Saturday, November 20, 2004
SUCKS TO YOUR ASS-MAR.
WILD PACK IN "LORD of FLIES"
From LIFE magazine, October 25, 1963
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Lord of the Flies is a strange and a dark novel and from it has been made a strange, dark and stunning film. Its story is bleakly pessimistic -- the disintegration into savagery of a group of English schoolboys marooned on a deserted island. Its actors are unknown -- youngsters selected not for their dramatic experience (they had none), but for their appearance. Nonetheless the film, like the novel, has become an astonishing success. It has particular appeal to college students--but leaves adults, as well, locked in though and awe.
When Lord of the Flies, the work of an English writer named William Golding, was first published in the U.S. in 1955 it was all but ignored. But when a paperback edition (Capricorn books, $1.25) hit the campus bookstores in 1959, it soon replaced J. D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye as THE book to read. Today more than 800,000 (10,000,000 by 2000) of these paper-backs have been sold, and the novel has been argued about by at least four or five million young people.
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Novelist Golding is somewhat at a loss to explain the popularity of Lord of the Flies. "Perhaps," he says, "it is because I don't make any excuses for society. The youngsters like that." The film tells Golding's story with lightning speed, and therefore may seem to have been an easy picture to make. It was not. For an account of the filming, and selection and behavior of the young actors involved in it.
A Gamble on Novices Works Almost too Well
by ROBERT WALLACE
An ordinary film director might have been apprehensive about the scene, the pig-eating, but this man, a brilliant young Englishman named Peter Brook,appeared quite relaxed. It was true that during the past two months the boy actors had undergone obvious changes, but it was also true that most of them were of English parentage, the inheritors, according to one notion, of such traits as dignity, reserve and a sense of the fitness of things. Their whole lives had conditioned them to recoil from eating, perhaps even touching, something that was so explicitly the carcass of a dead animal. Neither its hooves nor its head had been removed. In life it had been a scrawny Caribbean pig but now, blackened and shriveled on its wooden spit, it more resembled a roast dog.
Because the boys were not professionals, they could not make a convincing pretense of eating the pig. They actually had to devour it. An observer would not have given Peter Brook one chance in a hundred of bringing off the scene, particularly with these boys. Still, there was something faintly disturbing in their appearance, something that had nothing to do with costumes or cosmetics.
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There were 32 of them, the oldest 15, the youngest 7. Their long, sun-yellowed hair covered their ears and the backs of their necks; their tanned bodies were as thin and hard as the crude wooden spears some of them carried. They squatted in a pack on the rocky, dusty hilltop, the wind plucking at the rags that hung from them--rags that at one time had been white shirts, flannel shorts and school blazers. Their eyes had an extraordinary glitter, almost as bright as the sparks that flew up from the fire where the pig-dog sizzled.
Few of them, perhaps only one or two, understood the dark theme of William Golding's Lord of the Flies. Director Brook had explained it to them in simplest terms, but the thing had escaped them. The adult members of the company had, of course, read the book several times each; its meaning and its incessant use of symbolism had lodged in their heads to an extent that verged on the humorous. After an encounter with Golding's writing one commences compulsively to look for gloomy, hidden meanings in ordinary objects, the natural world and the everyday conversation of those, around him. It is a temporary ailment, but at that moment a few of the adults had bad cases of it. (Al said "Good morning" to me. What did he mean by that?)
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At length, Director Brook, a pudgy man who holds his forearms upraised, as though he had learned to deal poker at a table too high for him, called for action. The boys commenced to cut pieces off the pig-dog, at first handling the meat gingerly. But soon, without a word of instruction, they began to move faster. Their thin arms flailed above the pig; they tore at it with their bare hands. Faster and faster they moved, to the edge of control and beyond it, struggling over the meat, driven by something more than ordinary hunger. They became all teeth and glittering eyes.
The juices of the meat dribbled down their chins. Finally one of the boys, who had chewed all the flesh off the underside of a great blackened piece of skin, plastered the skin down over his fair Celtic hair and around his ears, so that he resembled a Viking in a leather helmet. "Cut!" Brook shouted. The cameras stopped, having recorded the perfect scene. But the boys continued to devour the flesh of the pig while the adult film makers silently eyed each other, no knowing what to say.
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When the day's shooting was over and the boys had removed their rags, bathed and put on ordinary clothing, they seemed at first glance little different from any group of summer campers, save for their long hair and jewel eyes. But a closer look made it clear that they were by no means ordinary; each of them, even at rest, had a luminous vitality that shot out of him like lamplight. They were strong, graceful and quick; boys who had caused the islanders to exclaim, "Ay, que lindo!" as men might exclaim over the beauty of young hawks or colts.
In was midsummer, 1961, and they were on a small island called Vieques. Seldom visited by travelers, Vieques lies 9 miles east of Puerto Rico and is part of that commonwealth, although the U.S. military controls about two thirds of it. The view from the boys' hilltop was one of great beauty, and had it not been for Novelist Golding the adults might thoroughly have enjoyed it. On one side, beyond a fringe of coconut palms, the Caribbean shelved off in deepening shades of blue until, arching upward, it yielded to the glaring, downward-driving sky. On the other side, in a valley, dozens of royal poinciana trees made a canopy of orange-red 15 feet above the ground.
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But because of Golding's story the beauty of the sea and of the valley seems only veneers. One could not regard the sea without assuming that its sharkish depths boiled with continual struggle and death. Beneath the canopies of the poincianas, ordinarily unnoticeable but now the very heart of the matter, the earth was vile, strewn with cow dung, thornbushes and spiny cactuses. There were foxholes, spent cartridges, empty ration-cans and worn-out storage batteries left by Marines on maneuver. A great mound of scabrous masonry, crawling with vines, marked the site of a sugar mill that someone long ago had had the foolishness to call Esperanza. In the spiky thickets were brown and black bulls which bellowed and fought, for no evident reason, in the dry heat.
It required about three months to shoot the film--Brook worked the boys hard, often 10 hours a day, and might have accomplished his task even sooner if it had not been for the boys' acting inexperience. Often he was obliged to make as many as a dozen takes of a single scene, and wound up with a Laocoon tangle of 415,000 feet of film, approximately four times the usual amount. But his great labor is not the most remarkable thing about Lord of the Flies; what is really extraordinary is that it has become a film at all.
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Golding's story is bleakly pessimistic. There is no love interest--there are no girls or women. Indeed there are no men, either, save a single naval officer who appears on the screen for perhaps a minute and has nothing to say. The entire cast consists of small boys, and to most audiences, child actors are insufferable.Lord of the Flies appears at first glance to be a simple adventure story. An airplane full of school-boys, being evacuated from England during some future nuclear war, crashes on a lush, uninhabited tropical island. The adults accompanying the boys are killed; their bodies and the wreckage of the plane are swept out to sea while the boys, unhurt, are scattered through the jungle. At first, under an elected leader named Ralph, they attempt to set up an organized society. But inexorably their society disintegrates, the boys become savages and murderers.
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At length only Ralph remains as the embodiment of civilization, and the wolf pack sets out to hunt him down and kill him. He hides in the jungle, but they burn it to drive him out. In the final scene he lies cringing on the beach, waiting for death, but is saved by the arrival of a landing party from a passing British cruiser, attracted to the island by the pall of smoke overhanging it. An officer stares at the painted, bloodthirsty savages, appalled, while "in the middle of them, with filthy body, matted hair and unwiped nose, Ralph weeps for the end of innocence and the darkness of man's heart...."
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One might suppose that Ralph's rescue is an optimistic note, but in a capsule summary of his meaning Novelist Golding demolishes even that. He is concerned with Original Sin: society fails, must fail, because its individual members are corrupt."The whole book," he writes, "is symbolic in nature except the rescue at the end where adult life appears, dignified and capable, but in reality enmeshed in the same evil as the symbolic life of the children of the island.The officer, having interrupted a manhunt, prepares to take the children off the island in a cruiser which will presently be hunting its enemy in the same implacable way. And who will rescue the adult and his cruiser?"
It required bold producers to tackle this work--particularly in 1960, when they made their decision to film it. The book was still a commercial failure at that time; the film-makers therefore were not trying to capitalize on a best-seller; they were dealing with a worst-seller. The book's present popularity is simply a stroke of good fortune, of the sort that all to seldom hits men of good intent.The co-producers are Lewis Allen and Dana Hodgdon, both Americans. "We went into this," Allen says, "because the book on its own terms is a work of art, a valid statement of a position whether you agree with it or not. We hoped to make money, but we weren't going to make any compromises. First of all, we wanted to make a good film."
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Director Brook, for his part, undertook the task "because it was an impossible thing to do." Brook, 36, was at one time the enfant extraordinaire of the British theater--at 22 he directed Alec Guinness in Sartre's No Exit. Thereafter, working at Stratford-on-Avon with actors of the caliber of John Gielgud and Laurence Olivier, he became one of the world's foremost Shakespearean directors. In New York he has staged such plays as The Fighting Cock with Rex Harrison, The Visit with the Lunts, and musical Lran la Douce. "Impossible" may not have been precisely the word Brook intended to use; he meant that the film would have seemed impossible to the Hollywood mind, which would have raised so many objections that the work might not have commenced until 1970.For perhaps five seconds Brook considered the possibility of using professional actors in the film, and then with a grimace of distaste decided on amateurs. His headquarters, in the spring of 1961, were in New York, where English school-boys are not commonly to be found. However, the problem was solved by a 23-year-old Harvard man named Micheal Macdonald, son of the critic Dwight Macdonald, who was employed as a recruiter. "Get me some intelligent boys, "Brook said. "boys who have interesting personalities that show in their faces. No squares. They must be alive and responsive, and I would expect them to be slightly dotty. Any real human being is, of course."
Accordingly Macdonald looked in the telephone book under English, British and Anglo-, and soon found himself talking to polite but startled members of the English community whose worst apprehensions about America were obviously being confirmed. "Who? Who? Oh, yes Lord what? No, I'm afraid I'm not acquainted with him." Nevertheless a few, once they became convinced that Macdonald was sane and in earnest, offered their boys to the project--the film was to be shot during July and August, and had the prospect of an interesting paid summer vacation.
The English parents were furnished with copies of Golding's novel and most of them read it. They were predisposed in its favor because it was, after all, an English book about an adventure in the tropics--something like The Coral Island, on doubt. None of them noticed, or at any rate remarked about the fact, that several pages at the end of the book had been artfully razored out. These pages contain a commentary which makes Golding's meaning crystalline, and some explanations of the symbolism, as, "The entire incident is a horrid parody of an Oedipal wedding might..."
When he had exhausted the possibilities of the telephone book, and still had found painfully few candidates, Macdonald has a notably logical conference with himself, "Where does on find English schoolboys?" he asked, and answered, "Well, maybe at the circus, or down at the docks getting off the Queen Elizabeth." For some time he haunted the docks and actually saw several schoolboys, but never signed up any. If the resident members of the English community had been startled by his approach, the new arrivals were flabbergasted. "The cinema?" Had there been a battle between gangsters and G-men on the pier, it could not have been more closely in accord with the American image. Mcdonald had no better luck at the circus. "I went there every day for two weeks, afternoon and evening," he says with a tight-lipped, faraway look. "The parents were not receptive, and the police. . . "
Ultimately Macdonald was obliged to go far afield and to round up candidates who were not English but looked as though the might be. He roamed through dozens of private schools and followed leads supplied by friends of friends. In all, he saw approximately 2,000 boys in New York, Boston, Washington and elsewhere, and paraded the likeliest of them before Pete Brook, who selected the necessary 34. Only one, a highly talented 10-year-old named Hugh Edwards, who plays the role of the tormented fat boy, Piggy, lives in England. Many were born there, or in the U.S., South Africa, Germany, Jamaica, the Sudan or other corners of the earth where their parents happened to be stationed.
Peter Brook's selection of the boys was perhaps as excellent as his direction of the film. Because all were amateurs, he had no conception of their acting abilities. He was obliged to read their faces, searching for intelligence, savagery, compassion and ignorance; to cast them not from an agent's book of photographs and biographies but from life itself. Several critics have referred to the "superb" or "excellent" acting of the boys, but in the main they were not acting at all; they were merely being themselves. The New Yorker, for example, notes that "the flat, adenoidal monologue on which he [Piggy] tells his mates everything about his home town Camberley is an inspired episode." But in fact, young Hugh Edwards was simply photographed as Piggy, talking in a Piggyish manner to his friends on the set, and director Brook shrewdly included the footage. The point cannot be pushed very far; boys become men and men wear masks; but at least during the casting, Peter Brook has a most penetrating view.
When the boys were at last assembled on the island of Vieques, it might have been difficult for a compassionate observer to look at them without feelings of anxiety--so young, so sensitive and so impressionable, about ot be exposed to the ebony pessimism of Lord of the Flies and the anthracite intellect of Brook. Moreover the boys were housed not in a hotel, or even in private lodgings that might have given them a sense of home. They lived in an abandoned but refurbished pineapple cannery, where the wind and rain clattered on the tin roof and small green lizards patrolled the walls. But if an observer did feel any uneasiness for the boys, the feeling was of short duration.
Among the first to feel the impact of these sensitive, impressionable boys were some American collage men serving as counselors, who lived with them in the cannery. "Brilliant young fellows," said one, "but quite a handful." Next day he quit, returning home to take a job in a dynamite plant.
The boys soon commenced to make their own movie, using borrowed 8-mm equipment. Its plot was simple enough--robbery and murder. Its title was Something Queer in the Warehouse.
Perhaps dissatisfied with the quality of the available Spanish-language periodicals, the boys began to publish their own mimeographed magazine. A random selection from it begins, "It was a cold dark night when the monster struck. It was hairy with long nails and sharp teeth. It stalked through the alley until it saw a woman... The woman was mangled and torn to bits; there was blood all over the place."
To be sure, they were all enchanting youngsters and it would be libelous to suggest otherwise. Nonetheless there remains the experience of another of the counselors, who came into the pineapple cannery one day and found a fair-haired youth, his lap full of lizards, pitching them skillfully one at a time into the whirring blades of an electric fan.
"Why are you doing THAT?" asked the counselor. "It is interesting," replied the boy in clipped, British tones, "to see how many pieces the lizards will be cut into."
One could almost hear William Golding, 4,000 miles away in England, chuckling into his beard.
_______________________________________
moled at 11/20/2004 09:49:00 PM
Goodnight, I have been out yesterday and today, out of the house, out of my room. and the queerness that was once there is gone, and everything seems so naturally normal, as if i always spend my days out with my closest friends spending my parent's money, eating out and shopping. yesterday was a divine and peaceful day with desiree and lynn!!!! it was The Shopping Day, the year-long anticipated day, and (YES!) we went to paragon, to united colors of benetton, the shop of the world. actually it is only their advertisements and packaging that give it this idea. i am fooled! shitty darn. we went to the marketplace at paragon where there is reese's peanutbutter cups, red and green peanut butter m&ms, lifesavers, ben and jerrys, and odd japanese and caucasians. we got giant pink puffs of perfume because we lingered purposefully at the anna sui perfume counter after spotting it, and the salespeople gave it to us, with perfume samples! i felt like an elf on steroids. and today, i went swimming with yuhui except we just bounced for about an hour because it was extremely cold, so cold i got goosebumps underwater. she came to my house for the first time and examined my room and photos while apparently suhern talked to himself while playing neopets all day! ('ah! must win!' 'ah! got money!') the poor chubby thing! then we devastatingly found out that birth is m18 and we went to marks and spencer and examined all the new items like snow balls (chocolate in crispy white shell of chocolate, really looks like snow), silver box of chocolates with children on the cover, drawer of chocolate biscuits, santa chocolate lollipops, snowmen chocolate lollipops, and the old items like soda water, lemon drops and all. marks and spencer is a great shop. we met carol and lingered at the peaceful paragon, paragon again. we also saw wicked aura and other buskers (tutti frutti-sisters from australia in pink swimsuits and psychedelic flower hairnets, playing 'wipe out!' and pretending to be water-skiing). we went to the children's section of paragon and we saw chicken dance elmo, ernie, elmo stuffed toy, cookie monster stuffed toy, mary-janes for little girls, barbie dolls, cluedo, monopoly, gross frilly frocks, lego and everything to make me wonder what i did as a kid during holidays. i had monopoly marathons with my brother, probably my only real childhood playmate. i lost almost everytime, and we hid in my grandfather's balcony to scare him after his sleep, equipping ourselves with torches, books, paper, stationary, food and water. he escaped to watch cartoons halfway and i was furious. i took photos of him just now. i mean as he slept, because that is when you remember only the best things about the person when you look at them.
i am itching for activity. the prospect of having weeks ahead of me before my holiday is astounding. i cannot believe how much time i have and how much power i have to do whatever i want!!!! i could read books and plays the whole way and feel ever so enriched at the end of all that, but then i am itching for more excitement and i want a job in the ben and jerry's scoop shop in the zoo, it will be a HEAVENLY job!!!!! tourists!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! everywhere!!!!!! ben and jerry's! in front of me! clouds above me! (ben and jerry's sign has clouds in it) i must call tomorrow! or, maybe i can be a...chambermaid in a hotel. it sounds absolutely stupid but of course, it will be fun. or i could give tuition to some moronic little child and earn tons of money from the parents, and what an easy job that will be!!! glee! maybe i shouldn't get a job at all, or a non-heavy one (tuition) and just spend my days reading, exercising and filming things and thinking of christmas. that sounds jolly too. i am reduced to ranting here, this saturday night, i have sunburn again without even noticing any strong sun.
dear maths friends who have a re-paper to take, do you want to partake in a mathematics camp in the first week of december, to study for maths? we could go to castle green, you all can study maths (REALLY study) and i can relax or teach or pick my nose and then we can watch movies there, or take an mrt for movies and when we are hungry we can cook baked beans or noodles or sausages or anything and when we are tired we can sleep on the beds, when we are restless we can swim downstairs, and this could go on for 2, 3 days. call me.
also, the 60s carnival!!!!! do not forget that!!!!!!!!!!! there is austin powers tomorrow. going out after so long of staying at home, rather than have negativity towards others perished, i am gaining far greater pleasure from criticizing everyone around me than i ever had. strangers. but then i remember what mrs liew said about me being negative and it is true!!!!!!!!! it is an obsession with criticizing others! i must achieve peace by the end of this holiday.
SUCKS TO YOUR ASS-MAR
moled at 11/20/2004 06:10:00 AM
Thursday, November 18, 2004
the more you blog, the more you depend emotionally on it. there is something odd about the whiteness and nakedness of this background.
i did it. i did all the photos, organised them and put them into the albums the best way i could. and they are lovely and delicate. the clouds, sunshiney family photos, eyelashes, esmonde's golden and green makeup and brown eyes, fiery clouds. i find it painful to watch people look at photographs sometimes. it's hard to find someone who would judge every photo equally and be equally interested in every photo, regardless of whether they are in it or whether people they like are in it or whether it has clouds or not. my father looks only quickly at photos without his children in it, but look longer at those with his children in it. my mother doesn't pay much attention to the clouds and brother only pays attention to what he finds worthy of sniggering at. then there are those who skim past normal photos and madly scrutinize those with them in it, laughing at themselves and how silly they look, and really, in their hearts, wanting to look for a few more seconds at how they turned out in the photo but then suddenly aware of the people around them. i love blur photos, they are elusive and queer. conventional father says to develop only clear ones. there was one series of photos taken on a rainy day as i was nearing school. there were photos of rain on the window and a green fence in the background, raindrops splattering heavily onto the road, red car lights flashing everywhere, the back of a car with red light tainting the entire windscreen, the whole thing was like a battlefield. and i slotted the cloud photos here and there mostly, except for those i could remember when i took, like the most fiery clouds i ever saw, just before esmonde's and grace's duologue begin, at the spot right above johnathan and dawn's duologue area, the sky is light and actually dark blue, the clouds are stark white and normal white and have a fierce lining, sprawled across the sky. the most breathtaking clouds i have seen. i am in love with the photos! they are ever-lovely. anyone who wants to see them, just tell me.
startling realisation that the 60s carnival is next week, so anyone who wants to go also tell me. $27 for entrance to the 60s carnival, with face and body painting, food, tarot card reading, aura reading, and performances by the beatels, a tribute band to the beatles. can go in hippy or 60s clothes. peacey. i feek very far away from my friends today (the peak of my staying home, 5 days now), but happy and life hangs in the balance at night. the earth revolves slowly and peacefully, black and blue and green swirling, nightlights twinkling. the volcanos on venus the planet of love explode in slow motion, the red hot lava disintegrating as it flies outwards to starry space. the blue-gray craters on mars smooch and suck in and out, giving out ice cool breath. the little prince floats by on a star, a dark turquoise flower from neptune in his stardust sandy hair that gives out a warm glow, and he sings, 'fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars. let me see what spring is like on jupiter and mars.'
moled at 11/18/2004 05:09:00 AM
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
FUNNY FUNNY all this is having a detrimental effect on me but i am enjoying the detriment. i mean, staying at home for 5 days in a row is having an effect on me. a very twitchy, cranky, mad, surreal, effect. actually, no! it was only TODAY, TODAY, when i cleaned my room for a few hours and it is now so nice to see empty squares of blood red carpet, free of clutter. clutter messes up the mind. now everything is tucked away neatly, excellently, efficiently, by the energizer bunny that is me, who almost had a heart seizure and proceeded to feel dizzy and nauseous.
yee han is such an ingrate. i tell her about all the ecards i send people, and she curses me, calling me a flirty scumbag because i sent her an email saying 'jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock'.
MY ROOM IS SO NEAT!!!!!!!! SO MESSILY CLUTTEREDLY NEAT!!!!!!!!! BOOKS NICELY ARRANGED ON THE SHELVES, SO I CAN SEE THE LOVELY SPINE OF THE VIRGIN SUICIDES, TOUCH THE SPINDLY METALLIC LETTERS OF HARRY POTTER 5'S BOOK SPINE, SEE ALL THE BABY BLUE BOOKS ACCORDING TO NUMBER, ALL MY PRECIOUS ROALD DAHL BOOKS THERE (I FOUND MATILDA!), AND I THREW AWAY ABOUT 10 SPOILT BURNT CDS, ARRANGED MY TABLE TO CREATE NAIL POLISH/SOAP/EMPTY SOAP BOTTLES/NICE-SMELLING-SOAP CORNER MEASURING A FEW CM BY A FEW CM, PUT ALL MY UNREAD BOOKS IN THE PENSYLVANIAN GREEN SIMPLE ACID LIME SHOE BOX AND THREW AWAY SO MANY THINGS!!!!!!!!!! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i wish my carpet was clean enough for me to lie on it, and sleep here, right here, in my precious cucumber room with the zillion mites my fragrant friends.
my friends!!!!! one is online (yeehan), the rest are everywhere! some are filming, some are at home, and hundreds more are doing i-don't-know-what. oh my friends!!!!!!!
AMAZING RACE!!!! SHITTYYYYYY!!!!! avi and joe went out, i am so sad, because they are so eccentric in saying that one is a nerd maths logical genius and the other is tall jewish arty boy, and i thought they'd go far. the most pitiable first-to-go people EVER!!!!! horny hellboy! he has very stupid hair!!!!!! all shaved except for 2 little 2-cm long, sticking-in-the-air ponytails at the tip of his forehead. and the grandparents are probably the least pathetic grandparents to ever join a reality show, besides rudy from survivor 1. they are called don and mary jean. mary jean is rather spunky, shotr gray hair, interesting glasses, and said if they are last team to arrive she will want to jump off a bridge, or something. surprisingly able to climb glacier faster than some others. also as they were walking in mountain, mary jean said 'we should walk and try not to sprain our ankles'. that is a pathetic state to fall into, it is. poor, poor new york jewish boys avi and joe. POOR THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
i really should spend tomorrow out of the house. i feel like i am betraying my room. no, today i am going to read, watch scrubs, eternal sunshine, do organiser, and the 532 photos. oh i am so upset. yeehan the scrooge just wished me a merry f********************** christmas.
'my ship is long, hard and full of seamen' said ever dearest beloved precious poochy woochy coochie doctor evil.
moled at 11/17/2004 10:14:00 PM
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
http://im1.shutterfly.com/procserv/47b4cf37b3127cce9b3013d856ae00000016108FZsXDRq2E
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is about an eccentric chocolatier Willy Wonka, and Charlie, a good-hearted boy from a poor family who lives in the shadow of Wonka's extraordinary factory. Long isolated from his own family, Wonka launches a worldwide contest to select an heir to his candy empire. Five lucky children, including Charlie, draw golden tickets from Wonka chocolate bars and win a guided tour of the legendary candy-making facility that no outsider has seen in 15 years. Dazzled by one amazing sight after another, Charlie is drawn into Wonka's fantastic world in this astonishing and enduring story.
OPENS JULY 15TH 2005
what a magical date
moled at 11/16/2004 07:38:00 PM
I just spent an hour coming up with a list of movies i watched this year!!!!! to do that, i sat quietly and contentedly at my table and read through my organiser, from the start of the year, all the way till now. it is FULL of my scribbles and i am glad that i write down what i did everyday. it's nice to remember. for example, reading/deciphering it, i remembered one day when we all trooped down to the esplanade for monologues (i think) and then i wrote that esmonde, conan, michelle, carol and vanessa and i had a funny dinner at the thai cafe there! i remember esmonde kept doing disgusting things, and we were talking about chinese high or something. and then there are the little going-out things after school-days, rides on 36 to town, going-outs after cleanups or during breaks during tsd a-level period, and plays and movies and all that!!!!!!!! whew! it's amazing. one day i wrote: harris said he has long hair! another day: harris said he is 52! amazing! another day: SICK SICK SICK other days: dying, dying lolita haze. oh, and so much more. i am quite blown away. i wrote that i can be a summer bummer when i grow up. WHAT IS THAT?!
Anyway, here is a sort of list of my favourite movies that i've watched this year for the first time. i say sort of because i really can't make up my mind on a lot of things in my life.
Dirty Dancing 2
The Butterfly Effect
Shrek 2
Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind
I Capture The Castle
FORREST GUMP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Connie & Carla
THE RETURN!!!!!!
Shakespeare In Love
The Terminal
2046
The Waterboys
My Best Friend's Wedding
Bridget Jones' Diary
Favourite movies of all time (the most overwhelmingly happy/disturbing/etc):
The Royal Tenenbaums
The Return
Love Actually
Love me if you dare
Forrest Gump
Rat Race
Amelie
Austin Powers: Goldmember
10 Things I Hate About You
My Best Friend's Wedding
Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind
The Terminal
This morning i realised how lovely it was to send emails and e-cards!!!! and started sending. i sent carol a happy giving birth to a baby card. i sent many more randomly according to what suited who. i shall send more tomorrow! to everyone! i want those with animations and music and which give a little scare. i sent yee han this email:
GUESS WHAT I HAVE JUST DISCOVERED THE JOY OF SENDING EMAILS, ALL OVER AGAIN.
THE JOY WAS CRUSHED VERY QUICKLY BY THE FACT THAT YOU WON'T READ THIS ANYTIME SOON AT ALL.
she replied:
Nonsense. I aired my armpits and screamed very girlishly when the internet connection was successfully made.
that is absolutely disgusting.
Anyway i have a map of the earth at night, a humongous nap!!!! it is dark except for blue seas, green land and white light (normal electricity), red light (forest fires), yellow light (coal mining?), dotting it here and there everywhere. What i really want for christmas is to go to space. or at least a really really good dream about it which remains vividly in my memory. i've been trying to think of things to film with my videocamera, since i've been home and the people at home can't be filmed ALL the time. oh yes! film my grandmother sleeping in front of tv getting awakened by me!!!! also something about love between the characters on the posters on my door. i can feel my past intense love for austin powers suddenly rising up again. or was it doctor evil? mini me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! did i just say i love them?!?!?!?! well, i suppose i do.
Oh, god! my father just sent my mother a handphone message from his friend's phone which is a photo of himself!!!!! he must have gotten carried away with his friend's camera phone and requested to send something! he looks like a smiling hamster. he is at a wedding dinner now, which he just remembered today at work. tee hee hee!!!!!!
groovy, baby.
moled at 11/16/2004 05:25:00 AM
Monday, November 15, 2004
"Why is it everytime you are around me, you behave like a goddamn imbecilic, idiotic, totally IDIOTIC moron??!!?!?!?!?!!!!"
moled at 11/15/2004 09:02:00 PM
Sunday, November 14, 2004
The American Music Awards! Live! clay aiken appeared on screen with a short insane woman in a bridal gown who wanted to marry him. and he looked like a fabulous willy wonka. next, they only so much as mentioned john mayer throughout the entire thing. next, they said they would play 2 relatively unplayed beatles songs on the show, for the first time on network tv. i KNEW they wouldn't play 'she loves you'. then suddenly at the end, who appears but RINGO, and i go 'he's alive!!!!! HE'S ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!' he looks like a russian punk cat. no more gross mutated ringo hair, eyes, nose and mouth!!!!! :( and he said something along the lines of: hello. i cannot be with you all at the american music awards because, well, i am here, at england. and so on, and he said to enjoy the clip. AND IT WAS 'SHE LOVES YOU'!!!!! a live performance about 40 years ago!!!!!! on a crowded stage with fans and a man hijacking man in the background twisting his body!!!!!!!! YES!
And i feel like such an expert already on the video camera. Oh, yes. Expert, me. I have filmed seconds of my cousin twisting his hair and lying on the bed in a rare moment of seriousness and honesty, as well as captured a conversation between my brother and cousin talking about who kylie minogue really is. i am so good at capturing the intricacies of life on film.
Oh and by the way, beautiful turban butterfly lady who lives in a white world with a pink fluffy feather duster and curvy spiny cat eye glasses and a turban wrapping your long curly pink hair, i did not become an ogl, and i wish to reside in your powerfully disinfected good world forever. movies that make me feel that way are my best friend's wedding, the royal tenenbaums, the terminal, to name a few.
AND THEY CALLED IT PUPPY LOVE
AND I GUESS THEY'LL NEVER KNOW HOW THE YOUNG HEARTS REALLY FEEL
AND THEY CALLED IT PUPPY LOVE
JUST BECAUSE WE'RE IN OUR TEENS
(SNIGGER SNIGGER)
SOMEONE HELP ME, HELP ME! HELP ME, PLEEEEEEEEASE.
OH HOW CAN I TELL THEM, THIS IS NOT A...NOT A PUPPY LOVE.
I have found out that my amazing video camera can record with all sorts of colours (black and white) and effects like everything looks like it's painted, pixelated, or trailing to name a few. i can use the trailing one to film my cousin/sister peeing/bathing, grandmother shouting, sister crying. i should film something about bathtime and swimming.
Happy holidays, and don't ever forget to send me a christmas card.
moled at 11/14/2004 09:06:00 PM
