Have Gun, Will Travel

I went to the Bloor Cinema to check out a 2008 Korean western, an homage to all those spaghetti western movies, called "The Good, The Bad, The Weird". It's gotten great reviews from all the papers. Can all these critics be wrong?

Nope, they're right. It was a great movie - much more enjoyable than any recent Hollywood flick I've seen. The premise is simple: It is the 1930s. a Korean gangster sells a map, perhaps to some buried treasure, to a Japanese official. Wanting both the map and the money, he double crosses his customer by hiring a psychopathic killer named Chang-yi and his gang to steal the map back by robbing the train carrying the Japanese through Manchuria. But a petty thief called Tae-Goo robs the train first and absconds with it. Hot on their tail for the reward money is the bounty hunter Do-Won. Throw in other assorted low-life such as the Ghost Market Gang and baddies, the Japanese army!, and you have a rollicking Wild West adventure set in the Far East.

Unlike recent Hollywood action flicks which were heavily reliant on a lot of CG, I felt more involved because this movie used actual desert locations and real stunts. Obviously there was CG but it was not intrusive. My favourite set pieces included Do-Won swinging on rope over a shanty town, blasting away with his rifle and a wild chase scene of 5 disparate groups on horseback, motorcycles, jeeps, and vans, all shooting at each other. The image of a cowboy firing at the enemy while his horse is in full gallop (all non CG) was so thrilling that I wanted to go horseback riding after the movie. The movie took all the standard tropes: the stoic hero, the wild-eyed baddie, and even the showdown and made it - it'd be a stretch to say fresh or new - enjoyable. There was a minor issue, a tendency of a lot of Asian films, to have characters reveal some background plot or motivation via expositional speech. But overall, it was a fun 2 hours.

I left the theatre flexing my fingers by my side as if I was preparing to draw my guns before I came to my senses. Pew pew! Pew pew!

Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon

I decided to spend Saturday night checking out some live music at Lee's Palace, a venerable club in the Annex. Perhaps I have false memory of being there some time back, or maybe they renovated, but the layout seemed wholly unfamilar. Most people probably came for Juliette Lewis, but I wanted to check out the first opening band. I missed The Balconies when they opened for Gentleman Reg, but later bought their CD at Soundscapes. I liked their music and had read that they put on a great show. Of course, being the first band on at 9:30 would probably dampen most band's enthusiasm.

I noticed immediately that unlike the people in the clubs I've been to recently, this is a different crowd: less ironic hipster mustaches, more full-blown beards; black clothes and tattoos were the norm, not whimsical dresses and tight jeans. And I'm closer to the average age, as opposed to being on the tail end of the distribution. No time for beer, they were starting already, so I went down onto the sparsely populated area near the stage. The Balconies put on a tight set, enough to entice some of the early crowd into the main dance area by the time their set wrapped up. The drummer and bassist were fairly laconic. But the guitarist, and co-vocalist, with her high heels, tight pants, and Barbarella hair and make-up, was a spastic, jumpy, heel-kicking dynamo.

The area in front of the stage was filling up now. I grabbed a beer and made my way back to the front. Yes, lots of black and rocker logos on t-shirts, but some cute girls, too. A troop of them were beside me, including a short-haired blonde (described by friends as a Canadian Pink), with an overly large Harley t-shirt, cut down the sides to reveal a green, lacy lingerie-like top. By the time the second set finished, we were surrounded by some dames (and incongruously a petite Mary Lou Henner/Retton look-a-like [Lady Frost from the Smoke City Betties?]) from a woman's roller derby team. As for the band, Dearly Beloved, they claim to have formed in 2006. But the two guitarists looked about 20. The bassist (and lead singer), drummer, and back-up singer looked more experienced. They sounded a bit like the Red Hot Chile Peppers because of the complex bass lines. I guess when you're the bassist and lead for a band, you get to indulge in lots of bass wankery. I wasn't as impressed with the female back-up singer, as she seemed a little too Linda McCartney for me (i.e., singing a few lines, playing the tambourine, and doing lots of rock poses and silent shout-outs by pointing her fingers at her "peeps").

It's finally time for the head-liner. I didn't even know Juliette Lewis had a singing career on the side, but obviously her fans do. The people were packing up the area and pushing for the small stage. In addition to the rock girls and derby dames (because of Whip It?), there were now a number of lesbian couples, both the butch/femme combos as well lipstick lesbians, and women in fashionable wear, sporting elbow-length gloves and even head-dresses. Some of them were quite gorgeous, and seemed to actually be older than 25. Juliette Lewis and the Romantiques played standard rock, with some blues-tinged numbers, some ballads, and lots of sing-a-long choruses. Nothing that was extraordinary, but what she had was a powerful, theatrical, stage charisma and some rabid fans.

A lot of them were screaming, stretching out to her, and "rocking" out. I was never more glad for my ear plugs when I felt them vibrating furiously to keep out the high-decibel shrieking all around me. One 50 year-old man was apparently in a state of ecstacy, pumping his arms non-stop, and screaming "Yes, yes, yes" or "I love you" for several songs. I don't know what happened to him for the rest of the set. Some of the women started moshing, thrashing around into each other. I was bemused to realize I was being pushed around by women shorter than me. "Maybe I should start doing weights as well as yoga!" I thought. But then, some of them are in professional roller derby so I don't know if that would have helped. One lesbian dancer clambered up on the stage, cavorted around for a bit with Juliette, then dove off the stage. We caught her and shoved her to the back. Then more climbed on. I was psyching myself up to catch a girl who looked to be 170+ lbs, but by then security had had enough and ushered them all off.

Juliette started the show in a short jacket with black feathery fringes but doffed it and spent most of the set in tight jeans and a see-through red top. Her hair was dyed blue and there were red makeup over her eyes. Her band didn't go for the same Mad Max look but were composed of a guitarist in full fu-manchu and black, an afro-ed drummer right out of stoner casting, a bassist who might be Ming Na Wen's long lost twin, and another guitarist who could be 1st cousin to Miles Zuniga, the lead singer of Fastball.

I left at the end of the set and before the encore, a bit soaked in (other people's) beer and sweat. As I rode the subway home, I started chatting with a 76 year-old man. He had spent the day walking from Mississauga to Fort York in a Support-The-Troops walk. 40 years ago, he had married his 18 year-old bride at the age of 36. Well! Maybe I should have chatted up Canadian Pink; she was at least 22.

echo {con,in,{d,r}e}ception

I was having a BBQ at a friend's place. First, I marveled at the houses on her street. Who knew you can find suburban style neighbourhoods in Toronto? Then I was astounded by her news: she's pregnant again. This will be the 3rd child in 5 years which seems fairly remarkable for modern times - although I do notice that mothers around my local park usually carry in tow children quite close in age and sometimes more than two. I guess she'll probably be extending her stay-at-home mom status to at least another 2 years and counting. I find it a bit troubling as she studied to be a doctor for probably 10+ years: 4 years undergrad, 4 years med, and several years of residency. Consider how much money went into her education from taxpayers' money to subsidize the universities she attended, and to pay for the doctors, medical staff, and hospitals where she trained. On top of that, we need her skills. But I suppose in theory she can still contribute 20+ years of service in her lifetime.

I went into the movie Inception with anticipation though I hadn't heard much about it. However, the reviews seem to be all positive. But I was disappointed by the end. What was a great premise became just another shoot-em-up Hollywood film. Not too many spoilers but here's my complaint. The 2 main impetus of the movie are flawed: the reward Cobb anticipates for his inception job makes no sense, and neither is the reason why the job is harder than expected. The supposedly ambiguous ending is not at all, given the rules of the movie, and it's a disingenious for Christopher Nolan to suggest otherwise - or perhaps he overlooked the consequences to his own plot details. Finally, the possibility that the entire movie may not be real doesn't appeal as I've grown tired of unreliable narrator, time travel, and other movie tropes where things don't really happen because there's a built-in "undo". For another take on dream vs. reality, try Paprika.

On the other hand, I enjoyed Salt. Its premise isn't wildly original, but the movie executes it well. But the central mystery - is Evelyn Salt a good guy or bad guy - isn't really much of a mystery though given the standard Hollywood story arc. And if that's too abstract, it becomes rather clear that despite her furious take-down of her various pursuers (CIA, secret service agents, etc.), none of them was actually hurt - most are simply knocked unconscious. So nice of Angelina Jolie given that most them were shooting at her, but we can't have a good guy acting badly against "innocent" bystanders. She also looks too skinny to fight convincingly, unlike Sigourney Weaver in Aliens or Linda Hamilton in Terminator II. Ms. Jolie is a bit of an odd duck. I never found her to be the great beauty that the media has claimed: neither conventionally attractive like a Charlize Theron nor mannishly handsome like Julie Roberts or Hilary Swank.

At a small get-together, someone was telling a bad date story. Various guests commented on some particularly odd details, though I didn't contribute much, and 10 amusing minutes passed. Afterward, I was thinking to myself. If I was the story-teller, I would have summed up the tale in about 3 sentences. As the listener, I would have nodded and grunted: "That's a bad date alright." Having used up 1 minute, the remaining 9 would probably pass by in uncomfortable silence. And that difference is probably why I'm still single and don't throw dinner parties.

Won't You Be My Neighbour?

There are a number of regular haunts in my neighbourhood that I frequent for food: El Jacal for Mexican, Vena's for roti, Caribbean House for Jamaican, Rikishi for Japanese (or Mazz Sushi if I'm feeling light in the pocket) and so on. However, there are even more restaurants between Lansdowne and Ossington that I usually walk by. As the area is gentrifying, I decided that I better check out some of these other places before they disappear to make way for hipster-friendly hot spots. Yes, it hasn't escape me that since I only go to restaurants and not to other local businesses, it's rather ironic of me to decry hipsterism. In my defense, I own so little consumer goods that I can't use these other services.

The Empire is a shawarma place a few doors down from the defunct Paradise, once a repertory movie theatre. It's been around for at least a decade but I'm sure it has probably changed hands a few times. I've eaten there once about 10 years ago. Since it looks like every other shawarma place, I tend to pass it by. The $3.49 chicken wrap didn't interest me so I went upscale and got the $4.49 lamb wrap. To my surprise, the lamb was a juicy chunk of meat still wrapped around a bone. The meat is shredded and added to a large pita wrap (if you get it with the works). Quite a tasty and filling meal, though the second time the lamb wasn't quite as juicy. First time round, I got a salted lassi drink, which was a mistake as my taste buds simply could not get used to the sour + salty + silty flavour. Second time round, I grabbed the bottle of Coke (imported from the Middle East) I had spied on my previous visit. Not being a cola connoisseur, I can't tell you if it was made with cane sugar or HFCS.

South Indian Dosa Mahal is a non-descript (except for the bright pink walls) restaurant that specializes in thali platters, dosas, and a variety of fried food (to go) near Lansdowne. Customers look to be locals with a fair number of older indians in traditional garb. I usually get my dosa fix at Madras Masalas and only come to Lansdowne for some roti so I've given this place a pass. For my first visit, I tried the chapatti chicken thali which comprises 3 chapattis, 2 vegetarian curries, and a chicken curry. Everything was delicious except for the chicken. It had that greasy, cartilage taste of cheap meat. I should know - I've eaten more than my share of it growing up. You might want to try the lamb/goat or stick to vegetarian options. My second visit was a take-out of kottu roti: chopped up roti with egg and spices. A delicious and filling (2-day) meal when augmented with some vegetables and leafy greens at home. I shall have to return for the dosa (Dosa Mahal is ranked 1 spot higher than Madras Masala at blog.to) as well as the fried take-out.

Holy Oak came to the neighbourhood in March 2009. It is a small restaurant that does brunch on week-ends and have a dinner/lunch menu. It also hosts some local acts at night. As such, it caters more to the hipster crowd but I won't fault it for that. It reminded me very much of Grapefruit Moon down to the art on the wall, the mismatched tables and chairs, and even the estrogen-rich atmosphere (the owners and staff seem to be all women.) However, the brunch offerings were better prepared. I had an egg omelette with zucchini and eggplant smothered in harvarti, with a side of fruit salad and some herb-dusted potatoes. At $9, it's cheaper than Mitzi's on College though pricier than dear old Billy's Souvlaki House. I'll probably be back to try the organic beef sliders (mini-burgers).

Kathy's Kitchen serves country-style hungarian cuisine. This is stick-to-your-ribs schnitzel and other food low on greens and high on carbs and protein. I came for the chicken praprikash but they were all out. I settled for the beef stew on a dumplings. Some beef cubes were slightly cold and some were hot and a bit black - a sign of microwave reheating in my opinion. It wasn't bad but the reheating didn't do it any favours. The dumplings were actually little white balls of dough (photos here) and had no flavours of their own except to soak up some of the sauce. Without any vegetables, I can't imagine this dish (and others like it such as the aforementioned chicken praprikash) being a draw outside its original ethnic group. For dessert, I had langos, a fried dough slab (a bit like Ottawa's famous beaver tail snack) slathered in garlic and cheese. It tasted like a chinese You Tiao and a Vietnamese Banh Tieu. Fried dough always taste good, of course, but this was a little bit too much of a good thing. I'll head back here for one more round but nothing is really catching my eye here (except possibly Kathy's grown daughter). The owner mentioned to a customer that business has been slow. I wish them the best but I don't have much hope for this place - neither the food itself (e.g., Hungarian cuisine) nor their version of it hold that much appeal.