Franchises Revived

>> 30 July 2008

Two weeks ago, I watched Casino Royale and Batman Begins* within a few days of each other. After finishing the movies, lying in a semi-comatose daze, virtually engulfed by my gigantic luv-sac and covered in potato chip crumbs, I had an epiphany about these two seemingly unrelated movies: Does anybody realize what these two movies have done for their respective franchises? If you look at the rapid deterioration of the Bond and Batman franchises in the few movies preceding Royale and Begins (from here on out, R&B), you have to agree that they were beyond absurd -- An invisible car?! Really?? I think Ian Fleming rolled over in his grave -- and were ineptly written / produced / acted / directed / craft serviced / cast. Both franchises were decaying and dead in the water. We all knew it. We just had to treat the dead franchises like Bourne treated the death of his girlfriend in The Bourne Supremacy: Burn all evidence of their existence so you can detach yourself, then track down and kill everyone responsible for the demise. Minus the track down part. And the killing. The point is, we had to move on.

But R&B completely reversed all of our crushed hopes. They both revitalized their franchises. I almost want to term it a comeback, but it was more than that, because these movies were better than any of the franchise movies that had preceded them. They were darker, grittier, and returned to character development. No more failed attempts at humor. No more nipple-suits. No more of me experiencing self-imposed, Arthur Dimmesdale-caliber guilt for having wasted my time watching.

(If anybody reading this is nodding your head in agreement and said / murmured / thought / thought-about-thinking / etc. to yourself "Mm hm. Tokyo Drift. Tokyo Drift did that exact same thing for the Fast & the Furious franchise." We are done. No really, I mean it: Stop reading my blog right now.)

Back to my point: What R&B did is pretty much unprecedented in movie history. They both pulled a freakin Gandalf. You know, when he falls to his death in The Fellowship of the Ring, and all of the characters AND the audience are completely crushed / shocked because they truly believe that Gandalf is dead. Gone. That's it. It's an absolute and final fact that must be accepted before you can move on.

But then in The Two Towers, he reappears, and you just sit there in disbelief (or as my buddy Nartker puts it: "That fool came out of left field when no one expected it"); and not only has he come back, he's got amazing white, conditioned hair and all kinds of crazy new powers. That's the only way for me to describe what Casino Royale and Batman Begins pulled with their franchises. A complete and utter Gandalf: Presumed dead. Revived. Now better than ever.

(Actually, if the other readers will indulge me for a second, I'd like to address you Tokyo Drift fans... I mean, honestly. Did you ever consider Fast & the Furious to be a franchise? Are you waiting for the box set to come out on BluRay?)

Anyway. My point is that R&B are rare gems. Franchises usually start strong and dwindle, then never recover. The best examples I can think of are Episodes 1-3 of Star Wars. Also, the Spiderman and X-Men franchises had strong showings in their first two episodes, then threw up metaphorical goose eggs when it came to their third and final installments.

So I guess I'm encouraging you to watch and appreciate these two revivalist movies the next opportunity you get (Women: if for no other reason, to see Daniel Craig and Christian Bale shirtless).



End note -- Other candidates for (what ended up being) the Gandalf analogy included:
>> The scene in Field of Dreams when the daughter falls of the bleachers and chokes on her hot dog, and the player that eventually becomes a doctor makes the decision to step off the field and revive her;
>> LOST, Season 1, when Charlie has been hanging from a tree for like five minutes and Jack and Kate cut him down, and Jack gives him CPR for like three minutes straight and you're thinking "he's dead, he's dead," but then Jack brings him back to life with the pound-the-chest-with-your-fist thing (the exact same thing from Mission Impossible 3, courtesy of JJ Abrams)


*In preparation for the release of The Dark Knight. The anxiety-laden week leading up to watching this movie on opening day is a story for another entry.

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PotW Launch -- Photo of the Week - 28 July 2008

>> 28 July 2008

Completely unoriginal, I know, but I've decided to start a "Photo of the Week" entry for the blog. Something more regular than the I'm a Moron series (to the readers' disappointment, I have remained surprisingly stupidity-free as of late) and the name-verbs.

I figured since normal entries require more time to tap out, and I don't always have the time to post something I am going to be satisfied with as consistently as I would like, this would allow me to make my normal comments in a regularly-run format -- minus consumption of my time.

The photos won't necessarily have been taken during the week that I'm posting them under; they may be photos that revolve around current world events, a picture that reminds me of a funny anecdote, something that I saw sometime during the week that was amusing. Basically anything I stumble across. Feel free to e-mail me any photos that you think would make a nice addition.

Here is this week's photo:

Location: The Elms Apartments, Provo UT (The stories that came outta this place...hilarious)
Year: 2003-2004

When* I write a children's book, it will be titled "Casey and the Broken Key," and it will be based on this story. Casey, much like myself, was a poor college student that needed transportation, so he bought a 1982 Nissan Sentra for $100 (There are no zeroes missing in that figure). The thing ran decently for having costed less than my chemistry textbook. It's all relative. Anyway, THE DAY that he bought the car, he took the tan beauty to Wendy's. The key busts in the ignition as he's turning off the car. He has laptops in the car, so he has to lock the car while he walks the half-mile back to the Elms to get the spare. He continues to use the butt of the key to start the car for a few months.

I don't really know what the moral of my children's book would be (perseverance, maybe?), but something tells me I'll have time to think about it.

*"If"

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Blogiversary

>> 24 July 2008

Dearest Ramblings-

I just wanted to wish you a Happy 1st Anniversary. I know it was actually a couple of weeks ago and you're going to blame it on my never remembering "what's important to [you]," and blah blah blah. Are you done nagging yet? Thanks. I know you'll never let me forget it, but I've been really busy -- spending a lot of time with the boys playing ping-pong. And, yes, there are other projects I'm interested in, but technically I wouldn't consider it cheating.

(Technically, you could argue that we've been together for about two years now, but I'll admit that I basically ignored you that whole first year. Let's be honest: We had different agendas in the beginning. You had an ugly design and needed a makeover {Honestly, we could still do a little more work for you in the looks department...you're so pre-packaged and formulaic} Plus I think you needed some time to mature a bit. You can thank me later for being patient.)

Sometimes you demand more attention than I have time for. Like when I come home and just want to relax, but you want me to tell you about
work or my adventures at the post office or whatever. Usually, in the end, you help me find the humor in things.

Let's go through some of our accomplishments and milestones for our first year together:

>>120+ photos with fabricated, exaggerated, and untrue captions; a true symbol of honesty in our relationship.
>>2 pot shots at the
ACLU; I am actually quite disappointed in the progress we made here and would like to work on this, if you are amenable.
>>5 cheap shots at
PETA; I was proud of you for these entries.
>>2
I'm a Moron installments, with many more to come, I'm sure. The fact that you stuck with me after my acts of stupidity shows real dedication. Admirable.
>>6 references to / uses of
Battlefield Field as an adjective. This has definitely turned into one of those inside-jokes that outsiders find utterly annoying.
>>6 new
name-verbs.
>>1 entry dedicated to the
Beastie Boys; the fact that you are almost as dedicated as I am to the Boys scores you mad points in my book.

Thanks. Here's a virtual "good game" butt slap. Let's keep on rolling.


Sincerely,
JD

*****

Anybody have favorites / suggestions / critiques / something they'd like to see more of, as I take inventory of one year of Ramblings? Leave a comment, if you feel so inclined.

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My Introduction to the Competitive Eating World

>> 10 July 2008

"I swear I've seen a lot of stuff in my life, but that... was... awesome."

Yes, the sheer awesomeness of what I witnessed firsthand this 4th of July has reduced me to incoherence of the I'm-quoting-Tommy Boy-in-order-to-express-myself variety. Sad day.

Anyway, some friends and I went to NYC for the 4th of July weekend. I told them that if I was going to make the trek, my list of demands needed to be taken care of: (1) Go to Coney Island to cheer my boy Takeru Kobayashi on his quest to reclaim the championship at the annual Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest, and (2) Track down the Beastie Boys' recording studio and get my picture taken in front of the building. That was it. They accepted.

While the latter of the demands went sadly unfulfilled, we did get down to Coney Island* for the contest, and the drama and hype surrounding the competition made watching it that much more exciting.

*(For more of my thoughts on the unbelievably creepy, Stephen King-inspired alternate universe that is Coney Island, I refer you to chapter 2 of my future book, "8 Things That Creep Me Out to No End"; it's sandwiched between chapter 1, "Drunken Clowns," and chapter 3, "Sober Clowns")

By way of context: Kobayashi -- considered by many (me) to be the Roger Bannister of competitive eating -- revolutionized the 12-minute competition in 2001 by eating 50 hot dogs, obliterating the previous year's winning number of 25. He continued his dominance until last year. In 2007, however, Kobayashi was suffering from jaw arthritis -- no surprise, really... the guy's gotta have the jaws of a 95-year old at this point -- and was dethroned by Joey "Jaws" Chestnut from San Jose.

Kobayashi was going to be back to compete in 2008, but could he reclaim his title from Chestnut? This, and many, many, many other questions (ie "What's the atmosphere in the locker room like a few hours before a competition?") about the Competitive Eating World plagued me as I rode the subway to Coney Island.

The windup to this contest was like rolling the plots of several movies into a dramatic whole: Cinderella Man (inspirational comeback); Rocky IV (inspirational underdog movie, minus the element of Kobayashi's best friend being killed by a Russian); Karate Kid (the Japanese element), and Supersize Me (for the grotesque amount of processed food to be eaten). Hollywood doesn't write better scripts than this. But, amidst all of the excitement, my dual identity had come back to haunt me: Do I cheer for the Japanese comeback kid battling against an injury, or for the American on Independence Day?


After delays and stalling from the perverted MC, the competition began. Here's how my inner monologue / vocal shouting unfolded during the next 10 minutes:

*****
Should I cheer for Kobayashi? Or is some drunk New Yorker gonna kick the crap out of me on the 4th of July for cheering for a foreigner? Wait, I see a Japanese flag waving. OK. Kobayashi it is.

"GO KOBAYASHI!"

Who handed out these stupid thundersticks? I can't see a damn thing. Hey, Rat-Tail! Move you and your nasty hair out of my line of sight. Wow, the crowd is really into this. OK. The first minute is up. Wait, did the announcer just say that Chestnut ate 10 hot dogs in the first minute? I think I'm going to have a sympathetic throw-up.

"C'MON, KOBAYASHI!"

Oh great. Kobayashi's fallen to third. It's over. It's so over. Why did I put my faith in this guy? After all I've invested in him, he totally betrays my trust and lets me down.


Wait.
Wait. Kobayashi looks like he's gaining. He's back in second now... Now he's catching up to Chestnut. Oh, man. What a surge! He's tied! I
still hate thundersticks.

"GO KOBAYASHI! GO!"


Kobayashi has taken the lead! Oh man, I haven't been this amped since BYU beat Utah in football last year. Now he's putting space between himself and Chestnut. I'm visibly shaking. This is amazing! He's eating like...
like... I have no proper sports analogy for this...

"GO SEABISCUI--!! こばちゃん!がんばれ--"


WTF?!? I'm so excited I'm getting famous movie-horses mixed up with Kobayashi, and Japanese with English. Whatever. Kobayashi is taking a three hot-dog lead into the final minute! There's no way Chestnut is gaining three dogs on him in the last minute. It's impossible...The buzzer rings. And what?!? Chestnut has shoved his face full of everything he possibly could. They're calling it a tie if he swallows everything... And he does.


*****
The "dog-off" overtime was the first in the competition's storied history, and Chestnut ended up winning (the first to eat five more hot dogs -- talk about worst OT ever for competitors). It was appalling, gripping, and poignant all at once; more than I could have dreamed.

As I rode the subway back into Manhattan, more questions about Competitive Eating came to me...

>How many years did these people just shave off of their lives?
>Would there be scandals? I mean, would we find Kobayashi testifying before Congress in broken Engrish about Chestnut taking stomach-expanding drugs?
>How many hours do the competitors spend on the toilet afterward? (Scratch that; I don't want to know)
>Is Under Armour going to end up sponsoring these guys?
>Would referees be accused of "throwing" the competition?
>Do these guys have groupies?



...and so very many more...

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Editors? Anyone?

>> 02 July 2008

I live in acronym world at work. When you first arrive, you think everyone's ridiculous and elitist and trying to be esoteric with the ridiculous alphabet soup that is flying out of their mouths. Slowly but surely, however, you find that using acronyms is second nature and you're sucked in. It becomes routine.

Every once in a while, however, you find something that catches your eye. I found one of these about a month ago as I was reading through some Japanese news. It was too good not to share. It was put out by Jiji, a press agency in Japan. This is the headline, verbatim:

>>DPJ To Reject Nagata as DIC Head<<

By way of unnecessary context (since I'm presuming that you don't care about Japanese politics), the DPJ is the Democratic Party of Japan, a political party, and the DIC is the Deposit Insurance Corporation. The government was reconsidering making Nagata the governor of the DIC again. I'm not one to make jokes with vulgarity, but this was too funny to pass up.

Where was the editor when the correspondent submitted this headline??

I can't answer that, but I have some guesses as to where he is now:

  • Still rolling on the ground of his cubicle, laughing that he got away with this;
  • Packing up the contents of his cubicle because he got away with it, but only temporarily;
  • On the streets peddling for money because he didn't get away with the acronym mishap.
Regardless of whether he kept his job or not, he made mine better for at least 30 minutes.

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