The White Mosquito (Ger) - Two policemen, used to the comfort and quiet of their local lake paradise, floating peacefully rather than catching perps, spring into defensive action when the local mayor starts his crazy talk about turning it into a diving centre. An improbable stopoff in Africa to pick up some mosquito-poisoned darts can only end in tragedy when a strident choirmaster sticks her oar in. Darkly humorous and slightly surreal. 7.5/10
Bread and Circuses (Slv) (site)
I always try to make time for Slovenian films, and although they invariably lean on the Ceaușescu period for inspiration (and this is no exception), they often manage to hit the funny or emotional targets. Bread and Circuses tries to hit both in a comical, farcical tale.
Factory worker Josko Novak is a typical, put upon father in a painfully ordinary family, making the most of the meagre comforts that come their way in the final suffocating years of the regime. Josko is quiet man who doesn't like to make waves and consistently hasn't for several decades as his wife, son and daughter bicker around him. Anything for a quiet life.
Imagine his surprise when Jelka enters the family in a draw for 'Spinning Fortune' - a super-low-budget 'Golden Shot'-era gameshow that everyone watches - and they are chosen. Jelka and her daughter Mojka are excited, Josko and son Simon - who seems to have by default grown to be a lanky, awkward version of his father - not so much. But predictably they take little arm twisting and relent.
As the family travels to the studio in Ljubljana, they bump up against rival families, a couple of policemen with lofty ambitions, and the host of the show and his ghastly wife. Almost drawing calamity near like a magnet, the Novaks manage to threaten the beige chipboard sets into falling apart around them and before long the whole show teeters on the brink of not making it to the screen at all. Only the suave and slimy host Jos seems able to use his considerable juggling skills to keep things together.
You know when you have a family dressed up as chickens fighting clumsily with another one dressed as cats that there is going to be some comedy mileage here, and though some of the film is bogged down with the drudgery of the processes of getting a show on the air, the ever present problems fed conveyor-like to the tussling group ensures things never return to the relative starting calmness once it is lost. The family is suitably fleshed out to have enough dimension and complexity for the viewer to be able to appreciate their behaviour as the situation worsens, and the bulging cast members interact with each other convincingly thanks to a good script. The film could have done with a little trimming here and there, but it does not disappoint. 7.5/10
Though I didn't manage to fit the talk with Barbara Windsor, she came briefly up to the Pictureville bar while I was blogging and said hello to me and the small group of patient filmgoers as we amused ourselves between shows - which even though I don't consider myself much of a Babs fan, left me a little star-struck I must admit when she gave me a cheeky giggle and a smile. And she's so tiny! Remove her big hair and stilettos and she must be less than 2 feet tall! Anyway...
Irma (US) - An elderly woman lives alone, her husband long dead. We follow her as she leaves her tiny upstairs flat in Mexico and heads with arthritic stiffness across town to.. the gym.. where she starts to pump weights. It's at this point we realise Irma Gonzales has a lot more to her than first meets the eye. 8/10
Fightville (US) (site)
There is no doubt that extreme mixed martial arts in a cage fighting arena equals lots of cuts, bruises and blood. But as this documentary shows - for the officially regulated stuff at least - there is surprisingly little long-term damage (less than standard boxing in fact) and the contenders aren't as savage and bloodthirsty as you might predict. That's not to say that you won't be wincing at some of the footage here.
Fightville gives us a peek into a local MMA gym called USA MMA in Lafayette, Louisiana. Gil is the gaffer, and after a couple of decades taking part in the sport he is now a family man with a wife and two kids, and not the sort of sparring partner you want to get on the wrong side of. As well as his gym, he is trying to increase the visibility of his sport locally, putting on cage fighting events despite opposition from concerned residents who want him shut down. Of his gym group, the film follows two young hopefuls trying to make it to the professional circuit. Albert had a bad upbringing with a violent, suicidal father and alcoholic mother, who uses the anger generated by these shapeful events to get him in the zone. Dustin is younger but arguably closer to his goal, beating just about everyone that comes near him. Precocious as a child and not afraid to be led by his anger, he sees the fighting circuit as a way of channelling his anger and turning them into abilities he can use.
We follow both through a short period of both their personal and cage-fighting lives, trying to up their game to the next level. It's clear that the sport serves several purposes; an outlet for aggression and anger at the world, a place where primal urges can be let loose without people going away dead, and a way for some people to manage their anger instead of hurting those they love. Very few get to make any money with it though. Fightville is harsh, brutal and fascinating. It has a streak of humour running through it and there are people behind the fists with lives and wants and loves beyond the needs of the ring. Alberts' top hat and cheeky smile as he performs his pre-fight Clockwork Orange routine brings him out of the one-dimensional image of a bloodied fighter and into the realms of humanity. And as such this is also a film with passion for the art of the fight. 7.5/10
BIFF 2012 - Day 1
Another year, another film festival, I'm sitting in the National Media Museum cafe, having sauntered slowly and quietly from my workplace in Leeds. I have been treated to a live piano recital on entry, pushed past several director-types who are networking each other silly, been offered a free donut and cup of tea by four ladies dressed up to look like the protagonists of the opening night film (complete with referential sign) and I am now writing this opener whilst chuckling at the assorted classic Chuck Jones cartoons being shown on the preview reel. (There's a Chuck Jones Tribute throughout the festival, showing cartoons at the start of most films). There's no sound but Duck Amuck is funny just with the pictures.
My initial impression with the lineup of the Bradford films this year is of slight disappointment, but then that's the impression I got last year before I actually went in and watched them, it turned out that BIFF 2011 had a roster of fantastic films, particularly in the documentaries strand, which seems a little lacking this time around. Maybe if someone from the festival is reading this, you might want to look to places like Kickstarter (and other internet-based promotional platforms) as there are some potentially great new films coming out soon.
But this year is now, and the opening night film was due to start. The foyer became busy with film fans so I took my place in the theatre. There I was surprised to find a complementary bucket of popcorn, and a perhaps less obvious gift to find on your cinema seat, a packet of seeds made to look like a book of matches. I'll see what comes up.
The room became gradually packed out with no spare seats and as is typical for a major film this meant overrun. Colin Philpott, the Media Museum director, said a few welcoming pieces and revealed that a new film production studio will soon be up and running in Bradford, creating new films with a northern flavour. Bronte and Discovery Road will be the first films under this project.
The festival was sponsored by Virgin, so one of their suits was wheeled out to give spiel to a captive audience - but in return we got to see 2:20 - the grand prize winner of last year's selection as a sample of the Virgin Media Shorts programme that begins today.
2:20 (UK) - A brief film that recovers a familiar idea - a tramp points at a man as he sits outside a bar, then leaves him the glasses she was wearing. Putting them on, he can see how long people have left to live. The natural urge to look in a mirror becomes too great. Done well and with a disturbing edge, but the whole 'device to see how long people have left to live' concept has been taken from somewhere else (but I can't place where just at the moment) and nothing new has been added. 7/10
Once the Virgin guy was wheeled back off again we got our first film proper, introduced by BIFF director Tom Vincent:
One Froggy Evening (US) - Before the main film, we were treated to a showing of one of Chuck Jones's best on the big screen where it would have first appeared. A construction worker finds a box in a sealed concrete block, and inside (inexplicably) is a frog, who sings and dances the old show tunes. Seeing dollar signs before his eyes, he tries to show off his find to anyone who will listen, but froggy is particular about his audience. Mysterious, funny and tragic. 8/10
And finally, some 45 minutes after the start time, we managed to see the main event, introduced by BIFF co-director Neil Young.
Damsels In Distress (US) (wiki)
Somewhere in a maybe-alternate part of north America lies a well-to-do university, made up of old, dignified buildings and beautiful gardens. There, three girls experiencing the first thrills of life without adults share a dorm. Violet is the most outspoken and leads them in their naive quests, to find happiness in less attractive men, stop their classmates committing suicide, and do something about the body odour problem of the childish males.
Enter Lilly, a transfer student, whom Violet thinks could make a good fourth leg. Seduced by her need to control and offer advice, Lilly moves in and together they negotiate the tricky subjects of love and boys, stumbling through friendships and maybe-relationships as we do. Sort of.
With talk of tapdance numbers, you might think this would be nauseatingly Glee-like but mercifully it isn't - although it is certainly aimed more at a female audience than male. The girls talk to and about boys, get all confused when they don't get their feelings, and take up the rest of their time as suicide prevention officers and dance craze inventors.
It was a nice touch for director Whit Stillman to record a short intro to his film just for Bradford, but alarm bells always ring whenever a director attempts to explain his own work. Damsels tried hard to be carefree and easygoing, but this resulted in an awkward-feeling dialogue (with some iffy sound) between the main characters in the beginning. This eased somewhat in the middle, and then went completely out of the window at the end when the story broke down completely and the movie relied almost completely on a song and dance finish to tie up some rather weak loose ends that hadn't had time enough applied to them for the audience to care that much.
I wanted to like the film much more than I could as it had a genuine, innocent charm about it, and though it took a while for my face to turn up at the sides I did feel some warmth and humour come through eventually with some nice back and fourth between the characters which wasn't merely the expected bitchiness-as-false-complement behaviour from teens in a college situation, but something a little more ideal, more pleasant, if a little rose tinted view of the first freedoms felt in higher ed.
It could have been much worse, but it could also have been a lot better. It could have been tidied up somewhat - some scenes looked as if they had been quickly shot and dropped in to segue between two other distinct parts of the film giving it a bumpy, disjointed flow. And if the director had given some resolution to various story points instead of leaving it in the air while everyone started dancing it would have felt much more satisfying. As it was, I had to salvage enjoyment from the mixture of goofy frat boys and a handful of clever quips from the girls to see me through the other bits. 6/10
Festival Time Looms
It won't be long before the festival circuit comes alive once more. Usually, Bradford is out of the blocks by now but this year it's moved ahead by a month. My tickets are booked, and there are plenty of potentially great films to see.
So I've been keeping the film intake to a steady trickle so far, just a few to whet my whistle in among the other work that never seems to go away. These are a few that I have managed to catch so far:
Once Upon A Time in Anatolia (wiki)
After hearing that this had won the Grand Prize at Cannes last year, I decided to put my reservations about it's length to one side and see it while I could. Anatolia is a huge section of Turkey, but the film concentrates in one unnamed and sparsely populated region, full of dusty back roads and rolling hills and valleys between small towns and villages.
Following a small group of cars not quite up to the job of negotiating this terrain through the night, the film chronicles the attempts of an increasingly frustrated local police sergeant to get some sense out of Kenan, a drunken waster, and his terrified brother, who have confessed to the killing of a stranger passing through their village, but can't remember where they hurriedly buried them, since they were very, very drunk. Along with them are a few labourers with shovels, a couple of equally out of their depth officers, and the prosecutor, Nusret - a professional-looking middle-aged man with an air of responsibility about him, who aims to get through the formalities as soon as possible and move onto his next job.
It sounds like a comedy, but it isn't. Though there are some semi-comedic touches to the story, such as the low-level incompetence suffered by Nusret by the men around him, the story is played mostly straight. Though the murder forms the backbone of the narrative, much of it is spent learning about the lives of the other characters through dialogue when others are off seeing if Kenan's latest guess is anywhere near the body.
There were some nice things about the film; the acting was believable and the settings, though often shrouded in night were authentic and beautifully rural, hinting at what sights may be visible just beyond the headlights. One of the best bits was a dialogue that ran through the film about one of Nusret's old murder cases, which he thought he had long since put to rest but his verdict is put in doubt after casually bringing it into conversation.
Though the film had these nice parts, they were not enough to keep the clock hands whizzing around at a satisfactory pace; at over two and a half hours, the film runs out of things to say halfway through, and at several points approaching the 2-hour mark you expect the long staring shot you are seeing to mark the end. Once the body is found there aren't many other loose ends to tie, but the director made a point of showing the paperwork and autopsy the next morning in clinical detail, though it added little. The long, quiet moments were joined by the shifting of bottoms on cinema seats.
It was nice. There was an entertaining and well-thought story, but it was stuffed with unnecessary filler. It could have been cut by a half-hour quite easily which would have tightened the script and stopped the clock-watching. A shame. 6/10
Le Havre (site)
Designed to tug at the heartstrings from the off, La Havre introduces us to Marcel, a poor shoe-shiner in the north-western French city, looked down on by those whose shoes he shines, he works alongside the immigrants and the poor of his neighbourhood. Tolerated by his wife, whose life would be much simpler if she didn't have to do all his housework as well as hers. One day he meets Idrissa, a young African boy who has escaped the French border guards on his way through to meet with his parents in London. Childless and feeling an immediate need to protect, Marcel takes time to feed and hide the boy from the pursuing authorities, and just as he has his hands full with that, has to cope with his wife collapsing with a mystery illness.
Le Havre is filmed in a deliberately old-fashioned style. Aside from a few pointers to modern comforts, the washed-out colours, static dialogue shots and a wardrobe of antiquated clothes would fool the casual viewer into thinking it was a digital restoration of a 70's flick but it was in fact made last year. This gives the film a quaint charm, but may be off-putting for some. Personally, I liked it, even though being French it had to have a bit of the philosophizing, but it was minimal and it instead concentrated on tying up the loose ends of a poor-man-doing-good-deeds plot in a delightfully Amelie-style far-fetched sort of way. 7/10
The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists (site)
A new Aardman film is almost as welcome an event as a new Pixar or Ghibli offering, especially when they ditch their computer-machines for good old plasticine once more. Flushed Away, though pleasant enough can never match Wallace and Gromit or Chicken Run.
They are taking a risk with this one though; America will be the territory where they stand to make the big money and science.. well, isn't exactly high on the list of people's interests over there, being as it is increasingly marginalized by redneck legislature and shunned by the presidential hopefuls. You can get round some of that with a name change (which Aardman have done, disappointingly but understandably - the US get 'Band of Misfits' as a subtitle) but the film itself will always have those pesky scientists at it's core.
Not content with a general ruffling of feathers, Aardman decided to prod the prudish in the ribs a little further; The Pirates! features a dashing but not very successful pirate captain (voiced by Hugh Grant, who fits surprisingly well into the hat and beard combo) trying to win Pirate of the Year after failing so many times. On his plundering expeditions to prove his place, he runs into Charles Darwin - yes, that hero of the American churchgoers - who points out that the parrot on his shoulder is actually a Dodo and might be worth quite a bit, if taken to the science exhibition in London, that place he can't go since Queen Victoria hates his guts so much for being all piratey.
So as you can imagine, it's going to be a hard sell. Pirates! may mitigate this slightly by setting it in an alternate history where Darwin is a hormonally unfulfilled and slightly slimy man with a devious streak and a monkey butler, and Queen Victoria is an unstoppable fighting machine. This might loosen the collars somewhat but I wouldn't want to be Columbia's PR people.
It's a shame because it's a great film. Almost too full of little plasticine touches, and references to films, places and people, the likes of which you won't catch on a single viewing. Plenty of goofy gags for kids and some more adult references that fortunately stay just the acceptable side of risqué to not require you to cover the ears of the nearest child.
There are even elements in the film that could have been expanded on but aren't - in a good way - such as the curiously feminine-looking pirate amongst his crew, whose name we don't even learn - perhaps leaving enough room to grow the character in a sequel.
It's funny, it's unpredictable and it doesn't feel like an animation too far for the studio; the stop-motion technique is alive and well and looking better than ever, because you know what you're looking at is 'real', rather than conjured up on a computer. The sets are authentic W+G cobbled streets and English pubs and it all hangs together very well indeed. I'd easily watch it again, and probably will.
Oh, and look out for an unexpected inclusion of a Flight of the Conchords song midway through as well which made me smile at least 10% more when I heard it. 8/10
So I've been keeping the film intake to a steady trickle so far, just a few to whet my whistle in among the other work that never seems to go away. These are a few that I have managed to catch so far:
Once Upon A Time in Anatolia (wiki)
After hearing that this had won the Grand Prize at Cannes last year, I decided to put my reservations about it's length to one side and see it while I could. Anatolia is a huge section of Turkey, but the film concentrates in one unnamed and sparsely populated region, full of dusty back roads and rolling hills and valleys between small towns and villages.
Following a small group of cars not quite up to the job of negotiating this terrain through the night, the film chronicles the attempts of an increasingly frustrated local police sergeant to get some sense out of Kenan, a drunken waster, and his terrified brother, who have confessed to the killing of a stranger passing through their village, but can't remember where they hurriedly buried them, since they were very, very drunk. Along with them are a few labourers with shovels, a couple of equally out of their depth officers, and the prosecutor, Nusret - a professional-looking middle-aged man with an air of responsibility about him, who aims to get through the formalities as soon as possible and move onto his next job.
It sounds like a comedy, but it isn't. Though there are some semi-comedic touches to the story, such as the low-level incompetence suffered by Nusret by the men around him, the story is played mostly straight. Though the murder forms the backbone of the narrative, much of it is spent learning about the lives of the other characters through dialogue when others are off seeing if Kenan's latest guess is anywhere near the body.
There were some nice things about the film; the acting was believable and the settings, though often shrouded in night were authentic and beautifully rural, hinting at what sights may be visible just beyond the headlights. One of the best bits was a dialogue that ran through the film about one of Nusret's old murder cases, which he thought he had long since put to rest but his verdict is put in doubt after casually bringing it into conversation.
Though the film had these nice parts, they were not enough to keep the clock hands whizzing around at a satisfactory pace; at over two and a half hours, the film runs out of things to say halfway through, and at several points approaching the 2-hour mark you expect the long staring shot you are seeing to mark the end. Once the body is found there aren't many other loose ends to tie, but the director made a point of showing the paperwork and autopsy the next morning in clinical detail, though it added little. The long, quiet moments were joined by the shifting of bottoms on cinema seats.
It was nice. There was an entertaining and well-thought story, but it was stuffed with unnecessary filler. It could have been cut by a half-hour quite easily which would have tightened the script and stopped the clock-watching. A shame. 6/10
Le Havre (site)
Designed to tug at the heartstrings from the off, La Havre introduces us to Marcel, a poor shoe-shiner in the north-western French city, looked down on by those whose shoes he shines, he works alongside the immigrants and the poor of his neighbourhood. Tolerated by his wife, whose life would be much simpler if she didn't have to do all his housework as well as hers. One day he meets Idrissa, a young African boy who has escaped the French border guards on his way through to meet with his parents in London. Childless and feeling an immediate need to protect, Marcel takes time to feed and hide the boy from the pursuing authorities, and just as he has his hands full with that, has to cope with his wife collapsing with a mystery illness.
Le Havre is filmed in a deliberately old-fashioned style. Aside from a few pointers to modern comforts, the washed-out colours, static dialogue shots and a wardrobe of antiquated clothes would fool the casual viewer into thinking it was a digital restoration of a 70's flick but it was in fact made last year. This gives the film a quaint charm, but may be off-putting for some. Personally, I liked it, even though being French it had to have a bit of the philosophizing, but it was minimal and it instead concentrated on tying up the loose ends of a poor-man-doing-good-deeds plot in a delightfully Amelie-style far-fetched sort of way. 7/10
The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists (site)
A new Aardman film is almost as welcome an event as a new Pixar or Ghibli offering, especially when they ditch their computer-machines for good old plasticine once more. Flushed Away, though pleasant enough can never match Wallace and Gromit or Chicken Run.
They are taking a risk with this one though; America will be the territory where they stand to make the big money and science.. well, isn't exactly high on the list of people's interests over there, being as it is increasingly marginalized by redneck legislature and shunned by the presidential hopefuls. You can get round some of that with a name change (which Aardman have done, disappointingly but understandably - the US get 'Band of Misfits' as a subtitle) but the film itself will always have those pesky scientists at it's core.
Not content with a general ruffling of feathers, Aardman decided to prod the prudish in the ribs a little further; The Pirates! features a dashing but not very successful pirate captain (voiced by Hugh Grant, who fits surprisingly well into the hat and beard combo) trying to win Pirate of the Year after failing so many times. On his plundering expeditions to prove his place, he runs into Charles Darwin - yes, that hero of the American churchgoers - who points out that the parrot on his shoulder is actually a Dodo and might be worth quite a bit, if taken to the science exhibition in London, that place he can't go since Queen Victoria hates his guts so much for being all piratey.
So as you can imagine, it's going to be a hard sell. Pirates! may mitigate this slightly by setting it in an alternate history where Darwin is a hormonally unfulfilled and slightly slimy man with a devious streak and a monkey butler, and Queen Victoria is an unstoppable fighting machine. This might loosen the collars somewhat but I wouldn't want to be Columbia's PR people.
It's a shame because it's a great film. Almost too full of little plasticine touches, and references to films, places and people, the likes of which you won't catch on a single viewing. Plenty of goofy gags for kids and some more adult references that fortunately stay just the acceptable side of risqué to not require you to cover the ears of the nearest child.
There are even elements in the film that could have been expanded on but aren't - in a good way - such as the curiously feminine-looking pirate amongst his crew, whose name we don't even learn - perhaps leaving enough room to grow the character in a sequel.
It's funny, it's unpredictable and it doesn't feel like an animation too far for the studio; the stop-motion technique is alive and well and looking better than ever, because you know what you're looking at is 'real', rather than conjured up on a computer. The sets are authentic W+G cobbled streets and English pubs and it all hangs together very well indeed. I'd easily watch it again, and probably will.
Oh, and look out for an unexpected inclusion of a Flight of the Conchords song midway through as well which made me smile at least 10% more when I heard it. 8/10
Short Film Digest 3: Games Special
It's been a while since I did one of these, so have a themed quad on the subject of games.
Caine's Arcade
First up: a lovely little film showing the power of community on the net to bring happiness. Little Caine made use of his time at his fathers' car repair shop to make arcade-style games for people to play, but he never got any customers, until one day a passing film-maker in need of some car repairs wandered in and bought a ticket...
Indie Game: The Movie
The Kickstarter phenomenon is turning into a brilliant way of bringing together like-minded types to 'crowdfund' a project close to their collective hearts. Several of these are film projects, and one of the earliest ones is this; a documentary about the long and surprisingly pitfall-laden process of creating and releasing an indie game to the masses. Unfortunately this isn't the whole film, just an online extra bit to go with the main film, but I'm seriously bought on the trailer and am hopeful a festival will pick it out for inclusion this year (maybe even do a kickstarter strand....)
100 Yen: The Japanese Arcade Experience
Another Kickstarter project that is almost at fruition: What began as a lament for the decline of American arcades (and by extension, arcades in the UK) turned into a celebration of the still-buoyant state of those places in Japan. I can attest myself of the floors and floors of electronica old and new, having pumped more than a few hundred yen coins into them in my time. It feels weird to have something from my childhood talked about in such nostalgic terms, but I suppose that's how things go as you get older.
Arcade
And as a final wallow in the nostalgia of my childhood, here is another film that stands as a ying to the yang of the 100 Yen film; Arcade documents the final days of the last New York video games arcade; a place where people met, had fun and made memories in among the electronic killing sprees. A sad but warm-hearted lament on an institution that is often seen by many as a dingy, dirty place where the ne'er-do-wells hang out, with a possibly happy ending.
Caine's Arcade
First up: a lovely little film showing the power of community on the net to bring happiness. Little Caine made use of his time at his fathers' car repair shop to make arcade-style games for people to play, but he never got any customers, until one day a passing film-maker in need of some car repairs wandered in and bought a ticket...
Indie Game: The Movie
The Kickstarter phenomenon is turning into a brilliant way of bringing together like-minded types to 'crowdfund' a project close to their collective hearts. Several of these are film projects, and one of the earliest ones is this; a documentary about the long and surprisingly pitfall-laden process of creating and releasing an indie game to the masses. Unfortunately this isn't the whole film, just an online extra bit to go with the main film, but I'm seriously bought on the trailer and am hopeful a festival will pick it out for inclusion this year (maybe even do a kickstarter strand....)
100 Yen: The Japanese Arcade Experience
Another Kickstarter project that is almost at fruition: What began as a lament for the decline of American arcades (and by extension, arcades in the UK) turned into a celebration of the still-buoyant state of those places in Japan. I can attest myself of the floors and floors of electronica old and new, having pumped more than a few hundred yen coins into them in my time. It feels weird to have something from my childhood talked about in such nostalgic terms, but I suppose that's how things go as you get older.
Arcade
And as a final wallow in the nostalgia of my childhood, here is another film that stands as a ying to the yang of the 100 Yen film; Arcade documents the final days of the last New York video games arcade; a place where people met, had fun and made memories in among the electronic killing sprees. A sad but warm-hearted lament on an institution that is often seen by many as a dingy, dirty place where the ne'er-do-wells hang out, with a possibly happy ending.
Take Some Advice, TSA
Behold this withering infographic from OnlineCriminalJusticeDegree.com, showing us just what good the TSA is for the world of air travel. Expensive, ineffectual, corrupt.
Created by: OnlineCriminalJusticeDegree.com
The TSA really needs getting rid of.
Created by: OnlineCriminalJusticeDegree.com
The TSA really needs getting rid of.
This Makes Me Happy
What with all the doom and gloom going on, it's nice to have at least one megacorporation able to use it's considerable talents and wealth to do something pretty damn special.
If you haven't seen the Google Maps 8-bit April Fools prank, well you should take a look here:
I love these people. In a thoroughly sexy way. The whole blowing on the cart thing, the authentic Japanese Famicom unit, the Dragon Quest-style box art... I'm so overloaded with geeky nostalgia right now.. I want to have their babies.
But, it's not really coming out though.. a cartridge for a system whose support died out fifteen years ago? Pfft. All just a load of mocked-up screens.
But then you can go to Google Maps and this happens.
The bestest thing ever to happen on the internets. Ever. Not only is the whole planet now an overworld map from any one of those games (not surprising it looks so authentic seeing as Google enlisted Square Enix to help them), but there are also tonnes of easter eggs.. Try going into street view for example, or maybe visit a well-known landmark, or perhaps scour the world for DQ video game characters.
Anyone interested in catching 'em all, might want to go here.
Also related: this is quite fun, a browser game where you protect well-known landmarks from invasion from Google Map pins. It's distracting in a losing-an-hour-of-your-life sort of way.
If you haven't seen the Google Maps 8-bit April Fools prank, well you should take a look here:
I love these people. In a thoroughly sexy way. The whole blowing on the cart thing, the authentic Japanese Famicom unit, the Dragon Quest-style box art... I'm so overloaded with geeky nostalgia right now.. I want to have their babies.
But, it's not really coming out though.. a cartridge for a system whose support died out fifteen years ago? Pfft. All just a load of mocked-up screens.
But then you can go to Google Maps and this happens.
The bestest thing ever to happen on the internets. Ever. Not only is the whole planet now an overworld map from any one of those games (not surprising it looks so authentic seeing as Google enlisted Square Enix to help them), but there are also tonnes of easter eggs.. Try going into street view for example, or maybe visit a well-known landmark, or perhaps scour the world for DQ video game characters.
Anyone interested in catching 'em all, might want to go here.
Also related: this is quite fun, a browser game where you protect well-known landmarks from invasion from Google Map pins. It's distracting in a losing-an-hour-of-your-life sort of way.
Still A Bad Time To Be Black in America
My previous post on the American social and political state started out as a simple grumble about the starched suits on Fox in America and their ability to see bad in everything that isn't basically - well, them. It so quickly and easily turned into a review of why being in America at the moment is a really bad thing.
So when I received word of several racially-themed reasons to reinforce this conclusion, one after another, in my inbox, it felt wrong to ignore them.
The Trayvon Martin case was the then-latest incident to highlight some deep undercurrents that so easily rise to the surface in some districts. A teenager, wearing a hoodie on his way back from the shops to his house, carrying nothing more offensive than sweets and a drink, was apprehended by local neighbourhood self-styled superjusticedude George Zimmerman. He notified the police and - against their wishes - went after him, apprehended him and shot him dead as he screamed in terror.
The police refused to arrest him.
There's a possibility some deeply racist bastard might be thinking that good ol' patriotic Zimmerman, on seeing a young, hooded black kid, 'acting suspiciously', might be somewhat justified in some sort of preventative action. After all, this could have been a danger to the neighbourhood. He wasn't, but he could have been; and in Zimmermans' committed mental state by that point, he was going to be the hero of the community by getting to him before Trayvon got to his 'target'. He must have forgotten to do all the things that you would do before shooting him dead, is all.
So for those looking for justification in his actions, hoping that there is some sort of explanation that doesn't involve widespread racist hate in the force tasked with protecting people on the street: how about this situation, which came to light just a few days later: Kenneth Chamberlain Sr., an elderly and distinguished black man who fought for his country, is shot dead in his own house by police. What heinous crime did he do? He fell asleep at his home, and the medical alarm round his neck - there because he had a heart condition - was accidentally activated. The police came, and responded to the chain lock and his half-asleep assurance that it was a false alarm by tazering him, breaking the door down, shouting racist obscenities at him, apparently shooting him with a beanbag gun, and just for good measure to ensure justice was done, finally shot him dead in his own home with live ammo.
Punishment for the cop involved? Err, no. No punishment, no layoff, not even suspended or stuck on a desk job. His identity has not been released after six months, and he is apparently still at work in the same neighbourhood.
America, what the hell is going on with you? Has the last 50-plus years of civil rights advances gained such small ground that these things can happen now?
Of course, when your would-be president nearly uses the n-word to describe your current president (yes, I know there's a chance that's not the word he intended - but you give me a credible alternative after listening to it closely ten times), it's clear that for all the progress in equality and human rights America and the west in general has managed, we would be naive to think that we are a long way from where we need to be.
Edit: Extra bonus shooting of black people by cops: What do you expect from police in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans? Assistance, compassion? How about a group of them shooting people from a bridge and then trying to cover it up.
So when I received word of several racially-themed reasons to reinforce this conclusion, one after another, in my inbox, it felt wrong to ignore them.
The Trayvon Martin case was the then-latest incident to highlight some deep undercurrents that so easily rise to the surface in some districts. A teenager, wearing a hoodie on his way back from the shops to his house, carrying nothing more offensive than sweets and a drink, was apprehended by local neighbourhood self-styled superjusticedude George Zimmerman. He notified the police and - against their wishes - went after him, apprehended him and shot him dead as he screamed in terror.
The police refused to arrest him.
There's a possibility some deeply racist bastard might be thinking that good ol' patriotic Zimmerman, on seeing a young, hooded black kid, 'acting suspiciously', might be somewhat justified in some sort of preventative action. After all, this could have been a danger to the neighbourhood. He wasn't, but he could have been; and in Zimmermans' committed mental state by that point, he was going to be the hero of the community by getting to him before Trayvon got to his 'target'. He must have forgotten to do all the things that you would do before shooting him dead, is all.
So for those looking for justification in his actions, hoping that there is some sort of explanation that doesn't involve widespread racist hate in the force tasked with protecting people on the street: how about this situation, which came to light just a few days later: Kenneth Chamberlain Sr., an elderly and distinguished black man who fought for his country, is shot dead in his own house by police. What heinous crime did he do? He fell asleep at his home, and the medical alarm round his neck - there because he had a heart condition - was accidentally activated. The police came, and responded to the chain lock and his half-asleep assurance that it was a false alarm by tazering him, breaking the door down, shouting racist obscenities at him, apparently shooting him with a beanbag gun, and just for good measure to ensure justice was done, finally shot him dead in his own home with live ammo.
Punishment for the cop involved? Err, no. No punishment, no layoff, not even suspended or stuck on a desk job. His identity has not been released after six months, and he is apparently still at work in the same neighbourhood.
America, what the hell is going on with you? Has the last 50-plus years of civil rights advances gained such small ground that these things can happen now?
Of course, when your would-be president nearly uses the n-word to describe your current president (yes, I know there's a chance that's not the word he intended - but you give me a credible alternative after listening to it closely ten times), it's clear that for all the progress in equality and human rights America and the west in general has managed, we would be naive to think that we are a long way from where we need to be.
Edit: Extra bonus shooting of black people by cops: What do you expect from police in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans? Assistance, compassion? How about a group of them shooting people from a bridge and then trying to cover it up.
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