A little reluctantly, I had gone to watch Night at the Museum last night, the latest Ben Stiller vehicle. Proving quite the commercial (perhaps not critical) success especially in the U.
S. of A., I really had to see it for myself.
My reluctance, I guess, is summarised best by the immortal words of the Lethal Weapon series' Roger Murtaugh (the delightful Danny Glover):
But yeah, maybe my tastes are changing, becoming less and less PG and G over the years.
I don't know. More likely, it's just that I'm not too intent upon watching anything with the faintest resemblance to Jumanji, a rather average children's romp of yesteryear. You can conceivably imagine the glee written all over Robin Williams' face upon first glance at the Night at the Museum script, absolutely chockers with the sort of whackiness and slapstick humour this guy just laps up.
In spite of his reputation for voice impersonation and Mariah Carey-esque vocal range, Robin Williams is quite a versatile actor. While the super-smash that was Mrs.
Doubtfire and the incredibly bizarre Flubber are his sort of bread and butter, he has shone as an inspirational English teacher (Dead Poets Society), plus a certain doctor with an impeccable bedside manner.
The film itself was quite decent.
The little tidbits of American and global history were not too bad at all, and probably quite healthy when one makes comparison to the formulaic, brainless bloodbaths and horror schlock that Hollywood nowadays is notorious for mass producing.
Now over 40, one would think that Ben would tone things down a little.
Settling for serious, career-defining roles perhaps, as even the very über-cool former Fresh Prince of Bel-Air Will Smith is doing right now. On the other hand, they do say that you can't teach an old dog new tricks.
Undoubtedly brilliant in the title role of Zoolander, there have been plenty of wonderful Ben Stiller moments. I point to the fitness hard-ass of the underrated Heavyweights, the nursing home orderly who exploits senior arts-and-craft labour in Happy Gilmore: You can trouble me for a warm glass of shut-the-hell-up. Now, you will go to sleep, or I will put you to sleep.
Haha.
In Night at the Museum, Stiller spends much of the film mixing it up and negotiating with museum artifacts that have, for over 50 years, come to life.
So much madcap pandemonium and mayhem. Watching him duke it out man-versus-monkey-style with Dexter is hi-larious indeed: click right for a YouTube demonstration.
Most likely, he is the funniest man in the world. The UK version of The Office that was his baby is really quite amazing. If you haven't seen an Office episode, then truly you haven't lived.
Packed with plenty of British subtlety and wit, it shows that comedy need not always be side-splitting and crass à la Little Britain.
Gervais plays the small role of the museum director, sadly well below his usual bar for comedic genius.
He seems for the larger part of the movie to be a frequently upset and bothered fellow, expressing major annoyance at the aftermath of the nightly shenanigans in his museum.
So there you have it.
Feeling that satisfied with Night at the Museum, I give it the ol' thumbs up. Great for the kids..
. and those kids at heart.
Last night (30/12), Hak and Siming held their “(not quite) New Year’s” party, at Siming’s Vermont Place home. That it ran quite smoothly is testament to their über-pro organisation, and I’m sure everyone had a wonderful time.
It was to be a semi-formal sort of affair, and most were dressed quite smartly and with plenty of class. Though she would vehemently disagree, Thuvaraka proved to be quite the disappointment for the organisers dress-wise; but as I said, just about everyone looked terrific.
Folding hand after hand – as I am always one to do – I think that, come the end of 2006, I am “pokered” out.
Our table: myself, Tao, the Lukes (Wang and, later, Oh), Hak, Yam and Darren.
A healthy mix of noobs and pros, I reckon.
An impatient man, Hak was first out.
Going all-in with his Ace-Nine was probably a little ill-conceived, given that he was I think up against Tao’s pocket Jacks (?). Playing solidly along with Tao were the particularly aggressive pre-flop raiser Yam and Luke Wang.
Just nearby, people were enjoying a game of Spoons, with chopsticks. ‘Chopsticks’, as it should be known, proved to be a major hit especially with Hak, whose yells and high-pitched squeals of delirious excitement were much too frequent.
His enthusiasm win or lose is really quite uplifting, and just goes to show how an innocent, carefree spirit such as his can thrive in this at times corrupt, tainted world of ours.
Seriously, this poker game must’ve carried on for ~2+ hours.
Taking the initiative, my all-in blind bet came to no avail: King-Three got deservedly owned by Yam’s Ace-King a.k.a.
Anna Kournikovas : they look much better than they play. Thanks for that one, Lee Final Table Nelson, Joker Poker expert.
Nutrition, Digestion and Metabolism (NDM) maestro Parslow, I think, once said that ~40% of Orientals were lacking in an active acetaldehyde dehydrogenase (ALDH2) gene. Correct me if I’m wrong. What it simply means is that the affected Asian’s capacity to handle alcohol’s breakdown products is a little impaired relative to the white man, creating what is popularly known as the “Asian blush”.
Hak provided a finer example of this flaw in Asian genetics. Downing however many Cruisers or Bacardi Breezers in their wonderful assortment of fruity flavours, he looked like a cheery little plum.
No photographic evidence of it unfortunately.
Proving he is so much more a man than most, Tao had earlier made his way to the nearby Dan Murphy's to purchase his bottle of Hpnotiq.
Was it $45 a pop? Summat like that, anyway. At 17.
0% Alc./Vol, compared with your Breezer it's much more potent stuff.
Alcoholic adventures continued with Alex Gin. Proving to be quite the witty man about town, he brought along a bottle of..
. gin. Later, Mr.
Gin would take to concocting a little pink-coloured brew, seemingly chockers with every alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverage he could procure, including a variety of soft drinks and standard Johnny. Taking a cautious sample of said brew, it was certainly one of the more heinous-tasting things I've ever had to guzzle down.
Was popular. Plenty of Chinese songs sung, which just highlighted how mediocre my Vietnamese literacy skills truly are. I would imagine that Hak had sung N Dey Say by Nelly.
.. gosh he loves that song.
Myself, Thuvaraka and Luke Oh gave Delta Goodrem's Born To Try a shot. Big mistake.
Thuvaraka ended up being the only one to sing with any remote sort of resemblance to Delta, with yours truly and the Korean acting like dead weights. I ended up putting on this sort of lame falsetto, crikey it was hard.
As a singer, I am woefully below-par. But in a pre-pubescent 1999, let me tell you I was far more decent. Our Junior School musical (forgotten the name) was a song-and-dance adaptation of the Burke and Wills northwards expedition, contrived by our eccentric music teacher Mrs.
Roy.
I auditioned for the lead roles and - quite seriously - did alright.
.. well enough to be considered I think.
That is, until the intellectual-fest that is Tournament of Minds demanded priority over any theatrical or thespian ambitions.
Let me tell you that I am not at all proud of this almost famous Year 6 time.
In terms of content and thematically speaking, the musical was a total flop: it would be an absurd notion to believe Daisy the talking horse was prowling around, for one. Commercially, I'm sure it did fantastically well, owing to the fact that 100% of Year 5 and 6 kids were able to drag their entire families to see them perform in our Memorial Great Hall. Plus, I was quite content to play a talking horse à la Mr. Ned - we had the raddest costumes.
Back to karaoke. Karaoke animal that he is, Soon had a while ago demonstrated his prowess with a rocking rendition of Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. Last night, Soon and I attempted a manly cover of Bon Jovi's Always, and did not fare too badly either.
Haileyburians of the Hak, Tao, Luke and Benedict vintage often make appearances every now and then. With plenty of charm, such an ex-Halieyburian in Alvin took to Aerosmith's I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing, plus Tao and Soon.
And to Dil. So sorry I couldn't sing a Beatles classic with you.
.. but it's on the to-do list, for sure.
As past blogs would make it abundantly clear, I am a trams man. One could even say that such an affinity for trams runs in the blood: one of my old man's earliest jobs was believe it or not as a tram driver, and that is the truth.
A little while ago, it was maybe Jerem who jokingly mused upon the notion of yours truly getting married on the Tram 109 bound for Port Melbourne. And my reply?
Would not be surprised.
Having left the party at roughly 11:30 PM, I daresay that I have found a tram of as much all-round talent as the 109: Tram 75.
Vermont South to Flinders St., via Burwood Highway, Toorak Road and Camberwell Road.
A final thanks to Hak and Siming for a great night. And I hope everyone has a wonderful New Year's..
. maybe cook up a few resolutions for 2007 while we're at it.
He also takes the opportunity to go shopping. Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City, Hanoi and whatnot - like other thriving Asian commercial centres - are noteworthy shopping havens, where one can quite easily buy and bargain to the content of one's heart. Just quietly, I've yet to visit Vietnam thus far, probably yet another disappointment for the 'rents no doubt.
When you're as distrusting of bargains and out-and-out consumerism as I am, you'd be mighty suspicious about the quality of such overseas-purchased goods.
So here I am, giving a sister's DKNY watch an inspection as best I can. Certainly, there aren't any distinguishing markings to suggest that it's a fake. If it is in fact a counterfeit, it sure is a well-crafted one.
Another favourite of mine is a boxed collection of the 20 or so James Bond movies. The DVD quality is expectedly terrible - prone to skipping and other incidents that undermine the viewing experience - but there is no doubting that James Bond, in his various incarnations over the years, is the man.
Having neared the end of this just about unrelated preamble, here are some musings regarding the actors behind 007.
Be warned: I can't guarantee it will make for jolly, inspirational or educational reading...
but oh well.
The Scottish-born Connery seems to be the universal favourite as Ian Fleming's James Bond, despite having been something of a disappointment to the author.
The man in his heyday was so darn classy and suave as 007, which understandably deviated from the bad-ass, hardcore Bond persona originally envisaged by Fleming in his novels. Other Bond actors seemed to have fit the bill - to varying degrees of critical success - but more on that later.
Have to say, each was quite excellent, especially given my lack of appreciation for most pre-1990s film. Goldfinger's Oddjob is a particularly terrific henchman, an Asian thug who is Captain America-esque in his usage of bowler hat. Awesome.
In truth, the film - at least, it's early scenes - was absolutely terrible. I had watched roughly 30-odd minutes of this Bond movie before happily switching off, fully understanding why Lazenby's career never took off and soared towards greater heights.
He seemed neither gritty or debonair - Bond pre-requisites for any actor even contemplating the coveted role. Rather, he looked quite foolish in a not-so-appealing way, even when duking it out with the token bad guys in the opening scenes I barely bothered with.
Scaramanga's henchman is the very little Nick Nack, whom Bond dispatches of in quite appropriate fashion aboard his junk. I shan't spoil it.
The Irish successor to Dalton has been mostly applauded by critics in his four outings as Bond. Pierce Brosnan made quite the handy Bond: the class of a Connery, the cheek and wit of a Moore.
Despite major box office success, Brosnan's Bond movies were characterised by an over-the-top fascination with the assortment of gadgets created by Q - first Desmond Llewelyn, and later the bumbling John Cleese (formerly R).
I think also that movie-going audiences of today wield different expectations than those of yesteryear.
No longer do people simply get off on brainless plots defined by major carnage, explosions and the like.There's a greater appreciation for intellectually-stimulating film, which is a very positive thing.
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