“Terminator: Salvation” (Musings on Christian, Mel, Moon, and Sam)

Self bleary-eyed:  she stayed up late reading again.  Started Anita Shreve’s Light on Snow yesterday:  this book is not bad, dear blog readers!  Self read Shreve’s Sea Glass a couple of years ago, but did not enjoy it as much as she’s enjoying this one.  Perhaps it’s the point of view:  Light on Snow is told from the point of view of a 12-year-old girl and is thus filled with frequent mention of such girl-y activities as roasting marshmallows or making bead necklaces (Dear blog readers might not find such point-of-view beguiling, but anyhoo).  In addition, this one takes more of the form of a suspense novel, as there’s a crime that the police are called in to solve.  Given all those elements, self is prepared to enjoy this novel.  She only hopes the young woman who has just entered the story a few pages ago —  self is about halfway —  does not end up falling in love with the narrator’s widowed dad, because that would just be too, too cliché.

Hubby wanted to see a movie, so self suggested “Terminator:  Salvation.”  What can self say about this movie?  There are two good performances, and they are those of Moon Bloodgood (Luuuv that name.  By the way, this girl would have made a good Uhura.  Taller and somehow more substantial) and Sam Worthington (Another Aussie! Australia definitely a prime breeding ground for hunky men!).  Christian Bale does the job:  that is, he looks manly and delivers his lines, which is about all you can expect from the Savior of the Human Race.

There is also a Wild Child, which put self in mind of “The Road Warrior,” but this child is way more photogenic than “The Feral Kid” of that earlier movie (which, by the way, ranks as one of self’s faaavorite action movies of all time, since  it featured Mel Gibson when he was not yet weird)

There are also echoes of “Saving Private Ryan,” with Anton Yelchin (Chekov of “Star Trek,” unfortunately minus the lovable Russian accent) in the Private Ryan role played by Matt Damon in the aforementioned.

And there are echoes of the first “Terminator” movie (with special appearance by the Governor of California —  CGI, most likely.  And he is nekkid.  And his calf muscles —  camera did a slow pan —  are just tremendous!  Shaped like bar-bells!)

Self was so happy when it seemed John Connor had been terminally wounded at the end.  But then there’s a twist.  And a pretty ludicrous one at that.  At this point, self feels called upon to quote Bones of the new “Star Trek”:  “You don’t go to the Kentucky Derby and leave your prize stallion in the stable.”  The stallion in this instance being —  no, not Christian Bale —  Sam Worthington.

*!!@@##

But, then, Director McG has so little imagination.  He had the good fortune to have Jane Alexander (erstwhile head of the National Endowment for the Arts!) in the cast, and all he could think up for her to do was to walk around looking stressed.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Upon Arriving Home From the Symphony

Self and hubby had, as usual, a grand time at Davies.  The featured performer, pianist Yuja Wang, was fetching in a crimson dress.  She had very white arms and very black hair.  Since self could see almost nothing of her face, she seemed (to self’s very blurred vision) like an apparition.  Something like the ghost in the Japanese horror flick, “Dark Water.” She made deep bows to the audience, flinging her long hair forward over her head.  This girl is a year younger than son.  Like Dearest Mum, she is a graduate of Curtis.  Self toyed with the idea that Yuja is what Dearest Mum would have turned out to be, if she had not gotten married and had five children.  She’d be traveling all over the world in crimson gowns, making deep bows to adoring audiences.  Mind-blowing.

The other interesting feature of the evening was the premiere of a new piece by a 31-year-old composer named Mason Bates (what a fab name!) who was raised in Richmond, Virginia but moved to the Bay Area when he was 23.  This piece was fantastic.  It was otherworldly.  A man in a tuxedo wielded a broom to make swishing sounds against a piece of wood which were then amplified, augmented by actual taped conversation from one of NASA’s first space walks.  It put self in mind of — of course — Star Trek!  Interplanetary travel!  Spock!  Interplanetary travel!  Star Trek!  Spock!  Hot Spock!  Hot!

It was an extremely enjoyable piece.

Upon arrival home, self and hubby approached front door with some curiosity.  Would son and Rebecca be home?  Would they have made themselves dinner?  Would they be watching TV?  Would they be in the garden?  Would the dogs have gotten on Rebecca’s nerves?

But when we entered the house, though all the lights were on, and we saw some of son’s clothes draped over a dining room chair, there was no one inside (except for the li’l crits, of course).  Hubby became insistent that self call son to find out where he was.  “If you think I’m going to call son while he is out . . . no way!  Go ahead, you call him if you want to!”  Which did the trick.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

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