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Then who killed the world?
Tonight we made a dish for dinner that was not paprikás, but the sauce had a lot of sour cream and a lot of paprika and some charnushka and a base of mushroom soup because we didn't have any mushrooms in the house and I had to thicken it with flour because it turned out our sour cream was lowfat, but it tasted great over black pepper noodles with caraway-dill sausage. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel is in a food coma as we speak. Autolycus is asleep on my lap, but I don't know what his excuse is.
I am sleeping very badly; I feel like I'm losing time everywhere.
Last night I saw Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) withrushthatspeaks and derspatchel. I would like to write about it at some point; I did not expect a bone-crunching, gear-grinding, guitar-shredding action movie would ever remind me of Ursula K. Le Guin's Always Coming Home (1985). I think it was a combination of the backstory of Charlize Theron's Imperator Furiosa and the tribe of lesbian separatist biker nomads, most of them over sixty and all completely awesome. This is the only action movie I've ever seen whose heroes are a dozen really interesting women and one and a half men. (The other guy is an antagonist about a quarter of the time and the other quarter confused, which is fair; he grew up in an automotive death cult, which tends to muddle a person's priorities.) It is also probably the most metal movie I have ever seen. I am really enjoying the way it encourages reviewers to outdo one another in hyperbole—I think my favorite attempt so far is the Telegraph's "Imagine if Cirque du Soleil reenacted a Hieronymus Bosch painting and someone set the theatre on fire." The Guardian takes a similar tack with "an array of variously hairy stilt-walking, motorbiking, chainsawing crazies, suggesting that a militarised wing of the French circus troupe Archaos has escaped into the desert and gone feral." The worldbuilding is actually more coherent and more thoughtful than either of those quotes makes it sound, but I understand the difficulty of discussing the action sequences. There really is a battle guitarist whose double-necked, electrified instrument shoots flames. He is attacked to his amp stack by bungee cords. A fight on the front of his truck (which comes with its own taiko drummers) is reflected in the soundtrack, because he is playing the film's music. Either you say that with a straight face or you start alluding to the Surrealists.
One really unexpected side effect of watching Fury Road when I did caught me after the fact: as a movie concerned both with questions of feminism and the world after the end of the world, it made a weird sort of continuity with The Reckless Moment (1949) and Things to Come (1936). I don't expect this to happen to most people. I'm not surprised that I'm re-reading Le Guin, though.
derspatchel is in a food coma as we speak. Autolycus is asleep on my lap, but I don't know what his excuse is.I am sleeping very badly; I feel like I'm losing time everywhere.
Last night I saw Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) with
rushthatspeaks and derspatchel. I would like to write about it at some point; I did not expect a bone-crunching, gear-grinding, guitar-shredding action movie would ever remind me of Ursula K. Le Guin's Always Coming Home (1985). I think it was a combination of the backstory of Charlize Theron's Imperator Furiosa and the tribe of lesbian separatist biker nomads, most of them over sixty and all completely awesome. This is the only action movie I've ever seen whose heroes are a dozen really interesting women and one and a half men. (The other guy is an antagonist about a quarter of the time and the other quarter confused, which is fair; he grew up in an automotive death cult, which tends to muddle a person's priorities.) It is also probably the most metal movie I have ever seen. I am really enjoying the way it encourages reviewers to outdo one another in hyperbole—I think my favorite attempt so far is the Telegraph's "Imagine if Cirque du Soleil reenacted a Hieronymus Bosch painting and someone set the theatre on fire." The Guardian takes a similar tack with "an array of variously hairy stilt-walking, motorbiking, chainsawing crazies, suggesting that a militarised wing of the French circus troupe Archaos has escaped into the desert and gone feral." The worldbuilding is actually more coherent and more thoughtful than either of those quotes makes it sound, but I understand the difficulty of discussing the action sequences. There really is a battle guitarist whose double-necked, electrified instrument shoots flames. He is attacked to his amp stack by bungee cords. A fight on the front of his truck (which comes with its own taiko drummers) is reflected in the soundtrack, because he is playing the film's music. Either you say that with a straight face or you start alluding to the Surrealists.One really unexpected side effect of watching Fury Road when I did caught me after the fact: as a movie concerned both with questions of feminism and the world after the end of the world, it made a weird sort of continuity with The Reckless Moment (1949) and Things to Come (1936). I don't expect this to happen to most people. I'm not surprised that I'm re-reading Le Guin, though.
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