||[Sep. 27th, 2006|02:05 pm]
|||||my dorm room||]|
|||||13th Warrior stuck in my head||]|
My brother is ill today. He is running a fever, experiencing dizziness, weakness, and general malaise. I have never had the opportunity to care for someone who is ill, so I am taking the next day or so off from school in order to nurse Feng. We were originally intending to play hooky from school today so that we might seek out entertainment and mild forms of trouble within the city, but it seems those plans must be put on hold. I admit, I had an attack of responsibility and informed the necessary parties of the school of Feng's condition and my intent in dealing with it. I am afraid that my dorm will have to manage itself for a day or two. I'm sure that the student council can deal with most problems. I called Shiruhara san and asked him to fill in for me as temporary dorm representative. Alas, he has much to do these days as student-councillor and in his various extracurricular activities. I will have to find someone else to ask. Perhaps Takahashi san will be willing. I shall ask. In the meantime, I think it is time to wake Feng up from his nap. I shall try to feed him something sustaining...I have been led to believe that chicken noodle soup is a staple for these circumstances. I have asked Sasha to bring some from the store. We have a plethora of terrible movies to watch, and when we can no longer stand the hail of poor cinema, we also have several films which only I will despise.
I have discovered myself to be the most exacting movie critic I've ever known. I imagine it's quite a trial to watch movies with me, as I tend to criticize and critique as I go. Even when I enjoy a film, I rarely will actually like it.
Films I have liked so far: One out of twenty.
The title of the film was "Thirteenth Warrior" and it was quite an experience.
I heartily recommend it to anyone who hasn't seen it. The cinematics are rich and solid, the backgrounds are full and fully believable, the effects are an enhancement to the experience and not merely shoddy embroidery or slapdash coverup for the film's defects. The script was incredibly tight and richly layered, the characters were each unique and remarkable, establishing themselves through every word, sound, and gesture and never faltering even when in the frank background of the story or the shot. Bulwyf was a towering, magnificent epic figure woven in subtlety and story, and even Antonio Banderas pulled his weight as the Arab, Ahmed Ibn Fadhlan. I also really, really liked and enjoyed the story. I've actually had occasion to read not only the Michael Crichton adaptation of the story, but also the actual manuscripts of Ahmed ibn Fadhlan, translated into Greek. I was not terrible impressed with Mr. Crichton's work, but I felt that the movie tapped the spirit of the original manuscripts with almost uncanny adeptness and cleanness of purpose. Extremely impressive, all around.
There is my review of the only movie I've ever liked. I go now to take care of my brother.