Movie Review: Elysium

With Matt Damon and Jodie Foster in the cast, I was already intrigued by the premise of the movie, though anything that looks action/sci fi already has a general bias in my book.

The overall premise being a contrast between the separation of society with the privileged wealthy elite living a life of Utopian tranquility on an orbiting habitat, possessing superior medical technology to cure any disease at the molecular level, and defending the right to maintain that lifestyle - through violent means, if necessary.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Earth's population suffer and struggle in an over-populated, polluted and degraded Earth. Max, a parolee and repeat offender, is struggling to eke out a life when by a fluke, he is caught in a desperate struggle for survival when an industrial accident leaves him fighting for his life. A ticket to Elysium is expensive, however, and undertaking a dangerous mission to earn passage to Elysium and the hope of getting into a med bay is his only hope of survival. By working a deal with "Spider", the illegal shuttle launch mastermind, Max submits himself to a questionable medical team to have a robotically-enhanced exoskeleton bolted on. With this super-skeleton, he is part of a crew created in order to run a data heist for Spider, thereby earning his passage. For Max, the job gets personal, and he targets the head management exec of the factory where he was hurt. Their intent is noble, in order to obtain the codes to reset the space station, thereby changing the Earthbound's access to Elysium.

Far from the straightforward shot for a chance to survive his own health crisis, when a childhood friend and her critically ill daughter enter into the mix, Max's loyalty and moral conscience are called to the fore.

Having the same moral undertone and general aesthetic as to this movie as District 9, including the director  Neill Blomkamp, and the South African actor Sharlto Copley, who instead of protagonist in this movie plays the antagonist secret agent, Kruger, the "larger picture" theme carries through both movies, not only having a sci-fi element, but also a moral undertone and social critique woven throughout the movie as well.

Elysium, the word itself being the Greek ideal of the afterlife, is an interesting take on the Utopia ideal. Though quite limited in scope as the entire world apparently condenses to the greater LA area and Elysium, with no outside world news, events, or clear explanation for the schism between the exceedingly wealthy and the remaining "everyone else." Additionally, there seems to be a racist element as the majority of the "remaining" population leans heavily toward being Hispanic.

The movie was absolutely glorious in the CG rendering, completely absorbing me into the story without picking apart which scenes were filmed live and which were CG. The storyline was entertaining enough that the hour and forty-nine minute run time speed by but not so drawn-out that you anticipate the ending.

My review: Two thumbs WAY up and buy on BluRay. The seamless CG, the good fight choreography and the reworked Utopia/Dystopia  contrast is entertaining. And Jodi Foster makes you just love to loathe her, which is always fun.

The One Who DIDN'T Get Away!!!!!!!!

It happens to all of us...

we find ourselves hemmed in by the harsh edges of the timeclock, punching in, punching out.... caught in the mundane, overworked, under-appreciated mores of modern society. Our humdrum lives slip by in weeks, months and years, the highlights punctuated by only tragedy, roadrage, or those brief flickers of happiness: a raise, a bonus, or... VACATION TIME!

Having cooked up a scheme with my best friend's parents and husband over the past few months to surprise her at her cousin's wedding in Seattle, (of all places, as neither of us lives there!) we e-mailed surreptitiously back and forth, plane tickets were booked, transportation and lodging arranged, and fishing charters scheduled.

I was so excited to come surprise her that I could scarcely sleep, both because of the (sadly!) years that had passed between us getting together and because of the excitement of finally getting to meet her twins! So few people understand my humor when I quipped upon finding the genders of the babies to be a boy and a girl that I would be an Aunt AND an Uncle... *sigh*

I arrived and spent the first two days doing awesome stuff like sight-seeing, wandering Pike Place Market, me eating a hamburger in a famous seafood waterfront restaurant, and taking a bazillion pictures like the tourons we are. :) We took a harbor tour and rode the Giant Ferris Wheel (awesome 175 foot high view), we shopped for gifts and ate ice cream, we got a little lost in the Seattle maze and heavy traffic, and we talked A LOT. Seattle favored us with very little of its trademark rain, a fact for which I gave heavy and profuse thanks. The first few days were fun and touristy.

However the final day would hold an entirely new experience for me. But first, a disclaimer:

I'm usually a fairly even-tempered, perhaps even "sunny" person. Sure, I get heated once and a while, but they pass quickly and my Pollyanna personality pops back out, Now, with that disclaimer, there are a few things that I have EXTREMELY strong opinions about. Llamas, Kristen Stewart, spicy food... and fish.

Fish. Ah those critters with fins and scales, hiding in the depths of watery unknowns and taunting fisher-folk of the eons. The hypnotic pull of the water, be it ocean, lake or river, summoning folk with rod and reel, bait bucket or flies, and just about everyone has the tale of "the one that got away." I have four.

Embarking out to the marina in the VERY early morning hours, battling Seattle's omnipresent traffic (seriously? 5 am??? Where are all you people going so early??? Surely you can't ALL be going fishing???) and the construction, cussing out the GPS unit trying to re-route us back to the same closed road, we headed off for adventure, and eventually found our way to the marina, met our awesome fishing guide who did not look in the least put-out that he had a 3-person trip (instead of 6 - though how happy WE WERE that we didn't have 3 strangers along as well!!!) and never once treated us women like we were stupid... though more on that later....

Sunrise over Shilshole Bay. Photo copyright Chuck Trapani

We headed down to our boat and were greeted with a spectacular sunrise as we headed just past the breakwater to the marina to set up. The downriggers were set to about 50 foot depth with glow-in-the-dark squid and big silver flashers on them, plus one high line set with a small bait fish to hopefully catch a Coho salmon or four. (Boy, how's that for learning some jargon fast... I almost sound like I know what I'm doing! WHICH I DON'T! I was probably 9 or perhaps 10 tops the last time I held a fishing pole on purpose! And taking one fly-fishing lesson on the lawn of the ranch I used to work at does not count. Though the guide told me I was a natural at casting..... didn't catch any lawnfish though, so I must not have been THAT good! HA!)

We set to trolling (see, more jargon. Not the Internet kind...) and I showed a hidden talent at spotting fish on the line at the first bite. I think here I can thank two iced mochas on the way to the marina (also the cause of testing the on-board potty later in the morning.....) for the slight jumpiness that contributed to me jerking to look at the line if it so much as twitched, and the heightened senses from living for the past year and a half in a Shelob-infested basement. If something moves, I look at it! (My motto: smack it first, ask what it was later...) The guide who has been doing this A LOT longer than I have and I would see the lines at the same time, and my friend and her husband reeled a few in that morning. Mostly Pink Salmon, though there were a couple of Coho as well, (which I later learned unprocessed were currently going for $55/fish!!!)

The fish were leaping all around us, the putt-putt of the outboard motor and the rocking of the water gently lulling me to sleep. The sun was rising and the rain had moved on, the crying of the gulls and the sun illuminating the Olympic Mountain Range were glorious. I was perfectly content to hang out on my bench and snuggle into my hoodie, but eventually my wallflower act snagged our guide's attention.

He had caught on to me, and huddling in the cabin out of the wind and short smattering of rain that we went through wasn't going to work. So the next bite was mine.... I grabbed the rod after he handed it to me, started reeling (holy mackerel... er... salmon! It was FIGHTING ME!) and got it about 5 feet or so up to the surface, when BAM! Slack line.

I wasn't overly discouraged the first go-round. After all, I'm beyond green (thankfully not from the boat, my motion sickness meds were working!) and the fishing thing isn't really my bag of (fish and) chips. So the second one, I gritted my teeth, tucked the butt of that pole harder under my arm and reeled for all I was worth, when BAM! Free fish.

By the third go, I was frustrated. I grabbed that pole, reeled slow and steady, kept the tip up, and pulled that fish in and just barely to the net.... the guide was reaching, and BAM!

Okay, now I was pissed. The fourth fish bucked and pulled, see-sawed and jigged, and I wrastled it and fought, got it to the surface. I could SEE it! The flasher glinting, the fish did a characteristic spin... and BAM! it too was gone.

By now my shoulder was blazing from fighting these guys up from 50-some feet down. My adrenalin was starting to jack up, and I was furious. I WAS GETTING A DAMN FISH INTO THE DAMN BOAT!

We hit a lull. My friend and I started discussing horses, the weather, the trip, the family... and I saw a line jerk. I got to the pole before the guide even did, grabbed it up out of the boat-side holder and reeled that bugger in. This one was NOT getting away! I pulled that tip high as instructed, and just reeled it slow and steady with no jerks.... and lickety-split that baby was IN THE NET!

This huge silver monstrosity flipped and flopped on the bottom of the boat, and our guide got his bat to give it a hefty dose of "aluminum shampoo" and though I'd been a bit squeamish the first fish he gave a knock to, by this time I was ready to whack it myself! I VERY happily shoved my finger up through those gills for my obligatory picture, and the next one was going to be mine as well.

Crazy enough, I did get the next! Hooked through a fin, I fought it all the way to the surface and into the net without losing it, and though bloody, got a pic with that one... fish slime, spattering of blood, water and fish scales and all!

We were nearly at our limit, and now I'd caught two Pink Salmon. But the Coho was what I wanted next. (King Salmon season had ended the week before, and while we did catch one, it was just a little feller and he went back. Our guide said "See you in 3 or 4 years!") So while we were talking, the high line did a little jig and that baby was MINE!!!!!!!!! I hadn't had a fight like that one yet... not in the four (FOUR!!!) that got away, nor the two Pinks. My arm was shaking. I had that rod stuck up under my arm and against my ribs. My heart was hammering from excitement, and the amount of work it took to pull that puppy up to the boat. I was fighting that fish with all I had. I braced my feet against the boat and pulled and that fish fought me with everything it had. I suddenly could not even imagine a big sport fish that these folks wrestle for sometimes hours to get into the boat, as here I was fighting a salmon much smaller, but using all its tricks to try to escape me.

I hauled and hauled that fish in, and in one horrifying moment, that line went smooth as glass, and for a split-second I forgot to keep reeling.... I was hollered at and my arms started remembering their job, pulled a big fat Coho to the surface and the picture of this fish it reaches from my shoulder down past my waist! (I am loathe to put pictures of myself on my blog, but this once I think it's okay to show a "bragging shot" or two.)

A few more fish and we'd caught our limit: 4 Coho and 8 Pink Salmon. Our catch laid out before us, I had indeed caught the biggest fish of the day and I was happy! I had asked a million questions, as I was completely unfamiliar with how to tell the species apart (Pink Salmon have small, easily-loosened scales, which was the easiest way for me to tell them apart) or the ways to identify a male from female (short of the roe we found inside several females of our day's catch) and when the distinctive hook nose, bright color and humps appeared on the spawning males, (ours were much younger males, probably four years old or so)
how to tell a wild from hatchery fish (they lop off the rearmost fin, called the adipose fin, on the hatchery fish) all about their lifespan, the fishing seasons, how big halibut got (40-60 pounds? HOLY SMOKES!) and about seeing whales, dolphins, about sea lice (ICK! Those are actually grosser than the dang fish!!!)

Who knew I would have such fun fishing? Who knew I'd end up snagging the biggest salmon of the day! And thankfully for everyone, I have no desire to eat any of them. All told, we had 30 combined pounds of processed salmon fillets for them to take back with them, and I had pictures and memories... and maybe just a few fish scales still stuck to my jeans.

 

Kevin Mallick's beautiful photo "Olympic Mountains through Shilshole Bay Marina"

All pictures copyright:
Special thanks to: Hatchery vs Wild Salmon photo www.themasterangler.com
Species of Salmon found at http://www.wildflyrods.com/images/FWSSpeciesofSalmon.gif
And utmost thanks to Kevin Mallick for "Olympic Mountains through Shilshole Bay Marina" be sure to check out his incredible work of Seattle, wildlife and more at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kevinmallick/

Poems for Kristen, Going on her Mission

• My dear friend Kristen is leaving to serve a mission for her church. She was struggling to write her farewell talk late one night, so I decided to help her after she said her talk was turning poetic. She liked them so much her whole family printed them out and read them to each other, though her precocious 9 year old brother commented my syllables were off for my haiku. I fixed it (it WAS 1 am, in my own defense...)

  
  

  Enjoy!

  
  

  A haiku:  Missionary talk, 

  farewell in the making, Tennessee is calling.
•  A limerick: There once was a girl named Kristen, who wanted to go on a mission. Public speaking was cake, once she knew what's at stake, but somehow she'd have rather been KICKIN!!!

  
  

  A sonnet: How shall I compare thee to a bright Sunday's talk? Thou art lengthy, and thou art strangely beautiful. Thy grammar, it calls to me. Thy syntax and structure alluring. All the days of my life shall I cherish thee - O farewell talk!

  
  

  Free verse:  Waiting. The thoughts. They come like scattered sparrows before a summer storm. Ink from my pen, a Rorschach print as my words tumble amidst the list, rampant in my brain, scattered as the belongings which I so hastily assemble. The luggage stands, impatient sentinels, ready for the next steps beyond this door, this threshhold, eager for their taste into the unknown... while I, ponderous with thoughts both mighty and scattered, throw my life, my hopes and dreams to this page.

  
  

  An ode: What words are these? What inspiration divine? What muse hath covered mine ears with her sweet song? Be bold! A warrior of faith! A champion of courage! Fortitude prevail!

  
  

   A narrative in the style of Chaucer: Beholde thy fayre maidyn, stryving full twytny and one, adventyre to speke, adventyre to fynde. For oft she hath long'd withe feal and verdante hearte to further afielde far in hir chirch truely ynough, goodly spekes, rightly work, enternel lyve.
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• 
  

  Kristen's reply: I love you! you're the best!  That Limerick was true and hilarious all at the same time. ...I'm very impressed.You should be writing my talk! though, this poetry is rather inspiring... 

Have fun on your mission Kristen! You will be missed! :)

Pryor Mountain Wild Horse Range, WY - Not-Quite-The -World-Traveler: Places I've Been

Pryor Mountain Wild Horse Range, WY - Not-Quite-The -World-Traveler:  Places I've Been 

"Last of the Wild Ones" by Bristol MacDonald, June 2008. 
http://www.bristolequinephotography.com

The wind rustles the sage and rabbitbrush that nod in the breeze, and gently lifts the strands of the mustang's mane as he eyes us warily. His band is scattered up the hillside, a smattering of mares and several yearlings in a variety of coat colors who nibble at the stray strands of grass peeking out between boulders.

Welcome to the Pryor Mountain Wild Horse Range in Wyoming. A place of high desert, an eye-catching canyon carved into sinuous lines, and the refuge of the wild horses. The wild horse has an interesting interrupted storyline across this landscape.

Ancient horses once roamed the North American continent, though around 10,000 years ago, they were all extinct with no clear explanation as to precisely why. While this page of history remains a mystery, the horse would be grazing the grasses of North America once again. With the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors in the 1500s, the wild horse once again roamed the grasslands. Now managed by the BLM, the mustang became symbolic of the "Wild West" and the quintessential cowboy icon.

While the human history in the area is extensive, the mustang is a more recent inhabitant. Roaming an extensive network of federal and publicly-owned land, the Wyoming range allows the maintenance of a relatively large population of feral horses.

The Arrowhead Mountains surround the area and the deep curve of the canyon creates a funnel for the high desert wind ruffling the pale green waters of the river. Throughout the Bighorn Canyon National Recreation Area a variety of wildlife can be found, though the major visitor draw is for the chance to see the wild horses. In fact, the Pryor Mountain Wild Horse Range was the first such established public protection area for wild horses, even predating the Wild Horse & Burrow Act of 1971 .

While modern politics and opinions swirl around the wild horses, they live their lives much as their mysteriously disappeared ancestors, traveling to waterholes, grazing the native grasses and keeping a wary eye on outsiders.

With the popularity of such programs like Cloud: Wild Stallion of the Rockies, which documented the horses of the Pryor Mountain Range, more recent attention has been paid to the lives of the horses living on the range. While the BLM continues to actively manage the herds that call this area home, the lives of these animals continue to be documented and studied.

If you ever find yourself in the neighborhood of Lovell, WY, it "behooves" you to stop by the Pryor Mountain Wild Mustang Center and find out how best to see these remnants of ages past, still living their lives, romanticized in documentary, novel and film. The wild horses of the Rockies.

"A Winter Stroll" by Bristol MacDonald, June 2008. 
http://www.bristolequinephotography.com

For more information on the Pryor Mountain Wild Horse Range, please see:

http://www.pryormustangs.org/

The Pryor Mountain Wild Mustang Center is located just east of Lovell, Wyoming on Highway 14A.

The Center is east of the Cal S. Taggart Bighorn Canyon National Recreation Area Visitor Center.

For information on the Cloud Foundation, please go to:

http://www.thecloudfoundation.org/

For the Wild Horse & Burro Act of 1971:

http://www.wildhorseandburro.blm.gov/92-195.htm

*Please note these are not my photographs. All material copyright the photographer: Bristol MacDonald, 

http://www.bristolequinephotography.com