The Daily Procrastinator

Rule #34: See this film immediately

Zombieland, and I mean this in the most admiring way, is a fast-food movie. Just as Super-Sonic Cheeseburgers aren’t wolfed down for their nutritional value, Zombieland is mindless fun: it’s hilarious, winks at the audience continually, and takes well-deserved shots at the now-established traditions of zombie flicks.

No where are these shots more obvious than in Columbus’ (Jesse Eisenburg) rules for survival (”Rule #1: Cardio” – as scenes of fat guys being chased down by zombies are played). Throughout the film, Eisenberg’s rules are displayed on screen as those who fail to follow the rules end up as human tartare for the zombies. The gore of these kills, though, is more cartoonish than frightening, and only serves to elevate the humor of the film. Dispatched zombies (of which there are plenty), are always accompanied by satisfyingly large splatterings of blood and bile as it’s vital not to forget Rule #2: the Double Tap.

Batter up!

The plot (okay, the term is used a bit loosely here) of the movie centers around Eisenberg’s milquetoast, who is attempting to make his way back to his hometown (Columbus) to see if his parents are still alive. This journey is interrupted by Tallahassee (a screamingly funny Woody Harrelson), a man with two drives in life: revenge against zombies and a quest to find Twinkies. These two later take up with two other survivors, Wichita (Emma Stone) and her 12 year old sister Little Rock (Abigail Breslin). The city names are references to their hometowns, as Tallahassee wishes to avoid any emotional attachment (which, in the movie’s only truly sentimental moment, is revealed why later). The four end up traveling together to California to search for zombie-free areas.

The cast of Zombieland

So much of the fun of the movie is seeing the relationship develop between Tallahassee and Columbus, as their back and forth bantering and antagonization of each other reveals real comic timing. But, of course, the true hilarity of the film comes with the creative zombie deaths – look for the “Zombie Kill of the Week” performed by a nun with a piano. And a certain movie star’s cameo is inspired (don’t look at imdb’s credits if you want to be surprised).

At a running time of just about an hour and a half, Zombieland never has a chance to go stale, and remains pitch perfect in its blend of humor and horror. But don’t be fooled: this movie is first and foremost a comedy, and the frights only serve to set up the reactions from the film’s players. If you’re looking for a post-apocalyptic film with a message, wait for Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. If you want some fries with your zombies, though, Zombieland’s being served at a theater near you.

Months ago, when I saw the first film trailer for the movie Where The Wild Things Are, I freaked out with anticipation. Images of Maurice Sendak’s big furry beasts galumphing through the wilderness in a wild rumpus immediately flooded my mind. I had flashbacks to lying in my bed as a kid and trying to figure out how that one monster could possibly have lizard legs, buffalo horns, tiger stripes, and bear paws and yet still intend no harm to little Max.

Since I was a kid, this has always been my favorite image from Wild Things.

I had high hopes that the movie would echo the idea, so prevalent in the book, that not everything (or everyone, more to the point) that looks scary is actually a threat. My hopes were sorely denied.

Apparently, Spike Jonze (who is now on my List Of People To Punch In The Nose On Sight not only for his mistreatment of Wild Things, but also for his ridiculous deliberate misspelling of his assumed last name) didn’t think that the original text of the book was important to the making of the film. Instead of being the benevolent beasts of the book, the Wild Things in the movie are a bunch of whiny, self-obsessed, violent conflict-mongers.

When Max arrives on the island, his first encounter with the Wild Things involves watching the monster pictured above (named Carroll in an apparent homage to the creator of the Jabberwock) as he destroys the homes of his fellow Things for no apparent reason. We soon learn that he’s pissed because one of his fellow Things, K.W., has run off. No explanation for K.W.’s behavior is ever offered, though, and the plot of the film never regains any sense of purpose. This first encounter does, however, set up the complicated relationship that Max and Carroll will share throughout the rest of the film.

In one of the film's best moments, Carroll gives Max a lift.

To complicate matters further, Jonze (and collaborator Sendak, the book’s original creator) decide to make the Wild Things clearly male and female, and two different pairs of them are couples. The Things Judith and Ira, a bumbling oaf of a guy and a narcissistic bitch of a woman, plague the film with their relationship. Likewise, Carroll’s anger over K.W.’s departure seems to be based on a relationship that the two may or may not share. It’s never really clear.

When K.W. brings back some new friends to the Things’ fort, the rest of the gang, especially Carroll, refuses to accept them as part of the group. Carroll turns to Max to solve the situation, since he’s serving as their erstwhile king, but he doesn’t have any answers. It seems that Jonze is trying to make a political statement about how we and our leaders treat those unlike ourselves, but the issue is left unresolved and only serves to complicate an already unnecessarily complicated film.

Although the plot of the movie is disastrous, Where Wild Things Are is interesting to look at. The costumes of the Things are fantastic, accurately duplicating the images from the original art. The film offers many close-ups of the Things as they speak, and their big furry faces clearly register a variety of emotions that must have required untold hours of either mechanical animatronics or computer animation. The Things’ eyes, in particular, are beautiful. As the adage suggests, they give us a view of each Thing’s soul.

As the Things rumble around the island, they often jump to great heights, and the animation of their jumps is wildly amusing. They seem to rise into the air as if by levitation, springing toward the treetops despite their stumpy legs and thickly built bodies. In fact, they jump exactly the way the monsters in a little boy’s imagination might jump, which I find perfect, as all the events on the island happen in Max’s imagination.

Q: What have learned so far? A: While the plot is bad, the visual effects are good. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. The plot isn’t a complete loss, though. I need to mention a couple moments that stand out as high points. As I mentioned above, the scene in which Carroll lets Max ride on his back is sweet. Also, there’s a scene in which all of the Things sleep in a giant pile, calling good nights to one another as they collectively drift off into huge, furry slumber.

Finally, the scene in which Max leaves the island (don’t groan about spoilers; you knew it was going to end this way) is simultaneously beautiful and infuriating. All the Things gather at the beach to watch Max as he sails back to his home, and their howling as he sails into the surf is heart-wrenching. Visually, it’s a beautiful scene, and the music, camera work, and sound effects are perfect. I wish I could stop writing about the scene now, but I can’t. Although Max’s farewell is a fantastic moment, it’s also ridiculous because there’s never any explanation of why Max chooses to leave the island. It’s as if he just randomly decides to split in the middle of the conflict on Thing Island. The implied theme: When you mess things up really badly, run away; that will make things better.

It makes me want to scream like a Wild Thing.

Occasionally, Jonze's adaptation is beautiful.

I wish I could tell you to go watch Where The Wild Things Are. I wish I could celebrate the successful translation of a classic children’s book to the big screen. I wish I could tell you to take your children to the movies. I can’t do any of those things, though. (I especially can’t recommend the film for kids. This is NOT a children’s move. They’ll be alternately terrified and bored. I promise.) Frankly, I’m saddened that future generations of kids will say things like, “Where The Wild Things Are is a book, too? I didn’t know that!”

Do yourself a favor: preserve your love of Where The Wild Things Are by avoiding this film. Let your imagination give life to the Things. If not for yourself, avoid the film for your kids’ sake. They deserve to see the Wild Things like this:

Don't call her TallGirl . . . Call her BEER GIRL!

Dear Internet, I am hereby preparing you for a future event.  In six weeks I’ll be departing for Germany for two weeks of sightseeing and, of course, beer.

It is my heartfelt desire that you can share in this experience with me.  How?  I, TallGirl, will take it upon myself to sample as many German beers as I possibly can and report these results back to you, our loyal readers.

I’ve found a list to get me started, but let’s be honest: these beers were probably reviewed by beer aficionados.  These are the kind of people, like wine people, who can detect notes of clove or banana or the mint plant on a neighboring farm.  I am not one of these people.  My reviews will be much simpler, highlighting drinkability and enjoyment.

So keep your eyes open starting August 1 for this valuable public service, only from The Daily Procrastinator.

Just when I think I’m out, you pull me back in!

Hello, my name is FlashCap, and I have an action figure problem. For the past six or so years I’ve been collecting the Marvel Legends line of figures, first under the Toybiz line and then under Hasbro when Legends switched hands back in 2007. I’ve amassed around 50 or so Marvel superhero figures, most of which were at one time or another Avengers. Check out some pics here.

Yeah, that's entirely too much money on those shelves. I'm sorry.

The Hasbro figures’ quality wasn’t close to that of the line while under ToyBiz, and this difference, along with rising oil prices led to what I can only believe to be the demise of the 6″ Legends line. Hasbro also announced plans for a new 3″ figure line they would call “Marvel Universe.” I didn’t think much about them b/c my collection dwarfed this new series, so I thought my figure collecting had come to an end.

Then the damned figures started appearing on the shelves at the local Wal-Mart.

I kept thinking they looked pretty good. The detailing was a heck of a lot better than the Hasbro figures’, and the variety of figures that would be available would eventually surpass the Legends line. Plus there was a kick-ass, modern-costumed Iron Fist:

The First Temptation of FlashCap.

But still I resisted their siren song. I even found a Captain America and put it back after carrying it around Wal-Mart for awhile. I just couldn’t.

But about two weeks ago, I finally pulled the trigger. I was walking through Wal-Mart and noticed the Wolverine: Origins figures. Normally I wouldn’t give those a second thought but I noticed they had a “comic series” – they had a Deadpool.

This damned figure doomed me.

I caved like Cookie Monster at a Chips Ahoy packaging factory. Two days later, I went back and bought Captain America and Iron Fist from the Marvel Universe line. I also grabbed a Spider-Man. The following day I bought a Ms. Marvel, Silver Surfer, and Ronin from the local Target, which I found had a bigger selection. A week later, I returned and picked up the Hulk, Black Panther, and the Punisher.

I’m now planning on moving my 6″ Marvel Legends figures to a display case I have in my room, and start putting the 3″ figures on my shelves. I’ve already bought 50 clear plastic peg stands to do so.

Help me. Please?

On Thursday, March 19, I crossed two more names off my “Musicians To See Before I Die” list. Elton John and Billy Joel performed together at the Toyota Center in Houston as part of their Face To Face Tour. My ol’ buddy FlashCap accompanied me on this excursion into musical awesomeness.

When we arrived at Toyota Center and found our way to our seats, we realized that these seats were GREAT! We were seated at floor level, no more than fifty or sixty yards from the stage. We could see the performers clearly, and we also had a front-and-center view of the huge display screens over the stage. These screens were of a sort I’d never seen before. They were made up of hundreds of strings of vertical lights suspended from the ceiling, and the lights changed colors and configurations to display images from the stage. It was pretty impressive.

Behold the amazing light/screen thing! Aren't cellphone pictures great?

As soon as the lights went down, both Elton John and Billy Joel took the stage, and they played four songs as duets, alternating between each artist’s hits. Interestingly, they also alternated singing verses within each song and sometimes harmonized during the choruses. After the initial series of duets, Elton John played a solo set of over an hour. Thereafter, Billy Joel played a set of similar length. To wrap it all up, they returned to duet mode and performed several of their most legendary songs to end the evening. As a highlight to the fantastic piano playing and singing of the two stars, I must say that the rest of the band was fantastic. I was particularly impressed by the percussionist and trumpeter during Billy Joel’s set and the bassist during Elton John’s. Check out the setlist:

Duets
Your Song
Just The Way You Are
Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me
My Life
Elton
Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding
Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting
Burn Down The Mission
Madman Across The Water
Tiny Dancer
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
Daniel
Rocket Man
Levon
Still Standing
Crocodile Rock
Billy
Angry Young Man
Movin’ Out (Anthony’s Song)
Allentown
Zanzibar
Don’t Ask Me Why
Always A Woman
Scenes From An Italian Restaurant
River Of Dreams/Deep In The Heart Of Texas
We Didn’t Start The Fire
It’s Still Rock And Roll To Me
Only The Good Die Young
More Duets
I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues
Uptown Girl
The Bitch Is Back
You May Be Right
Benny And The Jets
You Say It’s Your Birthday
Back in the USSR
Candle In The Wind
Piano Man

Honestly, I’m more of an Elton fan than a Billy fan, but FlashCap favors Billy. We had all the bases covered. At least one of us sang along to nearly every song, with the exceptions of the relatively obscure “Burn Down the Mission” and “Zanzibar.” At many points during the show, tens of thousands of voices were all singing in unison. I love those kinds of moments. I’ve experienced this “mass singing” at concerts ranging from Jimmy Page & Robert Plant to Black Sabbath and from Lamb of God to Paula Cole. More than any other event in my life, singing along to the same song as a stadium full of people reveals to me the Brotherhood of Man. When the entire crowd inside Toyota Center–black, white, hispanic, asian, straight, gay, male, female, conservative, liberal, wealthy, poor–ALL belt out “Sing us a song, You’re the piano man,” all is right in my world.

The first time Elton John and Billy Joel toured together, I skipped the show because I thought the tickets were too expensive. If they ever tour together again, I am going to attend a show. You should, too. We can harmonize.

LAMB OF GOD - WRATH

I am a huge fan of thrash metal.  There is just something about it that grabs you by the throat and won’t let you go.  The best metal of this sort has a “groove”:  riffs to kill for keeping time with hellaciously fast blastbeats, riding cymbals, and a pounding bass.   Back in the mid- to late 80s, there existed a sort of glory days of thrash.  This was exemplified by the four pillars of the genre (Anthrax, Slayer, Megadeth, and old Metallica) coupled with the “newcomers” Pantera.  Go ahead and throw in Prong (particularly Beg to Differ) and Testament as a couple of other favorites.

Lamb of God is today’s undisputed leader of the genre and is leading a renaissance of thrash.  Sure, Slayer and Metallica get the Grammys, but that is just a case of  name recognition on the part of the voters.  I was first turned on to LoG after hearing “Laid to Rest” from their album Ashes of the Wake, which was the first album I’d bought in a long time that simply ripped my face off.   And while I was never a huge fan of the “cookie monster”-style of vocal stylings, LoG just made it work for me.   Their follow-up, Sacrament, became a drop-date purchase for me, and it continued to impress.

But both albums have been eclipsed by the triumph that is Wrath.

Where do these guys get all of these wonderful riffs?  Seriously, if you don’t find yourself involuntarily headbanging during the bridge of “Dead Seeds,” you have no metal in your soul.   High points (as if there were low points) include “Set to Fail”, “Contractor” and “Choke Sermon”.    But my personal favorite is the closer, “Reclamation”:  the blues-based lick that provides the structure and, simply put, drive of this song is perfectly pieced together.  It is the juggernaut of the album.

Wrath is now the front-runner for album of the year.  It will be interesting to see what other bands are willing to put out this year in the face of this onslaught.

I’m married to a woman who 1) enjoys musicals and 2) has a thing for Pierce Brosnan.  So when I saw the ads for Mamma Mia my immediate thought was, “Damn you, Hollywood!  Damn you straight to hell!”  Somehow I avoided having to see this in the theater, but then the DVD came out around Christmas and, long story short, I’ve now sat through the musical comedy featuring the music of ABBA.  As a sort of  (what I hope is) therapeutic cleansing, I’m offering up this review, of sorts, which perhaps will give me back the hour and 40 minutes spent listening to bubblegum pop sung and danced to by James Bond and the White Witch from Chronicles of Narnia [ed.: that wasn't Meryl Streep].  OK, then Cruella De Vil [ed.: that was Glenn Close]. Really? [ed.: yep].

01:13 The singing begins. Sophie’s (Amanda Seyfried) cute, at least.  Letters are sent off to three possible dads as she wants to know who her father is, and there are three suspects.  What,  is her mom some sort of cat?

02:32: All three men (Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth, and Stellan Skarsgard) are apparently incredibly wealthy.  How convenient.

4:12: Sophie spills the beans to her friends about her mom’s diary (kept while pregnant with Sophie).  Mom’s…how to put this?…a slut.  Hey, if this movie were centered around a guy who slept with three women during a summer, I’d make the same comment.  Only I’d use the words “lucky bastard.”

5:01:  The first actual song, “Honey Honey” is sung by Seyfried and her friends.   They’re much too excited about the fact that they’re singing about Sophie’s mom’s sexual exploits.

6:50: Meryl Streep shows up, looking like that actress from Bridges of Madison County [ed.: that WAS her, idiot].

7:50: The dilemma is posed: who’s Sophie’s dad?  The invites are part of  a grand plan of Sophie’s to, apparently, get a look at the men and pick Pierce Brosnan for her dad (yeah, like Skarsgard stands a chance).

9:25:  Meryl Streep’s best friends show up for the wedding:

Looks like a good time to go get some snacks. I thought Walter’s character was Streep’s mom, but I was wrong.

10:25: The fiance (Dominic Cooper) shows up.  No singing as he’s about to get married.

12:13: Apparently, it’s a rule that girlfriends who have not seen each other in a while must scream excitedly in octaves normally reserved for dog whistles.  And, yes, Streep and her friends were apparently in a 70s singing group.  Oh, joy.

14:30: Back to the suspected dads – they discuss how they know Donna (Streep), but the fact that each biblically knew her isn’t raised.

16:45: A legend about a fountain beneath the hotel/spa that Streep’s character (Donna) owns  is mentioned (Aphrodite’s fountain).  I bet that’s important.

17:30: “Money, Money” – Meryl Streep’s first song. First bathroom break.

20:46: Sex talk from Streep, Walters, and Baranski, God help me. Meanwhile, Sophie takes the dads to a room and tells them their presence is a surprise for her mom, and to keep it  a secret.  This secret lasts, oh, about 1 minute.

26:21:  Streep sees her three former beaus and the title song is sung.  She’s apparently still carrying a torch, but for which one?  The suspense is killing me.  Oh, wait, that’s not suspense, that’s ABBA.

31:00: The virile young black bartender has the hots for Baranski’s character.  Sure he does. Give that man an Oscar!

32:30: Third song. Streep, Baranski and Walters.  Shortly thereafter, Streep admits she’s a slut, and that she’s going to hell for it.  Okay, maybe not that last part.

36:52:  In an attempt to wrest control of the song from cross-dressing contests, “Dancing Queen” is interpreted here as a celebration of womanhood.  I don’t know, I think it works better as an ode to drag. And, hell, they even trotted out Milton Berle as a back-up singer!  Waitaminute, oops, no, that’s Julie Walters.

41:10:  In what could have been a pretty creepy scene, Sophie hangs out with her three dads on Skarsgard’s boat as they sing about banging her mom (the song’s “Our Last Summer” for those of you keeping score).  Skarsgard’s singing is about like you’d expect.

45:00: Sophie’s fiance sees her dive from the boat and confronts her about spending time with three strange men (one who looks like James Bond) for the past two hours, culminating in his calling off the wedding.  At least that’s what should have happened.

45:38: Ah, I thought the cigar Sky (yep, that’s the fiance’s name) was holding was a phallic symbol, but instead it’s just there to make the song’s lyrics make sense (”Lay All Your Love on Me”).

47:18: In a twist worthy of Top Gun, dancing men in speedos come out of the water and “rescue” Sky from his woman.

48:10: Streep and her friends relive their glory years singing for her daughter’s bachelorette party (”Super Trouper” – no, it has nothing to do with stoned highway patrolmen).

50:00: If I read the back of the DVD right, I’ve got another hour to go.  Time for a beer.

50: 50:  The dads arrive at the bachelorette party.

51: 40: “Give me a Man After Midnight” starts up – hey, this scene has possibilities.  The somewhat scantily-clad girls take Firth and Skarsgard and start dancing with them, pulling at their clothes.

51:55: Nevermind, cut to Streep and her friends ranting. Brosnan shows up.

54:15: Colin Firth, for some reason, wants to escape being pawed at by the young women.  Skarsgard is living it up, though.

55:20: Skarsgard manages to figure the secret out first.  He runs like hell.

56:00: Sophie catches him and coerces him to walk her down the aisle.

Those past two comments might not be entirely accurate.

56:50:  Sky and his band of gay friends have apparently left their party and come to crash the girls’ party.  Dancing ensues (”Voulez Vous”).

58:18: Brosnan tells Sophie he’s her dad and tells her he’ll give her away.

58:50: Now Firth believes he’s her dad, too, and wants to give her away.  There hasn’t been so many men trying to give away something that doesn’t quite belong to them since 1947.

1:02:29: In a questionable career move, Skarsgard shows his bare ass.

1:06:12: Brosnan confronts Streep about their past and what they lost.  For some reason, Brosnan is trying to sing with an Italian accent  (”S.O.S”).

1:08:50: Young black bartender continues to chase Baranski, and she mocks him in song (”Does Your Mother”). The “mistake last night” referred to was apparently the singing and dancing number at the bachelorette party.

1:15:30: “Slipping Through My Fingers” could actually be a bit of a tear-jerker if you have a daughter.  If you don’t, then fuck you, it’s just allergies.

1:21:25:  Meryl Streep singing yet another song about how she and Brosnan can’t get the time back…maybe. I’m not quite sure how “Winner Takes it All” fits in, but it seems like the big emotionally climactic moment.  I know this because waves are crashing and Streep’s running around waving her arms dramatically.

1:25: 43: The wedding is finally here.  End in sight.

1:29:20: The wedding is interrupted as everyone tries to figure out who Sophie’s dad is; Colin Firth attempts to take himself out of the running by announcing he is gay.  Firth, you’re one brilliant bastard.

1:29:58:  Because Mamma Mia’s a comedy, they can’t end with a young couple marrying.  So Brosnan takes one for the team and proposes to Streep (”I Do, I Do, I Do”).

1:32:05:  In a shameless plug for Viagra, Brosnan sings a song exclaiming that he and Streep are not too old for sex (“When All is Said and Done”).

1:34:45: Skarsgard is serenaded by Walters (”Take a Chance on Me”) because otherwise both have been forgotten by this point. Firth, desperate not to have to pay for Sophie’s wedding, keeps up the gay act.

1:37:08:  The fountain of Aphrodite erupts, showering all the wedding guests – a sexual metaphor if I ever saw one (and I knew that early, seemingly pointless reference had some significance); dancing ensues.

The credits roll as the cast dress up in funky outfits and sing “Dancing Queen”, seemingly recognizing the futility in not associating that song with drag.  And as the movie’s over, this review is done, and I believe I have successfully exorcised my ABBA-induced demons.

Now if I could only take back seeing Stellan Skarsgard’s ass.

Thor #600 is the latest effort by the powers-that-be over at Marvel to rip the hearts out of Thor fan-boys like me. And you know the worst thing about it? It is the culmination of the best storyline Marvel has published in the past year.

It is clear that J. Michael Straczynski, the writer of Thor who has done an exquisite job of resurrecting him, loves an evil scheme. In issue #600, Loki’s machinations, which have been several lifetimes in the making, come to fruition in a big way.

The story opens with Loki restoring Bor, the father of Odin, in the middle of New York City.  Bor goes mad due to Loki’s manipulations, threatening to lay waste to the entire world. This draws Thor into a battle that he realizes can only end one way, although he makes every effort to avoid it. He even calls on the Avengers only to be betrayed by a wicked Dark Avengers cameo. This ultimately forces his hand against Bor, and thus Loki’s trap is sprung which will have major implications for Thor, Asgard, and the Marvel Universe.

[On a side-note, let me get this straight: Thor has the Odin-force, can take out Bor (a god) AND the entire squad of Dark Avengers, yet he gets beat up by the Red Hulk? I'm calling bullsh*t on that entire red Hulk series.]

While it comes at considerable cost, I expect Thor #600 will mark Thor’s return to a more active role in the “real world” of the Marvel Universe as opposed to his Asgardian realm. It also sets up the Asgardians’ possible role in the coming Dark Reign storyline due to the “graciousness” of a certain power-mad monarch. While this is indeed a dark day for Thor and his fans, JMS has created an epic storyline that demands attention.

“So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by/and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness./We have heard of those princes’ heroic campaigns.” — opening lines of Seamus Heaney’s powerful 2000 verse translation of
Beowulf.

Outlander makes no secret about its desire to be a fantastical re-imagining of the Beowulf story and its “heroic campaigns” we are taught in high school, where the hero defeats the monstrous Grendel and a host of other horrors before dying nobly in battle against a dragon (sorry for any spoilers – you should have read the poem). Set in late eighth century Norway, the titular Outlander is not the Geat Beowulf come to save the Danes from Grendel, but instead Kainan, a very human-looking alien (played by John Caviezel), who crash lands on Earth, and in doing so sets free a monster (the “Moorwen”) which seemingly takes the place of all the beasts referenced in the original poem. Kainan first must convince the Norsemen he is not a threat, and then leads them against the monster, with predictable results.

And that’s the real issue with this film: there’s nothing here that we haven’t already seen, and not just in that long poem. Outlander cribs a bit from Alien here, a bit from Predator there, and then throws in a smidge of Braveheart for good measure. Moving beneath all of this is a not-so-effective sub-plot that seems to want us to feel some, if not sympathy for the Moorwen, than some recognition that it, too, has been wronged, but John Gardner’s Grendel did that, too. The battles between the Norsemen and the Moorwen are appropriately violent, though I rarely felt a sense of horror, which is a fatal flaw for such a film. Together the movie moves stiltedly toward its conclusion, as if it were walking on legs not its own (which, of course, it is).

Beowulf has been re-imagined a number of times, most notably in Antonio Banderas’ underrated The 13th Warrior, which retells the legend through an Arab’s eyes. Outlander is not quite so rousing as Warrior, which was both adventurous and fun, nor are its characters as memorable. Caviezel’s Kainan is distant in his relations with the Norsemen (perhaps justifiably so – he IS an alien), but this also precludes the audience from forming some attachment to him. The Norwegians are a conglomeration of long-haired noble (and not-so-noble) ruffians, with little to humanize them and make us care about them before they’re in turn eaten up by the monster.

What we’re left with, then, is another in a long string of effects-driven monster films, whose chief problem is that it depends too much on what has come before. And, as Beowulf suggests, living off past deeds is no way to make a name for oneself.

In the world of digital audio, few names are as respected as Edirol. In December, I started recording with their latest field recorder, the R-09HR, and I can honestly say that I now understand the fantastic reputation that the Edirol family of products enjoys. This particular recorder is designed to be a small, portable recording option for events outside the recording studio. It’s about the size of a first-generation iPod, but slightly thicker. It can be used to record meetings, band practices, interviews, and even concerts. I use it primarily for the latter.

The Edirol R-09HR is a device which is designed to record MP3 and WAV files directly to digital media, in the form of SD cards. A 512 MB card is included with the recorder, but it can accept cards as large as 8 GB, which is what I use. The R-09HR can record files ranging from relatively low-quality 128 kbps MP3s to 16-bit 44.1 khz WAVs (CD-quality sound) to 24-bit 96 khz WAVS, which are the highest-quality sound files for which anybody could have any reasonable use. At 128 kbps MP3, the 8 GB card can hold 7980 minutes of data, while 24-bit 96 khz WAV allows the card to hold about 220 minutes. I use CD-quality options, which affords me 720 minutes.

The device features a line-in option for recording directly from a soundboard. It also has a microphone-in, for the use of a range of external microphones. Most impressively, though, it features on-board stereo condenser microphones. I was skeptical of the quality of these on-board microphones, since the price of high-quality external microphones can range from several hundred to several thousand dollars. Upon taping my first concert from the audience using the on-board microphones, I learned that the R-09HR makes outstanding recordings without the use of external mics. Certainly, one could improve the quality of the sound by adding a high-dollar microphone to the setup, but the on-board mics created a warm, clear, natural-sounding recording. My only complaint is that the on-board microphones are not directional, which means that they capture sounds from all around the recorder. In effect, if the recorder is close to loud or talkative fans, their voices can become an annoyance in the recording.

When recording from the soundboard, the R-09HR makes recordings as crisp, clear, and true-to-life as I’ve ever heard. I have recorded two concerts from the soundboard, and I couldn’t be more thrilled with the results. I gave a copy of one of these recordings to the musician, a friend of mine, and he intends to release it as a live album. It sounds that good. The clarity of the R-09HR’s recordings is partly due to its Isolated Adaptive Recording Circuit (IARC), which prevents any kind of digital clicks or pops from reaching the final product. The device also features no moving parts inside, so the hum and hiss which can be produced by analog recording equipment is totally avoided.

The R-09HR runs on two AA batteries, which will last through a surprising six or seven hours of recording. It has an adaptor for AC power, which is included. Also included is a cable for high-speed USB 2.0 connection to a computer, which makes data transfer quick and simple. A small external speaker allows the user to review recordings in the field, and a headphone jack allows even closer listening. In fact, the user can even load MP3s onto the R-09HR and use it for a portable music player. While the functionality of this feature is acceptable, the interface is somewhat awkward.

The only problem I’ve had with using this recorder is with the buttons which govern the input levels from the microphones. The device allows me to adjust the input levels while recording, in case the music is suddenly louder or softer, or in case I’m able to move closer to the speakers. I made use of this feature at one concert I recorded, but pressing the buttons caused loud, audible clicks in my recording. While listening, I realized that these clicks are actually the sounds of me pressing the buttons. Luckily, this situation is remedied by using the remote control which is included. When the input volume is adjusted with the remote control, no clicks are introduced into the final product.

Other features include toggles for limiter, automatic gain control, low/high mic gain, low cut, and plug-in power for external microphones that require it. All of these features were new to me as a relatively inexperienced concert recorder, but I quickly learned to use them to my advantage through the explanations offered in the instruction manual and various internet FAQs.

On the whole, I highly recommend the R-09HR to anyone who is in the market for a portable digital recorder. Priced between $300 and $400, depending on the retailer, it’s a bit more expensive than most other recorders, but the quality of the finished product and the ease with which it can be used makes the Edirol R-09HR well worth the cost.