Next up: locusts, heavy at times, followed by blowing and drifting frogs.

(I’m tired of this winter; can you tell?)

I loathed the 2007 adaptation of Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park, shown on PBS’s Masterpiece theater as part of The Complete Jane Austen. Dr. Who’s Billie Piper is miscast as Fanny Price, whose characterization seems to consist almost entirely of her chasing wildly after someone or something, or pouting at or about Edmund. Austen’s Fanny is ethical to a fault, self-effacing, and quiet. Piper’s voluptuous blond prettiness would be much more suited to the role of Harriet Smith in Emma. The movie’s 90 minutes condenses Austen’s complex story to a caricature of itself, leaving out many critical plot points, like Fanny’s return to her family at Portsmouth. This adaptation glosses over much of the subtleties of Austen’s humor, while the scene at the end when Edmund realizes his love for Fanny is played so broadly that I cringed.

I’ve enjoyed the two other adaptations in the PBS series–Persuasion and Northanger Abbey. Persuasion was distinguished by the tense pauses in conversation that conveyed much of what had to go unsaid because of the conversational conventions and constraints of the time. Northanger Abbey did an excellent job of portraying Catherine’s romantic imagination, and alluding to the timelessness of teenage hormones. It did a good job with Austen’s sense of humor and propriety. Both these adaptations weren’t as good as their sources, but reminded me fondly of the books, and made me want to read them again.

Mansfield Park (2007), though, made me want to flee to the book, if only to get away from such a poor representation of it. Read the book, or rent the Patricia Rozema adaptation. It takes some broad departures from the text in Fanny’s character; this earned the scorn of ardent Jane-ites. But it is a well-made, well-cast film that does more justice to what many consider Austen’s most complex novel. The learned ladies at Austenblog didn’t care for Rozema’s Mansfield Park, so on that we’ll have to disagree. But they’re a wonderful resource for all things Austen if you want to learn more.

Paprika, a Japanese anime film from last year, is wild and visually stunning. I wanted to like it, but the more I think on it, the more it bothers me. Ultimately it’s a fanboy fantasy, and a feminist nightmare.

In the near future, psychotherapists have technology to record and enter dreams (think Until the End of the World, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind). The team responsible is headed by an attractive but buttoned down woman and a gluttonous geek boy. The woman’s alter ego in dreams is the Paprika of the title. Someone steals and subverts the technology, and dreamworlds collide, then intrude disastrously into reality. My favorite part of the film is the parade of dreams–the color, image and music all combine for a walloping sensory experience. What happens to the female doctor, though, is beyond apology for me.

She is threatened multiple times by men who say they are going to play rough with her. One tries to rape her, and submerges a dream hand inside her, then rips off her skin from the inside, so she is naked and unconscious when another character rams tentacles down her throat. Later, she becomes a child, and drinks the dark dream stuff spread by the huge, nude male villain , which I found too close an allusion to fellatio. Finally, she rebels against her dream self and rescues the glutton-geek, declaring her love for him, then later saying she’s going to marry him and take his name.

The plot is murky and while the images are provocative, too often I found them offensive.

I recently finished The Woman in White and Wide Sargasso Sea. The paperback editions of each had dreadful covers of television or movie adaptations. How, I ask you, am I supposed to take books seriously that look like this:

or this:

?

I think I’m to be commended that I recognized the value of both books in spite of their covers. I’ve only seen one photo tie-in cover that I ever liked, The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje:

No, you may not take that as a title for a children’s book; it’s mine.

Yesterday, nearly-two Guppy demonstrated some of the oppositional behavior he’s learned from his big brother Drake. I did something that displeased him (oh, like trying to get him out of an overly wet diaper, or picking him up when he wanted to be down or vice versa, or some other heinous crime) and he smacked me in the face. With a hippo. So hard that he knocked one of my eyeglass lenses out. And they’re my old eyeglasses, because he already damaged my best, most attractive, very expensive, pre-kid pair.

To add further insult to the pile of injury, that hippo used to be worth a lot of money, and yet I chose to give it to him to chew on and snuggle instead of selling it on Ebay.

It’s incidents like this that come to mind when people gush romantically over how joyful motherhood is. Rubbish. It’s hard work, frequently irritating, often menial, yet periodically rewarding. Like I said: work.

Everything I did today spawned three more tasks. I put something away, but found three things in the wrong place that had to be put elsewhere. Lather, rinse, repeat. I put away clothes, but had to organize drawers so they could fit. I tried to put things in my closet, but had to organize it to find room.

I hate housekeeping; I would rather be reading or writing. Yet I cherish simplicity and order. It’s the domestic Catch-22. Argh.

I was toy shopping for the boys when I discovered that what seemed like a basic box of Legos costs $100. WTF?

Of late, I rarely have time to read the long articles that my favored blogs link to. Today, though, I took the time and was glad of it. Three disparate articles wove together in provocative ways.

From Edward Champion’s Return of the Reluctant (link from Mental Multivitamin), a critique of Sherry Shepherd’s statement that “Jesus came first” on The View:

Sherri Shepherd of The View has uttered, in all seriousness, that “Jesus came first.” Shepherd seems to believe that, in the great collective whole of human existence, there was no religion before Christianity….

when presented with the facts by her peers, Shepherd is incapable of even confessing that her co-hosts may be right.

Philip Pullman, interviewed at More Intelligent Life (link from Arts and Letters Daily), is the author of the “His Dark Materials” series, which I wrote about here, here, and here. The first book, titled The Golden Compass in the USA and Northern Lights elsewhere, has been adapted into a film. Both his film and the books are being criticized and boycotted by religious groups:

Pullman says that people who are tempted to take offence should first see the film or read the books. “They’ll find a story that attacks such things as cruelty, oppression, intolerance, unkindness, narrow-mindedness, and celebrates love, kindness, open-mindedness, tolerance, curiosity, human intelligence. It’s very hard to disagree with those. But people will”….

Pullman clearly enjoys an argument; Bernard Shaw, after all, is one of his favourite authors. He draws the line at discussing issues with fundamentalists. “You can’t communicate with people who know they’ve got all the answers.”

Also in the interview, Pullman places the focus on story, not writing:

I’m fundamentally a storyteller, not a literary person, if I can make that distinction. If I wrote a story that had enough vigour and life to pass into common currency and be recounted by people who had no idea that I was the author, nothing would give me greater pleasure.

In her Nobel Prize acceptance speech (link from Pages Turned), Doris Lessing also venerates storytelling, and its creative, shifting nature, so unlike the rigid, uninformed arguments of Shepherd and Pullman’s denouncers.

The storyteller is deep inside everyone of us. The story-maker is always with us. Let us suppose our world is attacked by war, by the horrors that we all of us easily imagine. Let us suppose floods wash through our cities, the seas rise . . . but the storyteller will be there, for it is our imaginations which shape us, keep us, create us - for good and for ill. It is our stories that will recreate us, when we are torn, hurt, even destroyed. It is the storyteller, the dream-maker, the myth-maker, that is our phoenix, that represents us at our best, and at our most creative.

Your Score: PORTLAND!

You scored 42% Style, 18% Climate, and 56% Culture!

You are Portland, Oregon! Portland, the largest city in Oregon and seat of Multnomah County, is located in the northwest part of the state on the Willamette River. Portland has a diverse economy with a broad base of manufacturing, distribution, wholesale and retail trade, regional government, and business services. Major manufacturing industries include machinery, electronics, metals, transportation equipment, and lumber and wood products. Technology is a thriving part of Portland’s economy, with over 1,700 high-tech companies located in the metropolitan area. Tourism is also important to Portland’s economy, drawing more than 7 million visitors annually.

You are a nicely cultured individual, appreciating a good play, book, movie, or fine dining. You also appreciate some diversity, lest things get too boring. Not one for sitting and relaxing for long periods at a time nor dressing up the nines, you take interest in getting outside and being out in nature, enjoying the cool, crisp air…maybe even playing a sport or taking a hike. Portland is a good place to be, my friend.

Link: The Which Major U.S. City Are You? Test written by weeredII on OkCupid

Yes, I know I profess to hate quizzes, but sometimes when I’m stressed they’re better than other unhealthy behaviors.

When I visited Portland a few years back, I thought, “I could live here.” But there’s too little sun, and it’s too far away from our immediate families. So while we do have many friends and relatives in the Portland area, and it’s cool, I’m sticking to my no-Portland stance.

Has Project Runway jumped the shark? I am excited to watch the new episode each week, then feel “meh” once it’s done. It’s gotten easier to tell who will be at the top and bottom simply based on the talking heads. For whatever reason, though, season 4 isn’t working for me.

This week’s challenge was for each designer to take an outdated trend, then group together into threes and update the trends to form a cohesive trio. The challenge was both difficult and complex, and made we wonder if PR has already peaked; it feels like they’re working awfully hard to come up with something “new”.

Since there are still so many designers, it feels more like a whirl of personalities. Christian had a pissy, immature expression when Jillian’s team was named the winner. Jack’s features are ostensibly handsome, but strangely off-putting; I sense some plastic surgery. Ricky is right; Victoria _is_ passive agressive. Is Ricky talented? It will be interesting to see. Steven’s snark is sharper than are his designs. I felt joy for Sweet P when Donna Karan singled her out for praise. And Chris’s jacket was ugly and costume-y, in spite of his delusional love for it.

Jillian, Rami, and Kevin turned out to be the dream team, though Kevin was only able to pull off those shorts at the last minute. I liked the “agree to disagree” discussion between Rami and Jillian about Kevin, and appreciated that they came across as quietly talented. Team Christian, on the other hand, was a lot of sound and fury that signified little.

I’ll keep watching of course, but I’m more compelled by the reruns of Season 2 on my Tivo than the brand new episodes.

OMG! Jack and my favorite Big Gay Chef Dale are dating! I may have to be nicer about Jack.

Remember to check out what others are saying: Project Rungay, Blogging Project Runway.

One of the most disturbing things I learned from Michael Pollan’s Omnivore’s Dilemma is how dependent as a species we’ve become on corn, and how its production, subsidies, and byproducts have become such facts of life that we barely notice them.

I highly recommend the book. For more on how much corn is in our diets, check out the documentary “King Corn” at the Oak Street Cinema in Minneapolis this week. There will also be a discussion at the Wedge food coop on Friday.

I watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer with my 4yo son Drake yesterday. I’ll stop sometimes and ask him what’s happening. “I don’t know!” he says happily.

The story of how a band of misfits come together and find strength in their unique selves is a timeless one. But a few snarky comments floated through my head, as I watched through adult eyes:

Hermie the dentist: if you substitute “gay” for dentistry, it still holds together. I’ve recently watched Season One of Project Runway. Hermie reminded me a lot of Austin Scarlett.

What women are up for, part I: When Rudolph runs away, his dad, Donner, says he’s going to look for him. Mom offers to go, too, but Donner declares, “This is MAN’s work!” Then Rudolph’s mother and girlfriend go off to look for him anyway.

Curious timing: Over a year, Rudolph leisurely grows up on his own, then returns home to find everyone is still gone, looking for him. He proceeds directly to the lair of the Abominable Snowman, who is just about to eat his parents and girlfriend. Why don’t the kids see how contrived this is?

Dental work without consent: Hermie and Yukon’s plan is to pull all the Bumble’s teeth while he’s unconscious? Animal cruelty!

What women need, part II: After they escape the Bumble’s lair, the deer return to Christmastown immediately; the males decide “that’s what would be best for the ladies.”

It’s been rather chilly in MN lately, and the feel of winter has set in. Do I mean snowflakes that cling to my nose and eyelashes? No. Remember back when you were a kid, and it was the feel of the insides of your nose sticking together, and you thought your boogers were freezing? It’s not that, either. I mean that awful feeling as my dry, cracked skin scrapes against fleece. I can almost hear the “KRRRRRCK” sound it must make. Or the burning sensation in my hands that no amount of hand lotion can quell after I’ve done the dishes and not used rubber gloves.

I brought the Sound of Music soundtrack home from the library for 4yo Drake. He plays it over and over, start to finish, morning till night.

I think I’m going to have to have it surgically removed from my brain.

Ergh.

For them to think about while they’re on strike (go writers!):

Please, please, please don’t make Sweets be Gormogon. He’s a great, funny, recurring character, and it would be a shame to lose him.

Bones is on hiatus till the new year, but if you haven’t been watching, catch a rerun or two. The banter, chemistry, and writing have fairly crackled this fall.

For those who have been watching, did anyone else wonder if David Boreanaz had Buffy flashbacks during last week’s graveyard scene?

I am helpless to resist the powerful tractor beam of Tim Gunn’s charm and fashion sense. I don’t even really like his show, and at the end I feel guilty for having watched it, but there’s something about Gunn that manages to transcend my gripes.

Some of the fashion advice is useful, some of it’s not so. One of the moments in their makeovers that’s meant to shock is when sidekick Veronica Webb insists on going through the makeover-ee’s underwear drawer. This is played for awkwardness, but there’s sound reasoning behind it. In this week’s episode, Webb surprised contestant Elena when she announced that bras were only meant to last six months.

I got some flak when I wrote about this once, but a former bra-fitter assured me it’s true. If you machine wash them, hooked and in a lingerie bag, they will stay supportive and fitting for about 6 months. Hand washing will extend this to about a year. Wearing old, stretched-out bras isn’t comfortable, and isn’t flattering. They’re not called foundations for nothing.

Now, don’t let this imply that I take my own advice. Most of what’s in my drawer is way older than six months, and those that aren’t don’t fit really well–I fall between band sizes, and my size is tough to find. I’m not sure I can really condone going bra shopping (and spending) every six months. Or the mock seriousness of Tim and Veronica Webb when they insist on examining the unmentionables. But I can’t argue that it’s a good ideal.

#52 in my 2007 book challenge was 1001 Nights of Snowfall, written by Bill Willingham and illustrated by many. It’s a graphic novel original collection of linked short stories, set in Willingham’s mythical Fables world. Fables, for the uninitiated, is a monthly comic from the Vertigo line of DC Comics, very much in the tradition of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. It takes mythic elements–here, characters from fairy tales–and transforms with new, and very modern, twists on the ancient tales. In the series, a group of fables, e.g. Snow White, escaped a rampaging other-worldly Adversary and established a “safe” community within New York City.

1001 Nights of Snowfall has been sitting on my metaphorical shelf for some time. It is a series of short stories set within a larger frame. Snow White, as ambassador for Fabletown, visits a sultan in the East. He says he is going to marry her, then kill her. Instead, she beguiles him with stories, all of which provide details into the past of many of the Fables characters. As in all good fiction, the stories answer many questions, but beget even more.

As in the Sandman series, there are different artists for different stories. The amazing Charles Vess illustrates the framing story. The other stories are done by some of the brightest talents in the arts and comics world, all of whose work is beautifully suited to the fantastic world of the Fables.

My one concern, and it’s a big one, is Willingham’s disturbing sexism, which I’ve noticed occasionally in Fables, but was more prevalent in his previous fantasy works. He’s done a decent job of overcoming, or perhaps hiding, this in the ongoing series by making both male and female characters by turns nasty, loving, loyal, and depraved. In 1001 Nights, though, there is a troubling rape scene in the Frog Prince short story, which is unnecessarily depicted in the art. The story would have been more powerful, IMO, if the story and the illustration showed this in a more sophisticated, allusive and less graphic manner, as was done in the first Snow White short story in the book. As written and illustrated, it places itself squarely in the realm of the torture porn so prevalent in recent movies like Saw and Hostel. It’s a short part (two or three panels) within a longer, very moving story. But for me, it marred the entire work.

I enjoy Fables the series, and I thought this book was quite good. But my reservations about some of the depictions of women in both the series and 1001 Nights result in a qualified recommendation of both.

Drake’s Aunt Sydney got him The Muppet Show dvds for his birthday. It has become one of his favorite things to watch in his TV time.

Here are some of Drake’s comments: Kermit lives in the O! No, Mom, it’s FUZZY Bear, not Fozzie! No, Mom, his name is Puppy Dog, not Rolf!

Me (to myself): Why are all the women wearing wigs? Why do all the stars look like they have dentures? Isn’t Connie Stevens a little old to be singing “Teenager in Love”? What made Sandy Duncan get famous? Which eye is her glass one? Who ARE most of these male guests: Charles Aznavour, Bruce Forsyth, Avery Schreiber? Why is this sketch set in a bar, and the star pretending to get drunk?

Perhaps Drake won’t grow up to be a critical cynic like his mom.

This one is so ridiculous that it sounds like the writers of The Daily Show might be moonlighting during their strike. I’m sure they’d have a field day with this one:

Millions of toys recalled; contain ‘date rape’ drug

Read through it all, because many more toy recalls are detailed.

I’m thinking of buying US-made toys this year, how about you? A Toy Garden has a good selection of these.

I think it’s probably best not to know what might have been. I liked Lionel Shriver’s Post-Birthday World, which explored the idea very well. But seeing Rob Thomas’s mock-ups for Veronica Season 4 makes me more sad than filled with geek joy.

Pilot part 1
Pilot part 2

(Links from Everybody Loves Saturday Night.)

But hope for the fans continues. DC Comics may pick up the series as a comic book, as Dark Horse has done with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which has been a success.