out of prison was to take Owen to the other end of the world so they could lick their wounds and start planning their revenge.

A Fic You Wish Could Be A Movie:

Moving In (To Every Single Aspect of Danny’s Life, Including the Boring Bits like Dry-Cleaning) by westgirl (Hawaii Five-0 | Steve x Danny | T)

It felt wrong for Steve to sound unsure of his place in Danny’s life. His place in Danny’s life was at Danny’s side, driving him slowly insane. Steve should feel secure about that.

A Fic That Led To You Making Friends With The Author:

Begin and End by Rikkamaru (Log Horizon x HP | G)

This is how it begins: a boy rejected by his family, a boy reunited with his brother by his sister-in-law's intervention. A boy who found a family in an online game. But how will it end?

FREE SPACE:

Reverti Ad Praeteritum by Batsutousai (Fullmetal Alchemist | Roy x Edward | M)

Unwillingly forced to serve as a human trial for a crazy alchemist experimenting with time travel, Edward Elric finds himself standing across from Truth in the moment it takes his leg from him. Armed with the knowledge of what's to come and burdened with guilt for the choices he'd made as an adult, Ed sets out to fix every mistake he ever made and save every life they ever lost, no matter what it takes.

A Fic You’ve Gushed About IRL:

Designation: Miracle by umisabaku (Kuroko no Basket | M)

It's been three years since seven human experiments, called "Miracles," escaped Teiko Industries, alerting the world to the presence of super-powered children. Now they're finally integrating into society-- going to normal high schools, playing basketball, falling in love-- and trying to find out if it's possible to truly escape their past.

A Fic You Associate With A Place (have to self-rec for this one):

Safe Harbour by cywscross (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles x Chris | T)

Peter didn't think he'd find a home here. He certainly didn't think he'd find a home with two other men.

Chris and Stiles prove him wrong.

A Fic That Made You Gasp Out Loud (kind of? it was suspenseful):

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | E)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

A Fic You Found At The Right Time:

slow increments by Areiton (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles)

Peter is enigmatic, egotistical, sometimes barely sane. He's sharp and cutting and takes more time to care for the pack than anyone.And sometimes, John catches him watching Stiles.

A Fic That You Would Read Fic Of:

if you try to break me, you will bleed by Dialux (Game of Thrones | Jon x Sansa | T)

It had been a slash across her chest from a White Walker’s sword that finally ended her life. Sansa’d landed in a puddle of her own blood, and she’d died quickly, quietly.

And then she’d awoken with a gasp, trembling, in a bed that had burned under Theon’s betrayal.

A Fic That Made You Laugh Out Loud:

The Path towards Unwilling Godhood by Sky_King (Bleach | Kisuke x Ichigo | G)

Ichigo has never had the most normal life, and this latest chapter of it is no different.

"I'm not a god!"

A Fic With A Line (Or Two) That You’ve Memorized By Heart:

Atlas by distractedKat (Star Trek | Spock x Jim | T)

Between what was and what will be stands James Tiberius Kirk, in all his fractured patchwork glory. Because saving the Federation was only the beginning.

A Fic That Gave You Butterflies:

The Rest of Our Lives by mia6363 (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

“I don’t know, as a kid I watched a lot of movies, you know? And at first I figured like… I’d be on some great adventure that would take me away from it all, you know? Like Indiana Jones comes around and is all, ‘Hey Stiles, buddy, come with me we’ve got to go save the world.’ Then… you and… everything happened… then I just… I figured I’d die before I was eighteen.”

A Fic That Embodies Something You Value In Life:

The Boy Sleuth by Shey (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles is eight when he discovers a box of his mom’s old Nancy Drew Mysteries in the back of the guest bedroom closet.

A Favourite AU:

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | M)

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

A Fic You Stayed Up Too Late To Finish Reading:

Of Dwobbits, Dragons and Dwarves by ISeeFire (The Hobbit | Fem!Bilbo x Fili | T)

Bilba has been a slave her entire life. All she knows of the outside world is what she sees from time to time outside the gates of Moria and the stories her mother used to tell her. Stories of a place called the Shire where her mother once lived and a placed called Erebor where, as far as she knows, her father still lives. Stories of dragons a thousand times larger, and more intelligent, than the beasts the orcs rode and of a strange concept called freedom where one was allowed to live as they wished with no one to tell them what they could, or could not do.

The stories meant little to Bilba. The only future she had was to live, and die, as a slave as countless number had before her.

And then the orcs dragged an injured female firedrake through the gates, her rider screaming obscenities behind her as he fought to reach her side...and everything changed.

A Fic That Made You Feel Seen (another self-rec lol):

i am addicted to death (so remind me what it’s like to live) by cywscross (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles is sixteen years old. He has already died seventy-eight times.

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 36

AO3 link here

On the first day of his practicum, Nate falls in love.

Not truly or entirely, not yet, but enough that when he looks back he’ll be able to pinpoint the moment.

He’s getting his orientation, trying to take in all the information flowing out of Janice, his supervisor, even as he keeps part of his mind on memorizing the layout of the senior home. It’s not an overly fancy place but it is large, the building and grounds clearly repurposed from some rambling former life. Most importantly, though, there are enough windows to let in the sun, they’ve actually managed to do something about the usual smell of medication and age, and the staff smiles at the residents and at each other.

He’s already met a couple dozen people today, finger-spelling their names inside his pockets to try to cement them into his memory, though he has no idea how many he’ll actually remember by the end of the day.

“Oh, let’s go say hello to Eleanor,” Janice says as they pass the third floor lounge. Nate nods, even if he had been slightly glad that they seemed ready to move onto the last floor until whatever window glimpse had pulled Janice in.

“Eleanor is actually the reason you’re here in the first place,” Janice says, glancing over her shoulder at him as she opens the door. “She started as a volunteer all the way back when she was a freshman at UVA, but when she finished her masters we were able to scoop her up as our new assistant director. She applied to have us as a placement for the art therapy program and luckily we were accepted and were able to bring you in.”

The room is partly full - a trio playing cards, a man drifting off and startling himself back awake in front of an afternoon soap opera - but it’s obvious which one is Eleanor. She wears her deep brown hair in a glossy twist and that’s what he sees first. She’s talking to an elderly woman in an armchair, crouched down and balancing on her heels despite her black pencil skirt and businesslike ice blue blouse.

“—make sure it’s all set up for you,” she is saying as they come over, and the old woman gives an apprehensive nod. Eleanor pats her hand and starts to stand, but the woman takes her fingers and grips them.

“I promise,” Eleanor says with firm compassion, kneeling back down and bringing her other hand over to grip back. “I’ll make sure.” Finally the woman lets Eleanor stand, and Janice moves to greet her, trusting Nate to follow.

“Mrs. Lasko is worried that the staff at her former facility didn’t let the listening book library know that her address has changed. Her supply of cassettes is running low and she’s getting a bit nervous.” Eleanor’s voice is low and hoarse, but not harsh; it’s just as if she’s sort of whispering. Even so, she sounds businesslike and her gaze meets Janice’s directly. She’s probably around Nate’s age, no more than two years older. “I’m going to call over and make sure that it’s been updated.”

“Wonderful. Eleanor, I just wanted to introduce the newest member of the activities department, the art therapy student we were bringing in?”

“Eleanor Grey,” she says, holding out her hand. “Welcome.”

He shakes. Though he’s never had a problem making eye contact before, her eyes are particularly penetrating. “Eleanor,” he says. “Hello. It’s good to meet you. I’m Nate Carter.”

Wednesday night, he finds himself staying late to help with the game night that is apparently run monthly.

“Not exactly your purview, but if you wanting to make a good impression gets me home earlier, I have no complaints,” Janice teases as she packs her bag at precisely five minutes to five. He doesn’t mention that the thought of making a good impression has only now crossed his mind. “Just don’t forget that these folks might look sweet, but they’ll do almost anything to win at Bingo.”

Luckily, Bingo isn’t actually on the schedule tonight. He and Eleanor work quietly beside each other making sure that the decks of cards and sets of checkers are complete, and that particular numbers of chairs are set up around the Scrabble and Clue boards.

“Mr. Feeney isn’t allowed to play Trivial Pursuit anymore,” Eleanor warns just before they open the doors. “He’s memorized all the answers, and last time it nearly caused a riot.”

“Anything else I should know just now?” Nate asks, raising an eyebrow, because they can hear the clamor of the crowd right outside. It’s now almost 7:01.

She smiles at him, the first time he’s seen it from her: a little smirk that turns into a full grin, creasing her eyes at the corners. “Have fun.”

And when he looks over at her throughout the evening, she is having fun: explaining the rules of Uno with endless patience and laughing at the vindictiveness with which the players use Wild Draw 4 and Skip cards, going to change out the music with Mrs. Andretti’s advice and then taking the old woman’s hands for a short waltz.

She’s been so serious in their interactions so far, and he appreciates that professionalism and care as a colleague. But if coming to game night means he’ll get to see this side of her, the smiling, loose-shouldered side, he’ll be back for game night next month too.

His new apartment isn’t particularly large and it’s up two flights of worn stairs, but the grocery store is only a block over. He goes there Friday night after work, bypassing the busier bars and restaurants as he does. Pushing his cart to the end of the aisle, trying to decide whether he should try raspberry jam instead of his usual strawberry, he turns the corner to find Eleanor there. She’s in loose jeans and a fuzzy striped sweater instead of her neat work clothes, consulting a grocery list. Through the paper, he can see her neat looped handwriting, the meticulous check marks beside each acquired item.

He’s surprised to see her - she so often works late, and he didn’t even know she lived around here. They exchange pleasantries, comparing addresses (her place is about three blocks away from the store, but in the opposite direction from his) and impressions of the neighborhood.

It’s strange, he thinks. Two weeks ago, I would have just passed her without thinking twice and now I can’t stop noticing.

“You’ve been in the area more than a month now. I wonder how many times we’ve passed each other without even realizing it,” she says, and then looks a little embarrassed. “Sorry if that was a bit strange.”

“No,” he says quietly. “I was just thinking the same thing.” He moves aside to allow another shopper to pass, realizing that they’ve positioned themselves fairly awkwardly along the aisle cap.

“Eleanor,” he asks, realizing that they don’t have much more time before they need to start moving on. “I was planning on having some people over for brunch tomorrow morning. Trying to get to know my neighbors now that I don’t have any more moving boxes around for them to trip over. I know we’re not exactly neighbors, but do you want to join us?”

He can see a swift, awkward panic in her eyes. He takes a step back. “Only if you want to,” he adds. “It would be around eleven, and very casual. Just drop by if you want to, have some pancakes, leave when you’re ready.”

“I’m an early riser,” she says after a pause. “Eleven would be more like lunch for me. But I’d be glad to come.”

He grins. “It really will be breakfast for me - hence the pancakes - but I’ll be glad to have you.”

“Any plans for Thanksgiving?” Nate asks absently a month later. His long legs are extended in front of him and he considers the half sandwich remaining in its wrapping as he stretches his cramped, charcoal-stained fingers. He had wondered whether choosing something involving art as a career would stop him from enjoying it as a hobbyist, but that hasn’t proven to be the case. Several weeks ago, when Eleanor had found him eating lunch in a stairwell, trying to get a break from the good-natured but constant chatter in the staff room and the office he shares with Janice and the others on the activities staff, she had invited him to eat in her office and he’d come gratefully with his lunch bag in one hand and a book in the other. But as the weeks have gone on, he’s started bringing a sketchpad instead, taking advantage of the peace and space offered by the room in order to experiment with media and technique in a way he hasn’t in a while.

Eleanor still prefers books, taking bites between turned pages. Even now, she repeats “Thanksgiving?” a little vacantly, as if she’s only half heard it, swimming her way back up as she finishes her page. (She’s reading a lengthy biography of Rosalind Franklin, the late Nobel Prize winning scientist. Her taste tends toward dense biographies of women throughout history, or sometimes books about music.) “My plan is essentially to do this,” she says, mouth tipping upward at the corners as she hefts the book. “St. Louis is a little far for just a few days, so I’ll help with the holiday lunch here and then go relax at home.”

“You could,” he says, looking up at her, “come to my family’s place.” He knows that she started volunteering with the elderly back in Missouri - her grandparents (“two mean old clams”) had been put in a care home when she was a teenager and when she went to visit them, she was adopted by the other, kinder residents - and considers most of those that she’s met and cared for surrogate family. He adds, “We eat on the later side, around 6, so you’d have time to see everyone here first.”

“That’s very nice of you to offer,” she says, placing her book squarely on her desk and folding her hands on top of it like birds wings. “But I couldn’t disrupt your holiday like that. I’m sure your family doesn’t need to try to squeeze in a stranger.”

“Actually, my father would probably never forgive me if he thought I hadn’t offered,” says Nate truthfully. “And we’ll be hosting everyone, my sisters, my cousins, so it’s already a couple dozen people, and no trouble to add another chair. As long as you don’t mind talking to a bunch of opinionated people - and from what I’ve seen so far from your discussions with the people around here, you don’t - I think you would have a pretty good time.”

For a moment he thinks she will politely decline, thrown off by the sudden and strange invitation, and as he prepares for the words, he realizes how much he does not want her to say no.

And she doesn’t.

“So,” Rose says, eyeing him keenly from the passenger seat as he navigates the road to their parents’ house. She’d had to work until that last minute and only came into Union Station earlier today. She’d been fairly crabby on arrival because the Amtrak was apparently packed full of people arriving for last minute holiday meals, and only became crabbier when Nate refused to let her drive (“Come on, I never have a chance to do it in the city!” “Lucky for the city.”). But she’s apparently settled as she starts in on the family gossip. “I hear you’re bringing someone.”

“Just a friend who didn’t have other plans. She’s just about my boss," Nate says patiently, eyes on the road, even though Janice is his boss, and Eleanor’s boss Cheryl is Janice’s boss too. “Her name is Eleanor.”

Rose says, “Oh, Nate and Nora, hmmm?” Her voice trails teasingly upward.

“She goes by Eleanor, not Nora,” he tells her, and then adds, with compulsive honesty, “Well, sometimes I call her El.”

It had slipped out one day at work - “Thanks, El” when she told him in passing in the hallway that the staff meeting time had changed, and when he’d caught himself and apologized she had told him after a pause that though she had never gone by a nickname, it didn’t bother her.

Rose looks at him as if she can see the memory on his face. She raises a considering eyebrow. “Alright. Eleanor,” is all she says.

The house is already overflowing - Nate’s parents and sisters, three Barnes children along with their spouses and kids, the Starks and Jarvises who arrived that afternoon - by the time Eleanor rings the doorbell. (She’d chosen to drive herself, probably so she could leave if things were too awkward.) Nate’s mother answers it.

“Come in, please,” she says, ushering Eleanor through the door.

“Thank you so much for having me,” Eleanor says, presenting a bottle of wine because Nate had told her firmly that there would already be far too much food. (Nate doesn’t know anything about wine - that he can identify not only red and white but rosé as well is about the extent of it - but Mom knows these things and Nate can see that she approves.) Eleanor wears a long, silky looking dress, brownish red with little yellow flowers. It’s fairly frumpy and doesn’t necessarily flatter her coloring. Nate keeps finding his eyes drawn to her.

He had worried, after inviting her, that she might be scared off by his large, loud family, all the names to learn, the long histories which she would have no background in. But she fits with ease, introducing herself to his parents with quiet and heartfelt thanks, making conversation in limited ASL with Emma about her advocacy work on Deaf underemployment, talking to Aunt Violet about crochet (apparently one of the residents had taught her; Aunt Vi professes herself glad to find a fellow crocheter considering Aunt Josie’s preferred hobby is rug hooking - “I think everyone on our block has one of her rugs and good thing too or our apartment would be overflowing with them”), discussing some allegedly famous soprano with Aunt Maria, the Franklin biography with Uncle Howard and Aunt Layla. She keeps trying to stand and help in the kitchen while Nate’s mother and sisters insist that she should relax. Nate’s father eventually lets her hand around dessert plates and forks, and she gives him a grateful smile at being able to contribute something. She’s certainly no artist but when they play pictionary after dinner she takes it as seriously as the rest of them do, and Nate feels himself attuned to the firm, focused, particular sound of her voice cutting through the clamor with a sure guess.

As the little ones, Jimmy and Baby’s kids, start getting cranky and everyone tries to soothe them, Nate finds Eleanor looking at the triptych of paintings on the living room wall. The first shows the sky at dawn, the next at sunrise, and the third with the sun fully risen. Nate can see the flaws in them now, the different techniques and colors he might have used, but he still likes them anyway.

“Your father said he painted,” Eleanor says as Nate comes up behind her shoulder. “Are these some of his?”

“Oh,” says Nate. “They’re actually mine. But I made them because of my dad’s—Here, I’ll show you.”

He takes her up to his bedroom, snapping on the lamp on the desk and finding himself struck a little sadly by the light filter of dust over the remaining things here. Eleanor walks in behind him, spotting the series lined up above his bed and going over to look. It shows the moon in different phases, over and through trees that are clearly the ones in the yard. He’d never thought to bring them with him when he moved out - not because he didn’t love them, but because they belonged here.

“When we moved to this house, I said I was sad that I wouldn’t get to fall asleep seeing the moon out the window,” Nate tells her as she examines the paintings. “The master bedroom is the only one that faces the right way. So Dad made me these. And I made the ones downstairs for him.”

“How lovely,” she says. He can’t quite see her face in only the dim lamp light. “And how lucky.” And he feels among skin and bone the rightness of her words.

No one comes up to Nate as the evening draws to a close and tells him that they’re glad he brought her or that he’s fortunate to be able to work with her. Maybe they can see, the way he can, how she just fits there.

On a Tuesday night in December, sitting with a beer he’s hardly been drinking, he calls home.

“Hello?” His dad picks up, voice so familiar that Nate closes his eyes hearing it. He suddenly feels as if he can smell the particular scent of his childhood home, the one that he can’t replicate anywhere and which is instantly recognizable when he experiences it again.

“Hi, Dad,” he says.

“Hey, kid.” There’s a moment of quiet and he can make out the sound of water in the background, can picture Dad washing the dinner dishes, phone held against his shoulder, the cord stretching across the kitchen to the sink. Finally, Dad asks, “How are things?”

And Nate is so grateful that he does not ask why he’s calling tonight when they’ve just had their regular phone call two days ago. Rose would get suspicious, Drea would jump to asking what was wrong, Emma (now that he finally has his TTY hooked up right) would try to wait him out, and with every word Mom said, no matter how innocuous, he would know that she was trying to pry it out of him. With Dad, he gets the opportunity to at least pretend for a while.

“How are things there?” he asks instead, allowing his father’s words to flow over him: they've gotten all their things packed to move to the place they found in Cambridge; they have to be up there in a couple of weeks. Mom has space in her schedule later this week so they’ll be meeting the travel agent then to start planning for their next trip abroad. One of the kids in his current caseload need a lot of support - no details; Dad’s discreet - but they've been seeing some good bonding progress between him and the replacement caseworker.

“We had Elaine over for dinner to say goodbye before the semester starts,” Dad says. “She just left.” Nate thinks of that carefully dressed older woman, a friend of his parents from before he was born. Her husband had died pretty young, a heart attack in his forties, and she’d been left without much of a way to support herself so Mom had helped her get a government job as a translator - she had apparently majored in French in college and kept up in French conversational groups. She’d come over to their place for dinner every so often through the years once they’d moved back to the DC area, always bringing an apple crumble and making quietly sharp jokes.

“She was telling us about a friend of hers who is trying video dating. It sounds like something of a nightmare, to be honest.” Dad has always been pretty technologically savvy, able to work new gadgets in ways that Nate’s seen his friends parents give up on (probably a result of knowing Uncle Howard for so long). Still, he’s always appreciated a more human connection.

“I’m not looking to try any time soon,” Nate says, running an idle thumb around the mouth of his beer. And then, because his parents raised him to be brave, he asks, “When did you know that you were in love with Mom?”

“Well.” There’s the clink of silverware being placed into the dish drainer, the sound of the water being shut off. “I think it’s something I learn and remember every day.”

“No, I mean—I guess I mean when did you know that you could be in love with her?”

His father is smiling, just a little. Nate can hear it. “Sometimes I think it was the first minute, all the way back at boot camp. She came over - perfect hair, uniform, all that easy confidence - and decked a guy for getting fresh with her. It didn’t improve his personality much - won me over, though. Not that anything happened for a good while after that, but moments like those are seeds.”

Nate thinks of the way just the words “I promise” or “I’ll take care of it” from Eleanor settles the most agitated residents. He thinks of her smiling during game night, speaking with endless compassion when families come to collect their relatives’ effects, arriving early and singing softly to herself in her office as she prepares for meetings. Her voice sounds the way it does from a paralyzed vocal cord that she’s had since she was a kid, but it never stops her from talking or making herself heard, even knowing that people will comment on it. When she reads, she runs a thumb over her mouth without even seeming to notice. She had come to brunch that first time with flowers, bright roses, and alstroemeria, and asters, and although based on her reaction to the invitation he had expected her to leave as quickly as possible, she had talked to nearly everyone. Conversed with, really, he corrects himself, listening carefully and asking questions. When his eyes had found her, hers never seemed to find him, too focused on the person she was speaking with. As people filtered out, he found her tidying up, collecting dirty dishes. When he told her he could do it, she asked, “Alright, so what else can I do to help?”

He remembers the way she seemed to belong so easily among his family. He thinks about how, as he fell asleep that night, he found himself thinking about her being there again next year and had to remind himself that there was no real reason she would be.

He’s had crushes before, the fizzy feeling of everything in you being drawn to one person, like they suddenly took up extra space in your vision. There was Jana Charles in junior high with her matching headbands for each outfit; Patty O’Neil whose name was always written neatly above his on the checkout cards in the school library; Gary Price, the good-looking third baseman, a senior when Nate had been a freshman; Donna Myerson who he’d once seen playing bass in her garage and thought about for months afterward before he asked her to prom; Ted the pharmacist at the drugstore near the GW campus, round glasses and brown hair that was just the right amount of too long, deep-voiced and patient and precise as he explained dosages and side effects. He’s gone on dates, had a couple of girlfriends, had sex before. But nothing has ever felt like this, as if each little moment is not something to look back on with old and retired fondness, a nostalgia at his younger and more naive self, but as part of a greater story.

“Seeds, huh?” he says.

“The thing about seeds,” says his father the gardener, “is that you should try planting them. See what happens.”

He finishes his practicum two weeks later, has officially earned his master’s two weeks after that. The last week of January, he comes back for one final game night and to deliver thank you notes to the staff.

“I think you’re going to be a great art therapist,” Eleanor says when it’s just the two of them collecting dropped game pieces and dirty cups from the flat ginger ale and cola they’d served. “Whether you end up working with seniors or not, I think you’ll do amazing things and I’m very glad I got a chance to meet you and see you work, at least for a little while.” She gives him a small, warm smile over her shoulder; her hair, which he’s heard her describe to a new, newly blind resident who’d asked as “plain-Jane brown,” is down tonight, falling in a straight, thick sheet down past her shoulders. “Lunchtime will be much quieter.”

He almost laughs a little - one of the things that he’s liked best about their lunches in her office is how easy it is to sit in mostly silence with her - but instead he finds himself saying, “We might still catch each other in the grocery store.”

“Your apartment’s on my running route, so if you’re ever up early enough I can wave as I go by,” she offers.

“Or—” He clears his throat. “Would it be okay if I took you for dinner some night? I’d like to—I’d like to see you on purpose.”

“Oh.” She sounds surprised, looks down at her own hands as they slide a deck of cards into a soft-edged box. “I didn’t think—That is, you’re such a nice person and I’m—I thought you would want someone who was a bit more outgoing. Someone friendlier.”

“I don’t think you have to be any more outgoing than you are,” he says honestly. “And I think you’re friendly - and, more importantly, a very good friend to those lucky enough to have you. So if being friends is what you want, I’ll be grateful for it. But if you might want to try something more…”

He does not realize that he was holding his breath until she after she has looked up and answered yes.

“Drea says hi.” As he hangs up the phone, Nate shifts a little and rests his head atop Eleanor’s where it rests on his shoulder.

She glances up with a smile, finger poised to turn the page of the hefty book she’s reading on the life of Marie Antoinette. “That’s nice of her. Tell her hello from me next time you talk.” She selects a salt and vinegar chip from the bag on the end table, asking, “How is she doing?” before she places it on her tongue. (She’s started liking them so much recently that last time he went shopping he picked up a couple of bags to keep at his place.)

“She didn’t actually say anything, but I think she might have met someone,” Nate says thoughtfully.

“What makes you say that?”

“I asked about the new condo and she kept starting to say things and then not finishing them. Maybe she has a cute neighbor?”

Eleanor eats another chip. “That would be nice. It’s always good to have a cute neighbor. I should know.” She gives him a quick poke in the side, right below his ribs, where he’s ticklish.

His shoulders shift with laughter for a second as he flinches away. Then he says, more slowly, “She also said she heard from Libby that we’ll be going to Brooklyn for Thanksgiving next month. Almost everyone is closer to there this year anyway. If you can make it, I think everyone would like to see you again. I know I’d like it if you came.”

By now Nate knows that it’s not the distance from St. Louis that keeps Eleanor from going back, it’s the distance from the people there. Her parents had been killed in a car accident when she was thirteen and she had gone to live with an older uncle and aunt after that. “I never felt that I needed to live up to something,” she had told him the first time they had talked about it. “As far as I know, they chose not to have children, and it was because they didn’t really like them. They wouldn’t have been happier with a different sort of kid, someone athletic or popular; they wouldn’t have been happy with anyone. So I knew that it wasn’t me, but that didn’t really make it any easier growing up there.”

Since she came to Virginia for college they’d essentially lost touch, each side relatively satisfied with brief phone calls once or twice a year. She spends holidays at work, with friends, or alone, and he knows that it makes sense to ask her if she wants to come with him, knows that she came last year just as a friend of his and it doesn’t have to mean more. But he also knows that it’s a particular step to ask her now that they’re in a relationship.

“I’d love to,” she says simply, and drags the afghan she’d given him over the two of them.

But when Thanksgiving comes, Eleanor seems off somehow. She doesn’t speak very much on the drive up to Brooklyn or as they see everyone over at Baby’s place on Wednesday night; the quiet isn’t unusual for her, but it’s without the comfort he’s found in their silences in the past, lacking the careful and noticeable attention she typically has in conversation.

“Are you okay?” he leans over to ask during Thanksgiving dinner. She nods but her attention is on the remains of her small portion of food. She'd been talking just enough that her mood wasn't obvious (and there's enough going on this year between everyone meeting Emma and Eric's new baby, Aunt Maria and Uncle Howard's anniversary, Libby starting medical school, and Tony gleefully recounting the story of his and Drea's arrest to distract everyone) but he can still see the strangeness in her.

He thinks that she would have told him if she had changed her mind and would rather not have come, or if something happened at work - as much as she prepares herself, sometimes the loss of a resident can push her into herself - but he wants to offer the opportunity if she needs it. After they've eaten, instead of joining everyone for the traditional games, he excuses the two of them to go on a walk to "show Eleanor the neighborhood." As they fall into step beside each other, heading toward the park a few blocks away from the house, Nate does not take her hand. He feels a little lopsided and odd as he puts his into his pockets; over the past few months, walking with fingers intertwined has become reflexive. But it's obvious that she needs space, so he does not touch her, doesn't say anything until they've reached the park.

He gestures to a bench and they sit. It's cold under them, even through jackets. He'd forgotten what New York was like in November.

"El," he asks seriously, breath leaving a shadow in the air. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"

She looks around at the dark playground equipment. For a moment he isn't sure she is going to answer. Then she says, "Your family, they really seem to love you a lot." She shifts her shoulders in tightly, bracing - from the cold? "Do you think there's anything you could do that would make them stop?"

His first instinct is to say of course there must be. They're good people but not saints, so there must be limits. His next instinct is that of course there aren't: he has known since the time of memory that he was loved solidly and without restraint. If he had dropped out of school or gotten addicted to something or brought home a man instead of Eleanor - none of that would have changed things.

He thinks about it. Finally he says, "If there was something major - if I became a human trafficker, if I raped someone, or killed someone who didn't deserve it - I don't know that they would love me the same way. But I think they still would somehow, and I don't think they would give up on me."

She seems a little taken aback at his answer, or perhaps that he actually took the question seriously enough to answer at all. "Only if you killed someone who didn't deserve it? Not killing in general?"

"They fought a war," he reminds her. "My parents, Uncle Bucky, Uncle Howard too, though I don't think he was actually in the field much." They don't talk about the fact that mom and dad have both likely killed people - and for his mom, he isn't entirely certain that it was forty years ago. But it's been in the background his whole life, as his mother and Uncle Bucky rehashed decades-old sharpshooting contests, when they made fun of his dad for some foolhardy battle plan ("It worked, didn't it?" he would ask them grumpily when they teased him). All of that was simply known.

Eleanor takes it in, seeming to adjust her calculus of his family. She shifts beside him. "My family isn't really like yours at all," she says in a low voice. "They aren't—They don't—" It's as if she's perched on a precipice. He has to truly hold himself back now from taking her hand - to help her step forward or move herself protectively back, he doesn't know. Finally she says, "I went to the doctor just before we left. I'm pregnant. And I think I want to keep the baby."

He catches in a breath, and it’s as if there’s an extra bit of air in his lungs that he’s just now finding, as if he’s never breathed quite as deeply before as he does now. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. We’ll be okay.”

They had discussed moving in together before: they’ve been spending most of their free time together for months and it doesn’t entirely make sense to keep separate apartments mere blocks away from each other. But it becomes a reality more quickly than they had initially expected. That’s only one of the things they need to start planning and preparing and pro-conning. Eleanor has already passed through the first trimester without truly realizing it, and feels as if she needs to catch up. Between comparing vitamins, laying out a shared budget including the additional expenses, talking to her supervisor about maternity leave, considering childcare afterward...telling his family becomes only another of the strange new things that they’re taking on these days.

Everyone is as excited as he expected them to be, though as they leave the restaurant where they’d been meeting with Nate’s parents, he can see Eleanor lose some of the tension in her posture.

“I’m not really used to all of this,” she admits later. He can’t see her expression - she’s facedown on the bed as he massages her lower back; she’s been having some pain there recently. “I know my parents loved me, but then I got...inherited, I suppose, by people who just did their duty, tolerated me.” This part of her was why she hadn’t wanted to get married simply because they were having a baby, regardless of what people might think. (“I’ve already spent too much of my life feeling that people were in my life only because it was the right thing to do,” she’d said. “I’m not worried about us, but I’ll know when it’s right for me.”)

They listen to the rain outside. Her voice, when she spoke again, was very soft, and not only because it was muffled in the bedclothes. “It’s different, thinking that there are people who care about me this much.”

“You deserve that,” he says with quiet vehemence, and presses his hands against her skin like love.

At the first doctor’s appointment, they’re meant to fill out all sorts of forms about each of their family medical history.

Nate was never academic the way Drea is, never a brilliant student in spite of not being so like Rose. He was solid B-pluses through school and never bothered by that. Watching Eleanor’s flowing pen, seeing the blanks he is forced to leave on his own page, is the first time he has had this sort of feeling of failure.

The doctor doesn’t seem overly troubled by it, simply nodding when he says, “I was adopted,” as he hands over his empty paperwork, and moving on. The things he could tell her about his family - that Rosie is allergic to penicillin, that he never met his mother’s father because he died of heart failure long before Nate was born - have no impact here.

He knows that their child will get to be a part of a tremendous extended family. But he sits uneasy with the thought that he will leave them in the dark about their biological background, that one day they will sit with a form like this and not know the answers either.

Emma’s cafe is local, and she had mentioned that she would be experimenting with pie, so he stops there first. She’s doing a million things at once: nursing baby Will, looking over the inventory, writing out her yearly update for Uncle Howard (a Deaf woman with a BA but no experience trying to enter the risky restaurant business, she had had a difficult time getting a traditional small business loan, and so had taken her prospectus and gone to Howard instead. He probably didn’t even remember that he’d loaned her the money, but Em deposited prompt monthly payments and insisted on writing an official year-end summary for him as an investor). As they talk, he ends up folding a pile of clean clothes that she had jammed into the baby bag, pairing little socks and turning endless onesies right side out.

“Did you ever think,” he asks, “about trying to find your birth family?”

“No,” she says immediately, and he’s surprised by the vehemence there, and that Will continues dozily eating even as she snaps her fingers shut over his fragile head. But her next words are slower. He can tell that she’s thought about it before. “I never wanted to. They chose - decided to give me away. Maybe I would have a better life. Maybe not. My life is better but they didn’t know that. They just did it because it would make their life easier.” She shrugs, running a finger lightly over Will’s soft, sparse hair like a worry stone. “They didn’t want me. I don’t want them. And if they ever found me I would show them my life and tell them that.”

Nate tucks a couple of socks together in a ball and nods. He doesn’t dig deeper.

When he asks Rosie if she would ever go looking, she surprises him. “I don’t know,” she tells him, voice over the phone like she’s winding the cord around her finger.

“Why?” he asks, because Rose has always seemed so sure of everything.

“Because I think it would make me angry,” she says simply. “I don’t remember anything from that part of my life. I barely remember anything from before Mom and Dad took me home. But the way that I was when they did, how long it took for me feel safe...Maybe all of that was from being separated from my family, from being a little kid in the system, but if it was I’d be mad that there wasn’t anyone to stop that from happening to me. And if it was from something that happened before, I don’t know if I could ever forgive them.”

He thinks that she is finished. He almost starts to speak. Then she adds, “Only, sometimes, I think about the possibility of having other siblings out there - a brother or sister who was a little kid too and maybe just barely remembers me, or someone out there who wasn’t born until after it all. How would I feel if that were me?” She takes in a sigh, lets it out in increments. It’s one of those tricks that Dad taught her, the kind she hasn’t used, as far as he knows, in a long time.

“Mom and Dad would give me whatever information they have if I asked, but I don’t know that I ever would. Maybe someday, you know?” And she changes the topic to ask about the new position he’s just taken at a school for at-risk youth.

It’s a long time before he finds himself able to ask Drea. They still talk every week, but each time they do, he lets her hang up without mentioning anything. Months go by as he settles in at work, learns that Eleanor likes her toast burned black and has a videotape of The Sound of Music which she watches when she’s sad, lies in bed with her chilly, clammy feet pressed against him while they debate baby names. He starts to see the shape of the new life he will have laid out before him. He finds himself afraid of disrupting it.

By the time he manages to ask, it is spring. Eleanor has, after a long while of vague thickening around the middle and slight but noticeable rounding of the face, suddenly begun to show quite dramatically.

“That baby probably just remembered who their dad is,” Drea teases when he describes it for her. “It needs room while it grows stringbean limbs like ours.”

He laughs, and before he’s really decided to say anything he asks, “Would you ever want to try to find what happened to our family? Our first family?”

His sister holds so close to her heart the memories she has of their birth parents. She’s told him that they called them Mama and Papa, that their mother had dark, dramatically plucked eyebrows and would tuck the covers up tight under their chins and sing lullabies in Italian to them every night, that Papa let them feed the birds outside the kitchen window with the crumbs from breakfast and brought home a cream horn for each of them on Fridays. He knows that she’s wondered what it would have been like if their parents hadn’t died. And he knows, the way she surely does, that they might not necessarily have been better for it. When he thinks of the two of them growing up with parents other than Mom and Dad, or considers what would have happened had there been some grandparents or neighbors who stepped in, it gives him a cold, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing what would likely have happened to Drea, that he might not know the sister he does today if things hadn’t gone as they did.

The quiet after his question has such depth, but Nate has never been afraid of quiet like that. He waits. Finally Drea says, “Part of me has always wanted to. And part of me knows that it probably wouldn’t go how I’d want it to. They’d be expecting someone else and they’d be...disappointed at who I turned out to be.” She makes a little coughing sound. “You could try to find them. If you wanted.”

“No,” he says, and what surprises him most is how unsurprised he finds himself at the answer after all these months of considering it. “I don’t think I want to search for anyone who’d be disappointed in you.”

“I know you probably want the baby to know about that part of them,” she says, because she knows him well. “You want to give them some idea of where they come from.”

“They’ll come from me,” he says simply. “They’ll come from me and from El, and maybe they’ll have to learn that I can’t give them all the answers, but I can give them love, and the best family in the world. The best aunt in the world.”

“Best aunts in the world,” she says with a quiet sniffle, “or Rosie will kill you.” Which he knows means that she loves him too.

The baby is born at 4:47 in the morning on the first Tuesday in June.

El had been good all the previous day, listening to the doctor and staying home as the contractions grew closer and closer together. Nate had stayed home with her, not trying to distract her because there wasn’t really a distraction from the encompassing pain and the nerves, just as a presence. When they drove to the hospital around 2 A.M. it was so quiet and still and Eleanor had looked out the window, let out a slow and shaky breath as a contraction trailed off, and said, “I hope this world is good enough for this baby.”

“We’ll make it that way,” Nate told her, and took her hand.

The labor and delivery floor was busy when they arrived - apparently plenty of these babies were night owls too - and they needed to wait while a bed freed up. When they finally got Eleanor into a gown and settled, the doctor popped in (not the obstetrician they’d wanted, who was apparently on another delivery, but the on-call doctor), checked Eleanor, said, “Wow, won’t be long now, huh?” and patted her foot.

He’s right. It’s barely an hour before the doctor says, “One more push!” and Eleanor grips Nate’s fingers and pants, “Oh! Oh, it hurts,” and then there is a crying released into the room.

For all the flurry of activity, Nate’s mind goes very still, taking everything in without entirely being a part of it. The nurses swoop in for the baby, wrapping and cleaning a bit, calling out numbers back and forth, before they lay the whole bundle on Eleanor’s chest. She strokes a finger on the crying cheek, crumpled and the newest thing in the world, and says, “Hello there.”

The doctor is cutting the cord, still talking about delivering the placenta, and someone is asking for the exact time. After a few minutes, one of the nurses comes over and says that they need to take a look at the baby, “Just a quick weigh and to get him dressed, dear, then we might try feeding.”

“Wait.” His voice is hoarse and quiet, so Nate says again, “Wait. I’d like to hold him, please.” The nurse raises a slightly disapproving eyebrow, but she walks his side of the bed and passes the baby to him.

Soon, this small, visceral person in his arms will have a name: Lucas Rogers Carter. One day he will press his face against the window every day watching for the mail truck and cry on Sundays, he will walk down the aisle the day his parents finally choose to get married, he will beg for a dog, he will have a sister, he will be as big a baseball fan as his grandfather and his aunt Drea, he will shy away from heights and be fascinated by spiders, he will be the first person his cousin Will comes out to, he will excel at math and try over and over to write a novel, he will road trip across the United States, he will shout at his parents and learn to apologize for it and still through it all know that he is loved. He will have a life only dreamable in this moment.

But for now, Nate looks down at his son and falls in love.

More chapters here

[buzzdixonwriter]

A Long But Not Pointless Ramble In Which We Discuss Sci-Fi Flicks

We’re gonna ramble around a bunch of connected topics, so pour yourself a cuppa and enjoy the ride.

. . .

I’m a big fan of 1950s sci-fi B-movies.

Years ago, when I was chatting with the late film historian Bill Warren on this, he made a pertinent observation:  1950s sci-fi B-movies tend to be more fondly remembered than most better mounted and more professionally executed sci-fi films that came afterwards.

There’s a couple of three reasons for this:

The shock of the new -- most of those films pioneered a brand new genre and style, looking far different from previous genre offerings such as Flash Gordon or Things To Come.  As such, they score branding points by being first, even if later examples are better made.

They possess a certain naïve charm -- by and large they’re not sophisticated nor exceptionally well thought out (though when they do demonstrate flashes of intellect, it’s always a delight).  One feels these films are being made up on the fly (and in a certain sense, they were; see (1) above) and in an odd manner they prove more innocent and thus more fun than those that came later.

Most of them were cheap -- this combines with points (1) & (2) to force most 1950s sci-fi B-movies to focus tightly on one idea / one image to sell the film.  As a result there’s a startling clarity of vision in even the most flimsy of productions that’s lacking in later, more elaborate movies.  The weaker examples of this genre are those films trying to cover more ground than their cheaper cousins.

. . .

Two cases in point:  Jack Arnold’s Tarantula for Universal is a technically better made movie than Bert I. Gordon’s The Spider for AIP, but Tarantula loses focus, dawdling about on character development and sub-plots instead of concentrating on the big ass spider.

The Spider is far weaker in the script / performances / production value departments, but who gives a %#@& ? -- it’s got a big ass spider tearing up the countryside for most of the picture.

Not to put down Arnold and his effects crew’s efforts; they ingeniously figured out a way to not only get their tarantula to realistically crawl over uneven landscapes but actually cast a shadow as it did so, heightening the realism.

Gordon, conversely, simple shot his spider in front of still photos; the shots look as crude as they sound.

But The Spider delivers what Tarantula only teases:  An attack by said big ass spider on a population center.  Tarantula famously ends with an uncredited Clint Eastwood napalming the monster in the desert on the outskirts of town; The Spider actually goes rampaging through its town, and features one of the most iconic shots of any sci-fi movie:  As the big ass spider bears down on her, a terrified woman slams her car door shut on her skirt and in her panic tries to tug it loose instead of simply opening the door again.

George Lucas crowds the screen with thousands of furiously dogfighting CGI starships and that lacks the gut punching impact of that one simple terrifying shot. 

. . .

An even more pertinent example can be found in the oeuvre of Irving Block and Jack Rabin (I know, you’re going “Who?”  Patience, young jedi; all will be explained below).

Block and Rabin (along with Louis DeWitt, their silent 3rd partner) ran a small special effects house in Hollywood in the late 1940s-50s with an interesting strategy for drumming up business.

They’d devise an interesting yet inexpensive (i.e., clever but cheap) special effects technique, build a story around it, then pitch that story to low budget movie producers with the proviso their firm would be hired to do the special effects for the final film.

This resulted in a number of low budget sci-fi films built around the kernel of an interesting visual, and while they night not have been great examples of the cinematic art, hey certainly created a number of memorable scenes and images from little more than scotch tape and rubber bands.

Unknown World was their take on Jules Verne’s Journey To The Center Of The Earth (no dinosaurs but then again, no Pat Boone, so they came out ahead on that one); Atomic Submarine pitted the US Navy against a UFO; Kronos featured a wholly unique alien invader; and War Of The Satellites staged an epic space opera on a bargain basement budget.

All noteworthy 1950s sci-fi B-movies, but ironically it was the film where their strategy failed -- or rather, only proved 50% successful -- that stands out.

Figuring out how to make footprints appear as if by magic, Block and Rabin devised a story about a spaceship landing on a planet of invisible monsters (as they pointed out, the great thing about invisible monsters is that even the cheapest production can afford millions of ‘em).

Their agent sent the pitch around to all the usual suspects at that time in the low budget indie film universe but, learning another studio not know for low budget sci-fi wanted to hop on the band wagon, sent it there as well.

That studio bought the idea, thanked Block and Rabin for their input, but said they’d let their own B-movie unit team handle the special effects,

And that’s how MGM made Forbidden Planet.

. . .

Today Forbidden Planet is a much beloved classic of the genre, but when released it proved a bit of a disappointment.

Oh, it made money (then and now, studios refuse to fund a production unless they already know in advance they will recoup their expenses and make a profit in advance of actual production) but it didn’t do anywhere near the business they hoped.

Part of this was timing -- it came out after dozens of lesser / cheaper films crowded the market -- but part of it is paradox:  It’s just too damn good.

No bones about it, Forbidden Planet was a B-movie for MGM.

In terms of overall quality, however, any MGM B-movie is bound to look like an A-picture from any other studio, and that’s exactly what happened here:  A literate, dynamite script; solid performances; top notch production values; bursting at the seams with ideas and incidents and details.

Sci-fi fans loved it, mainstream audiences not so much.

What sci-fi fans perceived as a groundbreaking classic, mainstream audiences viewed as:  Flying saucer something something something robot blah blah blah invisible monster.

What audiences today remember when they think of Forbidden Planet is the single most iconic element of the film.

Robby the robot.

He’s what sticks.  Robby made a big enough impression to star in his own follow up feature a few years later (The Invisible Boy) as well as guest star appearances on The Twilight Zone, Lost In Space, Columbo, and scores of other movies / TV shows / personal appearances.

Pick an iconic element. Stick with it.

. . .

The trick to doing memorable sci-fi movies is keeping the key visual elements down to as few sharply defined items as possible.

Star Wars (i.e., the unnumbered original release) is even more crowded in detail than Forbidden Planet but it holds its iconic visual elements down to a crucial handful:  Masked villain in black.  Laurel & Hardy robots.  Friendly yeti.  Glow swords.  Big bad artificial planet.

Every other visual element serves those, and while they provide detail and texture, they aren’t distractions.

Seriously, jettison the plot of the original Star Wars and reconfigure it from the ground up with those elements and it still winds up pretty much the same film, just set on different worlds.

This is why later films in the series, despite bigger and bigger revenues, lack the memorable freshness and emotional clarity of the original (getting cluttered up with superfluous characters and vehicles inserted just to sell toys doesn’t help, and I post this as one of the original writers for the G.I. Joe and Transformers series).

To reiterate: If you want to make an impression, less is more.

. . .

We’re going to amble on over to a parallel path and talk about ultra-low budget / no budget / homemade / hand-crafted / DIY film making, particularly in the sci-fi arena.

I watch a fair amount of lo-to-no budget sci-fi on Amazon Prime and YouTube.  Many of these are done for pure love of the genre and the film making process, and from that POV of producers and participants just wanting to have fun, they’re modestly enjoyable.

From the POV of actual good film making and sci-fi…not so much.  (There are exceptions and we’ll get to one of those; patience, young jedi…)

The overwhelming bulk of these films -- features and shorts -- are pretty derivative.

I don’t mean “unoriginal” the way 80-90% of professionally produced media is unoriginal, I mean “derivative” as in trying specifically to re-create something someone else did first…

...and better.

And this is in addition to the plethora of Star Trek / Star Wars / Dr. Who / superhero fan films out there; those are a separate though related phenomenon.

Rather, it’s the unmpeenth Alien ripoff / the 400th E.T. variant / the latest Mad Max clone / the most current example of last decade’s biggest hits.

They’re generally not that good taken on their own, no matter how much fun the makers are having.

For me the nadir of such films are those done by film makers imitating bad movies by deliberately making a bad movie.

Don’t do that, folks. 

Please. 

Don’t squander time and talent doing substandard work.

I’m not saying don’t make the kind of film (or draw the kind of art, or write the kind of story) you want to make; I’m just saying don’t deliberately make a piss-poor job of it.

Block and Rabin may never have made a truly good movie but not because they weren’t trying!

Cheap films?  Yes. Exploitable films?  Yes.

But films meant to be as good as they could make them.

There’s an MST3K notorious bad 1950s sci-fi movie called Teenagers From Outer Space.  Tom Graef, its writer / producer / director / editor / co-star was a former film student wanting to break into the big time so he made this cheesy movie to the utmost of his ability.

And lordie, it ain’t good…

…but by gawd, he was trying.

The folks who make deliberately bad pastiches of substandard B-movies were always a sore point for Bill Warren.

“The original film makers weren’t trying to make a bad movie!” he’d rave.

So please, don’t do deliberately shoddy work and try to explain it away by calling it a “parody”.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show is a parody, and everybody in it is aiming for the centerfield fence, turning in A-level performances.

I know it’s fun making models and cobbling together costumes and props and sets from junk, and recruiting friends and family to have fun making a movie, and if your audience is just going to be those friends and family, fine.

But if you want to be seen and appreciated by a wider audience, have some respect for them…and your own abilities as a film maker.

. . .

All of which brings us in a roundabout fashion to The Vast Of Night, a recent ultra-low budget sci-fi film that asks the non-musical question “What would a Twilight Zone mash-up of X-Files and Close Encounters Of The Third Kind look like?”

“Pretty impressive,” is the answer.

Let’s start with the Achilles’ heel of most lo-to-no budget DIY productions:  The cast.

The Vast Of Night enjoys impeccable casting, a;; the way down to the most minor roles.

I can’t stress enough how important this is for small productions.

Actors give you more bounce for your buck than anything else on your budget.  Good actors can make mediocre material bearable, they can bring good material to full blown life.

In The Vast Of Night’s case, the two leads -- Jake Horowitz as Everett, an all night DJ in a tiny late 1950s New Mexico town, and Sierra McCormick as Fay Crocker, the local substitute late night phone operator -- play off each other with delightful on screen chemistry.

No kidding, I’d watch these two characters go grocery shopping for an hour and a half, that’s how well Horowitz and McCormick play off each other.

Next, the story.  Obviously story and screenplay come before casting, but in the final analysis an okay story is far better served by a good cast than a good story by an okay cast.

Screenwriters James Montague and Craig W. Sanger do a good job with their script for The Vast Of Night.  As noted, it’s far from original but is fleshed out with enough distinctive elements to let the cast find plenty to work with.

For aspiring film makers, the script is typically the least expensive part of the process, and if you don’t like your draft you can always chuck it out and start afresh,

Finally, it’s okay to look inexpensive but don’t look cheap.

You can get away with a stark cinema verité style if that’s what the material calls for but you need to keep a consistent style and tone throughout.

A lot of DIY films do themselves a grave disservice by spending a lot of time / energy / money on a prop / costume / special effect that calls undo attention to itself by being so much better than everything surrounding it.

Director Andrew Patterson keeps things stylish while clamping a lid on its budget; this good pre-production planning pays off with a consistency of style and tone that helps keep the audience engaged, their disbelief suspended.

The Vast Of Night is what I refer to as a “minimum basic movie” i.e., the lowest bar you should shoot for with your own film making.

It’s far from a deathless classic, but it’s a fun ride.

And speaking of fun rides…this ramble is o-v-e-r.

  © Buzz Dixon

[cristalconnors]

BEST ALBUMS OF 2019: TOP TEN

SPECIAL CITATIONS:

HOMECOMING: THE LIVE ALBUM, Beyoncé

The live album feels like a lost art form. Of late, many feel thrown together without much thought- an offering to the most ardent of fans about as meaningful as a gift card you’d give your coworker. Homecoming is the antithesis of that: a flawless documentation of Beyoncé’s benchmark live performance at the 2018 edition of the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival that is a staggering recontextualisation of her entire life’s work, dazzlingly criss-crossing her discography, offering rollicking, thoughtful new arrangements of classics and deep-cuts alike, filtered through the lens of HBCU marching band, playing like a half time show that goes on and on and on, offering the final, definitive evidence that Beyoncé is the greatest showman in modern history by leaps and bounds. 

LEAK 04-13 (BAIT ONES), Jai Paul

Discovering Leak 04-13 (Bait Ones) sometime in the summer of 2013 was like being let in on a secret. I felt like the member of an exclusive club of people in-the-know, the possessor of a forbidden document that could only be discussed in hushed tones and accessed illegally. The circumstances of its arrival were uncertain. Had he leaked it purposefully? Were all of the songs really his? It didn’t even have a proper name (it would be christened Leak 04-13 (Bait Ones) many years later). The enthralling mystery of it was eclipsed only by the music itself. It sounded like you shouldn’t have been listening to it, a top secret transmission intercepted and compromised in the process. Its stunningly lush, busy textures were threadbare, pieces of the songs suddenly falling away only to reappear, as if you were streaming it and your internet connection was struggling to keep up. But that only contributed to the mystical grandeur of this earth shattering R&B that felt so purposeful, so impeccably sequenced (not by Jai), so bizarre and at times even funny, so much so that it was difficult to imagine how it could possibly be unfinished- it was perfect.

I don’t think I’d ever really understood how thoroughly devastating the leak was to Jai Paul himself until I read the lengthy note that accompanied his abrupt return on June 1st of this year, when he not only graced us with two stunning new tracks but properly released this album for the first time, a remarkable gesture of goodwill to his fans who gleefully partook in the stolen material, many without much regard to how it’d become available to them. Reading the letter, I felt guilty. The extent to which the leak derailed his career, demolished his trust in the institutions the industry is built on, compelled him to cast himself away from music entirely- his lifeline- and, in his own words, “withdraw from life in general” was genuinely heartbreaking. But the official release of the album that caused so much strife is the culmination of a years long journey of recovery, reconciliation, and growth. It’s a hard-earned reclamation of ownership that signals that Jai Paul, one of the most vital, distinct voices to emerge from the decade, is ready to get back on the horse. Look out.

THE TOP 10 ALBUMS OF 2019:

10. CALIGULA, Lingua Ignota

Caligula is maybe the most stunning document of feminine rage I’ve ever heard- an improbable synthesis of metal and opera imbued with biblical imagery and defined by language that’s as flowery as it is vicious (“may your own shame hang you / may dishonor drown you / may there be no kindness / no kindness / no kindness”). Kristin Hayter’s classically trained voice bends almost to the point of snapping, sometimes bringing her tongue to her soft palate to make a sound somewhere between a hum and a gurgle before launching into blood curdling shrieks as the music around her morphs as well, twinkling piano and organ giving way to billowing, thunderous guitar. It’s music that belongs in a symphony hall, if only they’d allow moshing.

09. SINNER, Moodymann

The songs on Sinner, Kenny Dixon, Jr.’s twelfth album as Moodymann, unspool on their own terms, continually mutating as they go on, shifting gears just when you think you’ve got a handle on them. His house isn’t very dense, but there’s always a remarkable amount of intrigue in his deceptively simple sound, evoking early 70′s R&B until strange idiosyncrasies pop out organically from the fabric of the song, pulling focus, reframing it as you’re listening to it. It’s strange, compelling stuff that beckons you to dive beneath its surface, promising you’ll find something new each time.

08. NO HOME RECORD, Kim Gordon

My favorite Sonic Youth songs were always the ones Kim Gordon did lead vocals on. Her hulking monotone was strangely captivating, even when it wasn’t clear what she was even talking about (which was most of the time.) No Home Record is a sublime capitalization and expansion of her power as a vocalist and writer, embracing those same abstract sensibilities that have defined her work for nearly 40 years but pushing them boldly into the future, crafting entrancing, often menacing sonic dreamscapes that are littered with oblique, powerfully resonant hints at the fruits of her near decade of self-discovery after divorcing Thurston Moore. It’s a debut decades in the making that shockingly reveals new, untapped powers from an indelible titan of rock we thought we’d had pegged.

07. HOUSE OF SUGAR, (Sandy) Alex G

Alex Giannascoli’s folk rock warps itself, intentionally obscuring textures and images in a convoluted effort to clarify the feeling behind them. It shouldn’t work but always does, and on House of Sugar, his eighth full-length effort in just nine years, he finds thrilling new power in simplicity and repetition, exemplified by the woozy abstract tapestry of songs like “Walk Away,” “Taking,” or “Near,” wringing a simple phrase, or even just a word, for everything it’s worth, repeating them over and over and over again to craft crystal clear images of longing and pain. But the more traditional songs are just as gripping, striking his strange balance between downtown and backwoods, crafting folk that emanates from deep in the soul and soars out into outer space. 

06. BANDANA, Freddie Gibbs & Madlib

Freddie Gibbs and Madlib reunite on the most virtuosic rap album of the year, taking their unlikely marriage of gangster rap and delicately constructed, meditative beats that sound almost like memories to astonishing new heights. Gibbs grapples with personal demons- the lowest lows of his career, his ongoing relationship with drug abuse- but also flexes, showcasing his effortless flow as he flawlessly keeps pace with Madlib’s twisty production, navigating signature changes and tricky rhythms with ease, perfectly in concert with Madlib’s searching, soulful looping beats that envelop you, contorting right when you’ve settled into them. The collaboration keeps you on your toes, demanding your full attention as they whisk you through their kaleidoscopic vision of masterful, immersive rap.

05. ALL MIRRORS, Angel Olsen

The breakup album has never sounded so lush. Plenty can wax poetic about ridding themselves of toxic partners and of newfound freedom, but Angel Olsen tries to get to the heart of what it all meant, how she’d allowed herself to get lost in the relationship, forgetting herself. She makes the process sound luxurious, utilizing a 12-piece orchestra to inject a bolt of energy and welcome drama into her abstracted songwriting, embracing the darkness and working through it to find herself anew on the other side.

04. WHEN I GET HOME, Solange

When I Get Home sounds like you should be listening to it in a museum- and knowing Solange you’ll probably be able to at some point. Its heady sophistication is constantly announcing itself to you, but that’s not to say that it’s impenetrable. It’s her most personal effort, a surreal tour through the Houston of her memory and the Houston of her imagination, exploring the sounds she was reared on, but refracting them, embracing repetition to create a dreamlike, prismatic journey through her influences that, as Solange puts it, can’t be a singular expression of herself “there’s too many parts, too many spaces, too many manifestations, too many lines, too many curves, too many troubles, too many journeys, too many mountains, too many rivers, so many...”

03. NORMAN FUCKING ROCKWELL!, Lana Del Rey

Norman Fucking Rockwell! is Lana Del Rey’s victory lap, an amalgamation of everything she’s always done well packed into a sprawling 68 minute apocalyptic opus, invoking Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, and most memorably, Sublime while utilizing her trademark playful, disaffected word play to craft a soaring requiem for the world as we know it. “L.A.’s in flames” and who cares when there’s a good time to be had? It’s a stunning “fuck you” to an industry and populace that dismissed her viciously when she arrived on the scene, forging her masterpiece on her own terms.

02. U.F.O.F., Big Thief

U.F.O.F. evokes the sensation of reaching out and attempting to make a connection- a connection with another realm, with the dead, with alien life, with a distant lover. The music is open and searching, and to hear the band talk about the process of writing and recording it, this spirit of experimentation was present in the studio. They’d tinker with instruments none of them knew how to play, hoping whatever they could coax out of it might speak to the ethereal textures and opaque poetry of the music they were working on. The result is a ghostly folk masterclass that launches Big Thief into the stratosphere as they work seamlessly in tandem to craft music that touches God.

01. TITANIC RISING, Weyes Blood

Struggling to cope with a world on the precipice of collapse, Natalie Mering looks backward, invoking the baroque pop of the 1970′s to search for solace in the stars or the arms of another, like Karen Carpenter scrolling through Tinder or Co-Star. But trying to stave herself away in the past only finds herself submerged in her childhood bedroom. So she bolts forward, utilizing familiar frameworks to craft stunningly lush, contemporary and urgent pop that grapples with crises both personal and apocalyptic with an optimism that feels not naive but like a vital lifeline, like a hand reaching out in the darkness to pull you to safety. It may be a futile gesture, but at the end of a decade that’s abruptly descended into a hellscape, it’s a call to keep the faith and forge on.

[izzy-b-hands]

Aten Pt. 1

More random Ahk fic. I gave him a bf (again, because I can’t help myself, if I can’t find anyone he’s gonna at least) and we get nsfw so hold on to ur hats folks. A reminder that in my canon, Ahk is 21 (I know the movie says he’s younger but gosh darn it I just don’t believe that. He does not look or act that young to me okay. I remember being as young as they claim he is, he would need to act much sillier/stupider to be that young, but I digress. Here in Lee’s fanon land, he’s 21.) 

Interspersed some themes from the opera Akhnaten, and talk about it in the fic, hence the title (the name for the sun disk deity/sort of technically an aspect of Ra but whatever that’s a lot of history to sum up right here worshipped by the pharaoh Akhnaten.)

Breaking this into parts, because this is getting longer than I anticipated lol. 

ANYWAY

fic below the cut as per usual

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

He rose at the usual hour, expecting the soft lights of his exhibit, always on thanks to Larry.

It was pitch black, except for the soft glow of the emergency lights out in the hall. As he fumbled his way through the rest of the museum, grateful for the few emergency lights. He expected the exhibit spaces would be empty, and everyone else would be as confused as he was. 

But everyone was in their usual exhibits, not a sign of life in them. Nothing woke them, not any of his shouting or poking or prodding. 

“If this a joke, then know that I do not like it!” Ahkmenrah shouted to the apparently empty museum. 

It was eerie as he walked quickly from one hall to the next, no sound but the swish of his cloak and the padding of his sandals on the tile floor. 

Finally, he heard Larry’s voice, calling out for someone, anyone to answer.

“Where have you been?” he scolded as he ran to the main hall, where Larry was stood near the front desk, looking as puzzled as could be. 

“I slept through my alarm, my bad,” Larry replied. “Is this uhh...a prank or did I piss everyone off, or...” 

“I don’t know. I’ve tried waking everyone, at every exhibit I’ve gone by, and nothing has worked. If this is a prank, they are very dedicated to it,” Ahkmenrah replied. 

Without warning, Larry screamed, as loud as he could.

Ahkmenrah stared at him, wincing at the sound. “What on earth was that for?” 

Larry shrugged. “Thought it might rouse somebody. But I don’t think anyone’s awake. Which is weird, because then how are you...” 

“I don’t know. Something’s wrong,” he replied. 

They were of one mind then, down the halls and back to Ahkmenrah’s exhibit to check on the tablet. 

“Ah,” Ahkmenrah sighed. “Look. One of the panels is wedged, someone must have tried to turn it. You think it being this high up would mean no one would try and touch it.” 

He carefully tried to moved the panel back, but it was stuck tight. “I’ll need tools to move it without damaging it. The restoration expert’s tools are what i’ll need, if you can get them.” 

Larry winced. “He’s at a set of conferences, for the next two weeks. Took his things with him too. I have that memo somewhere; he said in it just to leave things in need of repair in his office.” 

“With all due respect to him, I’d rather repair this on my own once he’s back, and you can borrow his tools for me at night,” Ahkmenrah said as gently as he could. He knew that the restorer meant well, but he still would rather not have him touch the tablet if he could help it. 

“So...that one being stuck must have changed the settings or whatever on this, right?” 

Ahkmenrah nodded. “Apparently. With it moved, the magic only awakens me, not everyone else.” 

They stood there awkwardly for a moment as Ahkmenrah set the tablet back in its place. 

“Good night, I suppose,” he finally said, and waited for Larry to go.

“Oh. I mean...okay. If you want me to go, I can. But just because everyone else is...asleep, we could say, doesn’t mean you have to stay in here alone. Unless you want to be alone, of course, then I’ll...go sit at the front desk and just...I don’t know, honestly,” Larry said with a shrug. “If you’d want to hang out, come help me keep an eye on things, I’d certainly welcome the company though.” 

“That would be nice,” Ahkmenrah admitted. He’d figured Larry might not want him tagging around after him like a puppy dog, so it was a pleasant surprise to hear otherwise. 

“C’mon then! We’ll talk, hang out, I’ve got snacks and your other clothes in my locker, if you want them,” Larry said, leading the way out of the exhibit. 

With the lights still off, it was eerie walking about, the museum feeling almost too bit. Larry seemed to feel the same, if the nervous chewing of his lip was anything to go by.

“So. Must have been scary, waking up in here all alone like this,” Larry said as they walked to the employee lounge. “Not that you couldn’t handle being alone in here, I mean, I wasn’t implying-” 

“Actually, that was my worst nightmare come true,” Ahkmenrah interrupted. “I was so glad to hear your voice, to not be alone in here anymore. If I had no other option but to be alone...I suppose I’d have simply stayed in my exhibit area.” 

“Well, I promise I will be on time every day for the next two weeks, so no more waking up alone,” Larry replied with a smile. “After you change, should we go put some music on the PA system? Too quiet in here without something on, or people in here.” 

“I’d like that. You have something in mind?” 

“An opera. I figure if there’s anyone who’ll listen to it with me, it’ll be you,” Larry said.

“Opera? I didn’t expect you to be that sort of man,” Ahkmenrah said. 

Larry shrugged. “Not my normal thing, but I like this one. About a pharaoh, actually, by Philip-” 

“Glass,” Ahkmenrah finished. “I know the opera, and I do like it. You go put it on, I’ll join you in a moment.” 

He changed quickly as Larry went to the main desk. It was turning out better than expected, spending time with just Larry. Who knew how else he might surprise him. 

He went to the main desk, and found the conversation flowed easily now while the opera played, echoing through the halls. About the opera (both of them wished to see it performed live) to the museum, to the city itself. 

“I know you’d love to get out and see more of it,” Larry said. “I want to make that happen more, but the others-” 

“I understand,” Ahkmenrah stopped him with a raise of his hand. “Not all of them can go out and pass on the streets in modern clothes, and they get understandably jealous about it. Any night you can offer me is a gift; I treasure them all.” 

Larry nodded. “Y’know though, I could bring someone to meet you, Ahk. About your age, a regular here, stays so late I’ve had to ask him to go so he doesn’t see all of you wake up! But he’s a great kid, studying to work in Egyptology. He claims he only comes to your exhibit every other week for that research but-” 

Larry laughed. “You’d love him. He asks about you all the time. ‘What do you think he was like, what did he look like, surely Ahkmenrah must have been wonderful.’ I have to bite my tongue not to tell him he could just meet you and see. But now...maybe I could.” 

“You think he could keep it a secret? About me...” Ahkmenrah asked. 

“I do,” Larry replied. “Here, let me show you him.” 

He pulled out his phone, and showed a picture to Ahkmenrah. “There’s me, of course, your sarcophagus in the background, and that’s Tristan.” 

His breath caught in his throat. He was cute, reddish-blondish hair and a sweet smile, and soft brown eyes anyone could get lost in. And for a moment, lost he was. 

“Ahk? You good?” Larry’s chuckle brought him back.

“Yes, of course, um-” he stuttered. “He looks to be a very-” 

“Cute?” 

“I...I mean I’ve never said-” 

“I know,” Larry said, and smiled. “But you just stopped breathing for a good minute, and you’re blushing red as a tomato. Kinda gave yourself away, buddy. And don’t worry, half the time he can’t stop talking about how beautiful he presumes you were. Especially after his last break up, with some guy named Jeremy. He was in here every day for a week straight, in your exhibit, crying or trying not to cry. Said being near you and your exhibit made him feel better.” 

His heart was beating entirely too fast to be reasonable, and he scolded himself. “The poor thing. Was it recent?” 

“Nah. Good year back now. Why? Are you wanting this first meeting to be a-” 

“Date? That would be entirely too forward of me to ask for that,” Ahk said, then bit his tongue. “I mean, unless he’d...I don’t know, I-” 

“Awww,” Larry said softly. “Tell you what. I’ll see if he can come with me tomorrow night. Let him in on this, that it has to stay a secret, or he can’t come. Not that anyone would believe him if he told anyone but, still. And you two can meet, and if sparks fly...well, there’s the couch in the lounge...” 

“Larry!” he said sharply, but his mind lingered at the thought. Would it be much too much on a first meeting? Probably, but he couldn’t help but think of it.

“I’m just saying,” Larry laughed. “Whatever happens, you two have that space to sit and talk or...anything else you can think up.” 

He could only nod, as he thought of Tristan’s face, and the glimpse of Tristan’s hands, lovely hands, that had been in the picture Larry had shown him. 

Blessedly, Larry let the conversation drift to the snacks he’d brought with him for the night, and they ate and talked of other unimportant things for the rest of the night. 

“Time to pack it in,” Larry said as he cleaned the desk. “You want me to walk you back?” 

“I’ll be alright. I’ll go change and head in. Thank you for tonight Larry, for everything.” 

He left quickly then, as he thought of him again, and did so all the way through changing and settling back into his sarcophagus. Trying to memorize the cute face in the picture, so it was the last thing on his mind before the morning sun crested. 

****

The next night, he was up and out of his sarcophagus before Larry would arrive. Normally, he’d wait, but he couldn’t tonight. He had a good impression to make, after all. 

Even with his careful dressing and primping before he went to the main desk, it was still a short wait until he finally heard Larry’s voice, and a new voice, coming down the hall. 

“I can keep a secret,” the new voice said, deep but not too deep. Like a ray of afternoon sunshine, Ahk thought. Strong enough to warm one, but soft enough to fall asleep under. “I just...man, if this is real. Wow. Should I bow, or kneel when I see him?” 

“Just act normal,” Larry laughed. “Yes, he’s royalty, but he’s very...chill. And excited to meet you too.” 

Larry smiled as they approached the desk. “And there he is! Ahk, Tristan. Tristan, Ahk.” 

He left the desk to approach them, and immediately Tristan fell to one knee. 

“Oh no, you don’t have to,” Ahk said, and rushed over to pull him back up. “I mean, that is sweet of you. But it’s alright. Here.” 

He took off his crown, and handed it to Larry before ruffling a hand through his curls. “Better? The crown is...imposing. And a bit heavy.” 

Tristan was bright red, and suddenly grabbed his hand and kissed it. “You’re still a pharaoh though.” 

“True, but not in this time. I’m just...me,” he replied, even as his heart beat at the contact of Tristan’s lips to his skin. 

“I’m gonna go about things,” Larry said. “You two head on to the lounge. I’ll put this away for you, okay Ahk?” 

He nodded, but his eyes never left Tristan’s.

“...okay then,” Larry said. “You kids have fun.” 

As Larry walked away, Ahk led Tristan to the lounge.

“You need not walk behind me,” he said as they went, noticing Tristan apparently working to stay just behind him. 

“But you’re-” 

“Ahk. A new friend, who’d love to have you walk beside him,” he interrupted softly, and gestured for Tristan to come forward. 

He could have screeched with joy as Tristan trotted up to be beside him. It was wonderful and sweet and made even better when they reached the couch and, thanks to how small it was, ended up as close as could be.

They were silent for a moment, then Tristan giggled. 

“Gosh. You’re him! You’re more beautiful than I expected.” 

Immediately, Tristan blushed again, and it was Ahk’s turn to giggle. 

“Larry showed me a picture of you, last night. But you’re even more beautiful in person.” 

“Oh, gosh I’m nothing compared to you though,” Tristan stuttered.

“You shouldn’t say that,” Ahk replied, and tucked a stray piece of Tristan’s hair behind his ear. It wasn’t horribly long, just a bit near the ears, and that those pieces kept popping forward was utterly adorable. “You’re handsome. Even your name is beautiful.” 

“I’ve always hated it,” Tristan sighed. “It literally means ‘sad’, or at least one translation of it does.” 

“That may be, but you shine brighter than the meaning of the name. We could give you a nickname, if you’d want something happier.” 

 “That would be...so cool!” Tristan said. “I mean, my mom calls me Stan, but I don’t like that either.” 

Ahk bit back a frown. This man was certainly not a ‘Stan.’ “You remind me of the sunlight. The whole museum seems brighter with you in it. I could call you Aten.” 

He didn’t think Tristan could blush any deeper, but he did. “But that’s...a deity, I mean at least he’s associated with the sun and Ra, and I am not-” 

“A god? No, but if dying and living again has taught me anything, it is that none of us are. But we may bear the similarities of them, as you bear the brightness and warmth of the sun. If you would rather I not call you that-” 

“No, you can, I mean...it makes me feel special. And I’m nothing special, but it’s...it’s nice to feel special,” Tristan, his Aten, interrupted gently. 

This was too forward, Ahk knew it was, but Aten seemed to feel the same. And there was no harm in addressing the elephant in the room. 

“I want to get to know you better. But, we both seem rather distracted by the...shall we say physical side of things.” 

Aten, and though Tristan was a beautiful name, he did seem more an Aten the more Ahk used it, even in his head, nodded. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I got here. I thought the kiss on the hand would calm me down, because I mean, c’mon, we’re just meeting and I am not normally that sort of guy, but this has been just...magnetic and I want to get to know you too, but if you feel the same and it would be easier to talk if we get things out of our system, and-” 

Ahk softly grabbed Aten’s face in his hands. “Could you just kiss me?” 

And there was the afternoon sun again, in Aten’s lips and hands and hips as he pulled him close and back with him onto the couch. He heard Larry’s footsteps and the closing of the lounge door, but paid it no mind. 

It was frenzied for all of a moment, before Aten stopped and hissed. “Your clothes...I can’t imagine trying to restore them, I should be careful.” 

“Hold on,” Ahk said, and carefully moved from under him. Without a second thought, he pulled his sweatshirt and sweats from Larry’s locker, and changed. 

It was only after he was done changing, his usual garb safely folded and set on the table in the lounge that he realized he had accidentally stepped way over the line of forward, though Aten’s face was a happy one. 

“Should I have just left them off?” he asked with a smile as he returned to his spot beneath Aten. 

“I...I’ve just never seen you...sweats, it’s different, not bad just...” Aten’s head dropped to Ahk’s shoulder, and he pulled him close again, running his hands over Aten’s back. 

“Not very regal, but comfortable,” he said. “And on the nights Larry lets me out to explore, I have to blend in, so...these.” 

Aten seemed stuck, his head lifted again, but those gorgeous brown eyes simply glued to his. 

“Come. Kiss me again. We’ll talk later tonight, or tomorrow, if tonight proves too busy,” he smiled, and traced Aten’s lips with one of his fingers before pulling him gently down by the chin for another kiss. 

Logically, he knew the night would have to end, but he didn’t want it to. It was too good, all of this. Aten warm in his arms, stripping him of his sweatshirt before pulling off his own shirt, their hips grinding as they kissed. He could not say all what he would do just to have Aten’s hands stay on him as they were now, moving to every bit of bare skin they could reach, toying with the waistband of his sweatpants, but he knew it was a great deal. 

An alarm beeped on Aten’s watch, and he broke their kiss to look at it. “Fuck. We have half an hour left. Larry said the sun-” 

“I know,” Ahk replied. “A half hour is plenty of time to end this the way I think we’d both like it to.” 

It wasn’t enough time to do everything he might have been hoping for, but it was enough time to keep kissing Aten, to have him leave marks on his neck that he prayed would not fade by the time he awoke the next night, even after his body changed for the morning. Enough time to moan loudly enough at the increased pace of it all, the friction of their hard cocks against each other, kept apart only by the fabric of Ahk’s sweatpants and Aten’s boxer briefs (he’d barely been able to focus enough to undo the button and zipper of Aten’s jeans, but he was so glad he had.) Enough time to leave a mark of his own, a gentle nip at Aten’s neck that made him whimper and whine so loudly he knew Larry must have heard it. But he didn’t care, had only one thing on his mind. 

Just before the second alarm on Aten’s watch beeped, he let himself go, moaning, his cum hitting his stomach and Aten’s as the waistband on his sweatpants had shifted. Aten followed a moment later, kissing him so hard as he came that he saw stars. 

As they lay there, still wrapped in each other, there was a knock on the door.

“Um. I hate to break up the...well. But we’ve got three minutes, Ahk, so-” 

Aten kissed him one last time, then pulled himself up and off the couch. “Come on. I’ll help clean you up before we dress you, let me get-” 

“Leave it,” Ahk said softly. “It won’t matter anyways, after the sun rises. I want it on me for now. A reminder.” 

Aten kissed him again, but Larry’s insistent knocking interrupted it. 

“Tomorrow night?” Ahk asked softly as he changed. 

“Definitely,” Aten replied with a grin. “Maybe we can even talk tomorrow.” 

“Of course.” 

“And maybe, keep the door shut again...I mean, in case we need a break, from talking, or...that sounds so bad, probably, but...” 

Ahk smiled, and dashed from the door to him to kiss him deeply again. “Not bad at all. We can do both. Till tomorrow night.” 

He had to run to his exhibit, and was barely in his sarcophagus when the heavy feeling of death came over him again. 

But it had been worth it, so worth it. He couldn’t wait for the next night. 

[mst3kproject]

Cat-Man of Paris

The first thing that strikes you about Cat-Man of Paris is the damned title.  It sounds like somebody was trying to cash-in on Werewolf of London as transparently as The Wild Wild World of Batwoman was trying to cash in on Batman, but that's actually not the case – Cat-Man of Paris was made ten years later, and the story's not all that similar.  Then you see that the cast includes Carl Esmond from Agent for HARM and start to think of the movie in MST3K terms.  Finally, you actually watch the thing, and discover that the film itself is fucking bizarre.

It's 1895 or thereabouts, and a series of terrible murders are happening in Paris.  Oddly enough, they're all of people whose existence was somehow inconvenient to rising literary star Charles Regnier.  The first victim was a lawyer working to prove that Regnier's latest book contains government secrets that he must have learned illegally.  He's found dead under a tree not far from where his cab driver left him.  The second is Regnier's ex-fiancee Marguerite, who took the breakup rather hard.  Inspector Severin suspects that Regnier himself is the murderer and sets out to prove it, but the Prefect of the police, backed up by an ancient astrological text, has a theory of his own.  He believes the murders are the work of the legendary Cat-Man!

After the first murder, the police are looking at a dollhouse model of the crime scene and discussing the circumstances of the case, and the Prefect simply decides that if it looks like a cat clawed the victim, then it must have been a Cat-Man!  There's no giant pawprints, no shed fur at the scene, no suspicious hairballs by the body... the injuries themselves are all he has to go on and his first theory is an ailouranthrope!  The other men at the meeting think this is ridiculous, and I can imagine Mike and the bots having all kinds of fun with it.  They would probably make a running joke out of the Prefect's evident conviction that all crimes are committed by Cat-Men.  Unexplained murders?  Cat-Man.  Thefts?  Obviously a Cat-Man, why do you think they're called cat burglars?  Vandalism?  Gotta be a Cat-Man, cats are always peeing on things and scratching the furniture.  Naming a pig Napoleon? When was the last time you saw a cat respect anybody's rules?

Regnier's best friend, Henri Bouchard, also comes to believe that Regnier is a murderous werecat.  Rather than wanting him apprehended, however, Bouchard decides to smuggle Regnier into Spain.  There he can hide, and the world will not be deprived of his literary genius!  What do a few innocent victims here and there really matter if the killer also writes really gripping legal drama? I am all for disconnecting the work from the author, but talent does not excuse straight up doing terrible things.  Rosemary's Baby is a pretty good movie, but Polanski still belongs in jail.

Then there's the implication that these events are going to have dire consequences for all of France, maybe all the world... but the movie never tells us what those are.  The Prefect hires an astrologer, who tells them that the Cat-Man is an omen of doom.  He stalked the streets of Rome during the persecutions of the Christians and attended upon the coronations of tyrants like Ivan the Terrible.  The revelation of the Cat-Man's psychic powers (by the time this comes up, the movie is so deep in bullshit that trust me, you'll just accept it) suggests that he is in fact an intentional troublemaker, not only portending chaos but actively causing it.  The final reveal only makes sense of we assume that the Cat-Man was deliberately sent, by God or Satan or The Universe or something, to bring those secrets out into the open, and his history tells us there will be earth-shattering consequences.

But at the end the Cat-Man dies, the hero kisses the girl, and the credits roll... and that's it.  What doom was he portending?  People talk about 'the secret trial of Louis Chambret' as if it's very important, maybe something along the lines of the Dreyfus Affair, but we never learn any details.  Since history tells us that there was no tyrant or religious persecution in France in the late 19th century, I can only assume that the government successfully banned Regnier's book and threw him in prison.  Kinda puts a kibosh on that whole 'happy ending' thing.  Either that, or the writers just straight-up forgot what their movie was about by the time they got to the end.

Even if that were indeed the Cat-Man's goal, his way of going about accomplishing it doesn't make a lick of sense.  The Cat-Man says he wants to protect Regnier – that's why he killed the lawyer and the ex-fiancee, either of whom could have ruined Regnier's reputation. Fine... but why does he later attack Marie, the girl Regnier left Marguerite for?  If Marguerite was a threat to Regnier's happiness, wouldn't killing Marie put a much more lasting damper on it?  And why the hell did the Cat-Man go to such trouble to frame Regnier?  Why dress like him?  Why make sure nobody knows where Regnier is while the crimes are happening?  Even if Regnier's blackouts are somehow essential to what the Cat-Man is doing, why not make sure he has them in public places with lots of people around, so that he'll at least have an alibi?  And why, in Bast's feline name, did he leave Regnier's gloves at one of the crime scenes?

But that's just the big stuff.  Cat-Man of Paris is a sort of weirdness fractal, in that as you look closer, it just kind of keeps getting stranger and stranger in tinier and tinier ways.  Take, for example, the moment when it attempts to convince us that there is a twelve-foot housecat actually wandering the streets of Paris, only to pull back and show us a miniature street being used by the police to talk about the crime scene.  This is obviously the same miniature that was used as a backdrop in several previous scenes and it appears somebody really wanted that 'giant cat' shot in the movie because it would be far more plausible for the police to use a map in this scene.  Why was there a cat in the police station anyway?

Then there's the two points at which the movie tries have an action scene, both of which are ruined by the setting.  There's a chair-breaking, man-throwing barfight that would not be at all out of place in a Western but is very out of place in a high society Parisian restaurant!  Then there's a car chase of sorts, but in elegant horse-drawn carriages along tree-lined roads in the genteel countryside!  I'm sure there must be a way to do these things right even in the Belle Époque setting, but the way Cat-Man of Paris did it is just laughable.

There's the fact that the Cat-Man commits his murders in a top hat and opera cloak.  This almost makes sense if you assume, as one does for most of the movie, that the Cat-Man either is Regnier or is trying to frame Regnier.  The murders happen on nights when Regnier was out on the town, dressed in formal wear.  If the Cat-Man doesn't want Regnier blamed, it makes no sense at all.  Related is the scene in which Marguerite, seeing a man in formal dress, invites him into her carriage on the assumption that it's Regnier and then delivers a soliloquy about the state of their relationship while never once looking him in the face and realizing she's picked up a murderous Cat-Man instead!

There's the series of hallucinations that precede Regnier's blackouts.  These are of lightning strikes and stormy seas, and end in the image of a black cat on a black background, which in black-and-white film looks like a cat face just floating in the dark. It's meant to be creepy but the cat is clearly a young kitten and even in this presentation it's adorable.  Besides the kitten, what do any of these images mean?  The other explanation offered for Regnier's disturbed mental state is a relapse into some kind of fever he caught while travelling in the tropics, but there's nothing particularly tropical about any of the things he sees.  There isn't even anything particularly feline, besides the simple fact that cats don't like lightning or water.  I don’t get it.  I don't get any of it!

Beneath all this weirdness, the movie is plenty bad in more traditional ways, too.  The dialogue reminds me of The She-Creature, in that almost all of it is clunky exposition that nevertheless somehow fails to ever explain what the hell is going on. Sets and costumes are nice but not particularly memorable, and anachronistic in the way old period movies often are, such that it's somehow more obvious the movie was made in the 1940s than that it was set in the 1890s.  No two actors are able to agree on what a French accent sounds like.  Special effects are for the most part wisely avoided, but the movie must eventually show us what the Cat-Man looks like.  The makeup is onscreen for only seconds but is predictably terrible.

The fine folks at Ain't It Cool News thought Cat-Man of Paris was slow and tedious and needed more monster.  They're kind of right, but I also think they weren't paying enough attention.  I mean, there's a book with nothing written in it.  There's that ridiculous fucking giant cat scene and the bit that will have you yelling at the screen, look to the right, you bedazzled nitwit!  There's a plot point that turns upon a creepy artist who likes to draw women without their permission.  I mean yeah, the movie's slow, and although it's only an hour long you do find yourself wondering if it's over yet, but there's plenty of DIY-MST3K material here if you only take the trouble to look for it.

[enz-fan]

BIOGRAPHY…THE CHRONOLOGY, THE FACTS, AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS :

Born in Te Awamutu, 27/5/58. Son of Mary (nee Mullane) and Richard Finn. The youngest of four children, Carolyn, Tim (originally Brian) and Judy. Taught by nuns at St Patrick’s Primary, boarded at Sacred Heart Boys College for a little over a year before switching to co’ed Te Awamutu College for the rest of my high school days. I remember two good English teachers, Ron Martin and Marion Evans, as early inspirations and motivators.

I was also inspired by my older brother Tim to learn “Lara’s Theme” on piano at the age of 7. A few years later he joined Split Enz with talented painter and musical savant Phil Judd in 1972. Such a highly original band was a rare thing in NZ and their refusal to tread the usual path, not playing pubs, writing sprawling complex songs, embracing theatrics, costumes and makeup set my imagination free.

Also influenced by the singer-songwriters of the time – Neil Young, Cat Stevens, Elton John, David Bowie, Carole King – I found an outlet to sing and play some of these songs on piano and acoustic in the local folk club, learning much along the way about traditional folk from folk club stalwarts the Saxby family. I won a talent quest at Beach Resort Mt Maunganui, singing “Coming Into Los Angeles” and “You’ve Got A Friend”. Also won school music prize at Sacred Heart singing “Carolina On My Mind” with the McHardy Brothers.

Wrote my first song at the age of 15, “Late In Rome”, with an experienced musician from the folk club – Rod Murdoch.

I was asked to join Split Enz in April 1977 after Phil Judd departed. I wore glasses without lenses and jumped around a lot for the first year to cover my obvious lack of skill. Soon after, however, I wrote the song “I Got You” which went on to become a big hit so all turned out pretty well. After four more albums, playing alongside brother Tim, the very talented Eddie Rayner, Noel Crombie and Nigel Griggs, the band eventually broke up in 1984.

I formed Crowded House immediately following with drummer Paul Hester and Nick Seymour. Our first album, recorded in Los Angeles with producer Mitchell Froom, eventually went on to become successful, generating two top ten US hits – “Don’t Dream It’s Over” and “Something So Strong”. Crowded House went on to make four albums. In 1989 we took on a valuable fourth member, Mark Hart, and thereafter, following much touring, enjoyed good success in the UK and Europe, becoming known as a very entertaining and spirited live band. Back home in Australia and NZ our songs seemed to make deep connections across generations. The band eventually broke up in 1996 after recording what we regarded as our finest album, Together Alone, with producer Youth. We performed a memorable free and final concert in front of 150,000 people in front of the Sydney Opera House.

Soon after, I co-produced with Tchad Blake an album with brother Tim, upon which we played all the instruments. Although sales for this Finn Brothers project were modest, this album has become a fan favourite.

I then went on to make my first solo album Try Whistling This with Marius De Vries. Another solo album followed, One Nil / One All, recorded with Tchad Blake and featuring Wendy and Lisa (talented collaborators of Prince in his best period) and Jim Keltner.

A one off flight of fancy project unfolded around the same time, the year 2001 – “7 Worlds Collide” which brought together on stage friends and enthusiasts Ed O’Brien, Phil Selway, Johnny Marr, Ed Vedder, Sebastian Steinberg and Lisa Germano for a series of five shows in Auckland NZ which was filmed, recorded and released as a charity record for the benefit of Medicins Sans Frontieres.

This project was reprised seven years later with the addition of four members of Wilco and local music luminairies Bic Runga and Don McGlashan. A double album was recorded in three weeks and released for the benefit of Oxfam. Both 7 Worlds films have recently been released on DVD.

I worked again with my brother Tim in 2004 on a Finn Brothers record alongside Jon Brion and Sebastian Steinberg with production assistance from Mitchell Froom. It was mixed once again by rocket scientist and frequent collaborator Bob Clearmountain.

Since then, Crowded House have been revived with a feeling of things left unsaid in the aftermath of losing dear friend and original member Paul Hester. Two further albums have been recorded with production contributions from Ethan Johns, Steve Lillywhite and Tchad Blake and Jim Scott.

Three years ago, following a series of late night jams with my beautiful wife Sharon on bass and me on drums, we recorded an album under the name Pajama Club alongside respected NZ songwriter Sean Donnelly.

I am currently recording an album scheduled for release mid to late 2013 with producer Dave Fridmann and featuring my sons Liam on guitar and Elroy on drums, together with Sharon on bass. I have also written and performed with Elroy and Liam “The Song of the Lonely Mountain” for the end credits of the first Hobbit movie.

In Feb/March I embarked on a series of live dates around Australia performing on stage together with old friend and much loved Australian songwriter Paul Kelly.

All through the years I have loved performing on stage and am happy to have become known for spontaneous and relaxed evenings, always looking for a chance to step into the unknown. That’s where all the good stuff happens in my experience. My audiences know they have a good chance to influence proceedings…

Neil Finn

[sflisa]

The Twenties

Yikes.

I’m going to loop back a bit and pick up a few details from the first two years at DU - I decided on DU because they decided on me.  I went up there with Dad to audition in the spring of ‘76 and I met, what is in retrospect, the most odd collection of a voice faculty you could imagine - all of them stereotypes, some more genuine than others, and I think I got the most real teacher in that crew in the form of Truly Barr Nelson.  She had black hair with a skunk-white, bride-of-Frankenstein stripe down the middle.  She claimed it was natural.  She was the most normal of the bunch. There was Jack Morris, the kind of spacey Heldentenor type with whom most of the kids who were clearly opera-tracked studied.  Filling out the trio was Ron Worstell, a fairly nice guy with an almost permanent sneer who taught all the other opera-bound folks.  Education majors, those more suited to art-song, and choir nerds went to Truly.  

I lived with Karen in Centennial Towers the first year, and then we moved into a 4 bedroom on-campus apartment for sophomore year.  It was still team fun then; we strapped on our backpacks on the weekend and made the big hike to Safeway, meal plan in hand, so we could get our groceries and cook up our meals for the week.  My most memorable one was when I decided to make Dutch Baby and forgot to put the lid on the blender.  We had a good time, and our lives were mostly simple, and filled with the usual drama between adolescents; audition results, boys, studying, and trying to figure out how to grow the heck up.  It’s a bumpy ride, and we mostly enjoyed the journey.  We picked up Lisa J along the way, who became our biggest fan.

There was a lot of fog and distraction, some good, some not so good, but the bright light shining through it all was my love for singing, and the pursuit of music.  We’ll leave it there, and if I write my book, there will be more at that point.  

One of the bright lights was Lori, who I met sophomore year when she became my accompanist for voice lessons and any solo performing that I did.  She made me laugh so hard, and we became inseparable friends, and lived together for the better part of two (or more?) years.  For awhile, we lost touch, and we recently got back together at a wonderful lunch with Paul and Doug, who were also pals, drinking buddies, and fellow music school survivors.

My indecisiveness and foray into Speech Pathology and Audiology got my credits a bit goofed up, so  it took a bit longer than four years to finish.  We agreed I’d finish my Bachelor’s in voice, while starting to pursue an MA; I had a teaching assistantship, and things just kind of blew up during that time.  I felt totally misled by what little advice I received.   I met the fabulous David Gordon, who introduced himself with this line:  “You know what your problem is?  You’re competent.”  Our adventures and mis-adventures helped show me who I am; he shared his joy of singing and blindingly goofy perspectives on all things human.  During that time when he was artist in residence, he was completely fueled by PBR and chili rellenos from The Border.  Me too.  Miraculously, through a series of synchronistic circumstances he and his former wife Barbara later became deep family friends, and he and his current wife Ginna over time, have arrived in the landscape for all three of us even now.  We’ve visited with them, and they’ve been a huge part of helping me in my transition to empty-nester.  I am so grateful.  True Friends.

Before I left college I made the very wise decision to move to a place really far away from campus and get a dog.  Totally screwed that one up.  Lori eventually took Pete the dog;  he was a great dog, and she took care of him until he went over the rainbow bridge many years later.  Shown there with him is kitten Duster, who I also had to transfer to Mom and Dad.  I was looking for love in all the wrong places....

I finally graduated.

After college, I got a job at Hatch’s Bookstore in University Hills Mall, where I met Dave, who treated me this year with a great photo from that time.  He and I got married, it didn’t work out very well, and then we got unmarried, after I crashed my car over a retaining wall down onto the Platte River.  Nuff said.  Dave is a wonderful guy - we just chose the wrong relationship form for success.  He still makes me laugh, and I have happy memories that I keep.  The other ones are long-gone in the process of forgiveness, of both of us.  This photo pretty much sums it up:

(What’s interesting, as I reflect, is that Dave and I spent a lot of time hiking and biking.  It was the last time I have spent any significant time on a bike.  This bike issue keeps coming up as I have been writing this week.  Hmmmm)

After Hatch’s, I went to work for Western Federal Savings, which changed to Bank Western Federal Savings Bank.  Great naming convention!  I enjoyed my time there, working my way from Teller to a short temporary stint as Asst. Mgr. being coached by Dennis the whole way.  Dennis is another one of those gold-mine people that stay with you for life.  Another Good Friend.  I sang in the Opera Colorado Chorus, and the Denver Symphony Chorus, worked for the opera company for a short stint and quit the day the boss put her shrimp shells in her outbox for me to take to the kitchen.  I had a romance with a french horn player who sent me fan mail (that is a very good way to get a date) to introduce himself.  Way before OK Cupid.  I’m not sure where my photos from all that time are.  If I find them later, I’ll make an addendum.

There were a few trips to Wyoming.  My good friend MaryEllen lives in DuBois, and we drove up there to visit at least twice, one time was in connection with the Teton Music Festival where I got to sing Mahler 3 and listen to Mahler 4 with Zubin Mehta.  Incredible.  I think the Tetons has to be in my top 6 places in the country. Also included in that list are mom’s deck, San Francisco, Haines, and the Sonoma/Mendocino Coast, and western Oregon because that’s where my kids are.

I frequently drove back and forth to Colorado Springs to see Mom and Dad and the boys, who had a whole new lifestyle which included going on SCUBA dive trips to fabulous locations.  I went on one with them, to Grand Cayman, and will always have in my mind a picture of my brothers with outstretched hands encouraging me to snorkel with them.  The most amazing thing.  If you haven’t snorkeled, you must.  You forget you are human.  And, according to Dad, silently giggling on rum punch, you must always keep your center of gravity low.

Right around the change of decade, I got restless.  I had been out to visit Jack in San Francisco, and fell in love with the city, the beautiful surrounding environment, and the temptation of adventure and change.

So, I moved.

See you tomorrow.

[minthepin]

7 days or 150,000 steps. Your choice…

Highlights

By far my favorite thing here was eating at Zellers Bistro. I may or may not have cried at the dinner table. I now realize that I will never amount to that level of happiness again so I can die. Dad said they are ranked in the top 10 restaurants in Budapest. They greeted you with some elderflower champagne (made in house) and said goodbye with some miniature cupcakes. The whole atmosphere was so sweet, like some basement/wine storage place that was last minute turned into a wonderful little restaurant. I had the Hungarian gray beef steak with jacket potato and green peas, and dad had the Cod with black risotto. Needless to say, the steak was better. It just melted in your mouth as tears of joy came running down my face.

The restaurant

Cod and black risotto

This dude keeps following me

Beef and peas, and some of my tears

Carrot cake

Margaret Island comes in close second. I don’t know whether it was just because I was tired of being around people, or whether it was the natural (although hella manicured) quality of the island. But it was just a relaxing day. I followed some self-guided walking tour of the island – there were some Roman ruins, an old convent (for Princess Margaret – her father said if he won the war he would give her to God, so she became a nun at the ripe old age of 9), the Grand Hotel Margitsziget (it used to be the most fashionable hotel in all of Budapest, simply known as “the Grand,” but after WW2 the hotel was modernized), a cute little rose garden and finally, a Japanese garden (waterfalls, streams, bridges and all). The only disappointment was that there was suppose to be a musical fountain, playing old Hungarian tunes, but for some reason, there was neither a fountain nor music. Maybe I liked it so much because it was away from all the traffic and tourists, or maybe it was because I didn’t have to have the stress of trying to keep up with a tour group that I would eventually lose.

Roman ruins

Rose Garden

Rose Garden

Water Tour

Princess Margret

The Convent

The Grand Hotel

The Grand Hotel

Japanese Garden

Japanese Garden

The neither Musical nor Fountain

Japanese Garden

And for my final highlight, it must have been the Opera. Surprising, I know. But actually, they are low key known for their amazing performances. We went to the Hungarian National Opera theater to see “Marios and the Magician” and “Bluebeards Castle,” both written by Hungarian composers. So, although they were in Hungarian and I understood nothing, they had surtitles translating in English. Unfortunately, the theater will be closed down for the next five years for renovation. The singers were so powerful, and the music was just amazing. I have never experienced something so dramatic in person.

The theater, we were on the third floor so a few people got nose bleeds.

It me

The outside of the theater

Daily Activities

Seeing as that was nearly a day worth of activities I figured I should give a slightly more detailed description of my time here (but not too much because this post is already long, so more so pictures than anything).

Day 1

I got in around noon and slept most of the day. Dad and I went out for a sunset walk to see the Parliament, Chain Bridge, and some other things in the nearby vicinity. He works at the Ministry of Agriculture, so he wanted to show me that as well. We then ate a cherry-poppyseed strudel (they are in love with poppyseed things, and strudels so I’m here for it).

The fat policeman statue – rubbing his belly brings you luck

Cherry and Poppyseed Strudel

Imre Nagy Statue, the bridge is made out of Soviet tank pieces (parliament in the back)

The Parliament

View from the Chain Bridge

Day 2

I wanted to get some hardcore tourist shit in still, but dad not so much. We compromised and went on a free alternative walking tour. It was quite interesting – there is a competition every year to design murals on blank walls, it is meant to make the city more beautiful. One of my favorites was the Rubix cube, up close it’s just a bunch of dots, but further away it becomes a cube! The guy who invented it is Hungarian (a lot of things are actually Hungarian – with Greek inspiration of course). There is a quote next to the cube that says, “There is more than one way to solve a problem.” Which is think is super applicable to everyone’s life and honestly, that is a really good thing to keep in mind when doing anything. I was talking to Joe a few weeks ago and something he emphasized in his personal belief is just perspective. Everything needs to get put into perspective in order to try to understand it – maybe it is a person, or a problem, anything really. I just felt like those two went hand in hand and I truly appreciate the beauty of both statements. We saw a lot more street art (attached below I’ll explain it for you, although mom you can just call and I’ll tell you. I know it’s just you reading it…).

Rubix Cube, the quote is “Mindig van megoldás és nem is csak egy!”

This was a Spanish painter, and the man depicted help save a lot of Jewish people during the War. Unfortunately, I cant remember his name.

This was a cute little sticker that is all over Budapest

This is a depiction of Buda and Pest (two separate cities, but they come together because of love). It tries to switch up the stereotypes of both sides of the city.

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The theme for this was “all things Hungarian,” Poseidon one has a bunch of little features (like the train), and the girl is suppose to be a classical Hungarian girl.

It’s me and dad trying to take a selfie in front of a fish!

Day 3

Today was Pentecostal, so more or less everything was closed. Since it is a Christian holiday, I decided to do the Jewish legacy walking tour. We walked all over the Jewish Ghetto and there were three Synagogues we saw – the Great, the Modern, and the Orthodox. All of which were beautiful, but none really resembled a traditional Synagogue. The Great Synagogue – biggest on continental Europe (I think) – had a weeping willow tree made out of silver. Each leaf had a name on it. Around it were rocks everywhere, this is how Jewish people signify their love at burials – the rocks last forever to signify that they will not be forgotten. It was so touching and sad, Hungarians have such a rich history with the Jewish folk during WW2. Of about 700,000 before the war there were only 60,000 left when it ended. We saw the mass burial ground and heard about the Shoe Memorial by the Danube (see Day 4). There were some positives though, there was a statue of Raul Wallenberg and Carl Lutz. Both of them played a major role in saving thousands and thousands of Jewish people during the war in Hungary. If you’re reading this, you honestly should take 10 minutes out of your day and read about Hungarian history and World War 2. Currently, the government is trying to deny all responsibilities. They are blaming the Germans for actions the Hungarians took. Of course, there was an influence, but the Hungarians went above and beyond to destroy a culture and a people. The government even built a fountain (Day 4) trying to avoid all blame. Total and complete bullshit.

Raul Wallenberg Memorial

Synagogue – Modern

Synagogue door – it is under reconstruction

Carl Lutz Memorial

I think this is super applicable to a bunch of incredible people I know

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Weeping Willow Tree

Memorable Jewish people

The Great Synagogue

The Great Synagogue

Day 4

Seeing as losing my tour group yesterday was traumatic, I decided to try again. I went on a “Red” tour – i.e. communism. And although it was super interesting and good, I think jet lag was catching up with me making me super out of it (also see Day 5….). First off, I woke up to an e-mail saying I was Unconditionally Accepted to my Master’s program (WOO!). But then I went to lunch at dads work and got an amazing view of the Parliament. The tour was good, I saw the interactive fountain/blame it on the Germans fountain,  but I just wasn’t all that into it. So I kinda “lost” them and went to do my own thing. I saw the Shoe Memorial on the Danube and just wandered around Budapest.

The Parliament from the Ministry of Agriculture

The “its the German’s fault” fountain

The Parliament from the back.

Shoe Memorial

Shoe Memorial

The Chain Bridge

View from the Chain Bridge

Chain Bridge

Sticker on the bridge

Day 5

The food was too good the night before, so I’m pretty sure my body needed to calm down a little. Went for a short walk but nothing too extraordinary.

Day 6

Ya girl finally did the whole city tour – I got over to the Buda side! We saw St. Stephens Basilica, the first metro station in continental Europe, the little princess (I took the same pic 4 years later, see my insta min.mosa), the Palace, St. Matthias Church, fisherman’s bastion, and then got lost trying to get back. Those places are really beautiful, but I think you can just see it and be done. I’m not sure I have much to say about these places, overall beautiful but I think it is super touristy. AND in Budapest it is very traditional to go to Baths – water helps cure everything right? So, we went to St. Lucas Baths, which were really kinda small. It isn’t the touristy place (Szechenyi Baths, which I was at 4 years ago), but instead one where locals go. I was a little iffy on this idea because bath with your father doesn’t sound too good…. But It was just a warm swimming pool with a jacuzzi and a swirling current. It was fun to go to, but I wasn’t the biggest fan. My life would have been the same without it. If you ever make it over here, it is definitely something you have to do, just to cross it off your bucket list (which by the way, I have been hungry in Hungary, so #winning).

First metro station

The little princess and I

Views from the Chain Bridge

St. Matthias Church

The Fisherman’s Bastion

Views from the Fisherman’s Bastion

Me getting lost

Still lost, but found a cool window

St. Lucas Baths

Selfie at the Baths, ft. my new camera (thanks dad!)

Parliament at sunset

Day 7

Margret Island, and just putzing around, later we did the Opera!

Onwards…

I really enjoyed my time here, and would recommend it! I think it has a lot of history, beautiful art, and some really neat people. Overall, I can see why people call it the “Paris of Eastern Europe.” I don’t think I would go that far since 98% of the time it smells like pee, but I would say it is really pretty.

On my last day before being in transit to Jordan, I think we are just gonna hang out and maybe take some pictures. If you get a chance, you should come here. Maybe don’t spend a whole week (or maybe do since beer is only a euro…), but if you do be sure to check out some of their wonderful history and culture.

This place really makes you understand your good fortune. At least mine. I really have had a lot of time to think (both because tour groups get lost, and because I sit a lot on my own). I can’t believe how lucky I have been these past four years. Yeah, a lot of shit happened, but honestly, overall, I don’t know if I would have become the person I am today without it. I grew up, I am able to reflect on things, and most importantly I like who I am. If that isn’t something to be celebrated, I am not sure what is.

The first time I was here, I was on my way to becoming a freshman, getting my BS in something, and now I am on my way towards getting my MS in international development. I never thought my college experience would have turned out this way, nor that I would have ended up in a field like this, but holy shit am I lucky. I am so lucky to be pursuing a career that I think I’ll love, I am lucky to have known some amazing people, and I am so lucky to have love, support and good fill every corner of my life. Even if I can’t do that for myself, I know I’ll have someone else who can get a flashlight and blind me with light. So thank you to everyone who has contributed to my last four years, good or bad. You have made me better, stronger and wiser.

7 Days in Budapest 7 days or 150,000 steps. Your choice... Highlights By far my favorite thing here was eating at…

[gigslist]

Woodstock Artist's Pay 1969

How Much Woodstock Performers Were Paid 50 Years Ago — and Who's the Richest Star Now Source: https://finance.yahoo.com/news/heres-much-woodstock-performers-got-193016216.html

Before Woodstock was a cultural phenomenon, it was a financial fiasco.

Organizers behind the legendary music festival in upstate New York, which celebrates its 50th anniversary this summer, said they wound up $1.3 million in debt after the historic 1969 event—roughly $9 million in today’s dollars. But they eventually broke even years later thanks to album and movie ticket sales.

In addition to basic problems like miles of traffic jams and a lack of sanitation and food for a colossal crowd estimated at over 400,000, Woodstock organizers failed to adequately fence in the concert area. As a result, many fans attended without paying for admission — which was $18 for the three-day festival, the equivalent of about $125 today. That meant festival producers had even less money than expected to pay Woodstock’s performers, several of whom reportedly demanded twice their usual pay rate, upfront.

How much did bands get paid for playing at Woodstock in 1969? The amounts varied widely, according to generally accepted reports that have surfaced over the years and trace back to an old story in Variety. The disparity in some of the paychecks is dramatic: Woodstock headliner Jimi Hendrix was paid over 20 times higher than another guitar icon, Carlos Santana, who was mostly unknown at the time.

Woodstock organizers were inclined to pay top dollar to artists like Hendrix, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and Jefferson Airplane because they were desperate to put well-known talent on the bill. Leading up to the festival, top acts like the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, The Doors, John Lennon, and Bob Dylan all declined to perform at Woodstock. Some on-the-spot improvisation was also necessary for Woodstock producers: In order to get stars like Jimi Hendrix on stage, organizers reportedly convinced a local bank to open up after hours during the festival and took out an emergency loan.

Here’s how much performers were paid for playing at the original Woodstock festival in 1969, along with some updates on who is the richest rock star now.

Jimi Hendrix: $18,000

In the two years before Woodstock, Jimi Hendrix had put out three studio albums that each reached the top 5 best-seller list in the U.S.: “Are You Experienced,” “Axis: Bold as Love,” and “Electric Ladyland.” The latter peaked at No. 1 on Billboard in late 1968 and remained in the charts for 40 weeks.

So it was certainly justified that Jimi Hendrix was billed as the overall headliner at Woodstock in 1969, and that he commanded the highest paycheck of all performers. Hendrix was paid $18,000 for appearing at Woodstock, which is the equivalent of about $125,000 today.

There was also a clause in his contract stipulating that no one could perform after Jimi Hendrix at the festival. Because there were so many delays and miscues at Woodstock, Hendrix didn’t wind up on stage until the morning of day four of the three-day festival, Monday, August 18, 1969. By that time, the vast majority of people had left — meaning that most fans didn’t even see the Woodstock headliner perform, including his legendary version of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Side note: His performance at Woodstock represented the only Grammy nomination Jimi Hendrix received while he was alive, and he didn’t win.

Blood, Sweat & Tears: $15,000

Blood, Sweat & Tears had a No. 1 album in 1969, and the band’s biggest hit, “Spinning Wheel,” was peaking during that summer. That’s why Blood, Sweat & Tears received the second-highest paycheck at Woodstock, $15,000 — or $105,000 in today’s dollars.

Creedence Clearwater Revival, Joan Baez: $10,000 Each

The folksinger and activist Joan Baez was 28 years old and six months pregnant when she took the stage at 3 a.m. on the first night of Woodstock. Decades later, she told the New York Times that she had been incredibly shy, suffered severe stage fright, and had no idea what songs to perform.

“Not everybody knows me, and my music isn’t rock ’n’ roll,” Baez recalled, noting that she didn’t really fit in at the scene in upstate New York. “I was a political activist, and there were not many of those at Woodstock.” Baez wound up singing the traditional spiritual “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” and Bob Dylan’s “I Shall Be Released,” among other songs.

The Woodstock setlist for Creedence Clearwater Revival, led by singer-songwriter John Fogerty, includes many classics still played on the radio today, including “Born on a Bayou,” “Suzie Q,” “Bad Moon Rising,” and “Proud Mary.” CCR went through an ugly breakup in the early 1970s, but the band’s full performance from 50 years was finally just released as an album this summer, “Live at Woodstock.”

Joan Baez and Creedence Clearwater Revival were among the highest-paid performers at Woodstock, receiving $10,000 each, or about $70,000 today, after adjusting for inflation. According to Celebrity Net Worth, John Fogerty has an estimated net worth of $70 million today, while Joan Baez’s net worth is roughly $11 million.

Jefferson Airplane, The Band, Janis Joplin: $7,500 Each

In the next tier of highest-paid Woodstock performers come some of the top music stars in the late 1960s, who received $7,500 apiece (equivalent of about $52,000 today). Janis Joplin put on what many consider her breakthrough performance at the 1967 Monterey Pop Festival, and two years later at Woodstock she played crowd favorites like “Piece of My Heart” and “Ball and Chain.” Both Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix died due to drug overdoses a little over a year after Woodstock.

The Band, best known at that point for their song “The Weight” and for playing regular as Bob Dylan’s band, were actually locals who lived in the area where the festival was held. “After three days of people being hammered by weather and music, it was hard to get a take on the mood,” The Band’s Robbie Robertson wrote in Rolling Stone 20 years after Woodstock. “We played a slow, haunting set of mountain music. We lived up there, near Woodstock, and it seemed kind of appropriate from our point of view.”

Jefferson Airplane, the quintessential 1960s San Francisco psychedelic rock band, were well-known for top 10 hits like “Somebody to Love” and “White Rabbit” when Woodstock took place. Part of band, led by singer Grace Slick, was reborn as the Starship in the 1980s, when it released pop songs that topped the charts like “We Built This City” and “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now.” Grace Slick has an estimated net worth today of about $20 million, per Celebrity Net Worth.

Richie Havens, Sly & the Family Stone, Canned Heat, The Who: $6,000 – $7,000 Each

A band called Sweetwater was supposed to be the opening act at Woodstock, but they were stuck in traffic when the festival was scheduled to start. Richie Havens and his bandhad driven up to the festival site from New York City early, and after hopping on a short helicopter ride to land near the stage, they wound up opening Woodstock on Friday evening. Havens played for nearly three hours, and his extended setlist included several Beatles songs and the memorable improvisation known simply as “Freedom.”

Of the other Woodstock acts that received reported payments of $6,000 to $7,000 ($42,000 to $49,000 today), the best known by far is The Who. A 1969 report by Rolling Stone said that The Who’s manager collected $11,200 before the band’s performance at Woodstock, but that’s believed to be an exaggeration. The Who singer Roger Daltrey did confirm, however, that it demanded upfront payment before the band began its set at 5 a.m., after waiting around backstage for some 14 hours.

“Woodstock wasn’t peace and love,” Daltrey recalled to the New York Times recently. “People were screaming at the promoters, people were screaming to get paid. We had to get paid, or we couldn’t get back home.”

The British band, which released “My Generation” in 1965 and the historic rock opera “Tommy” in 1969, was still a big enough deal in 2010 to be asked to play the Super Bowl halftime show, and they are working on a new album expected to be released in 2019. The two core members of The Who, Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend, are probably the richest Woodstock performers still alive today, with net worths estimated at $85 million and $105 million, respectively.

Sly & the Family Stone, whose music blended funk, soul, and rock and has been sampled abundantly by rap artists like Dr. Dre, A Tribe Called Quest, and Arrested Development, received $7,000 for performing at Woodstock in 1969. They didn’t go on stage until 5 a.m., band member Rose Stone recalled later in an NPR interview. “The sun started to come up and all of a sudden all we could see was just a sea of people,” she said. “I think it was like an apex of our group.”

Arlo Guthrie, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young: $5,000 Each

The second time that Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young played live as a band, it was in front of hundreds of thousands of people at Woodstock. Neil Young had recently been asked to join the trio of David Crosby, Stephen Stills, and Graham Nash, who had released their first album in the spring of 1969. At Woodstock, the famously prickly Neil Young refused to be filmed and most of the band’s acoustic set featured just Crosby, Stills & Nash, who opened with their epic “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.”

Arlo Guthrie, the song of folk music icon Woody Guthrie, was only 19 years old when he played at Woodstock. He was expecting to perform on the festival’s second day, and he indulged in plenty of champagne backstage on the first night because there was no food and nothing else to drink, Guthrie later recalled. Then Woodstock organizers suddenly asked Guthrie to play on the first night. “Richie Havens has been up there playing for hours. There’s nobody else and you’ve got to play now,” they told him.

Guthrie played a short set, and by most accounts it wasn’t a particularly good performance. He didn’t play his best-known song, the 18-minute-long antiestablishment saga “Alice’s Restaurant,” which was released in 1967.

Arlo Guthrie and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young were paid $5,000 each for playing at Woodstock, about $35,000 today. Neil Young, who has had decades of success as a solo artist and leader of other bands outside CSNY, is now the richest star in this group, with a net worth currently estimated at $65 million.

The Grateful Dead: $2,500

Perhaps no band is more closely associated with the hippie movement and the kind of crowd drawn to Woodstock than the Grateful Dead. But members of the band admit that the Grateful Dead’s set at Woodstock, played while the rain poured down and consisting of only five songs, was a disaster.

“The stage was wet, and the electricity was coming through me. I was conducting! Touching my guitar and the microphone was nearly fatal,” the Grateful Dead’s Bob Weir told Rolling Stone. “It was probably the worst set we’ve ever performed. And to have performed it in front of a crowd that size was not an altogether fulfilling experience.”

Santana: $750

Here’s the rest of the low end of the payscale at Woodstock in 1969, according to Variety:

• Ravi Shankar: $4,500 • Johnny Winter: $3,750 • Ten Years After: $3,250 • Country Joe and the Fish: $2,500 • Incredible String Band: $2,250 • Mountain: $2,000 • Tim Hardin: $2,000 • Joe Cocker: $1,375 • Sweetwater: $1,250 • John Sebastian: $1,000 • Melanie: $750 • Santana: $750 • Sha Na Na: $700 • Keef Hartley: $500 • Quill: $375

Of these artists, two performances in particular stand out for how memorably they played — and how little they were paid. The British singer Joe Cocker’s iconic version of the Beatles’ “With a Little Help From My Friends” closed his set and probably summed up the vibe at Woodstock as well as any song.

Then there’s Santana. Few people at Woodstock had heard of Santana, which in the summer of 1969 was a mostly unknown band led by 22-year-old Carlos Santana, a guitar phenom who performed in his teenage years at bars and strip clubs in Tijuana, Mexico. Santana received $750 for playing at Woodstock — about $5,000 in today’s dollars, and 24 times less than Jimi Hendrix’s paycheck — and it was money well spent. Carlos Santana was high on mescaline when the band took the stage on Saturday afternoon, and by most accounts they blew people’s minds with electrifying performances of songs like “Evil Ways” and “Soul Sacrifice.”

Three decades after Woodstock, Carlos Santana was an established rock god and released the album “Supernatural,” featuring collaborations with the likes of Lauryn Hill, Eric Clapton, and Rob Thomas. The Santana-Thomas song “Smooth” became one of the biggest-selling singles of all time, and Santana collected multiple Grammy Awards in 1999. Today, Carlos Santana is 72 years old and has a net worth estimated at $50 million.

[twofittravelers]

After-The-Fact: 36-Hour Weekend Adventure in Denver

It happened by accident, but we ended up at Denver International Airport (DIA) early Saturday morning after a quick flight from Houston. With a deadline to return to the airport less than 36 hours later, we set off on our loosely laid plans. Not exactly the kind of trip that most people envision.

The weather: spectacular. Air quality: 10/10. Overall experience: Would do again. Below, we’ll share how we traveled to Denver and maxed out 36 hours. Oh, and we flew for about $100 roundtrip. Keep reading to find out how.

After a quick 2 hour flight from Houston, we arrived in beautiful 65* weather, with no agenda other than eating at Denver Biscuit Company. Mike had eaten there previously and really wanted to take me there. Expectations were high — and it did not disappoint! We tried “the Luna” – a chicken sandwich served on biscuit French toast – as well as one of their famous cinnamon rolls. Somehow we didn’t eat too much. In order to detain our guilt, we also opted for a healthy side of granola and yogurt which, for the fit traveler, is an awesome option at this restaurant. Denver Biscuit Co.: 10/10.

We then travelled over to Red Rocks Amphitheater to burn some calories. We didn’t plan on working out there, but nearly changed our minds when we saw the 50 or so folks who were exercising on a brisk Saturday morning. Some were running across and up/down the rows, others were jumping or climbing from bottom to top. It was super-inspiring to see so many active people out and about! (The set-up crew for that night’s band must have been excited, too, because they pumped out some tunes for the crowd).

Life Time provided a destination for a mid-day workout. We always look forward to that first workout after a flight, to knock the rust off a bit. After our workout came the Rockies game! We visited MinuteMaid Stadium last year in Houston to watch the final game of the Astros season; this, though, was both of our first visits to Coors Field. Although we have no strong allegiance to either the Rockies or the Padres, it was still super fun to be at the game – and Mike got nearly front row tickets (5th row off the 1st baseline) for super cheap!

Segway into a quick awesome story, and something we hope all of you have a chance to experience: While we were at the Denver Biscuit Co., we met a gentleman named Marty – a violinist from, ironically, Chicago! (Remember, we are native Illinoisans.) As we were wrapping up at the restaurant, Marty mentioned that we should try out the restaurant Snooze. Fast forward to our Red Rocks visit, we met a couple named Alex (@themortgagepug) and Sarah from Vancouver, B.C. Mike struck up a conversation after noticing Alex recording a cool video for his Insta story, and soon after we learned that they were going to the Rockies game that night as well!

Fast forward to Sunday morning (we caught up on some sleep with an early Saturday), Mike and I decided to stop at Snooze per Marty’s recommendation. We chose a random location along our path to the mountains, and of all people standing outside as we were leaving – Marty the violinist. The shortest time, and smallest interactions seem to contain the most significance.

As alluded to above, we then took off for Mt. Evans, opting for a scenic drive over a hike. Mt. Evans bears the highest paved road in North America! Unfortunately, the mountain was still closed. Despite falling short of the highest paved point, the views were still spectacular (see image above). A quick drive back to Denver, followed by a recovery workout (and Maryssa’s nap) wrapped up our afternoon. We were so taken aback by running into Marty twice in Denver that we decided to stop by his performance at a local opera production before heading to the airport.

This was one of our most affordable trips. Everything is relative, so forgive us if this seems like a lot. All things considered, we think this weekend trip was a total gem!

Flights: $49 sale fare + companion pass from HOU to DEN, points + companion pass on the return trip, $20 for early-bird on SW each way= $49 + ($5.60 x 3) + ($20 x 2) = $105.80 (Miscellaneous cost associated with flights: Parking = $17)

Lodging: Airbnb = $69.41 (Guys, we’ve never had a bad Airbnb experience.)

Transport: Enterprise rental car (Thanks, Amber!) = $91

Tickets/Rockies Game experience: 2 tickets = $108, miscellaneous (incl. parking, etc.) = $60; Total = $168

Meals: If you’ve used the travel planner that our email subscribers get exclusive access to, you know we use a food budget multiple rather than the total cost of meals. Our multiple for this trip was about 2.0x = $200

Trip Grand Total: $451.21 + about $100 in extra meals = ~$550

This trip was short, sweet and memorable. Just the way we like it. We kept up with our exercise routine, tried a new-ish restaurant, visited a few places we had never been, and enjoyed every minute – exactly what we wish for you on your next trip.

Adventure On,

Maryssa and Mike

The post After-The-Fact: 36-Hour Weekend Adventure in Denver appeared first on Two Fit Travelers.

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[uterusclub]

As any Native Chicagoean can attest, the winter never fails to destroy our souls – at least temporarily so. But as that weary tail-end concludes, one gradually regains hope, energy, and enthusiasm. These are the trappings of no more woe. 

Our first expedition involved a visit to the Otherworld Theatre Company to see a choose-your-own adventure style production of ‘Quest for Thrones.’ We were beckoned to make several decisions for the Game of Thrones characters which mostly involved death or killing and to no surprise of mine, our crowd was an outwardly, murdery bunch. So we got along just great. The only downside to the show was the mold-induced smell of the lobby area where I quite literally gawked around the room to see if anyone else was just as disturbed as I. They did not appear as such which daunts me even more. Following the very short but delightful show, we made our way home but the night just didn’t feel complete. So we made a stop-off. Well, 2, actually. Sharon had demanded a hot dog the entire day so we stopped at my beloved Susie’s and then headed a few blocks down to my treasured karaoke joint, Sidekicks! It had been quite some time since my last sing so it was well-overdue. Upon arrival, we noted several people already singing which took me by surprise. While Sharon hit the bano, I was met by my long-time waitress friend who’s name I can’t completely remember – Christine – Christina? Christy? Something like that. I’m horrible. In any case, she offered me a mis-remembered test-tube shot (Sex on the Beach) to which I declined (my favorite is the Buttery Nipple) and ordered us a few drinks. I immediately trolled through the song book to figure out my agenda which, let’s be honest, is usually the same couple songs. Due to low attendance, I was announced very quickly. The night continued much the same aside from several interruptions from ‘the mutants at table 9’ who attempted to Facebook us (we DID give them Uterus Club as our contact but perhaps they considered this a joke as nothing ever came of it). We had met our end all be all of interactions with these folks when one of them dedicated a song to me. It was at this point, we slipped out, past the bouncer and I quite literally ran to my car even though Sharon had my keys and fumbled around for horror-movie record time. Surely, we would have been killed. Regardless, wonderful, hilarious night.

Onward. Sharon has been madly obsessed with a man by the name of Max Frost whom she played a few songs of a little while back. She missed a previous concert of his as my schedule wouldn’t allow it but recently discovered he was once again, back in Chicago! Naturally, she grabbed tickets and demanded (or rather, asked super nicely) we go. The last time we had been to Subterranean in Wicker Park was for Allison Weiss which was a blast! I recalled our hanging out on the upstairs area and peering down at the entire performance. Max Frost was equally rewarding in this sense. Unfortunately, getting awesome seats around the threshold of the upstairs area meant getting there early and listening to the opener – a girl we had already pre-researched and were not impressed with. Ironically, she ended up sounding way better live. Further irony kicked in when we discovered there was an ADDITIONAL opener who no one knew! THIS guy? Oh man. This was your stereotypical, dirty hipster trying-to-be-real with the ‘people’ who attempted to be deep and introspective while sitting on stage without shoes on. Absolutely horrendous! It should come as no surprise that we were a tad bit ecstatic when Max Frost FINALLY showed up on stage. Yes, we were ecstatic for approximately five songs and then all fizzled out into exhaustion. Capping the night and our very classy ride home via the most wonderful CTA, we listened to a homeless man reflect on his rejection of a plus-sized lady whom he compared to several, large animals. Always an adventure.

But wait. There’s more. ‘March madness’ couldn’t possibly be complete without a little festive shout-out to the Irish. And we went all out people. Having said that, I believe I’m some ridiculously low percentage Irish but I’ve also BEEN to Ireland so I think I get a free pass on that one. In any case, Sharon suggested we hit up the downtown dying of the river in the morning since neither of us had actually seen it live. Sure, the videos are fun but it couldn’t possibly be the same. So bright and early, we headed downtown to park and walk over to one of them many bridges to catch a peek. I had no goddamn idea shit was going to be that cray! Seriously, it was college town USA and like, early. The only good part of the situation is that everyone was very merry but not obnoxiously so (yet). The bad part of the situation is that the color saturation hadn’t exactly made itself evident enough from our viewpoint and therefore, we saw a little bit of green far off in the distance. Major fail. Our follow-up idea was to hit up Public House for their themed

cake shakes, however, we later realized it was already privatized for some wrist-band drinking event all morning and not open to the public! So we hit up the ‘poor man’s’ Public House ie. JoJo’s Milk Bar. The place was small and unimpressive to say the least. Sharon ordered us a ‘shake’ which was sad. We took a few obligatory sips before headed out. Next stop? Milwaukee! That’s right!

There’s absolutely no musical I love more than Phantom of the Opera. I legit have this shit memorized. On our way up to Milwaukee, I googled us a place to stop and eat nearby before the show. The Internet gods brought us to Ale Aslyum Riverhouse. It’s difficult to explain the complete awe of driving from a crazed downtown Chicago to a completely abandoned downtown Milwaukee. Streets were desolute! We had apparently come to the right place. Upon grabbing a quick lunch and Sharon randomly bumping into an ex-client of hers, we made our way to the Marcus Performing Arts Center. As usual, I had completely forgot what sort of seats I had purchased us but apparently I did well since we ended up in the back row on the end of the aisle. The performance was most enjoyable – although some of the singing was a bit inconsistent and I think we both spent a questionable amount of time wondering what the race of the Phantom was. We stayed long enough to hear by favorite trio part before seamlessly ducking out and venturing over to one last stop before home: Mars Cheese Castle. To say this place is anything other than completely overwhelming would be a lie. We came away with a few bags of curds and not much more due to ambivalence. Next time I’ll do some research.

St. Patrick’s Day! The OFFICIAL! Our festivities for the day mainly included eating and drinking. Oh yes, we also threw in a little Boondock Saints as well and some Pandora Irish playlist to accompany our cooking. Menu included Guinesse drumsticks, spinach puff-pastry shamrocks, mashed cauliflower and corned-beef eggrolls. Don’t forget, topping off our day-drinking of Magners Hard Cider which was doused with a few drops of green food coloring! We completed the meal with alcohol cupcakes purchased the night before at the previously mentioned Mars Cheese Castle. And that’s a wrap!

So guess what? We loved Milwaukee SO much that we decided to visit it AGAIN! But THIS time, we really meant business. First stop? Plato’s Closet. It’s tradition after all. Next stop? A little Milwaukee Burger Company. Ginormous, Deep-fried cheese curd cubes, anyone? Stomach – my apologies but worth it. Where to now? Our most beloved Lost Valley Cider Co. where we met an Irish wolf dog who was HUGE and wonderful! We also got our hands on a peanut butter and jelly cider as well as a Hibiscus cider we enjoyed so much we ordered some to go!

Catching a nice buzz now, we made our way to Swing Park where a bunch of hoodlums roamed and I tried to do fancy moves for photographic integrity. Sharon captured what appears to be a child abduction in progress which is absolutely priceless. Our journey now took us to the Villa Terrace Decorative Arts Museum which, not gonna lie, I didn’t know anything about and frankly, still don’t. But it was pretty and had a cheap Groupon and had a fantastic view! Finalizing our self-guided tour here, we finally headed to our haunted (that’s right), Bed and Breakst: Brumder Mansion.

We were met by innkeeper, Tom who was an absolute joy! Unfortunately, he didn’t give us much intel to go on as far as ghosts were concerned – only to say there were 13 and none sounded menacing (how very disappointing). He also mentioned there being some children that tend to fidget with items left out if you ask them to which Sharon left out a ridiculous amount of things. I’ll save you the suspense – nothing was moved. In any case, we hung out for a little while before heading out for our dinner reservation at the Pasta Tree. This has always been a favorite of mine, however, both service and food was mediocre at best for some reason. We followed up dinner with drinks at a nearby Irish bar by the name of Paddy’s Pub which ended up being one of my favorite parts of our trip! Decor was beautiful and sweet and the employees were homey and gracious.

The pinnacle of this trip was our finalized stop-off at the Oriental Theater to see a viewing of the Room with actor/director/writer, Tommy Wiseau present! The line for this event was literally down the street and around the corner! It took me a second to realize that Tommy was signing autographs and taking pictures BEFORE the actual showing so we jumped ship from our spots in line to meet the man himself who was kind and sweet (and apparently dug my tattoos). After re-joining our original line, we eventually made our way back into the theater and  headed up to the balcony for anti-social viewing. Oh! And I mustn’t forget the spoons. While we had been in line outside, someone was passing out handfuls of plastic spoons which we didn’t take out of confusion – only to research and later discover it was a ‘thing’ that went along with the movie. Our bad. Next time! Show was scheduled to start at 9:30pm. Show started at, I’m going to say 10:45pm after all the delay and opening shenanigans. We were tired as all hell. And made it just about 15 minutes into the movie before calling it a night. Unfortunately, leaving out of the theater, Sharon predicted Tommy might be hanging out in the lobby and of course, lo and behold, there he blew! Goddamnit! So we attempted to casually saunter out only to be met with a very saddened, ‘Where you going? Home?” It actually broke my heart. Poor Tommy. Heading back to the B&B, we both eventually passed out and roused for our adorable breakfast. Parting fairly quickly after our meal, we had a final, triumphant stop off at the Potawatomi Hotel and Casino and endeavored in a little morning Bingo. Again, I’ll save you the suspense – we didn’t win. And I’m sure I demanded vengeance per usual.

Wrapping up the wonderful month of March was our visit to the United Center to see Mumford and Sons! I had purchased tickets for Sharon for her birthday back in February. She had been talking about wanting to see them for as long as I can remember. It was only after I had purchased said tickets that she vocalized her hatred of their latest album. Fortunately, they didn’t play much of it. As a precursor to the show, we stopped

off at Viaggio for some Italian dinner. Twas splendid! We then took a buzzed walk over to the show and awed over the comfort and view of our seats! No one in front of us and at the end of the aisle! Cat Power was the opener who I am familiar with but don’t know much about. I described her as ‘more depressing than Aimee Mann’ which Sharon could barely wrap her head around. Crowd became super anxious as a result but as soon as

Mumford showed up, the energy was electric! I’ve never been the hugest fan of theirs but I will say they put on a damn, fine show! Again, left after a handful of songs but know, I would have stayed til the end. And as we left, drenched in the cold rain whoring our make-up, I knew that this and everything else had all been worth the wait.

Oh Hi, March As any Native Chicagoean can attest, the winter never fails to destroy our souls - at least temporarily so.

[takenews-blog1]

Actors Who Performed Infamous Film Villains: What They Look Like Now

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Actors Who Performed Infamous Film Villains: What They Look Like Now

Film villains. We like to hate them and hate to like them. Let’s have a look into a number of the actors who performed these iconic unhealthy guys (and ladies) and see what they’re to date.

Ah sure, Lord Voldemort, one of many best film villains of the final twenty years. Those that grew up both studying the Harry Potter books or watching the movies know what a very scary antagonist he’s. Ralph Fiennes did a terrific job taking part in the function of He Who Should Not Be Named and actually captured the essence of this darkish lord. Though it’s a bit tough to truly inform that it’s Ralph Fiennes behind the snake-like masks, the resemblance is shut sufficient to completely pull off the half. It’s debatable that that is one among Fiennes’ largest and best-acting roles so far.

Wanting higher with a beard, since his renown function as Lord Voldemort within the Harry Potter franchise, it appears that evidently Ralph Fiennes has taken a step again from his evil methods as an actor. Aside from his small function because the character of Hades in The Wrath of the Titans, Fiennes has managed to stay to harmless roles for essentially the most half. These embody movies akin to Nice Expectations, The Grand Budapest Resort, and Hail, Caesar! Fiennes even had a voice function in The Lego Batman Film. At the moment in post-production, his latest movie can be Holmes and Watson anticipated to be launched in 2018.

Though Tobin Bell had an honest appearing profession all through the ’80s and ’90s, his main breakthrough function was taking part in John Kramer, higher often called “Jigsaw” in The Noticed franchise. Nothing fairly beats a terminally sick previous man who takes it upon himself to make folks recognize their life by placing them by a sequence of horrific, self-mutilating checks. The Noticed franchise, in addition to the character of Jigsaw managed to pump out eight Noticed associated films till the sequence ultimately burned out. However who is aware of, there’s most likely extra to come back.

For the reason that current main success of his function in Noticed I-VII, it his clear Bell hasn’t had a lot time to age, but solely a smile appears to set him aside from his character Jigsaw. He notes that he needs to proceed rising his appearing profession, nonetheless, in a unique path from movies akin to Noticed. Since then, he starred as Yo Ling within the Cleaning soap Opera Days of Our Lives in 2016. He additionally stars because the voice of Dr. Alchemy and Dr. Savitar on the third season of The Flash. Though these are each villains, they’re definitely a step down from the malicious Jigsaw. Nevertheless, apparently Bell simply couldn’t get sufficient and confirmed that in October of 2017, the eighth installment of the Noticed can be launched titled Jigsaw.

Amongst her many villainous roles, one among Helena Bonham Carter’s most unforgettable is her character of Mrs. Lovett in Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd. This character is a end result of all the villains she has performed rolled into one extremely twisted character. Her sunken eyes, pale pores and skin, and rats nest hairdo definitely has evil written throughout it. To not point out she’s in love with a madman and enjoys killing folks and feeding them to her restaurant prospects. Though this movie is a musical, Helena is able to making the character of Mrs. Lovett doubtlessly some of the evil musical stars so far.

Since her function because the depraved Mrs. Lovett, it’s virtually onerous to image her as a standard particular person. Now, she performs on and off villain characters in numerous movies. Her most notable evil roles since Sweeney Todd are Belatrix Lestrange from the Harry Potter sequence and her function because the Crimson Queen within the Alice in Wonderland movies. Nevertheless, she has additionally been solid to play extra critical roles akin to her efficiency in The King’s Speech, and as Miss Havisham from a movie adaptation of Nice Expectations. An much more shocking half she lately had was that of the Fairy Godmother in a live-action Cinderella movie. Rumor additionally has it that she is predicted to be in a all-female spin off of the Oceans Trilogy, proving her to be fairly the versatile actress.

Jason Isaacs efficiency because the cruel Col. William Tavington in The Patriot definitely locations him on the high of the checklist as one of many best unhealthy guys to hate. There may be not a single redeeming high quality about his character. In truth, he makes you need to kill him your self. Viewers loath him to start with of the movie and by the top he makes your blood boil. Though the character’s actions within the movie are nothing wanting deplorable, it’s Jason Isaacs’ appearing that basically takes this character above and past. Jason isaacs was born for this function and the movie wouldn’t be almost as memorable with out him.

It’s secure to say that with out his colonial type lengthy hair, Jason Isaacs appears to be like a lot much less formidable today. Nevertheless, Jason Isaacs was a late bloomer within the appearing world and his efficiency in The Patriot was in the direction of the start of his profession. Since then, he has continued to be acknowledged for enjoying very sly, but swish villains akin to his function as Lucius Malfoy in Harry Potter and Captain Hook in Peter Pan. Nonetheless, though these characters go well with him and are what the viewers identifies him with, he has been identified to step exterior of this typecast and tackle heroic roles in movies akin to Black Hawk Down and Fury.

Kevin Spacey’s function as John Doe within the disturbing psychological thriller Seven proved to the world that Spacey is sort of the convincing psychopath. Though his character is barely revealed in the direction of the top of the movie, he utterly steals the present. He makes fairly an entrance into the movie, on the police station with an impassive face, shaved head, and bitten off fingertips. Understanding what he has performed beforehand within the movie, it makes this scene all of the extra ominous. From there, his dialogue and mannerisms may be described as nothing lower than sinister and is what makes most adults draw back from this movie, solidifying Kevin Spacey as a wonderful unhealthy man.

At the moment, Kevin Spacey’s main and most well-known undertaking is his lead function within the Netflix sequence Home of Playing cards. Beginning in 2011, and persevering with up till now, Spacey was nominated for the Primetime Emmy Award for Excellent Lead Actor in a Drama Sequence in 2013 and later received a Golden Globe award for The Finest Actor in a Tv Sequence Drama. Though his character of Frank Underwood is nearly as sadistic and wretched as John Doe, it was crucial for his character to truly have hair and fingertips on this function.

Within the basic gangster movie Goodfellas, Joe Pesci performs the obnoxious, loudmouth, trigger-happy, gangster named Tommy Devito. Though Tommy isn’t really described because the anti hero, he definitely constitutes as a foul man. On the drop of a hat, he was identified to beat, shoot, and stab males to demise with no questions requested. He was such a wild card that even his buddies needed to watch their step round him to verify he didn’t activate them as nicely. Joe Pesci did an important job at drawing out the uncomfortable silences Tommy initiates, creating nervousness for what he’ll do subsequent.

Not wanting fairly as jovial wanting as he as soon as did taking part in Tommy DeVito, it seems that Joe Pesci may need drained himself out. He has solely been in six films prior to now 20 years together with his final movie being Love Ranch. He was then invited to play a task in Martin Scorsese’s now mobster movie titled The Irishman, which he has not so politely declined on quite a few events. But, in July 2017, Pesci lastly agreed to signal onto the movie together with Robert DeNiro, finishing the holy trinity that gave us Raging Bull, On line casino, and Goodfellas.

In The Karate Child, Martin Kove is called John Kreese, the extremely in-shape and violent Cobra Kai sensei with a critical ego drawback. He enjoys beating up highschool boys, pinning them towards one another, and makes it his private vendetta to see the younger foremost character harmed. If that isn’t a foul man, I don’t know what’s. A 40-year previous man telling his teenage pupil to “Sweep the leg” and break his opponents bone appears a bit of excessive, incomes him the title of a basic film unhealthy man of the 1980’s.

To not be too harsh, however it appears to be like like all that anger towards teenage boys and potential steroid utilization lastly caught up with Kove. Though he was by no means a lot of an actor, after his bout with The Karate Child sequence, he stayed within the karate style and continued to behave in low-budget karate movies and TV exhibits. He even scored a task within the movie Rambo: First Blood Half II, wherein he turned out to be a traitor in the long run. He even appeared on the TV present Tosh.O wearing his previous John Kreese outfit from his glory days, actually scraping the underside of the barrel.

Javier Bardem performs the quiet, calculated, cattle gun wielding murderer named Anton Chigurh in No Nation for Previous Males. If Chigurh killing random folks primarily based on the flip of a coin doesn’t scare you, then his virtually supernatural capability to search out the protagonist wherever he’s will. Bardem’s calm and picked up angle whereas taking part in the villain of Chigurh makes the movie all that extra ominous since you understand what Chigurh is able to. Bardem’s portrayal of Chigurh makes for a personality that isn’t solely a foul man however a textbook psychopath. The character of Chigurh was even named No. 26 out of the 50 Most Vile Villains in Film Historical past by Leisure Weekly.

Clearly, not appearing as Anton Chigurh makes Bardem appears to be like extra approachable, no less than a bit of. After the success of No Nation for Previous Males, he went on to win quite a few unbiased and international movie awards for different tasks. He was even the primary ever all Spanish-language Finest Actor Oscar nominee in 2011. Bardem went again to his villainous methods and starred as the primary enemy within the James Bond movie Skyfall. In 2012, he obtained the two,484th star on the Hollywood Stroll of Fame and is now anticipated to play the antagonist within the 2017 movie, Pirates of the Caribbean: Lifeless males Inform No Tales.

The actions and expectations of E. Lee Ermey’s character Sergeant Hartman in Full Steel Jacket is a straightforward option to persuade anyone out of becoming a member of the army. He’s offensive, in-your-face, and downright racist. It additionally doesn’t harm that he was a drill grasp himself when he was within the army. Within the movie, his antics drive one among his trainees mad, main him to gruesomely commit suicide. Regardless that Hartman might not be thought-about the antagonist of the film, he can absolutely be acknowledged as a foul man that does extra hurt to his firm than good.

After the discharge and success of Full Steel Jacket, Ermey was nominated for a Golden Globe for Finest Supporting Actor. That is principally since he wrote the vast majority of his personal script off the highest off his head whereas capturing. Since then, he has been in over 60 movies akin to Mississippi Burning, Leaving Las Vegas, and On Lethal Floor. He has even used his voice in cartoons, usually as army generals or commanders such because the plastic inexperienced soldier chief in Toy Story. He has additionally hosted the documentary sequence Mail Name and Lock and Load.

Within the film Gangs of New York, Daniel Day-Lewis performs the a part of the power-hungry and violent villain Invoice “The Butcher” Reducing. A person who’s revered solely out of concern, he runs the run-down metropolis of New York often called the 5 Factors after defeating the Irish in a bloody battle. He butchers folks greater than he butchers meat and makes certain he will get a minimize out of any felony exercise occurring within the city. This was an distinctive efficiency by Day-Lewis who made The Butcher a extremely convincing and scary character.

After a really lengthy and profitable profession, Daniel Day-Lewis has lately introduced that he’ll retire from appearing after one final movie anticipated to be launched in December 2017. Day-Lewis is the one actor to have ever received three Finest Actor Oscars for Lincoln, There Will Be Blood, and My Left Foot. He was additionally nominated for his efficiency in Gangs of New York and Within the identify of the Father. Day-Lewis has been considered one of many movie’s most profitable methodology actors who goes to nice lengths to make sure complete immersion into his character.

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10 Questions – Tony Mills, Without a Hitch

This week, we welcome Room 2 Manoeuvre’s hip-hop dance theatre show Without a Hitch, which follows the downward spiral of a four-man breakdancing crew as ambition, jealousy and frustration manifest in a group struggling to move in the same direction.

Presented as part of a weekend of dance from 3 – 4 November by Dance Base and Traverse Theatre, Without a Hitch, features an international cast from Finland, Sweden and the UK. Ahead of the performance, we speak to Room 2 Manoeuvre’s Artistic Director Tony Mills about the performance...

(Photo: Tony Mills by Jorg Letz)

Tony Mills is Artistic Director of Room 2 Manoeuvre, and founding member of Edinburgh based dance companies Random Aspekts B-Boy crew and Cypher Dance. He is a keen ambassador for the breakdance scene in Scotland and, alongside an extensive portfolio that includes working with organisations such as Scottish Ballet, Dundee Contemporary Arts Centre and The Arches, has been involved in hosting dance events and touring work internationally.

(Image: Without a Hitch. Simon Beyer-Pederesen)

1) Starting with the obvious thing to ask, can you tell us a little bit about Without A Hitch?

Without a Hitch is the story of a fictional breakdance crew called the Rhythm Rascals. They are on the brink of winning a major competition, which could take things to the next level, but not everyone is happy with the direction they are taking. The show examines relationships and differing agendas with hip-hop dance, physical theatre and a funky soundtrack. It's the largest production we have done to date working with a bigger team of creatives including dramaturg Candice Edmunds, set designer Karen Tennent, Composer Danny Krass, lighting designer Grant Anderson and costume designer Megan Baker. 

2) Can you tell us about how you got into break dancing? I studied at Edinburgh University and during my time there I started taking breakdance classes at Dance Base when it was at the Assembly Rooms under the tutelage of Allan Irvine. I got hooked immediately and ended forming a crew in 2001 called Random Aspekts. 

3) Who had the greatest impact on your decision to become a dancer/choreographer? I think I can attribute it to a guy called Edward Kendall. I grew up in Orkney and had to stay in a hostel in Kirkwall when I started doing standard grades. We lived in dorms and the guy next to me was Edward. He was the first dude I saw do the running man at a school disco. I was like...’What's that?’ I started copying him and we ended up having this silent competition over a while where we would keep trying to come up with different variations of the move. We ended up getting circles going at school discos and that was really when the seed was planted. After I graduated from University, I was offered a job with a company called Freshmess and I began to see that you could earn a living from dance.

(Image: Without a Hitch. Brian Hartley)

4) Would you say your performances have a house style? If so, is that important for the storytelling? I would say that most of my work, so far, has been of the tragic comedy type. There is generally always a journey that the dancers/characters undergo. There is a feeling that they are somehow different at the end than at the beginning. This idea of journey is important to the storytelling. I like the audience to feel that they have gone somewhere or been through something also. 

5) Do you let people have a lot of freedom in interpreting roles?  To a degree, yes. As long as the motives of the character or point of the scene come across without too much delay, indulgence or anything that’s not really essential. I do try to encourage the performers to put a something of themselves into the role. If a performer is somehow invested and has some ownership of the role, it can create a stronger performance.

6) What’s been the most useful piece of dancing advice you’ve been given? The first is to have persistence. Whether you're trying to get a move down or sell a show, this is one of the most important traits to have. A lot of great artists have given up far too early and a lot of mediocre artists have gone on to achieve great things because they stuck at it. You gain experience, you get better and opportunities do eventually come your way but you have to keep doing it. The second is where is the joy? You can only stick at something if you enjoy it or if you think the rewards are going to be big enough. For me, the reward is the act of creating it, doing it, promoting it, touring it and giving people an experience. Every now and then you've got to ask yourself ‘where's the joy?’

(Image: Without a Hitch. Brian Hartley)

7) Do you have a favourite Edinburgh haunt?

When I'm not busy with a project, these days I can mostly be found training at Cross Combat gym in Tollcross. Like breaking, I've become hooked on jiujitsu and it's nice to find something new that is physically and mentally challenging. Under The Stairs is a favourite spot for meeting up for drinks and Spoon Cafe is my choice for working out of the home or office.

8) What’s been your most memorable dance or theatre experience?

When I was touring my first solo Watch iT! There was a scene where I did a duet with a TV (aye). The TV was set behind a cupboard on stage and I would disappear behind the cupboard. When we did a show at the Arches the technician misplaced setting the TV behind the cupboard, so the moment arrived where I’d use it in my piece and I was fiddling around behind the cupboard in the darkness trying to find this TV that isn't there. There was nothing to it but to improvise a 6/7 min solo that would have normally culminated in a very iconic image for the show. For that whole time, I felt like I was skating on thin ice, but nobody in the audience was any the wiser. This taught me a couple of things. If you don't look like you're having a problem on stage, then nobody really knows you're having a problem. Secondly, always check your own props no matter how many folk you have working for you. On the flipside, performing sold out shows at the Sydney Opera House was also pretty cool. 

(Image: Without a Hitch. Brian Hartley)

9) What does your choreographic process look like?

Most projects will have a research phase developing broad strokes for the piece. This helps with direction when we get into the final creation phase. I always start a project with some improvisation and partnering work in the studio. This lets me get to know how the dancers move, what they like to do and allow them to get familiar with each other. After that, it will depend entirely on the project. I do have my toolbox of choreographic ideas that I’ve picked up and developed over the years. I'll either teach material or developed it through tasks and improvisation. This will lead to developing scenes or sections of movement. I'll then try to knit the sections together in a linear way that has a flow or follows a narrative structure. For Without A Hitch, I tried to incorporate the other creative aspects (set, sound, light, costume) much earlier in the process so they would feed into and influence the development of the work. A new project I’m working on, The Death of a Leaf, is about trying to break creative habits where I’m starting from zero with little to no plan and relying on instinct. 

10) Finally, can you describe Without a Hitch in three words?

Worth watching twice.

Without a Hitch Fri 3 Nov, 7.30pm BOOK NOW