Poots-a-rific!

This is not a post referencing bodily functions... unless, like in my world, geeking out is considered a natural physical reaction to something awesome.
Or, as deemed yesterday, Poots!ing.
The reference relates to the very pretty and talented Imogen Poots and her presence in the upcoming Fright Night movie. One of my male friends needed some reason to have the same swoony, geek out feelings toward the film as I do... and I offered him Imogen Poots. Not only was this acceptable, but this fine young woman's name is now interchangeable as a verb (as in: I'd totally Poots that!) and an exclamation of awesome (see title).

Fun times with Poots!ing aside, one may ponder why this movie excites me so... well, sit a spell and I'll tell ya, Sal. (Not sure where that came from. I'm going to blame the Bonanza concrete truck spied this morning on the commute to work -- a red and yellow cement spinner with cowboy hats painted on it. It inspired a conversation of treating cement mixer trucks like cattle on the prairie and bucking broncos; we all must do something to stay awake before our morning caffeine fix.)

A full rundown/review of the movie will post on Friday after basking in the glow of the Thursday night screening, however, in anticipation of the release I feel it my duty to express why I am more excited for this movie than just about any film this year.

1. It's a real vampire movie -- with real vampires vampiring. None of this wussy Cullen sparkly mopey Anne Rice crap. Alternately, none of this utter predatory, near-wholly animalistic creatures with more resemblance to Gollum than to human. One of the previews contains a perfect assessment of what Jerry is, and what vampires were created to be: he's not brooding, or love sick. He's the shark from Jaws. That assessment alone excites me.

2. As I duck objects being hurtled at me, the original Fright Night isn't all that. It's fun. It's got some great moments. The cast is good. The writing's solid. However, if you're going to remake an 80s horror movie, this is one that, in the right hands, could use some TLC -- especially in our current climate of aforementioned lack of 'real' vampires in vampire movies. Put it this way: the original is good, but it's not The Lost Boys. And if anyone goes after that (again), I may have an aneurysm.

3. The cast. One of the aspects that first excited me about this film is the cast. All solid actors: and only one of them American. It does amuse me that a story about a suburban kid in suburban America fills itself with a wordly cast.

4. Marti Noxon. One of my favorite BtVS writers, who already in the previews has given a couple nods to Buffy-isms in the crafting of the script. Mostly in Peter Vincent's lines.

5. Peter Vincent. OK, the Vegas magician thing may seem like a Hollywood ploy to get more business into Vegas. Or just some cheap gimmick. And yet... we don't have the late night horror fests on telly anymore, especially ones hosted by has-been horror actors. We don't really have anything similar to it on TV, unless you count nostalgia clip shows which don't usually have hosts, only a series of semi-has-beens talking about said items in the clipfest. We do, however, have Vegas: the place where good, decent, and terrible-yet-popular acts go to die a long and slow death, possibly over the course of years. And let's face it, Celine Dion isn't likely to have great knowledge of the undead, and those Cirque people may be able to kick some ass but their mind-bending acrobatics are almost as creepy as a guy who wants to seduce you just so he can murder you via exsanguination before the morning. Magicians, though... those are the kind of buggers you can see having a dark past and perhaps just a little too much insight into the realm of the paranormal -- at least as much as any washed-up horror movie actor. I mean, any guy who drinks Midori straight is either a nineteen year old girl, or has some serious early adult life issues he's working through...
And, yeah, OK... it's David "My Doctor" Tennant. I would be going for this fact alone, but thankfully every article I've read and preview or interview I've seen has given me plentiful reasons for wanting to see this movie besides Shirtless!Doctor in 3D.

Oh, my beautiful idiot...

"Then you stole me... and I stole you."
"I borrowed you."
"Borrowing implies the eventual intention to return the thing that was taken... What makes you think I would ever give you back?"







He calls her “Sexy.” He strokes bits of her and sweet talks her while also banging her parts with relentless and seemingly reckless abandon. He stole her, and she allowed herself to be stolen. They traveled for hundreds of years together and never spoke... until she was ripped from her home and crammed into a fragile female form.
Talk about innovation.

“The Doctor’s Wife” may eventually rank among the best ever Doctor Who episodes for sheer inventiveness alone. That and the brilliance that is Neil Gaiman.

While I am insanely jealous of this literal outside the bigger-on-the-inside box thinking, it is also inspiring. It fires some of those dormant, struggling synapses within my own writer’s mind, begging me to re-examine some of my own projects. They call to me, requesting that I Gaiman it up a bit --- to think of the maddest things imaginable, the seemingly impossible twist, and write it.
I’m not what one would call a true worshipper at the altar of Gaiman, but I may have just become a convert. Any writer who can do something entirely new with the Whoniverse after its nearly fifty year history deserves more than respect. He deserves adoration, accolades, and genuine gratitude for his innovative and inspiring ideas.

The brain is aching. The fingers are twitching. The soul is yearning for something new. I’m ready to leave myself unlocked for the mad thief of inspiration to rush inside and take me for a ride.

Days of Green and Red

No, I’m not talking about the Christmas holidays. I’m talking about two major dates for an Irish Anglophile: St. Patrick’s Day and Red Nose Day.
Since I had the migraine from hell most of the week (it’s my body’s way of reminding me who’s in charge and why I should take care of it, the fucker), I wasn’t quite in the full Go Green spirit for St. Patrick’s Day. However, it was going to take more than crushing pain with a side of nausea to keep me from having a good time. I spent the evening with some of the most awesome co-worker/friend/theatre peeps in the world. After a little pre-gaming at my place (complete with my iPod playing a goodly amount of my traditional [read: beautiful yet depressing] Irish tunes, we all jammed ourselves into a tiny Toyota and drove a mere six blocks to a local Irish pub. Though they’d added a tent out back to make up for the teensy-ness of the place, the holiday + lack of cover charge = actual line outside the bar. A five minute wait time became fifteen with only two of the five people in front of us being let in, so we skipped our way down another two blocks to a favored watering hole where the $5 cover which previously hindered our desire to go there quickly turned into a blessing as we were able to obtain a table, down some car bombs, get some grub, watch some great Irish dancers and cut a few jigs ourselves. All in all a very good night, with everyone satisfactorily tipsy and on the way home by 10pm.
Red Nose Day is reason #7,862 on the list of Why I Live in the Wrong Country. It’s also very high on the list of programming I wish BBCAmerica would offer in the states. It may be a Brit-run fundraiser, but who says giving money to Africa through England is in any way less needed than giving it through the US? The Brits actually care enough to have a marathon (plus weeks of pre-shows) of original programming built solely around the purpose of raising funds for charity. Remember how the US had Comic Relief? Only available on premium channels and mostly live sketches by comics for one evening? Yeah, the Brits do it so much better (as per usual). There’s dance and song competitions leading to the big day, there’s fundraising via web, TV, twitter, etc. There’s a long telethon hosted by great celebs, and a slew of original skits produced just for the event – including new Doctor Who and a brilliant parody of Downton Abbey (it's hard not to crack up at Simon Callow as Julian Fellows). Sure, you can download some of these gems on iTunes or look them up on YouTube, but it's not the same.
I’m not sure how to go about it, but I really want to put a bug up someone’s butt in the upper management world of BBCA to get them to broadcast Red Nose Day, and Pudsey Day, in the US. I’d be happy to cough up a few quid to aid Africa if it means I get to see wacky Who and Merlin skits and seen Davina McCall, with her enigmatic bottom, macking on gay AND straight blokes…

Quite right, too…

Some evenings you have to let go of the internal push to write or edit or create. Sometimes you just need to emote. Sometimes that emoting equates to crying yourself into a pool of tears on your sofa. It’s cleansing and oddly fulfilling to release whatever tensions block you from progress.
We each have our own way of inviting these waves of emotion, and I’m not going to out anyone I know who has divulged theirs. However I am going to say that for me, the quickest route to an emotional purging is usually an emotionally affecting piece of TV, or a film. Music can work wonders as well, but it takes a while (usually) to build up to the release. Certain video works, when the conditions are right, can take all of two minutes… sometimes less.
Last night was one of those nights. From the depths of whatever internal oceans inside me, I felt a sudden need for release. Still, I’m a busy gal with things to accomplish, so the slow burn approach was not going to cut it. I went right for the tear-duct jugular: Doctor Who.
Over the past couple years it has become increasingly clear that should I ever be fortunate enough to find someone who wants to spend the rest of his life with me (and I desire the same), he’ll have to be someone I feel comfortable being this emotional blob around. I don’t intend to be, or even to intentionally expose this aspect of myself unless necessary, but I need to know he can handle it when it arises. And really, if we’re going to be together he’ll need to be a New Whovian which means sooner or later he’ll have to see this side of me unless I ban him from watching certain episodes in my presence.
It may not be everyone’s kind of litmus test for security, but anyone (friend or significant other or whatevs) who can handle the puddle of emotion I become while watching, say, “Doomsday,” rates pretty high on my scale of Personal Comfort With Another Human.
And anyone who breaks down with equaled emotion may just be my emotional soul mate.

The residual effects of this are making me a bit shaky today. I’ve gone to some pretty deep and vulnerable places this week when on my own, only to require the Mask of OK to be firmly replaced very quickly and sustained around others. Still, in order to access my productive and creative side I need a little exploration of self, which tends to get pretty messy.

It’s either that or find me some opium and trip out until I compose a sequel to Kubla Kahn.

On Gallifrey did the Lonely God
A stately citadel inhabit...

Trust Your King, Baby

Two very geektastic things have occurred thus far today. It’s Ash Wednesday (no meat so far for me, but that’s not the Ash I’m talking about) aaaaaaannnnnnd the airdate for the start of the new Doctor Who season was announced. I may have actually jumped up and down like a five-year-old about that for a few seconds. Mostly because it seems that the BBC and its American subsidiary have finally come to realize that making us Yanks wait weeks, and even days, for new episodes of Doctor Who in this ever-increasingly connected world that we live in is actually a form of extreme mental and emotional torture. We can avoid the interwebs for a few hours while the time zones align properly, but keeping ourselves from (even accidentally) spoilers after just twenty four hours have passed is nearly impossible. So thank you, Gods of the BBC, for your benevolent understanding and for succumbing to the will of the people.
Also, the new tagline: Trust Your Doctor = love.

While I feel like a horrible Campbell-ite for forgetting the importance (and if I’m honest, the existence) of Ash Wednesday, my office has been chatting about it enough to make up a little ground. I find myself pondering why there are no pubs/bars/etc that celebrate this day. It would certainly be a hit among horror geeks and filmmaking hipsters in Michigan (especially in Grand Rapids and around The D), and there are plenty of LA people who I’m sure would love any excuse to drink and watch cheesy horror movies… come to think of it, I think all decent-sized cities have enough horror-loving lushes to warrant at least one bar holding an event that screens at least one Evil Dead movie while offering Ash-inspired cocktails.
When I open the comfort food pub (plus food truck) with my friends, we are so doing this every year.

Hail to the King, baby!

I am The Doctor

This week, in the midst of work hell, a cold that will not die, and life just doing its best to kick my ass down in despair, I thank the maker for bestowing upon me musical goodness in the form of the two most recent Doctor Who soundtracks.
For those who think television scores do not equal their filmic counterparts, I urge you to listen to Christophe Beck's music from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (series 1-5) (and pretty much any composer who worked on a Joss Whedon series), or the music for Merlin the series, or Trevor Morris' first season music for The Tudors, or the compositions for Torchwood, but most of all I would refer you to Murray Gold's scores for all five(presently) series of Doctor Who. Each series has its own feel and tone to fit the season, and yet each one builds upon the last. The two most recent soundtracks reflect the final specials with David Tennant's tenth Doctor and the recent series with Matt Smith as Doctor the eleventh.

The two-disc specials soundtrack covers less episodic territory than previous albums, but more of the scope of each episode. The music follows each special in theme and style: the first two being mostly light and adventurous with a touch of sadness, the third much darker and chaotic, and the final two specials (on their own disc) culminating four years of this Doctor's life in an epic, exciting, painful, heartbreaking ride.
Also, anyone who has seen the end of "The End of Time" and does not need to fight the urge to sob at hearing Vale Decem has cobwebs where their soul should be.
Yet the Doctor moves on, as he always must, and following the regeneration the album concludes with starting music for the eleventh Doctor and the journey begins again.

As a new Doctor, with a new companion, the entire thematic composition of the music has changed and yet is still completely relatable to the show overall and fits magically and uniquely with this new series and its Doctor. The new Doctor is more excitable, quirkier, spastic and madder than his predecessor and the music reflects this; yet he still holds perhaps the greatest mind, the fearlessness and the might of a timelord. There's also a new sense of whimsy and mystery which he projects for his new companion, and his themes reflect this. Amy Pond's theme and style capture not only her alpha female attitude and youthful energy but the magic we see in here eyes as she discovers the universe in terms of traveling with the mad man with a box.

While this is all one giant love letter to Murray Gold, I do have to conclude by saying that of the two compilations, it's the series 5 soundtrack which makes my heart swell, the tears well and imagination thrive. Still, you can't really go wrong with any collection of tunes from the new Whoniverse.

New World, yes... but better?

With the broadcast announcement of Torchwood: The New World today, it occurs to me I've never really shared thoughts on post-Children-of-Earth Torchwood.

Do I want more Torchwood? Yes.
Am I excited for new Torchwood? Yes.
Am I glad that Russell is head of production and Barrowman and Eve are still in it? Absolutely.
Am I psyched for new, 'hip,' Americanizing of the show? Ehhhh...

See, the problem with American shows is, well, they're American. The fact that the show is a co-production between the BBC and Starz gives me hope to be sure, seeing as how you cannot put a show like Torchwood on NBC and expect it to have the kind of life it had on BBC. Never going to happen because our major networks, and even regular cable networks, are far too conservative. Also, major networks have a completely different set of standards than the BBC because we're still puritanical infants who are only allowed certain flashes of life in our TV viewing lest we all become degraded, sexual beasts... and yet we have shows like The Real Housewives of Shut Your Whining Gobs You Spoiled Bitches and I'm a Meth Addict, Get Me Out of This Hoarders' Intervention.
So that's my rant on American TV, and why I fear shifting Torchwood to our shores.

Am I excited for new cast members? Ehhhh....

One of the greatest strengths and greatest flaws of the Torchwood world is that in its brutality, hardly anyone lives very long. We have the benefit of one character who will not completely die (not on this show anyway... unless we go all wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey to the extreme, we already know what happens to the dear Captain in the end), and the likelihood of Gwen being offed anytime soon is highly unlikely, but otherwise every major character on the show has been axed already. Do I really want to start over with new, primarily American, characters and either grow to love them only to see them killed, or hate them from the beginning and count the days until they get blown up or shot? I don't know. Again, not to rag on yank actors, but having 'replacement' Tosh, Owen and Ianto does not sit well with me, especially when they're not Brits.
I guess it comes down to liking my British TV to stay British... which is probably why I'm less than enthused about Shameless.

And really... I'm just not over Ianto yet. At. All.

I torture people in happy relationships...

Project: Chronological (New) Whoniverse - watching all episodes from the Davies/Moffat Era Doctor Who & Torchwood in chronological order.
Purpose: I never did it in the first place. After sprinkled episodes of both, I went: series 3 of Who, series 2 of Who, series 1 of Who, series 1 & 2 of Torchwood during series 4 of Who... then finally chronological for the Who Specials, "Children of Earth" and series 5 of Who. In my impatience to obtain series 5 on DVD, I decided I should go back and watch everything in order.
Having just finished series 2 of Who, I'll have a re-cap/review/reaction to that, but my first impulse to write about it all came with the first two episodes of Torchwood, specifically while watching (Doctor) Owen Harper. Within five minutes of Owen's on-screen presence it struck me once again what a twisted fuck that character is... and how much I adore him. Granted, the fact that Burn Gorman is electric to watch benefits the formation of my opinion, but what makes Owen work for me goes deeper. On the surface he's a callous, sarcastic, narcissistic jackass -- even if he is a medical doctor who in theory should want to help people. Yet underneath that facade exist multiple layers to Owen -- layers of sensitivity, compassion, self-loathing, fear of really living, sensuality, insecurity, and bravery. Owen's character rivals Captain Jack Harkness in complexity, yet while I adore Jack and sometimes get angry or frustrated with his choices, I have a true love/hate complex with Owen. Still, I do love him -- a love attributed to some incredible writing and damn fine acting.
More detailed, articulate praising of Owen Harper to come as Project Whoniverse continues.

EEK! A 'writing blog'

Greetings past, present and future readers -- and welcome! (Those of you reading from the future, please don't spoil the 2010 World Cup for me and also refrain from telling me when/who David Tennant married. Knowledge of either of these results may cause serious damage to the universe. And by 'universe' I mean 'my own obsessive emotional being.')

On the advice of my most hallowed career servicer (coach is too sporty, and counselour makes me sound more mental than I really am; I can be balanced, promise), this marks the beginning of my 'writing blog.' Having kept a personal blog for many years I should feel less terrified at the prospect of putting my writing out in a more public way, though for some reason writing about writing, my interests (read: obsessions), and my projects in a somewhat professional context makes me want to become a hermit. Yet it seems nowadays even hermits can blog about whatever strikes their fancy on the interweb and I have the advantage in not being a hermit of being able to participate in the world at large as well. Daunting having the whole of the internet and the real world literally at my fingertips, but I'm trying this new thing where I attempt to turn daunting and terrifying into exhilarating possibilities.

We'll see how that goes.

So if I haven't scared you off yet, or if you want to stick around to see whether I experience a complete mental collapse in this attempt or somehow manage to get over my fear of public writing (the way I still haven't mastered public speaking), stick around. Subscribe. Comment. Join in the rants. Rant on your own and link back here. Ask me questions and I'll give you real (though maybe not always serious/true) answers.

Thank. You. Heavens.

http://uk.movies.ign.com/articles/110/1104063p1.html

According to IGN, which I respect as a source for information, especially on Sci-Fi related film/tv news, the whole Johnny Depp as the Doctor rumour is made of false.
The heavens have no idea how elated this makes me. I love Johnny, and I love the Doctor (duh), but Johnny as the Doctor is much bad. Do not want. Ever.
For one, the Doctor and the entire Whoniverse is so completely British that to have someone not from the UK play the Doctor would be a juvenile, ridiculous mistake. On top of that, much as I love Johnny and talented as he is, there's a quality beyond Britishness he doesn't possess which renders him incapable of portraying the Doctor. There's a combination of emotions and layers that Johnny does very well individually but as a composite I don't think he can pull off.
Oh yeah, and the most obvious point: WE ALREADY HAVE A DOCTOR. If you're going to make a film of Doctor Who, pick one of the most recent Doctors, each of whom is different and remarkable in his own way. Honestly, I think Tennant is the most 'bankable,' but Smith's quirkiness would surpass even what Depp could do with the role. I think that's my biggest issue with the idea -- a Depp Doctor would be a very quirky Doctor and the current Doctor excels at it and needs no replacing.
Plus, how do you account for Depp's Doctor in the line of regeneration? I don't want to lose the 12th Doctor to movies because some Hollywood yahoos think there's money to be made.
Doctor Who is a fairy tale and fairy tales have a lot to say about acting solely for the purpose of making money -- there's no reason to make a movie at all right now, much less one with Depp, other than to try and capitalize on a show that needs nothing to add to it beyond what already exists (which is my sly way of saying I love the audiobooks).