Now that we're on the other side of the terrifying/thrilling/exhausting/absolutely fucking amazing first-ever Hollywood Fringe Festival, we're slowly getting back to normal operations around here. I'm starting with the vast pile of I Cannot Deal With Any Email Unrelated To Fringe Until This Is Over, quickly followed by catching up on the RSS reader thingy and news outlets unrelated to World Cup.
I'll have more to say about Fringe next week, mostly about other people, probably. Konstantine! Laura! David! Shelby! Jacquetta! Khalil! ComedySportz! ABBIE SANGRIA!
At this moment dunno how I can talk about Moi experience without getting all gushy, and truthfully I'm still processing it all. These post-Fringe days have been emotionally similar to post-CCI days, which was very much a surprise, considering. So I'll talk about other people first, and by the time I get to Moi perhaps I can be more Informational Objective about that entry and not all happythrilledgratefulteary. But Goonan's going to get the overly-long gushy version. So far, Goonan doesn't seem to mind when I drop a 3K email on her. God how I love that woman.
Small HFF Preview: You know those slashy G.I. Joe conversations you have? Like you do? Let me tell you, there's NOTHING to prepare you for standing onstage about to talk slashy G.I. Joe stuff, only to look down and see sitting in the front row the man who voiced the G.I. Joe you're talking slashy about. O.M.G.
Throughout all this, Frieda Paras-Jones died. Not fair. At all. The first of her three memorials was Wednesday night, and it was beautiful. Yes, this is a woman whose impact was so broad that three memorial services will barely contain it all. To my regret (and my cowardly fault) I never became a friend of hers because I was too scared to put myself before her to accept or reject me as a potential friend. But I admired her fiercely and learned from her in a gut-punch way. I kinda need to share that gut-punch story - when she told me I disappointed her and she was absolutely right - so will do so within the next couple of weeks. Right now my heart is with Guy & Carlos & Roxanne and all those at Southern, Northern and Bristol who knew her Truly. I knew her as an icon. They knew her as a person. My god that they have to go through this loss.
This amazing roundup of zombie-related items was in my reader thingy. Go forth to the homeport of PZ Meyrs and click on all of the links! ZOMBIES.
I'm very glad to read reports that Hollywood's whitewashed Airbender is actually a piece of shit. Good. I'm even happier that none of my close friends have so far wavered from their decision to abstain. For four of them this is really super hard to do, but they grocked to the Big Picture principle and rolled out. I'm glad that they're not missing a good movie, at least.
M. Night? I've seen all your movies, save this newest one. I am one of the very few people who saw Praying With Anger in an actual movie theater 18 years ago; that movie made me file away your name in my head for future tracking. I loved Unbreakable and The Sixth Sense, thought Signs was a hoot, felt I've sat through films far worse than The Village & The Lady In Water, both of which at least entertained a bit.
But Airbender? Fuck you onto seven generations for your complicity in this abominable whitewash, your pathetic attempts to O Lawd What We Gon Do Now jig dance around it in media interviews I will not link to, and your general cowardice. Fuck you and your entire production team and studio. It's 2010. STOP WHITEWASHING. JUST STOP.
You'll make some money on Airbender because most white people do not care about the big picture and will go see it anyway. So it goes. So it has always gone. But you need to make more than "some money" on this I think. You need to make lots. If you have taken excellent pan-Asian source material, put it through the whitewash wringer and turned it into LCD crap of middling interest to the broader non-fan audience? You'll be lucky to earn out your multimillion base expenses. Which of course means you've lost (until the dvds roll out, anyway). Good. And fuck you.
World Cup World Cup World Cup! The only sport I care about! Gorgeous men from all over Earth playing The Beautiful Game. We're in the kill-round stage now. I have two brackets - the fun one and the real one. In the real one, so far I have only been wrong about one game. This entry auto-posts one hour before My Boys From Brasil take on the Netherlands at WTF Time in the obscenely early morning. I'll be on the couch wearing one of my (four) Brasil shirts, with a giant mug of coffee and even more faith that Brasil will move from the quarterfinals to the semis.
So! From this site I give you my Brasil team member name!