the Last House on the Left

There is a mode of thought that there are only so many stories in the world, and at some point everything is merely a variation on a familiar theme, and I do subscribe to this theory to some extent. As such, it is no surprise to me that certain movie plots seem to be copied time and time again. After all, with a limited number of stories the number of stories that are eligible for cinematization needs be just as limited, only smaller.

That being said, I don’t really think we ran out of permutations of a theme sometime in the mid to late nineties in such a way as to explain the ENORMOUS amount of re-makes, re-imaginings and other ways of saying re-hashes that are now plaguing the movie-theaters. It becomes practically impossible to spoil anything for the sheer fact that there is nothing playing where the story is not known up front and in many cases has been known up front for the last twenty odd years.

In a way, the new version of tLHotL avoids the rather disappointing effect of being spoiled by never really being spoilable. After all, a spoiler suggests that the ending is unexpected, surprising, something you would not have seen coming if somebody had not just spoiled the movie for you. tLHotL not so, there is no surprise, no twists and turns within the tale, everything made starkly clear, and unpleasantly clear, from start to finish. In its own way, it is not even a thriller, for exactly that reason, and I am not even considering placing it in the “horror” category. Horror, after all, needs a supernatural (or nearly so) element, and thrillers need tension and excitement. This movie has no supernatural element (the Norwegian tale does, but not in the main part of the story) and as said no thrills. I would call this movie simply a “drama”, if not with the melancholy or sad connotations the word holds nowadays.

TLHotL, this time, is a re-make of a movie that was a re-imagining of another movie that was a re-telling of a traditional Scandinavian folktale, and with so many “re”s it is not surprising it lost some of the old tale along the way. What is surprising is how much it has lost since the relatively recent firs tLHotL. The original (for want of a better word) is no more exciting or surprising than this one, but is more uncomfortable, which in a movie like this counts.

The story, very swiftly (as so many old tales this one also can be synopsed incredibly swiftly) is: “Parents kill the people who raped and killed their daughter”. The story is told in simple (near) chronological order, starting with the presentation of the criminals, then the parents + daughter. After this murder, rape and some murder, and then more murder. It’s gory (although less so than the Craven original version) and unpleasant (see last line within brackets) but that is the (natch) meat and bone of the movie.

What I liked about Craven’s original was the fact that it made the viewer complicit in the horrible acts portrayed. What I hate about the current one is that it absolves the viewer from any responsibility towards the situation. In the original a horrible, almost five minute long, shot of a brutal rape that seems to go on for much longer and never relents makes you uncomfortable, makes you wish the camera would pan out, show something else, anything but this poor girl being abused. But it does not, and you feel as much a part of the scene as she. But as you are looking AT her you feel slightly, if subtly, that you are part of the group that allows this to happen to her, you have a responsibility, and somehow, you feel as though you could stop this, but don’t. The new version does pan out, showing trees and other people and more importantly, it only lasts a very short time. And this time, the viewer is placed outside the scene, and thus not really responsible, you care, somewhat, but not really, as the camera seems to care, somewhat, but not really.

When, in the original, the parents find the corpse of their daughter (I won’t spoil how, it is also not important) the decision “right, they raped and killed my little girl, I’m gonna be bitin’ me off some peen” is made willingly, swiftly and decisively. As I imagine mine would be. If I ever find out somebody killed my child that person is dead, never mind that they seem to currently be breathing, they might as well not be. The parents put all their love and caring they used to feel for their daughter into destroying, knowingly, other lives. Does it make them nicer people? No. Does it make them relatable? Yes. The switch in their characters is done so expertly you feel that this killer instinct was always there, just barely kept under the surface for the sake of their child. Their energy could have gone dark as easily as it went light. Symbolically this places the child as the cap on their rage, the one thing that stops these people from turning into murderous beasts.

In the new version, the parents are unpleasant, yes, but form first view about as menacing as a disgruntled bedbug. They seem to be unpleasant to each other, the dad is unpleasant to his daughter and the mother is mostly unpleasant to herself, by staying with these horrid people. The daughter never gets a chance to represent the key to their happiness as there simply is no happiness. When she is inevitably attacked and thus taken out of the equation of this family’s life, the rage is no turning point, no corruption form light to dark; it simply makes the last final step from grubby to foul.

I enjoyed the new tLHotL, unlike the friends I was with, but I did think changes were made that changed the message and the impact of the story. A lot of the “comic relief” bumbling policemen and the like were taken out where they really, really should have stayed in the movie. In the original, at several points, the story could have still been saved but wasn’t because people decided not to take the turn, not to check out the car, not to do this or that, and as a viewer, you get tense because everything could have turned out ok, if not for that small step. The new version does not have that, and unavoidably moves towards the finish. And an unavoidable fate is not an interesting fate.

The last and final point of chance that really did chance so much for me in this movie centers on redemption and escape. In the original, the parents meet up after their rampage, covered in blood, in the living room of their home. They end the story still in the story; they have already begun haunting the place of their crimes. There is no redemption for anybody, as nobody physically leaves the scene of the crime. Also, with their daughter dead and summarily avenged, what do they have to live for? You feel, if not know, that they are ready for a hell of their own making, no more love, or light, but no willingness or need for hate and darkness. A grey eternity rehashing their actions while sitting in that living room, in those clothes, close to their victims memories.
The redemption they sought, the peace they hoped to find is not, and will not be, there. They are punished for their violence, however understandable within the context of their actions, as they are judged by the same standards they have judged by.

In the new version, not only does the daughter live, she is also instrumental in her own and her parent’s survival (alerting them to the danger under their roof). The final scene of this movie has the parent’s, along with their daughter (and for reasons explainable one of the members of the criminal group) in a boat speeding towards help. They leave the place of dark to go into the dawn. They are by their actions or character redeemed. The family is stronger than ever, the daughter has found a new assertiveness along her mother, and the junior criminal looks towards no live of crime. Even better, he fills a void that was left by some unneeded and unexplained back-story death.

Completeness through adversity, strength through resistance and redemption through action are NOT tenets of this story, they are NOT heartwarming messages to take away. The original, as does the original tale, tell that revenge does NOT fulfill, that it does NOT make everything a little bit better, it just makes things worse. With the redemption of the family we condone violence; we say “given the situation you acted right” where they really did not. Remember that the daughter lived, and that therefore the cap was never off the rage, the energy that was put into lighting her life never needed to be turned towards avenging that same life. It makes all the actions unreasonable and the redemption and escape undeserved. It completely turns around the message of the story, and in doing so, negates the impact to such an extent that it makes the movie less “worth it” less debatable, less a topic for discussion (how would YOU act?) and more a standard (or sub-standard) exercise in gore.

International Kev

In an unrelated but still very nice note, I have now gone cross-borders! A lithuanian co-worker of mine has a blogging friend who has a tremendously good looking blog on cooking related things that is paired with a more personal blog, for which I have written a short bit.

I am very proud of my first international blog, even if it proved impossible to translate.

You can find it (and the cooking blog, which looks really good) here:
http://pragarovirtuve.lt/instrukcija-kaip-atpazinti-geju/2462/

All stripes at fully open for happy!
K

Fashion, cyclical nature of,

Fashion is not often seen as the most democratic and fair system of social interaction, given as it is to focus on those of us with slightly thinner than average bodies and slightly better than average faces, but there is an underlying balance in fashion as in all things that govern the chances even for those not currently shaped as in vogue as others. It has been said that fashion is a form of ugliness so bad we change it every 6 months, and with some unfortunate exceptions this holds relatively true. This means that those things in fashion now will soon not be, and those things not in fashion will be within an overseeable period of time.

The reason for this is as superficial as it is logical: Money. Or better yet, sales. And the money and fame that run concurrently with sales when discussing shops and brands.
If you are currently selling skinny jeans by the bucketload you know you are selling only to those people that wear skinny jeans. People who don’t aren’t buying. But soon enough the skinny jeans wearing crowd will have their fill of them, the market becomes glutted and it is in the best interest of stockists everywhere to start promoting the non-skinny jean, as the demographic of non-skinny jeans wearing people is ready to start buying again. Fashion is designed by the magazines, who are influenced by advertisers, who are influenced by sales, and see a real good thing in selling products to that group that holds the most money. So by setting up a relatively predictable cycle of opposing fashions the industry ensures that most of their own can stay in business while providing overall to all punters.

So if this year the a-line dress is very popular and worn under a bolero and over three-quarter length leggings all in primary colours, you can be almost certain that the next mode will be baggy pants topped with a cut-waisted upper body and the one-layered look in pastels or basic browns and grays will reign for a few months. Taken over two years (the rough time a buyer for a store needs to prepare for a new fashion trend) the see-saw of fashion will have ensured that people of all possible shapes, sizes, skin-tones and preferences have crossed the threshold of the store at least once, with a good chance of getting money from all of them.

But that is basic, day to day fashion, what about the vintage craze? What about the materials and forms which were fashionable three decades ago? Why do we feel the need to renaissance every conceivable style this and former centuries have seen? This is a process that is a lot more subtle, as it seems not to be inspired as much by direct sales but by the whims of designers. And it is. Obviously nothing is ever cut and dry black or white, and many things tend to inspire the look of an age, but bear with me here for a moment.

When I was younger my mother had one friend who everybody always commented on was very well dressed. She always had on high heels, always wore sleekly cut jackets and was usually not afraid to show a bit of cleavage. Her hair was usually swept and pinned up and she wore those kick-ass eighties glasses that give off a sexy-librarian vibe even if the gender of the person involved is not what is sexually attractive for you. Now when I think of a well dressed woman or when my friends ask me for advice on fashion, I notice I move into the friend’s direction very easily, after all, in my mind that is the template for a well dressed woman.

Fashion designers also have mothers, and more than likely these mothers also had a friend like that. So fashion designers also grow up with an image of a well-dressed woman (this all applies for men as well, obviously) somewhere in their head, which almost unavoidably bleeds through in their work. So when a new alternative need to be found for this season’s neckline it is very easy to just import the well-dressed-friend-of-mum’s neckline into existing shapes. And suddenly the 70’s neckline is back in fashion (which is itself a reflection of a 40’s neckline, because the person who introduced it into the 70’s also had a mum, and she also had a friend). But it is now used to augment and add to daily fashion that is inspired by many designers, and thus by many designers mum’s friends. This together will give a feel of an age in current fashion that grows naturally from all these borrowed elements.

These cycles together repeat ad infinitum, always inspired by best practices, new options in production and new fabrics and dyes to use to create an ongoing image of fashion as a constantly reinvented world where everything stays the same and everything comes back into fashion if only you wait long enough. Obviously, this is only an apparent truism as there are things that have, through impractically, lethality or stupidity become unfashionable for ever. The real test of ongoing style is the ability which items will be modish again in ten years and which shouldn’t even have been today.

Ties, what to do and what knot to do.

Much as we have American sit-coms to thank for an encroaching childishness in the work-place, I personally can thank a specific American sit-com for a marked improvement on my style and sense of dress. Having changed recently from a long string of temporary jobs to a job that I hope will be the beginning of a long-enjoyed corporate career, I have also changed my style of dress from preppy-casual to a standard of suits and dress shoes, along with a modest but expanding selection of shirts and ties. Having been blessed by good advice in my past and a slight penchant for dandy-ism in my present, I do believe I have managed to weather this awkward and uncomfortable change with a reasonable amount of success, as evidenced that people still comment on my sense of style well after the novelty of suits should have worn off.

Suits (and shoes) will have their own entry on this blog, but I would like to start the subject of office-style with those accoutrements that allow for a little bit of flair or a great bit of garish insanity by adding a personal note to any uniform outfit; the tie. For every well chosen colour and knot-style walking the corporate hallways today there are several half-knotted wool concoctions holding together unbuttoned collars, which is a shame, as there really is not that much to the art of dapper deployment.

Personally, I like symmetry in my ties, so the traditional slanted stripes are not really a preferred part of my collection. Give me a solid colour or centralized pattern at any time. Others might prefer the college-look of blocky stripes slanting over their tie, and there certainly is something to be said for both options. There are things to keep into account however, as not every choice of pattern or colour goes with every type of shirt or suit.

• For double-breasted or high-lapelled suits (three front buttons or three-piece suits), don’t choose a thin tie or a thin knot, but cover as much of the space between the lapels as possible without going overboard toward the cravat-point. For lower-lapelled suits (one or two front buttons) a thinner tie and less obvious knot will do fine, providing one does not walk around like a colour-coded blues brother. A good rule of thumb is the more shirt-fabric the suit allows you to see, the more fabric the tie can allow you to see. Less shirt-fabric between your lapels means larger knots and wider ties.


• A striped suit and a striped tie can work remarkably well, but is very tricky. As always, if you are not exactly sure yourself it looks right, it probably does not. Smarter to go for solid coloured ties on a striped suit and allow your striped ties their time in the sun under a solid suit.


• Bow ties are associated with clowns, eccentric uncles and slightly misguided dandies. Stay away from them (ties and personages). A cravat can be very elegant, but be prepared to be seen as an antiques-dealer on the way home to his much younger boyfriend. Comical ties and novelty patterns fall into one simple category : discount fare. These can send a very clear personal message, but that message almost aways is “I have no sense of humour” or “I wear what my kids can afford to get me”


• Be careful choosing ties with shirts. Yellow tie on a blue shirt can make the yellow look green or the shirt look denim (if you are wearing a denim shirt with a tie already, please leave this blog now). It is best to stick with white or black shirts for brighter ties, as the colour will be brought out most. Striped shirts or more pastel shirts do well with muted ties.


• Patterns other than stripes should be subtle, if possible a result of the ties’ weave more than a dying process. If anything on your tie looks painted on, it might as well be a novelty tie. Another risk of applied patterns is that they can disrupt the lower edge of the knot, or start shedding where you usually would tie the knot, which is regretfully also the part most on view.

Your knot should be symmetrical, fill your collar-points and match up with the lower line of the collar. It is best to choose a tie that fills the space you need to fill, but in the interest of maintaining the customary dimple right underneath the knot it is better to tie a tighter knot in a wider tie than to fluff the knot on a thinner one. Paradoxically, it is always better to have a double knot on a thinner tie than it is to under-knot a wider one as the amount of fabric also guides the type of knot. A knot should be tight, but never strain the fabric. You are presenting yourself, not tying down an errant pony. Personally, I prefer a half-windsor, as it provides a nicely symmetrical knot and allows easy knotting with different styles and materials.

The Pocket Square will be discussed in a separate blog later this week. For now, you should have enough fun with finding some good ties.

Kevin

Woman on a pier

I haven't blogged in a while because I've had some problem getting into situations that require blogging or complaining in a public forum. But I still have my creative outlets, currently based around character sketches and suchlike. To get back into a semi-regular way of writing things out to the world, I have decided to just post a few of the snippets that float around my brain. Starting with this one.

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There is, as much as anything within a story can be said to be, a woman standing on the edge of a pier looking out over the cold grey water. She is gaunt and pale, her long black skirt rustling in the sea-winds. She is beautiful, or at least she appears beautiful, but one gets the impression she would have been merely pretty if she had not chosen to let herself go thin and whispy in the salty air, if she had had a life lived inside, with kitchen and kids and other words starting with K.
Instead, she stands there looking out over the sea and she personifies the wait, the loneliness and the loss of all who look upon her, and she is glorious. Boys who see her once on holiday with their family foresee and remember the rest of their lives, striving from then onwards to be the type of man to warrant such devotion and to be always awaited by a girl not quite so striking. Girls copy in one glance for ever the image of her shadow, her long skirts and cloudy wrap, and know that they also desire once to stand just so, be still and calm and terrible, and alone, because the loneliness alone implies a period when loneliness was the furthest from anybodies mind and what more to wish for than the certainty that you are or have been not alone?

She is the inspiration for love-songs and country-ballads, for long slow novels that treacle away drizzly Sunday afternoons when the air presses in and the world is filled with boredom and endless rounds of laundry, for she inspires and personifies longing and the final end of passion. She shows us what we all know deep inside. The knowledge that all relationships end in pain through betrayal or death, that all flowers wilt and that all puppies grow old and kittens grow cranky. To see her is to hear violins and low guitars playing in the distance and to remember the drum of heartbeats and the rasp of skin in the present. In her way she is daughter and sister and mother to all women who wear red dresses with buttons down their backs (who expect someone to be there to unbutton them when the dress needs to come down and who never have the time to stop and sit down and consider the future) and women who wear black and who wear sensible shoes and old hats to work in the garden (who remember buttons and red dresses but know that in the end you are best helped with dresses you can undo yourself and a good taste in tea).

Her frailness is not weakness, but strength, for who would attack one so obviously unable to consider retaliation. Her thinness, that would seem unattractive in another (more approachable) woman, is a boon here, no wind can seem to take a hold of her as she stands on the wooden walkway that leads to nothing but clouds and gulls and she seems not to be buffeted or accosted like the day-trippers looking for a photo-moment that only return with inside-out umbrellas and wind-disrupted raincoats. Here around her, we are told, no reality invades. She is lost in memories of the one across the water and no needs or certainties of the world she stands in can infiltrate the world she sees before her.

She is older than you, but not so old, as she met her love when they were young and they both had all the time in the world, and so she reminds you of how you were when you were young and had all that time stretching away in front of you. She is younger than you, but not so young because her love went away from her a while ago, at least long enough to take the colour from her cheeks and eyes and she foretells you of all the empty days ahead, and you think about the length of life and how much time there is left to fill and how few things you can thinks to fill them with.

She inspires sadness by telling you that life is sometimes sad, loneliness by showing you that it can be lonely and the smells around her are of salt water, of wearing clothes a day too long and tears that have been allowed to mould. She inspires joy because there is joy in the knowledge that love touches you, and happiness by showing you that keeping someone in your heart can mean more than all the people around you, the smells around here are crisp and sea-crunchy, of clothes that you put on again because you had so much fun you did not find the time to go home and change, and she smells of salt and sweat and memories of touches and strokes across bare skin.

She turns around, slowly, as you walk towards her. Her long hair streaming in the wind makes it hard to see her face, and her eyes can’t find you at first.