BRAIN DRAIN

It took me a while to warm up to Joshua Ferris’ Then We Came to the End. In fact I’m not quite sure I ever really did.

In terms of the big picture, I can see why the book has been well received by critics. For one, it’s pretty well crafted office satire, routine drudgery, workplace intrigue, office shenanigans and all. The plot is somewhat intricately structured: the story goes off seemingly in a hundred different directions at once, teasing the readers’ interest all the while, only later coming together to make some modicum of sense. And then there’s the storytelling technique, which can only be described as a remarkable achievement because of the way it makes the reader feel less like a spectator and more a close acquaintance of the different characters involved.

Yet it was the details, as I continued to read and tried to develop an opinion of the book, that never truly resonated with me. Then We Came to the End is good office satire to be sure, but not laugh out loud funny as some critics have suggested. Mostly, this is because the requisite humor involved is overly context specific — the story takes place at an ad agency, arguably the least representative industry for corporate life, and an American one at that.

As for the plot, the novel’s unusual structure will certainly captivate some audiences and infuriate others. I lean towards the latter group. Yes, I will admit that my interest was teased as the story wore on, but there were stretches on end that were positively frustrating to plod through, their significance in the broader scheme of the plot unnecessarily obscure until well too late. And the storytelling technique? It’s fairly obvious at the end that a large part of the novel was just the author experimenting with the narrative style, and quite successfully, too. While I’m of the mind that this alone may be good enough reason to have a go at the book, even I have to ask the obvious question: all that for a gimmick?

By all accounts though, the novel demonstrates that Joshua Ferris is one talented writer. Indeed, the novel’s watershed moment is a section in the middle — uncompromisingly injected at the least predictable of places — that elicits such pathos from the reader and in the process changes one’s perspective on what the story is really about. Few writers could have pulled off much the same with greater success. But whether there is enough merit in that to trumpet the novel’s finer points I have yet to decide. Ultimately, I suppose that what sets Then We Came to the End apart is that it is a very current novel about office life (mostly) to which many should easily relate and which will strike others as so uniquely devised. As such, some will find it a tad unsettling — as I did — even as others struggle to contain their excitement over it.

Just a couple of movies in this installment, from the three-odd hour flight each way to Singapore and back.

Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears a Who! Quite nice, but I honestly expected more. Methinks the trailers led me to believe it would be a laugh-out-loud riot that would be fun for all ages, and instead what I found was a movie that was really geared more towards younger audiences. Which is not a bad thing really — though I didn’t much care for the non sequitur production number at the end. Oh! One thing I kept wondering about throughout the film was what it would’ve been like if Jim Carrey and Steve Carell had exchanged roles.

The Other Boleyn Girl. What a film! Yes, the drama is milked for all it’s worth, but I would say in keeping with the history upon which the story was based. Great performances all around: Natalie Portman was fantastic (and I’m not exactly a fan), Scarlett Johansen superb, and Eric Bana played the part of sexually obsessed English King (though that doesn’t seem like too much of an acting challenge, does it?). Also, is it just me or is Jim Sturgess quietly making his way into nearly every other movie out there? Ultimately, however, what I appreciated the most was that the film had the gravitas I felt was missing from Marie Antoinette, which if you think about is not that dissimilar a movie.

An extended edition of the movies I caught in the air (but not in theaters!), owing to flights from New York to San Francisco and thereafter San Francisco to Manila.

Alvin and the Chipmunks. Surprisingly, not too bad. From the get-go one would expect this to be a train wreck in the making, but it’s actually quite entertaining. Of course, one shouldn’t expect much from the film. Having said that, it’s a fairly linear and predictable plot that nonetheless delivers a serviceable story for its eponymous characters.

August Rush. I concede that this isn’t a film for everyone, but I absolutely loved it. The story itself is rather thin, particularly towards the end, but to focus on the plot details alone is to miss the point completely. The allure of the film lies in the near seamless way that the music is integrated into the storytelling. Indeed, I would say that the way this comes together early in the film is a powerful hook, whereafter audiences are compelled to see the film through to the end. Stellar performances from the cast — Freddie Highmore, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, Robin Williams and the ever beautiful Kerri Russel — also make for a compelling reason to check this one out.

The Bucket List. This is a Rob Reiner film at its best. The star power alone is a huge draw for this one, and indeed half the fun lies in waiting to see whether Morgan Freeman will be able to upstage Jack Nicholson, and vice versa. While the story arguably goes on a little longer than it should, this is one film that is very satisfying up to the very end.

Charlie Wilson’s War. While I am a sucker for Aaron Sorkin’s work, this one felt a little disjointed. It does take a while for the story to develop, after which it becomes quite engrossing. Yet I can’t help but feel that the stars were miscast and underutilized. Julia Roberts’ performance, for instance, fell flat with me, and overall I felt that the title role would have better suited Tom Hanks in his younger days. On the other hand, this was yet another film where Amy Adams shines (despite the small role she played). But the one who really stole the show was Philip Seymour Hoffman. His portrayal of a CIA spook was just spot on.

Cloverfield. An utter waste of time, in my opinion. Sure, the “Blair Witch meets Alien Invasion” concept is fairly interesting, but despite the amazing CGI work the film fails completely in the “suspend your disbelief” category, even for a sci-fi flick. Between characters that act thoroughly juvenile and a camera whose battery never runs out, this was one thoroughly exasperating viewing experience I’d rather forget.

Dan in Real Life. A charmer, to be sure. It’s very engaging and the chemistry between actors Steve Carrel, Dane Cooke and Juliette Binoche is a lot of fun to watch. For some reason, I feel this is a film along the same vein as Little Miss Sunshine and Sideways, albeit one that would appeal to a wider audience (given that between the three, it’s the one I’ve enjoyed the most). Also, as a vehicle for Steve Carrel it certainly showcases the extent of his acting ability, which is simply amazing.

I Am Legend. Not too bad, but not exactly great either. That Will Smith puts a lot into the title role almost makes up for the simple (and borderline weak) story that surrounds the film. For my part, however, what made the film hard to enjoy in retrospect was how about half was almost entirely about the relationship between a man and his dog. Granted, that’s not the most flattering way to describe the movie, but anyone who’s seen it will know what I mean.

Jumper. In spite of myself, I enjoyed this one. It’s a fairly straightforward sci-fi/action-adventure romp, and one that pushes all the right buttons for instant gratification (entertainment-wise). If anything, it’s made me a believer again in Hayden Christensen after those terrible Star Wars prequels. I do wish, though, that Diane Lane had a bigger role to play. Just because.

Rambo. I caught the most recent installment of Rocky on a flight, so I jumped at the opportunity to catch this Sylvester Stallone franchise. Granted, I’m more familiar with the backstory of Rocky (and much prefer it) compared to Rambo, but this was by no means a disappointment. If anything, I was taken aback by the level of violence in the film, which I suppose was more realistic given the special effect available to today.

Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story. Sure, I get it. It parodies biopics such as Walk the Line without trying to be out and out ridiculous (a la The Naked Gun for cop shows and Scary Movie for horror-thrillers). And yes, I think it’s about damn time that someone stuck their neck out to make such a film: as Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz demonstrate, when done well such movies can truly shine. This one was forgettable, I’d even go so far as to say it was downright boring. Of course, I knew that even before taking the plunge, but I didn’t realize it would be this bad. I am compelled to wonder where John C. Reilly’s career is headed. The guy’s got talent, but after Talladega Nights and this one, I fear his reputation may never recover.

I can think of at least three good reasons why Paul Torday’s Salmon Fishing in the Yemen is well worth reading.

First, there’s the storytelling approach. The premise of the book involves a seemingly whimsical project to introduce salmon fishing to a wadi in the Yemen. To tell this tale, Torday presents the events not through the lens of straightforward narrative, but rather in the guise of the correspondences and documents which chronicle the project’s progress. On balance, it is an interesting method to get readers acquainted with the book’s dramatis personae and emotionally involved in their undertakings (in this case, the Yemeni Salmon Fishing Project). Granted, the novelty wears off soon enough, especially later in the book when Torday lapses into disguised narrative that detracts from the underlying mechanism and begins to write all characters with practically the same “voice”. Yet it is an entertaining window into the author’s vision, and one that easily draws readers in from beginning to end.

Second, it’s intelligent satire and socio-political commentary. In many ways, the purported Yemeni Salmon Project is a device allowing Torday to present his observations about modern day life, political bureaucracy, and the worldwide battle against terrorism. In this regard, the insights communicated are often humorous and the veiled criticisms rather biting. Even if the book were not intended to be a work of satire, it may as well be one.

Third, there is an inspiring message of faith and hope that underlies the entire story. This, above all else, should be the reason anyone should read Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. In fact, this message is communicated early on in the story — when the protagonist becomes sold on the absurd idea of bringing salmon fishing to the Yemeni desert — but it manages to hook the reader all the way to the end. To some degree this does mean that the bulk of the book is really just an exercise to see how events unfold, and in many ways the book ends somewhat abruptly, even if in the right place. Notwithstanding this, to appreciate the message that Torday attempts to convey and seeing it reinforced all the way through to the book’s conclusion makes for a thoroughly rewarding reading experience.

Kaare Andrews’ Spider-Man: Reign draws plenty of comparisons to Frank Miller’s iconic Batman story, The Dark Knight Returns. In the same way that DKR features a future Gotham City and an aged Bruce Wayne who decides to don the cowl once more, Reign revolves around a future New York City and a much older Peter Parker who is compelled to overcome his personal demons and again become Spider-Man. That Andrews acknowledges Miller’s influence on the book, giving subtle nods to DKR throughout, further fuels the flames of fandom.

With the bar set so high, how does Reign compare? Well enough, it turns out, for a much shorter and different superhero story.

In a sense, Andrews manages to do more with less in Reign than Miller accomplished with DKR. Both are “complete” tales steeped in their respective characters’ mythos, and both are entirely believable “what ifs” of their possible futures. Yet Reign is the shorter of the two, with much the same grit, polish and fan service. In this respect, at least, Reign truly is the Spider-Man equivalent of DKR, bringing to mind that saying about the sincerest form of flattery.

This is not to say that Reign is the better story, for indeed there are many things missing in Kaare Andrews finished product that keep it from matching or exceeding DKR, if such a thing were possible. For instance, Reign’s setting tends to overpower the character development, and there is one significant deus ex machina moment — explained as precisely that within the story — used to drive the plot along that doesn’t quite fit. Yet taken for what it is, it’s hard to miss the fact that Andrews has gotten the most important thing about Reign right: it is undeniably a very good Spider-Man story, one with a keen appreciation of the character and his supporting cast. In this, the emotional exchanges between Peter and Mary Jane, either imagined or in flashback (she’s already passed away at the time of the story) really shine and couldn’t have been written any better.

It’s almost unfair that any comic even remotely resembling Frank Miller’s DKR simply invites comparison. And so it is with Reign, which manages to hold up to such scrutiny both as an homage to the original and an excellent Spider-Man story on its own right.

My brother got me a copy of Touch Detective for Christmas that I’ve only managed to try out and wrap up recently. On the whole it’s a decent enough game, yet because it falls short on several fronts it is at best only an average title for the Nintendo DS.

In broad strokes, everything about the game seems to be right up the alley of someone with an affinity for the mystery genre and for casual gaming. Players play the part of the titular Touch Detective, Mackenzie, who aspires to make it into the ranks of the Great Detective Society. To do this, she must prove her mettle, and thus players undertake four unusual cases, directing Mackenzie to investigate people, places and things by tapping around on the touch screen. In this regard, it’s simple gameplay akin to ye ole point-and-click mysteries on the PC of years back. More, the visual style of Touch Detective is quite unique, presented as it is in a pseudo-anime fashion that is above all else eye-catching.

So what’s not to love about Touch Detective? In truth, the game often feels disjointed, mostly because the gameplay feels broken in so many areas. Particularly, the main problem lies in that the script is often too obtuse, so much so that there are some points in the game where players are left with absolutely no idea what to do next. Granted, it is a mystery title and thus not everything should be spelled out in big bold letters; yet even taking that as given, sometimes experimentation becomes useless because the game depends so much on sequence. Far too often, the story can only be pushed along if players “touch” the appropriate items on the screen in the correct order, which would not be a problem if there was the slightest hint that such is actually required. Speaking from experience, there were maybe two or three instances where I found myself stuck after performing an action, and no amount of exploring helped me move the story along — until, that is, I clicked on the character beside me, something I had no reason to do in the context of how the story was unfolding.

This doesn’t mean that I hated the game; personally, it’s something I fancy if on principle: it’s a detective game on the DS, after all. At best, perhaps only one of the four cases in the storyline is really worth playing through, while the remaining three have slivers of brilliance that just don’t live up to their potential, for the reasons identified above. So yes, I liked the game enough, warts and all — but certainly not enough to go and invest in the sequel.

Finding a good book about science can be challenging. It’s not that there is a dearth of quality material; indeed, in this regard there is probably no better time to be a science buff than the present, with any manner of resources ripe for the picking off bookstore shelves. Rather, the real problem lies in finding material that is accessible to the average reader. Scientists, after all, are neither necessarily gifted writers nor trained journalists, for which reason the Carl Sagans and Stephen Hawkings of this world are true gems.

And then Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything comes along, restoring our faith that there can be informative and entertaining science books that are not the least bit esoteric.

It’s not just the content that makes the book stand out, nor is it only Bryson’s trademark talent and wit. With regard to the former, readers can be assured that the volume is based upon the author’s research and consultation with noted experts in their respective fields. As for the latter, clearly Bryson is in his element, breathing new life to the concepts and controversies that have illuminated (if not occasionally beguiled) our understanding of how the universe works. Instead, where the book truly shines is in its approach of weaving together the great discoveries and debates of scientific inquiry into one coherent story.

This is why the book’s title is no exaggeration: A Short History of Nearly Everything is as much a science book as it is a history of scientific discovery. It is by no means an all-exhaustive one, to be sure, yet it surveys key contributions to geology, chemistry, physics, paleontology and a host of other disciplines in a manner that shows how they interrelate, thereby compelling readers to contemplate what implications these may have upon the human race.

In sum, Bill Bryson’s book is not just a science book done right, but a science book done well.

This is what it’s like being Captain Bluebear:

You find yourself adrift off the continent of Zamonia, rescued and raised by a band of mini-pirates, later abandoned on an island of Hobgoblins and thereafter fighting for dear survival on a carnivorous island. You’ll make a good friend in a pterodactyl and erstwhile patrolling Reptilian Rescuer. You end up enrolled under the tutelage of a Nocturnomath with seven brains, who will in embed an entire encyclopedia in your mind. When not running for dear life from a giant spider or traveling through dimensions or across deserts your travels leave you trapped in a tornado, if not somewhere between a Bollog’s head with the best bad idea you’ve ever met. Once freed, you make your way to the island of Atlantis (which isn’t really an island), making a name for yourself as one of the city’s greatest liars. In the end, it’s also possible you’ll find yourself unraveling the secrets to a mysterious ship, which so happens to contain the deadliest substance in the universe.

Obviously it’s a rough kind of life, which is why it’s good to have twenty-seven of them to spare. Better still if half of them are spent enduring all these. This much Walter Moers would have readers believe in his clever book, The 13½ Lives of Captain Bluebear.

Succinctly, it is a fairytale that will appeal to the child in every adult. As such, it is clearly not something that will appeal to some readers in and of itself, what with its necessarily over-the-top plot, childish illustrations (by the author himself, no less), and occasionally excessive narrative (particularly towards the end, where the prose seems to go on and on without end!). Yet taken for what it is, there is plenty of good clean fun to be had in Captain Bluebear. It is escapist entertainment, but of that rare variety where “whimsical flight of fancy” and “excellent diversion” meet to make for an enjoyable reading experience.

A recent piece by one Bob Harris on Papercuts, the New York Times’ blog about books, examines the curious lingo surrounding book reviews.

The article surveys the “seven deadly words of book reviewing” — those words that, for some reason or another, “crop up in book reviews with wearying regularity”. As one who dabbles in modest reviews myself, I found the list thoroughly educational, if only to be reminded that the desire to write something thoughtful can sometimes result in stringing together words that are otherwise obtuse.

[Read: The Seven Deadly Words of Book Reviewing (Bob Harris via Papercuts)]

Here’s another installment of pellet reviews for movies I watched on the trip yet hadn’t seen in theaters:

Bee Movie. For what it is, it’s entertaining enough. Jerry Seinfeld is still funny, cameos by Sting and Ray Liotta are a hoot (though probably lost on younger audiences), and there’s a lot of novelty brought about by looking at the world from a Bee’s point of view. However, the movie’s general premise falls somewhat flat, perhaps in an attempt to distinguish it from A Bug’s Life. No doubt a great film for kids, especially in light of the “moral lessons” tied into the plot; yet this is another Dreamworks offering that falls short of the magic that Pixar is capable of, albeit not by much.

Enchanted. In spite of myself, I must say that this was pleasantly entertaining. Yes, it pulls off the whole animation-real world crossover concept fairly well. Yes, the digs at the “Disney Princess” archetype are spot on and hilarious. But this movie belongs almost completely to Amy Adams, who proves not just her talent but her star power. Oh, and need I mention that James Marsden and Timothy Spall are the splitting image of their animated selves? Geektasticness!

Juno. The reason this film received so much critical buzz? It’s amazing! Everything about it just works: the cast, the screenplay, the soundtrack…I could go on and on (did I mention the soundtrack?). Early into it one gets the feeling that the film could go south very quickly, what with the touchy theme of teen pregnancy, but once it crosses that rubicon it becomes completely engrossing and never lets up. Brilliant and charming, this one’s a must see. And yes, Ellen Page more than deserved her Oscar nomination for the title performance.

Michael Clayton. Sure it’s a good movie, but it comes across as a rather complicated way to tell an otherwise interesting story about corporate greed and ethics. It feels at times that the director and screenwriter don’t care if audiences are able to follow along. Notwithstanding this, everything else about the film cries out to be noticed. George Clooney is still the man — although I personally found it disappointing that it’s only at the very end that viewers are treated to a glimpse of why the Michael Clayton character is someone to be feared — and the entire cast has a solid go at it. Personally, however, I think it was Tom Wilkinson’s portrayal of the mentally unhinged lawyer at the center of the plot that really steals the show.

So there it is: four movies across over around twenty hours in transit. There would have been at least one or two more (for the record, I kept nodding off midway through No Country for Old Men), but the need to reset my body clock in mid-journey was more pressing than my desire to remain entertained.