Confessions of a Recluse

I have a confession to make.  I believe that I've weathered this pandemic better than most, because I have certain distinct advantages.  For one thing, I'm not a moron.  This has helped me to avoid getting infected.  Unlike those so-called "anti maskers", I understand that the novel Corona virus does not gave a rat's patootie about my personal rights and freedoms, so I follow the protocols.  I wear a mask when in public spaces, I try to maintain a distance of 2 meters or more from others where possible, I sanitize my hands regularly and I avoid unnecessary outings.

 I'm lucky enough to work for a company that has been designated an essential service, and so has remained both open and profitable, so my earnings have not been affected.  And yet, my job is not the kind of job that potentially puts me in harm's way like our doctors, nurses, personal support workers, truck drivers, grocery store clerks and Wal-Mart greeters.  

I also avoid socializing unnecessarily, and here is where I have another distinct advantage. As I've said more than once in this blog, I'm a natural introvert.  I actually like keeping to myself and staying in most of the time.  My idea of a fun evening is sitting at home in my easy chair watching something on TV - even something I've seen before.  Goodness knows, I have lots of movies and TV shows in my Blu-ray and DVD collection.  I don't even subscribe to Netflix or the Disney Channel.  I do subscribe to Crave TV because I'm apparently not happy unless I'm vastly over-paying for my recreational media (okay, so maybe I am a bit of a moron in some respects).

I have a fairly large music collection and I often enjoy listening to it.  By this I mean really listening.  Not just playing it in the background whilst doing something else.  I mean sitting back in that beloved easy chair of mine, the same one from which I watch TV, turning on some music, closing my eyes and just listening, savouring every note, every lyric, every nuance.   

Before the pandemic hit, I had been invited to a wedding that took place last November.  Because of the pandemic, the newly-weds had to scale back their guest list, so my invitation was revoked with regrets.  Was I offended or even just bummed out?  No sirree!  I felt like I'd been let off the hook.  I don't generally like going to weddings.  I'm not even looking forward to my daughter's this year!  If I could find some way of staying home and playing Duke Nukem Forever instead of attending, I'd do it in a heartbeat!

I don't even have Zoom or Skype chats with my friends and family.  I do use Skype, but just the text messages, no voice or video.  If I want to actually talk to someone (which is rare enough), I use a good old-fashioned telephone.  I don't need to see their faces.  In most cases, I know what they look like.  I don't have all that many friends and those few that I do have, I keep in touch via e-mail (and/or Skype).  I don't even have a Facebook or Twitter account.  Anyone who wants to keep track of me on social media can do so by reading this blog plus they get the added benefit of my wit and wisdom (and humility).

Some have suggested that the isolation forced upon us by the pandemic can be detrimental to mental health (or just detri-mental for short).  I just made up that contraction, but feel free to use it, royalty-free.  Just be sure to always follow it with "(c) Halmanator, 2021".  I think, if anything, the social isolation has improved my mental health (full disclosure: there are those who would note, at this point, that this is no grand claim as it had no-where to go but up anyway).  

Most people think of introverts as socially-handicapped recluses.  I prefer the Myers-Briggs interpretation of the term.  Myers-Briggs defines an introvert as someone who gets his or her energy from solitude rather than social interaction.  Thanks to this pandemic, my batteries are fully-charged!

Joe Versus the Volcano

I don't normally do movie reviews on this blog.  I figure there are plenty of web sites that do those.  Up until now, I've only done one review, of sorts, of a Darren Aronofsky movie called The Fountain, and I only did that one because I was struck by its surrealism and inscrutability.  I found The Fountain in a bargain bin at my local grocery store.  I had never seen it, nor really even heard of it when I purchased it.  The cover just piqued my interest.


Unlike The Fountain, I did not get the movie Joe Versus the Volcano out of a bargain bin, although it might well be found in one of those.  No, I actively sought it out, having seen it on TV and having been completely won over by it.  Joe Versus the Volcano was released in 1990 and directed by John Patrick Shanley, of Moonstruck fame.  It stars Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, who plays three different roles, but it is probably not one of either actors' more memorable movies, as it did not do well at the box office when it was released.


Joe Versus the Volcano is a modern fable about a guy named Joe Banks (played by Tom Hanks).  Joe is an ex-firefighter who somehow wound up in a dead-end job managing the catalog department (a single room full of mostly empty shelves) for a medical supply company from Hell.  Like the buildings that he formerly helped to extinguish, the fire has gone out of Joe.  He hates his job and his life in general.  He is a hopeless hypochondriac who`s afraid of everyone and everything.  The emptiness of his life would make a vacant 747 hangar seem like a subway car at rush hour in comparison.  Early in the movie, the office secretary, DeDe (the first of Meg Ryan`s three personas) notices Joe examining his shoe and asks him what the problem is.  Joe responds, "I think I'm losing my sole".  The movie is full of double-entendre dialog of that sort.


One of the things that amuses me about this movie is that there is a lot of seemingly irrelevant stuff happening in the background which is often a subtle message or commentary on modern life if you're paying attention.  As an example, when Joe first enters the office in which he works, his boss is engaged in a phone conversation in the background.  Although the camera focuses on Joe and what he is doing (which involves pouring himself a particularly unappealing cup of coffee under a continuously buzzing fluorescent light), the boss's conversation is loud enough to be overhead, and goes like this:


"Harry..." (pause)
"Yeah Harry, but can he do the job?" (sigh)
"I know he can get the job, but can he do the job?" (pause)
"I'm not arguing that with you." (pause)
"I'm not arguing that with you." (pause)
"I'm not arguing that with you!" (pause)
"I'm not arguing that with you, Harry!" (pause)
"Harry... Harry..." (pause)
"Yeah, Harry, but can he do the job?  I know he can get the job.  But can he do the job?" (pause)
"I'm not arguing that with you." (pause)
"Harry, I am not arguing that with you!" (pause)
"Who said that?" (pause)
"I didn't say that!" (pause)
"If I said that, I would have been wrong." (pause)
"Maybe." (pause)
"Maybe.: (pause)
"I'm not arguing that with you!" (pause)
"Yeah Harry, I know he can get the job, but can he do the job?"


How many times, especially in working environments, do we hear circular conversations of this type?  One can't help but wonder what Joe's boss thinks that he's accomplishing.  To me, it's a wink at the sheer pointlessness that so many engage in and endure while doing what's supposed to be their life's work.


Later on, Joe visits his doctor (played by Robert Stack) to find the result of some medical tests that were run after Joe complained of feeling "blotchy" and the doctor informs him that he has a rare condition known as a "brain cloud"; a black fog of tissue that runs down the center of his brain.  It's spreading, it's incurable and it's terminal.  Joe has about six months of life left to him and can expect to experience no pain or, indeed, any other symptoms, until right at the end.  Cue another beautiful exchange of dialog:


Joe: What are you talking about, doctor, I don't feel good right now!


Dr. Ellison: That's the ironic part, Mr. Banks.  You're a hypochondriac.  There's nothing wrong that has anything to do with your symptoms...


Joe: I'm not sick except for this terminal disease?


Dr. Ellison: Which has no symptoms.  That's right.


Doc Ellison goes on to explain that it was only because of Joe's insistence on having so many tests done that he caught the problem at all.


Ironically, Joe finds his death sentence a liberating experience.  Having nothing left to lose, he finally gets up the courage to tell off his boss, quit his job and ask DeDe out for dinner.


Sometime later, Joe is sitting alone in his run-down little apartment strumming on a ukulele (hey, I couldn't think of a better way to live out my last six months) when there is a rap at the door.  The rapper turns out to be a cheery but eccentric old millionaire named Samuel Graynamore (played by Lloyd Bridges), who has a proposition for Joe.  He knows that Joe is dying and he needs someone who is willing to jump into the mouth of an active volcano in order to appease the volcano god and, more importantly, appease the natives who live near the volcano so that they will be amenable to supplying Mr. Graynamore with bubero, a rare mineral that's only found on their island and that his company needs for making superconductors.


So here's the deal.  If Joe, who is dying anyway, is willing leap into the mouth of the volcano in order to appease both the volcano god and the natives, Graynamore will arrange his passage to the exotic south sea island on which the volcano is located as well as supply him with enough money to live out his last days like a king before dying like a hero.  After a surprisingly brief consideration, Joe agrees to do it.


Thus begins the strangest (and likely last) adventure of Joe's life, during the course of which he will befriend a fatherly limousine driver, purchase four high-end steamer trunks that appear more luxurious than some trailers that I've seen from a luggage salesman who lives for his work, and meet Graynamore's two daughters (both played by Meg Ryan), Angelica and Patricia who, in spite of being semi-related (they're only half-sisters) couldn't be any more opposite.  The movie, of course, culminates on the island of Waponi Woo, home of the dreaded volcano into which Joe has promised to jump.


One of the things that I like about this movie is its penchant for understatement and subtlety.  There are all sorts of recurring themes and foreshadowing for the observant viewer.  Near the beginning of the movie, long before any talk of volcanoes, Joe kills the fluorescent lights over his desk and sets a small musical lamp in their place.  The lamp's stand is a native dancing girl, and the lamp's shade depicts what appears to be a volcano on an exotic island.

Later, after Joe and DeDe leave the restaurant where they had dinner, we see a nearby poster depicting another south sea island with a volcano with the words "Fire in Paradise".

One of the first things that we see when the movie starts is a grimy sign featuring the logo of the company for which Joe works.

It is, perhaps, not entirely surprising that the path leading from the front gate to the factory entrance looks like this (although I do find it amusing that everyone obediently follows it and nobody seems to think to just cut straight across the rocks).

It's somewhat more surprising that the crack in the right wall of Joe's seedy apartment happens to resemble the same design.



And then there's the lightning bolt that hits that yacht on which Joe is sailing to the island of Waponi Woo.

And, finally, there is the procession of torches, carried by the islanders, as they take Joe to the mouth of the volcano.

What do I read into this?  For me, the cracked pyramid/lightning bolt symbol represents the forces in Joe's life that try to drag him down.  It symbolizes his fear and insecurity and it's not easily left behind.  It keeps recurring everywhere, right up until the end, and Joe has to keep overcoming it.


For me, the climax, and the central message behind this movie, come during the scene when Joe is adrift in the south seas on the steamer trunks that he bought, which he has fashioned into a sort of raft after the yacht that was taking him to the island sank in the storm.  Sun-baked and dehydrated, he is awakened at night by surprisingly bright moonlight, thrown by an enormous full moon as it ascends over the horizon.  Joe staggers to his feet, blinks at the awesome orb, then falls back to his knees and whispers "Dear God, whose name I do not know, Thank you for my life.  I forgot ... how big..."  I don't mind admitting that scene chokes me up every time I see it.

Joe Versus the Volcano is, in my opinion, one of the most underrated movies in recent history.  Unlike so many formulaic movies nowadays, it is completely original.  Its comedic moments evoke laughs and chuckles, but it has enough depth to make the viewer re-examine his or her own life and priorities.  In short, it is Halmanator Approved, and I can't think of a better testimonial than that.

Hands Off Bruce Willis!

This is Bruce Willis...

...and this is Bruce Willis...

...and so is this...

Bruce Willis is one of those fundamental constants in life that we guys can depend upon.  He's tough.  He's macho.  He's cool.  He's witty.  He's like Sylvester Stallone with the ability to enunciate.  When the boss has been riding your ass all day, when the wife has booked your weekend looking at paint swatches and visiting with her parents, when the kids insist you take them on a road trip to the local Chuck E. Cheese's, when you're feeling more emasculated than Michael Keaton as Mr. Mom, you can always count on a Bruce Willis flick to man you back up with an invigorating shot of testosterone.  "Yippee-ki-yay, motherf....!"

So what on God's green earth is this abomination???

Imagine my dismay upon finding this affront to manhood in a DVD bargain bin recently!  Bruce Willis in a chick flick?  Really?  Is nothing sacred anymore?

Let's get something straight, ladies, Bruce Willis is off-limits!  He belongs to us guys!  We don't mess with your chick flick favourites.  You don't see titles like Fists of Fury starring Kate Hudson.  You'll never see Drew Barrymore in a car chase, steering with one hand while firing a 9mm Glock out the window with the other.  Anne Hathaway doesn't dress up in black tights and lay out bad ass thugs with roundhouse kicks...   oh, wait...

Okay, so Hathaway was Catwoman and Bruce Willis did a chick flick.  Let's call it even.  But from here on, ladies, HANDS OFF BRUCE WILLIS!

And, yes, I realize that Michelle Pfeiffer also played Catwoman, but she doesn't count.  She still did "girl" stuff like sew her own costume and use her whip as a jump rope for crying out loud!

 

All My Movies

My profile tells you that I have a "sizable" DVD (and now also blu-ray) collection, "most of which I've legally purchased".  How sizable is "sizable"?  Large enough that I don't actually know exactly how many titles I own.  I can tell you, however, that I'm using a movie cataloging program called All My Movies to gradually catalogue my collection.  So far, I've catalogued just over 300 movies, and that's probably roughly half the collection.

As you can imagine, cataloging all those movies takes some time and patience.  All My Movies (AMM) makes the task easier by automatically pulling in most of the information from internet web sites such as imdb.com but, of course, I have to get all anal about it and manually tinker with each entry; the screen shots aren't right or the synopsis needs re-wording and there are several bits of info missing that can't be gleaned from the internet such as where, in my vast collection, the movie is actually stored (in case I want to, you know, watch it sometime). 

Most tedious of all, although AMM does download the cast list for each title, it has a feature that allows me to further download bios, often with thumbnail pictures, of every actor in the cast list.  AMM doesn't automatically pull in this extra info because the program's authors probably assumed, quite sensibly, that nobody could possibly be anal enough to want all that extraneous info.  So, if you want an actor's bio, you need to click on his or her name, which brings up a pop-up that allows you to pull it in, again from on-line sources.  This is still fairly easy, but one does have to do this for each individual name in the cast list and, of course, I do so.

These cast lists often include not just the major stars but every single actor that appears in the film, including minor characters and extras such as "man on bus" or "hotel doorman".  Not even I'm fussy enough to want the full bios of every walk-on character, so I have a rule.  Any actor that shows up in at least two or more titles in my collection gets their bio downloaded.  One-offs do not.  AMM makes this easy by showing me all the titles in my collection in which each actor appears in the same pop-up dialogue that allows me to download their bio.

"Gee, that sounds tedious!" you're probably thinking (along with "Buddy, you really need a life!")  Right on both counts.  One personal trait that I've long recognized in myself is that I have an astonishingly high tolerance for tedium when I'm fully engaged with any project, professional or personal.  I'll doggedly work at the most mundane tasks for hours on end, gradually whittling away at them.  Sometimes, I must admit, I actually enjoy "turning off" my brain (appearances to the contrary, it is active most of the time) and working on some rote task.  This is probably a side effect of having a job that requires mental calisthenics most of the time.

Getting back to the movie collection, I made reference to storage earlier.  Needless to say, all those movies have to go somewhere.  Many of them line a sort of bookshelf in our living room but, with all those titles, this has the effect of making our living room look like a video store, which is fine by me but not so hot with my wife.

Some years ago, I stumbled upon a really neat movie storage solution.  It's an album, of sorts, made by a company called Allsop.  Allsop offers a variety of CD and DVD storage solutions but my favorite is one which they apparently don't make anymore known as the "Faux Leather DVD Album".  It's basically a box with wood-grain sides and a faux leather cover and spine.  At a glance, it looks like a large, bound book.  Open it up and it contains 20 cloth "pages" with transparent vinyl sleeves.  There are two disc-sized sleeves on the back side of each "page", allowing for two discs to be stored, and a large, full-page sleeve on the front side for inserting the movie's cover artwork.  Allsop says that each album can store up to 40 movies, which is true (20 pages times 2 disc sleeves each equals 40) but I insist on including the cover artwork for each title, and each page has only one cover artwork sleeve so, for me, each album really holds only 20 titles.  I insert the cover artwork on the front side and the disc into one of the reverse side sleeves, leaving the second disc sleeve empty, although it does come in handy for those two-disc titles. 

It's the allowance for cover artwork, and the overall book-like appearance that I particularly like about these DVD albums.  Line up five or six of them on a shelf somewhere and your decor changes from "Blockbuster Video" to "Library" or "Study". 

BEFORE

AFTER

Open up an album and you can browse through the titles, enjoying the cover artwork at your leisure.  After all, this is a collection and, as with all collections, presentation is important.

In case you're wondering where I get the cover artwork, I scan scan the DVD jewel case cover with a document scanner, then print the scanned image on glossy paper at the appropriate size and trim it.  I do not destroy the original jewel case or its cover artwork.  Those, I store in big cardboard boxes in my basement and I bring them out if I'm taking the movie with me somewhere or loaning it to someone.  Incidentally, AMM keeps track of who has borrowed your movies, when, and for how long.

There is only one major flaw in the design of Allsop's Faux Leather DVD Album.  The "pages" are glued to the inside of the spine and can't be removed.  Why is this a problem?  Because I also insist on storing my movies in alphabetical order.  Well, I mean, how would I ever find anything if I just inserted them in whatever order I got them?  That means that, If I buy The Avengers, which begins with "A", I have to shuffle all the movies in each album by one page in order to make room for the new title in the appropriate slot.  That means pulling each movie out of its page and inserting it into the next one, starting from the last title and working my way forward until I get to the appropriate spot.  It would have been SO much easier if the pages of these DVD albums had been ring-bound and removable!  But then, I suspect that the good people at Allsop never expected that anybody would buy quite as many of their faux leather DVD albums as I have.  How many is that?  Well, I have twenty of them.  That's twenty albums times twenty titles apiece, giving me space for 400 movies, and I'm not sure if that's enough!  They're not all full yet.  I'm currently working on Volume 16.  But then, I still have lots of movies in their jewel cases waiting to be filed.

So, to summarize, when I picked up a new title, here's what I do:

• Add it to the AMM catalogue, pulling in the bios for all the cast members and tinkering with still shots, the synopsis, etc.
• Scan, print and trim the cover artwork
• Shuffle all the movies in each of my DVD albums one page to the right, starting from the last one and working forward until I've finally freed up a slot for the new title in the appropriate spot
• File the empty jewel case in the basement, where it also has to be inserted alphabetically so that I can find it quickly if needed.

By the time all the movies in my collection have been catalogued and filed, I'll have repeated the above process at least 400 times. 

And you wonder why I don't have time to blog more often...

Nice Work If You Can Get It

Roger Ebert has one of the coolest jobs in the world.  Imagine getting paid to watch movies and then either diss them or praise them or some combination of the two.  Where do you apply for that job?  How come I never see anything like that in the classifieds?

WANTED - Discriminating person to watch and critique movies.  You are a self-starter (meaning that you can drop a DVD into a player and press the "Play" button) with the ability to work under minimum supervision (although you can bring along a friend if you like) and have demonstrated excellent written communication skills (you have to be able to spell "masterpiece" and "travesty" and use both in sentences appropriately).  You are adept at multi-tasking (you may have to submit reviews for two or even three movies in the space of a single week) and can work quickly to meet deadlines.  If you agree that Francis Ford Coppola should have quit while he was ahead and retired after "The Godfather II" and can fathom the plot behind "The Fountain", please respond in writing to...

As sweet as it may sound, I'm sure there are some downsides to a movie critic's job.  For every "Shawshank Redemption" that you get to enjoy there are, no doubt, countless "Son of the Masks" that you have to endure and then attempt to critique with some degree of seriousness.  I suppose that a certain amount of hate mail from fan boys whose "all-time favourite most awesome and misunderstood movie ever" you had the poor sense to publicly shred is also an occupational hazard.  But, still, as cushy jobs go, this one has to rank up there.

There are other occupations which sound like pretty nice deals for those who are lucky enough to land them.  In the same vein as "Movie Critic", I always thought that working on the Quality Assurance team for a computer games developer would likely be a fun way to make a living.  I mean, you get to play computer games all day long!  What's not to like?  On the other hand, those games are, by definition, works in progress, so you're bound to find lots of bugs and things.  If you're an impatient gamer who gets upset the moment things don't work properly, this may not be your cup of tea.  Also, companies that develop games software are notorious task masters, often requiring their staff to work long hours in order to get those games finished and shipped in time for the Christmas market or some other sales deadline.  As with anything else, it's always possible to get too much of a good thing.

I speak from personal experience in this regard.  My very first job after graduating from college was with a software company that created educational games for younger children.  True, we`re not exactly talking about `World of Warcraft`here but I was still programming games of sorts for a living and I really did enjoy the work.  At least for a while, I couldn`t believe that I was actually getting paid to do this.  A few all-nighters spent trying to meet overly-ambitious sales deadlines soon cured me of my euphoria. 

Another appealing career, at least at first glace, would be "Male Porno Star".  Imagine making a living having sex with porno actresses!  It would be like being Charlie Sheen, only getting paid for it, and you could probably pick up extra cash on the side promoting penis enlargement products.  Where do you sign up for that job? 

I wonder if it ever gets old?  It would probably make maintaining any normal relationships somewhat problematic.  I don't know of too many women who are OK with the idea of their mates doing porno stars for a living unless, of course, your girlfriend was in the business as well, in which case you'd have to be just as open-minded about her doing it with other guys - in some cases at the same time that she's doing it with you!  Even if you reached an understanding about that stuff, would you ever have sex off camera just for the fun of it, or would it feel too much like bringing your work home with you?  Or what happens if you have to do a scene with an actress that you don't particularly like or that has annoying habits ("Oh, God, not Jenna Jameson again!  She uses her teeth!")

I`m afraid the sad truth probably is that even the best-sounding jobs can become something of a grind (no pun intended).  Except maybe for that dream Caretaker job that everybody was talking about around 3 years ago where you had to live on an Australian island for six months and blog about the experience.  I`m hard-pressed to think of too many `cons` for that one.  Unless it`s the box jellyfish.

Who's Your Favorite Batman?

So there I was, sitting in my hot, stuffy little attic office, scratching my ... head, thinking "Man, I should really post something new to my blog". It had been a while and, once again, I was short on inspiration.

It didn't help that my attic office, being an attic office, is the coldest room in the house during the winter time, and the hottest room in the house during the summer time, and we've been in the grip of a record-setting heat wave for the past couple of weeks. I do have a portable air conditioning unit for when it gets really bad but, electricity rates being what they are (especially now that the new "Smart Meters", which should really be called "Gouge Meters", have been implemented), I try to use that as sparingly as possible. But there I go making lame excuses again.

Finally, I decided to browse through the annals of my very own blog for ideas. One thing I've got to say for myself, I'm prolific! I sure have written a lot of blog posts over the years!

Eventually, I stumbled across the most obvious idea in the world. About two years ago, I asked you, my faithful readership, which actor was your favorite in the role of Batman's arch-nemesis, the Joker. Well, I never asked about Batman himself, did I? How'd I manage to overlook that idea?

Okay, so here it is. Who's your favorite Batman? We'll leave out voice characterizations for animated shows. I want to know who, in your opinion, can dress up like an overgrown bat with any kind of credibility. I humbly offer the following list of contenders:

Lewis Wilson/Robert Lowery

Although I'm feeling older and older with each passing year, I've never seen either Lewis Wilson's or Robert Lowery's portrayals of the Dark Knight, as they came a bit before my time (Wilson in 1943 and Lowery in 1949). Therefore, I'm afraid I can offer no opinions or comments on these performances. If anyone reading this can, please feel free to comment. I will say, however, that the costumes are almost painful by today's standards. When I was a kid, my mom once made me a home-made Batman costume which I swear would have given both the costumes pictured above a serious run for their money. And I thought West's costumer was bad! Speaking of which...

Adam West

Sure his portrayal of the Caped Crusader was campy, kooky and often just plain silly but many would argue that West remains the one and only original Batman (he himself certainly would!) He was the first to have some real fun with the role. If he (or his writers and directors) decided to go for camp, perhaps it was because they figured that the character could only be taken so seriously, and that tongue-in-cheek was therefore the best way to go. I further suggest that Adam West's Batman bore the distinction of being the only one that appealed to both children and adults on two whole different levels and for very different reasons.

Finally, West's Batman delivered some of the most memorable, laugh-out-loud funny lines I've ever heard coming from a costumed crime fighter in the most dead-pan serious manner imaginable, which made them even funnier.

"It was noble of that animal to hurl himself into the path of that final torpedo. He gave his life for ours." (Said just after having been saved from an oncoming torpedo by a dolphin that intercepted the projectile.)

"Not you, Robin. They have strict licensing laws in this country. A boy of your age is not allowed in a drinking tavern." (Said just after Robin eagerly prepared to storm a tavern).

And later...

"I'm just going to hang around the bar. I don't want to look conspicuous." (Spoken while in full Bat-garb).

Robin: "You can't get away from Batman that easy!"
Batman: "Easily."
Robin: "Easily."
Batman: "Good grammar is essential, Robin."
Robin: "Thank you."
Batman: "You're welcome."

And who can forget...

"Just a second while I retrieve my beanie, my hair, my tweezers, and my notes."

Man, that utility belt carried absolutely everything! Okay, so he may not be the most credible of all the Batmen but, for pure entertainment and a hardy belly-laugh, it's hard to beat Adam West.

Michael Keaton

You'd think that an actor who first made his bones as a comedian would try to steal Adam West's thunder and go for a few laughs of his own but, no, Michael Keaton decided to play the role in a serious manner, and pulled it off handsomely. Any humor that he did allow to slip in was extremely subtle and delivered without even a smirk, such as the scene in which Vicky Vale and Alexander Knox are wondering between themselves about one of the outlandish costumes in Bruce Wayne's personal armory, at which Michael Keaton (as Bruce Wayne) states, very matter-of-factly, "It's Japanese". Knox, not yet realizing who Bruce Wayne is, asks how he would know that, to which Wayne replies, just as matter-of-factly, "Because I bought it in Japan," resisting what must have been a very strong temptation to add "Duh!"

Keaton brought pathos to the role. He almost made it possible to believe that dressing up in a black rubber bat suit is a perfectly natural reaction for a man who's tormented by an inner duality brought on by an early childhood trauma, and happens to have way too much disposable cash.

Finally, Keaton had the facial features for the role. I've always suspected that the costumers must have used a cast of Keaton's furrowed brows when making his scowling bat cowl.

Val Kilmer

When Michael Keaton decided that he didn't want to play the caped crusader for a third time, Warner Brothers turned to Val Kilmer to don the mantle. At first glance, Kilmer seems a good choice for the role. He's young (or at least he was at the time), handsome, athletically built and an actor who has shown that he can play a great diversity of roles, from Top Gun's no-nonsense, by-the-book, somewhat condescending "Ice Man" to the flamboyant, rebellious and somewhat disturbed Jim Morrison in "The Doors".

As Batman, Kilmer stayed true to Keaton's portrayal, both as Bruce Wayne and his costumed alter ego, playing the roles with a serious, almost pious air. Behind the mask, Kilmer was, in my opinion, the poutiest-looking Batman of the lot. From a purely facial perspective, if I hadn't known better, I might have mistakenly thought that they recruited Corey Hart for the role.

Kilmer had the dubious honor of taking the young protegé, Robin (played by Chris O'Donnell), who had been absent since Adam West's retirement from the role, under his bat-wing. Unlike television's dynamic duo, Kilmer's and O'Donnell's pair didn't always see eye to eye. Kilmer's Batman only accepted his young would-be partner somewhat reluctantly, and O'Donnell's Robin iwas much more headstrong and rebellious and much less conciliatory, than Adam West's young partner. This gave Kilmer's Batman a whole new set of both opportunities and problems. I'm not sure that he fully capitalized on them.

Batman's costume tended to change from film to film, often even while the actor wearing them remained the same (with the noteable exception of Adam West), but Kilmer was the first Batman whose costume changed within a single film. Kilmer's Batman, like Jack Nicholson's Joker, seemed to have different looks for different occasions. After all, Batman wouldn't want his costume's novelty appeal to start wearing thin now, would he?

George Clooney

In my opinion, George Clooney, as an actor, seems hard to dislike, though I can't say I've ever met him personally. He brings a certain easy-going coolness to every role that he plays. Yet herein lies part of the problem. Perhaps Clooney was simply too big for the cape and cowl. Even in full bat-garb, one could somehow never forget that it was George Clooney under there. Keaton and Kilmer managed to lose themselves inside the costume. (West, it might be argued, was the costume). Clooney never quite did.

The second problem is that Clooney, for whatever reason, tried to bring some of West's Campiness back to the character with lines such as "This is why Superman works alone!" (spoken after petulant Robin complained that he wanted his own Batmobile, because "Chicks like the car.") In one of the most painful examples of dialog in the movie, Clooney and O'Donnell, in what I can only assume was intended as an ill-considered homage to West and Ward, uttered the following exchange:

Robin: Holey rusted metal Batman!
Batman: Huh?
Robin: The ground, it's all metal. It's full of holes. You know, holey!
Batman: Oh.

I can almost hear even West's Batman tut-tutting; "Really Robin. Bat puns?"

Like Kilmer, Clooney's Batman seems to have an array of different costumes, one of which comes complete with Bat-nipples. Really Batman? Nipples? Didn't you and Robin get enough suggestive ribbing when you did the '60's serial together in tights?

To be fair to Clooney, I think his Batman was more a victim of poor writing and directing than poor acting. I saw him in an interview about his films during which he commented, in his usual easy-going manner, that he felt that the star of "The Perfect Storm" was not he, but rather the "great big rogue wave" (i.e. the special effects). Immediately afterward, he added with a shrug that, on the other hand, he took the fall for 'Batman and Robin', so he didn't mind taking the credit for 'The Perfect Storm'.

Christian Bale

Christian Bale, like Val Kilmer, is another actor who has shown himself capable of playing a wide range of roles. He's certainly the grittiest, most intense Batman, in this blogger's humble opinion. He admirably re-introduces pathos to the character, accepting the label of "outlaw" (in "The Dark Knight" for the greater good of Gotham City.

He's also the only one who attempts to change his voice when wearing the cape and cowl so that he doesn't sound like Bruce Wayne. Unfortunately, the raspy grunt that he chooses for his mode of diction when costumed makes him sound like someone who's about to pinch a loaf, somewhat detracting from the seriousness of the character.

I personally dislike his cowl. The ears are too short for my liking, making him look more Doberman Pinscherman than Batman, and the hood is solid, rather than flexible latex. I don't know why that just seems wrong, but it does.

I think Bale takes himself just a bit too seriously as an actor. His Batman movies, while entertaining to watch, are just never going to be high art. Sorry Chris.

Oh yes and, last but not least, there is, of course....

me.


So there it is. Obviously, I've hinted at my own preference. If you think it's all poppycock or want to sound off on the matter, please feel free to do so in the comments. Who's your favorite Batman, and why?

Chinese Air Force: The New Top Gun

There has been increased speculation since the turn of the century that China is fast closing the gap between itself and the United States and may be emerging as the world's next great super power. The Chinese have their own space program, their military power is growing in leaps and bounds, and their economy is growing, even as America's economy falters. In fact, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton recently referred to China as "America's Banker".

So it would be understandable if a recent Chinese state-sponsored video depicting China's state of the art J-10 fighter obliterating some hapless enemy aircraft caused concern at the Pentagon. That is, it would be, if the video hadn't been ripped off from a Hollywood movie.

For all its political and economic clout, China has apparently not yet learned that you never, ever try to put one over on internet users. Believe me, this blogger has long since learned his lesson about the folly of trying to fool the online community! It wasn't long before several sharp-eyed web surfers, bloggers and Comic Book Guy type geeks noticed a suspicious similarity between the fireball resulting from the J-10's fearsome missile and a fireball from the Hollywood movie, "Top Gun". In fact, the two appear to be identical.

Needless to say, the incident has left China a bit red-faced. (Get it? Red! China! Red China! I made a funny!) But, you know, they may just be on to something here. Perhaps other governments, even the United States, could make themselves seem more intimidating by passing off Hollywood footage as their latest military arsenal. Here are some modest examples for your consideration:

To begin with, Russia could follow suit with footage of their own next-gen fighter jet:

As an added bonus, the pilots all look like Clint Eastwood. Who wouldn't be intimidated by that?

The U.S. might unveil its latest "Star Wars" anti-missile defence satellite:

After that, they won't need their bureaucracy any longer. Fear will keep the local countries in line. Fear of this killer satellite!

The Afghan troops might show off their latest all-terrain troop transport:

Heck, if it can withstand a nuclear holocaust, it can certainly withstand the occasional IED.

How about the latest military attack helicopter?

I understand it's equipped with a forward-mounted, twenty-millimeter electric cannon. Its six barrels are capable of firing four thousand rounds of ammunition per minute. And that, gentlemen, is one hell of a shit-storm in anybody's language!

Or they might claim that they're taking soldiers out of harm's way entirely and replacing them with new robotic soldiers:

Or strike fear into the enemy by threatening to use their latest heavy artillery guns:

This idea needn't be limited to the military. Police forces might demonstrate their newest tactical armored vehicle:

You get the idea. The list could go on and on. Why squander military and/or law enforcement budgets when Hollywood has already spent the money for you? It's faster, cheaper, and will probably get more peoples' attention in the long run.

Those Chinese, they're not so dumb!

The Fountain

My local grocery store has a bargain bin full of cheapie DVD movies. It's one of my personal weaknesses. I simply cannot go to the grocery store on even so simple a mission as acquiring a loaf of bread and a bag of milk without being drawn, as if by some invisible, irresistible force, to the DVD bargain bin.

Being a "bargain bin" after all, most of the offerings therein tend to be of the variety that a regular video store couldn't give away, including such titles as "Old Yeller - The 'You Shot My Dog' Edition" and "Barrie the Barber - Uncut".

You can imagine that such stimulating titles as that tend to stay in the bargain bin for week after week after interminable week, so it's not as though I'm likely to find anything new from one visit to the next. I know this. My rational intellect explains this to me each and every visit. Yet my feet stubbornly insist on moving toward the DVD bin, almost of their own accord, because one never knows what bargain-priced gems one might uncover if one but digs deeply enough into the bowels of the collection. (Let me take this opportunity to assure my fellow shoppers that I do tend to make the DVD bin my last stop, as I'm not so thoughtless as to handle food intended for human consumption after immersing my hands in the ick of some of the titles to be found therein).

In my own defense, I have rescued a handful of palatable titles from the quagmire in my day, and have even uncovered the occasional, albeit rare, gem. It is most likely this that keeps me going back. Ever the optimist am I. Still, most of the titles that I've acquired in this manner are passable at best.

The store management, having apparently entered into a partnership with Satan, have deviously priced their bargain bin movies at $7.99 apiece, or two for $10.00. This means that, should I happen to stumble upon the occasional title that actually interests me, I invariably feel compelled to include a second selection, because it apparently makes more sense to me to shell out an extra five dollars for a title in which I have little or no interest than to pay an extra $2.99 for something that I actually want. It is in this manner that I came into possession of "The Fountain".

"The Fountain" (© Warner Brothers, 2006) directed by Darren Aronofsky (Requiem for a Dream) and starring Hugh "Wolverine" Jackman (X-Men) and Rachel Weisz (The Mummy), is not a movie that I particularly craved for my collection. I'd never even seen it before purchasing it, nor had I even so much as seen a trailer. I only purchased it as a "second" to bring down the price of something else that I actually wanted from $7.99 to $5.00. Still, the cover artwork and the short write-up on the back cover sounded mildly interesting, so I decided to take a chance. Here's how the writers of the jewel case copy sought to tantalize me (please feel free to read the following aloud in your very best "Don LaFontaine" voice):

"Yesterday, today, tomorrow. Past, present, future. Through time and space, one man embarks on a bold 1000-year odyssey to defeat humankind's most indomitable foe: Death.

Hugh Jackman plays that man, devoted to one woman (Rachel Weisz) and determined to protect her from forces that threaten her existence. His quest leads him to a Tree of Life ... and to an adventure into eternity."

Sounds fascinating, no? A "1000-year odyssey" certainly sounds epic! The reference to the "Tree of Life", combined with still shots of Hugh Jackman dressed up as a Spanish Conquistador conjured up images in my mind of Ponce de Leon and the mythical Fountain of Youth. Yes! That must be what the "Fountain" in the title refers to! The bit about "one man, devoted to one woman (being) determined to protect her from forces that threaten her existence" sounds disturbingly "chick-flicky" but, no matter, mayhap this might entice my better half to watch the movie with me.

Having since watched to movie, I'm reminded of a scene from "The Simpsons" in which Bart, Milhouse and Nelson" see "Naked Lunch", apparently mistaking it for an adult film, and emerge from the theatre some time later, looking very disappointed. Nelson quips "I can think of at least two things wrong with that title!". After viewing "The Fountain", I shared Nelson's sentiments. I'm not certain exactly what the titlical "Fountain" refers to, but I can state categorically that there is no fountain to be seen anywhere in the film. Not a one. Not even so much as a lawn sprinkler! Well, okay, there's a sort of pool of water with a tree growing out of one end of it, but it's not what I would call a "fountain" by the strictest definition of the word. This is just the first, and most obvious, indication that "The Fountain" is to be anything but straightforward. On the up-side, it's certainly no chick-flick either.

The movie begins, promisingly enough, with Hugh Jackman, as a Spanish conquistador, in an South American jungle with a band of his fellows, preparing to infiltrate an Aztec pyramid on a quest for ... we don't know what at this point, but it seems to have to do with a woman (perhaps a queen?) and a ring. Predictably, a trap is sprung and the hapless handful of Spanish soldiers find themselves surrounded by hordes of Aztec warriors. Equally predictably, Jackman's "stalwart" companions immediately turn tail and run, leaving him to face the horde alone. He, of course, puts up a valiant fight, taking out several warriors before being relatively quickly overcome. Somewhat formulaic so far, but good, solid "guy" fare nonetheless.

Rather than killing him immediately, as one might expect, the Aztecs prod him to climb the pyramid, which he of course does (no doubt thinking "Well why didn't you say so? That's what we were going to do anyway!") only to find an Aztec priest awaiting him at the top. The priest inserts a ceremonial dagger into Jackman's abdomen, crying "Death is the road to awe!" (why don't you try it yourself if you think its such a trip?) and then, just in case the dagger doesn't do the trick, swings a flaming sword, at his neck.

Jackman cries out (well who wouldn't?) except that, suddenly, he's no longer a conquistador. No, he suddenly finds himself as hairless as Patrick Stewart, sitting in a lotus position, floating amidst the stars inside of a giant glass bubble which appears to be racing toward a giant nebula and which contains a large tree. It is at this point that one begins to suspect that this movie may be better appreciated after ingesting your favorite mind-altering substance.

Approaching the tree, the monk-like Jackman reaches out to touch its trunk, which appears to be covered in fine hairs, not unlike the hairs found on human skin, which seem to stand up as if drawn toward his outstretched fingertips. He whispers something inaudible to the tree, then scrapes off a bit of its bark and eats it. Suddenly, a woman appears who looks remarkably like the one who sent him on his Aztec quest. He asks her what she's doing there. She beckons him to take a walk with her, and the scene changes again.

Now they're in a modern, 21st century home. Jackman now looks much more contemporary having regained a full head of hair (but not the conquistador's beard). He is a young doctor, we learn, and he is summoned to a lab where a Reese monkey is being prepped for brain surgery. The nature of the monkey's ailment is not made clear, but it is clear that his chances of survival are not good. A sudden flash of inspiration causes Dr. Jackman to inject the monkey with an extract from some exotic Guatemalan tree. Predictably, the monkey later makes a miraculous recovery.

I certainly don't want to give away any spoilers for those of you who may be intrigued enough to see the movie at this point so let me just summarize by saying that the rest of the movie continues to jump around between Spanish conquistador, 21st century and cosmic space bubble. Along the way we follow several seemingly disjointed yet strangely connected plot points involving a wedding ring, a dying star and an unfinished book. The only constants are Hugh Jackman, the woman (Rachel Weisz) and, of course, the ubiquitous tree. The overarching storyline involves the quest for immortality.

While I certainly wouldn't rank it among my top ten, or even top one hundred, favorite movies of all time, "The Fountain" is not what I'd call a bad movie; just a bewildering one. I suspect that another viewing or too may reveal subtleties that I missed the first time around. The fact that I'm willing to endure same in the interest of finding out if I'm right is probably the best testimonial I can give the work.

The Speed of Thought

Last month, when I posted The Genius of Pac Man, I didn't realize that Pac Man's 30th anniversary was only a month away, else I'd have saved it for yesterday. No matter. If you haven't already read it, feel free to click the link above in honor of the anniversary.

Do you think in sentences? I sometimes like to take a walk in the early morning, before work. The weather is nice this time of year, and it's quiet, and it gives me a chance to reflect on "things". As I allow my thoughts to roam where they will, I find myself thinking in sentences.

"I should wash the car this weekend."

"What can I blog about this weekend?"

"Get a load of me! After being unemployed for five months, I've only been back at work for four weeks, and I'm already obsessing about the weekend!"

As I mentally formulated these sentences in my mind during recent walk, I suddenly realized that this is a redundant mental activity. I had already finished the thought long before I'd finished mentally assembling it into words.

I believe that we think in concepts, not in language. Language is a tool for communicating the concepts to others. The concepts themselves don't take nearly as long to formulate as it takes to communicate them.

Before Firefox became an alternative web browser, it was a fictional fighter jet that Clint Eastwood stole from the Russians. Remember that movie? If you saw it, you may also remember that one of the features of this cutting-edge Russian weapon was thought-control. No cumbersome pushing of buttons or pulling of control sticks. The pilot merely had to think what he wanted to do, and the plane would do it. The only problem was that, as it was a Russian aircraft, the pilot had to think in Russian. At one point, Eastwood's character couldn't seem to launch any defensive missiles because he was thinking about launching them in English. Realizing his mistake, he repeated the thought in Russian and launched the missiles just in time to avoid certain disaster.

How ridiculous! We don't think in words! As anyone who has ever looked at an E.E.G. readout will tell you, we think in little squiggly lines! A mental image of an airplane launching missiles would be neither Russian nor English.

The advantage of this advanced thought-control technology was supposedly speed. A pilot could launch a missile much more quickly by just thinking about it as opposed to having to think about launching the missile, then remembering what control makes that happen, and then physically activating that control. I could see this advantage backfiring, though. It may well be that thoughts are a bit too immediate. If a pilot encountered an unknown aircraft, simple paranoia might cause him to instinctively think about shooting it down. By the time he had a chance to identify it and realized that it was, in fact, a friendly fighter jet, or a Boeing 747 full of tourists, he might already have launched six missiles at it. Or what if you had a somewhat dyslexic pilot in the cockpit? As the plane approached a particularly high mountain peak, it might nosedive straight into the ground!

Exploring this idea a little further while taking my walk, I made a conscious decision to stop mentally formulating my thoughts into sentences. Sure enough, I found that an unending stream of concepts, perceptions and emotions suddenly flowed through my brain very quickly. But I also found these concepts, perceptions and emotions to be very fleeting. It seems that, for me at least, mentally formulating my thoughts into sentences helps to solidify them. It makes them more substantial and lasting. Without some sort of structure, thoughts become almost dreamlike; all jumbled and disjointed.

This post was mentally conceived in about 0.7 seconds.

Who's Your Favorite Joker?

I recently watched "The Dark Knight" for at least the fifth time. It's the character of the Joker that compels me to keep dropping that DVD into my player's tray over and over again.

My daughter watched with me and, as we watched, I made some comment comparing Heath Ledger's Joker to Jack Nicholson's. That was when Jessica pointed out that she had never seen Tim Burton's "Batman" and, therefore, had never seen Jack Nicholson's portrayal of the Joker either. This problem proved easy enough to rectify, as Tim Burton's take on the Caped Crusader also holds a place in our DVD collection. I only was surprised that Jessica had never seen fit to watch it. And so, Jessica and I watched Tim Burton's "Batman", starring Michael Keaton and Jack Nicholson.

When the film was over, I asked Jessica which Joker she liked better; Heath Ledger or Jack Nicholson. To my surprise, she preferred Jack Nicholson's Joker. After some consideration, I have to say that agree with her.

In my opinion, Jack Nicholson's Joker is, on the whole, more faithful to the comic book villain than is Heath Ledger's. To begin with, the look is definitely closer to that of the Joker portrayed in comic books. Beyond that, Nicholson's Joker is simply ... well ... funnier than Ledger's.

Heath Ledger's joker is, arguably, the scariest, most sinister take on the Joker to date. He not only kills people, he messes with their minds. He endangers the lives of two people (Harvey Dent and Rachel Dawes) and then forces those who care about them to choose which one lives and which one dies. He turns his victims against each other, such as when he rigs two passenger-laden ferries with explosives and then gives each of the detonators to the people aboard the other ferry.

And he knows no fear. He walks into a meeting of underworld bosses from whom he's just stolen millions of dollars and calls them all impotent for letting the Batman erode their power and control. When they attempt to turn on him, he produces a live hand grenade and makes good his escape. He endures a brutal interrogation by the Batman and simply laughs while being beaten. He can't be controlled by the threat of physical pain. After mutilating Harvey Dent, he hands him a loaded gun, giving Dent the opportunity to kill him there and then. He is cold, remorseless and absolutely insane.

His motives are a mystery. He incinerates an Asian kingpin by burning the pile of cash atop which he sits, so he's clearly not interested in money. He compares himself to a dog chasing cars down the street; "I wouldn't know what to do if I ever caught one!" The story of how he got his facial scars changes with each telling. He appears to take pleasure from the misery of others for its own sake.

For all this, however, he's really not very funny. The Joker, as his name suggests, should be a clown; a prankster. Ledger's Joker uses few gags and doesn't crack many jokes. He doesn't even laugh all that much. The closest he comes to a gag is when he offers to show the underworld bosses a "magic trick" and then makes a pencil "disappear" by driving it into the forehead of one of the bodyguards.

None of this is intended as a criticism of Ledger's portrayal of the villain. Both Ledger and director Chris Nolan clearly intended to offer the audience a darker, grittier, more sinister Joker, and in this they succeeded marvelously. I only question whether this portrayal is in keeping with the original character concept.

Jack Nicholson's Joker is much truer to his moniker. He's bristling with gags, from his megawatt joy buzzer to his acid-spewing lapel flower to his handgun with the ridiculously long barrel to his classic telescopic boxing glove. He also boasts a much more amusing repertoire of whimsical one-liners than does Ledger.

"Never rub another man's rhubarb!"

"Can somebody tell me what kind of world we live in where a man dressed up as a bat gets all my press?"

"This town needs an enema!"

"Where does he get those wonderful toys?"

"I'm gonna need a minute or two alone, boys!" (right after shooting his most trusted henchman).

And Nicholson's Joker laughs. From his maniacal laughter after first seeing his own disfigured face in a mirror to his gleeful cackling as he takes his vengeance on Boss Grissom, electrocutes an uncooperative crime boss, terrorizes Vicky Vale and wreaks general havoc throughout Gotham City, there's nary a moment when Nicholson's Joker isn't yucking it up. Even after his fatal plummet at the end of the film, an electronic novelty gadget in his breast pocket manages to keep laughing for him.

Yet, for all of his maniacal humor, Nicholson's Joker still manages to come across as dangerous, insane and frightening. Most of his gadgets are lethal. Even his telescopic boxing glove hits with enough force to destroy a TV set. Scenes such as the one in which he sits in the midst of a collage of newspaper and magazine clippings lamenting "So much to do, so little time" reveal the depths of his insanity. And there are brief moments when he stops clowning around just long enough to let the audience catch a glimpse of his mean streak, such as the scene in which he briefly loses his smile, assumes a dead earnest expression and declares "Wait'll they get a load of me."

Yes, all things considered, I have to conclude that Jack Nicholson's Joker is much more faithful to the comic book vision without seeming campy or ridiculous and, on that basis, I prefer this portrayal of the character over Heath Ledger's.

How about you? Which Joker do you prefer? Nicholson or Ledger? Or perhaps you're an old-timer who likes Cesar Romero's Joker. I would argue that Romero's Joker, like Nicholson's, is truer to the comic book character than is Ledger's. Romero's Joker is, of course, a little campier than Nicholson's but that's because the "Batman" television series for which he was created was itself much sillier and campier than the more recent films. One might even argue that Romero's Joker was the most credible character in the show if only because, as the Joker, one expects him to be silly, unlike Batman and his sidekick.

Let's take a vote. Leave a comment stating which of the three Jokers is your favorite and, if you like, a short explanation as to why.

Balsillie vs. Bettman

Time for me to sound off with my thoughts on this whole kerfuffle regarding Jim Balsillie's bid to purchase the bankrupt Phoenix Coyotes and bring them to Canada. I'll start right out by admitting that I'm Canadian, and I live in Balsillie's neck of the woods, so my opinion will obviously be biased in his favour (note the Canadian spelling of "favoUr", eh?) I'll also state, for the record, that I'm not heavily into professional sports of any kind, hockey being the only one in which I have even a mild interest. Even so, I hardly ever watch the games and I only follow the season by way of news reports and hearsay. As a sports fan (or non-fan), I really couldn't care less what happens to the Coyotes. As a Canadian, I care a great deal.

Now that that's out of the way, I can state, with a clear conscience, my opinion that Gary Bettman is a pompous, manipulative hosehead with a greatly over-exaggerated sense of self-importance.

Why in the name of Gordie Howe would the NHL Commissioner object to saving a bankrupt franchise by moving it from a place where no market exists for it (which is why the team is now bankrupt ... Duh!) to a place where there is a strong, thriving market for it? Because the strong, thriving market is in Canada, that's why. Bettman strikes me as just another arrogant Yank who can't stand the idea of America's northern neighbour doing anything better than the good old U.S. of A.

Bettman's main argument against Balsillie's acquisition of the team is that he (Balsillie) is trying to circumvent the NHL's rules in moving the Coyotes to Canada. Well, when the rules are designed to put you at a disadvantage, you sometimes have no alternative but to skirt them, if not break them outright. Seems odd that neither Bettman himself nor his vaunted rules had any objection to moving the Quebec Nordique to Colorado back in '95. Ah, but that involved moving a Canadian franchise to the U.S., and that changes the whole picture, doesn't it?

Bettman cited a concern that the NHL's Board of Governors might not approve Balsillie as a suitable franchise owner. "I don't know whether or not he could get approved," Bettman said. "That's, as I said, something I don't get a vote on. If in fact it becomes an issue for board consideration, the board of governors of the league will make that decision."

Sounds like passing the puck ... er, I mean, the buck ... to me. I'm not the obstacle here. It's that darned Board of Governors. Well, has anybody asked them? And who's on the Board of Governors, anyway? More U.S. fat cats? Hardly sounds either fair or objective to me.

It seems to me that hockey has become more about money and politics than about the game, which probably explains why people like myself, who admire the game, can't be bothered the follow the professional league.

I'm struck by the curious similarities between the Balsillie/Bettman feud and the movie, Bon Cop Bad Cop. For those not familiar with the movie, it's about a pair of detectives; Martin Ward, from Ontario, and David Bouchard, from Quebec, who become reluctant partners when they are assigned to investigate the murder of a hockey tycoon who had been instrumental in moving a Canadian team to the United States. More murders of hockey officials ensue and it soon becomes clear that the detectives are on the trail of a serial killer bent on punishing league officials guilty of moving Canadian hockey teams south of the border.

The killer's ultimate target turns out to be the league commissioner himself, one "Harry Buttman", who is on the verge of committing the ultimate sin, moving the Montreal team to the States. Although he is a target, Buttman is portrayed in the movie as arrogant, deceptive and altogether unlikeable. I found it particularly amusing that Buttman is played by Richard Howland, a midget, which I interpret as the director portraying the Hockey Commissioner as, quite literally, a small man. Ward and Bouchard end up tying him up, stuffing him into a body bag and locking him in the trunk of a car, "for his own protection", but can't help enjoying the activity. Maybe that's the kind of therapy that Mr. Bettman needs.

Before I get back on topic, I'll digress just a little further by highly recommending Bon Cop Bad Cop to those who haven't yet seen it. It's one of the most enjoyable Canadian made movies I've ever seen. It captures, better than any other movie I've seen, Canada's Anglophone/Francophone split personality, and the ever-present tension between the two cultures. It's a riveting drama liberally imbued with dashes of uniquely Canadian humour. It should be required viewing for any Americans who still picture Canadians as beer-swilling, French-speaking lumberjacks whose cops all ride around on horseback. (Well, okay, everybody in this movie happens to be fluent in French, including the English-speaking detective from Ontario, so I guess the movie doesn't do much to dispel that particular Canadian stereotype).

Getting back to reality, Jim Balsillie argues that his bid to acquire the Coyotes is about "The passion that Canadians feel for the game of hockey." Quite right. Hockey is Canada's game, much moreso than America's. Everybody knows that. It's a part of the Canadian identity. America took the Nordique from us and they took Gretzky. This is us, taking our national identity back. Don't stand in our way, Bettman. We may not stuff you in any car trunks, Canadians are much too polite for that, but some of us would be more than happy to come down there and demonstrate a proper "jersey pull" for you.