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The refrigerator repairman who came yesterday noticed (as apparently the two guys previous had not) that the compressor wasn't cycling on. "Lemme check something," he said. A connector was loose. He tightened it. We have a refrigerator! There is food in it. I didn't have to go out to the back yard to get milk for my coffee this morning (although a good deal of today will be spent in clearing out the old fridge and transfering food to the new one). It is humming away, doing its chilly thing.
In other news: tonight is Sarcasm Girl's prom. She wants me to color her hair (a nice reddish brown), and Avocado, not to be outdone--and far more out there--has decided she wants to color the last three inches of her hair purple. So I'm going to be up to my elbows in chemicals when I'm not cleaning the refrigerator. There will almost certainly be photos.
And finally: we saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull last night. It is entertaining; it is not the second coming of Indy. The family generally agreed that it's worlds better than Temple of Doom, not quite as good as Last Crusade, and not, alas, Raiders. The relationship stuff--particularly between Indy and certain persons from his past--is wonderful. There are tips of the hat all over the place to the late and entirely lamented Denholm Elliot, although Jim Broadbent fills in that niche as a friend/University administrator. The problem, really, is that the macguffin doesn't have the mythic resonance (for Western culture, anyway) that the Ark and the Grail have, and the explanation or attempt at an explanation takes up a lot of the film. There are also at least two characters who seemed to serve no other purpose than to do things that would allow the plot to move forward. The plot doesn't have the puzzle-ness of Raiders and Crusade, and it doesn't have...plausibility, for want of a better word (the Spouse notes that both the Ark and the Grail are enough in the past that having someone go after them in the present works). The fifties stuff is fun--particularly an early nod to the atomic age; Shia LaBoeuf does an admirable job as a greasy delinquent with hidden depth and talent (again it's the relationship stuff). And Indy is, mostly, Henry now. I kind of miss him being called Indiana throughout. And--I won't spoil it but--at the end, Spielberg exercises a moment of restraint which really pleased me. It's fun. It's certainly an evening's entertainment. It's not a classic. Ah, well.
In other news: tonight is Sarcasm Girl's prom. She wants me to color her hair (a nice reddish brown), and Avocado, not to be outdone--and far more out there--has decided she wants to color the last three inches of her hair purple. So I'm going to be up to my elbows in chemicals when I'm not cleaning the refrigerator. There will almost certainly be photos.
And finally: we saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull last night. It is entertaining; it is not the second coming of Indy. The family generally agreed that it's worlds better than Temple of Doom, not quite as good as Last Crusade, and not, alas, Raiders. The relationship stuff--particularly between Indy and certain persons from his past--is wonderful. There are tips of the hat all over the place to the late and entirely lamented Denholm Elliot, although Jim Broadbent fills in that niche as a friend/University administrator. The problem, really, is that the macguffin doesn't have the mythic resonance (for Western culture, anyway) that the Ark and the Grail have, and the explanation or attempt at an explanation takes up a lot of the film. There are also at least two characters who seemed to serve no other purpose than to do things that would allow the plot to move forward. The plot doesn't have the puzzle-ness of Raiders and Crusade, and it doesn't have...plausibility, for want of a better word (the Spouse notes that both the Ark and the Grail are enough in the past that having someone go after them in the present works). The fifties stuff is fun--particularly an early nod to the atomic age; Shia LaBoeuf does an admirable job as a greasy delinquent with hidden depth and talent (again it's the relationship stuff). And Indy is, mostly, Henry now. I kind of miss him being called Indiana throughout. And--I won't spoil it but--at the end, Spielberg exercises a moment of restraint which really pleased me. It's fun. It's certainly an evening's entertainment. It's not a classic. Ah, well.
