Happy Thanksgiving!
I can only imagine what Klingon Valentine's Day is like.
Totally stole this from Kay Kauffman! Who she might have gotten it from, I couldn't say--it's the internet, after all. She blogs over at:
https://suddenlytheyalldied.com/author/kaysielynn/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"
We got to see two movies on my vacation, and both are from reboots of established franchises:
Emily and I both came in to Ghostbusters with mixed feeling, considering all the negative feedback that's been going on. Some of it was from people who had not yet seen the movie, and I automatically disregard that. Some of it was from people who thought the new movie was a feminist propaganda piece, and who knows? Maybe it was meant that way. But if I stayed away from every movie pushing a left wing agenda, I'd sure have a lot more time to read.
No, I go to movies to be entertained, and in that Ghostbusters delivered in spades. It was certainly the second best of the three movies (sorry, you just can't beat the original), and while there are logical inconsistencies here and there, hey--it's a movie about ghosts. I wasn't looking for logic.
My only real problem is that I see no reason why it had to be a reboot, instead of a sequel. While the story could have been better, and for me the fight scene at the end seemed a bit too much, the movie was saved by its actors. The four lady Ghostbusters were great, but two people stole every scene they were in: Kate McKinnon's a riot as a nuclear engineer who seems to have spent too much time in her devices energy fields, and Chris Hemsworth ... well, he plays a dumb blonde who's hired as a secretary just for his looks, and you can see how that raised some conservation. But he's so friggin' hilarious in every single scene that I just don't care.
My score: Entertainment value, 4 M&Ms out of 4. The good brown ones, that make you think they're more chocolatey than they are.
Oscar potential: 2 M&Ms out of 4. Maybe for some kind of effects or something ... the Oscars aren't kind to comedies, anyway.
Then there's Star Trek Beyond, the third Star Trek movie since the reboot in which Star Trek and Star Wars had a baby. In this edition the Enterprise is attacked by a cloud of TIE fighter and the crew is stranded on the surface of Endor ...
Actually, this time around, for the first time since the reboot, the movie makers seem to have figured something out: Even though Spock would be super-cool with a lightsaber, Star Trek is supposed to be a bit more cerebral and a bit less ... laser blasters. It's more Star Trekkie, although it would be nice if the editors would cut way down on fast cuts. Am I getting older? Yes.
But there are two ways to judge a Star Trek movie: as a movie, or as Star Trek. You have to remember that this started out as a TV series, and it's not so easy going from the small to the big screen. Some of the worst of the series' movies may have, with some cutting, made much better episodes. As Star Trek this was better, complete with nice character moments and shout-outs to the universe's past, but there are plenty of things for hard core fans to not like. (starships on a planetary surface, for instance.) So from a standpoint of the franchise, Beyond was good, but not great.
As a space opera movie, it was great--a slam-bam mix of speed, phaser blasts, and stuff exploding. Oh, and there's some deep thinky stuff too, which actually brings us back to it being Star Trekkie again. The acting and effects were great, and while I'd prefer at least a bit more attempt to match the established science of the original shows, hey--sometimes the original shows didn't, either.
My score: Entertainment value, 4 M&Ms out of 4. Maybe not the brown ones, but still. With Ghostbusters I went in with low expectations, while with Star Trek I'd heard nothing but great things, so that may have painted my reaction.
Oscar potential: 2 M&Ms out of 4. Oscar doesn't like SF much, either.
The 13th b’ak’tun
K’iche froze, hammer still in the air, poised to make the last mark in a stone inscription he’d been working on for so many years. The noise from the courtyard outside, a weird, pulsing, roar that pierced the humid air, made his hair stand on end.
He rose partially to his feet, enough to give him a view through the window of the stone temple, and saw the morning sun eclipsed by the Blue Box.
Of course.
Willing his pulse to slow enough for him to keep his aim steady, K’iche sat back down and carefully made the last mark in the circular stone, exactly where the astronomers had instructed it should go. Then he carefully laid the hammer down and dropped to his knees, head bowed.
“Oh, hello!” The strangely garbed man strode in as if he owed the place – which he did, in a way – and unhesitatingly grabbed K’iche’s arm to help him up. “K’iche, yes? I’m the Doctor.”
“On behalf of all my people I am honored, god Doctor.” He refused to meet his guest’s eyes, instead gazing at an outfit of brown trousers, strange footwear and unknown materials.
“Yes, well …” The Doctor glanced behind him, and K’iche noticed a young woman, also dressed oddly, in the doorway. She nodded at the Doctor, giving him an encouraging – and pointed – look.
“Ah, yes – fantastic.” Producing a strange silver device, the Doctor waved it over the finished inscription. K’iche stumbled back when the little stick glowed and emitted a whine. “Just as I thought. Don’t worry, K’iche, this isn’t dangerous to you at all, much. As a, um, god, I need you to start a new inscription for me.”
Oh. Five more years bent over a stone tablet, carving out symbols. “It shall be as you wish, god Doctor. Your coming was prophesized by the great goddess of the River, but your purpose was not.” K’iche gestured up toward the inner wall of the temple, above the doorway. The others turned to see the carved outline of the Blue Box and proof of the god’s identity, the badge of honor he wore beneath his chin. “She told my great-grandfather that your tie of bow would bring coolness.”
“The goddess River –? Well, of course.” The Doctor put his magic stick away and again glanced back at the girl, who shrugged. And grinned. “Right. Well, what I need you to do is extend your calendar for another, oh, five thousand years or so.”
K’iche froze. Suddenly his moment of joy turned to terror. “I … wish to obey, god Doctor, but …”
“Yes?”
Encouraged by the god’s mild tone, K’iche took a breath. “We were instructed to extend our long count calendar to the 13th b'ak'tun only – Instructed by the god Itzamna himself.” He chanced a look at the Doctor’s angular face, and saw the god raise an eyebrow.
“Itzamna? Orange robe, weird hat, tall, skinny, insufferable?”
A pretty good description, actually. “Ah … very tall, orange robe, yes.” Considering the way Itzamna responded to a doubter among K’iche’s people by freezing the man solid – in the middle of summer – repeating any insults seemed unwise.
The girl gave the Doctor a questioning look. “One of you?”
“Not exactly.” The Doctor waved her off. “You let me worry about Itzamna. He won’t harm you, and he won’t destroy the calendar. But you have to understand, what you’d doing here, it’s a cause and effect thing. You’re at a crux point – if you don’t extend the end date, it really could bring terrible events beyond having to print up more calendars.”
K’iche didn’t really understand, but he got the point. “It shall be as you wish, god Doctor.”
“Just make sure you have the next thirteen b’ak’tun done by … well, there really isn’t much of a rush, is there? Before the first one runs out.”
The Doctor turned and swept through the door, followed by the girl. Frozen for a moment, K’iche had to hurry to catch up. He saw startled priests enter the courtyard, catch site of the Box and its occupants, and prostrate themselves. At least there would be witnesses. “But god Doctor –!”
“Take your time, do it right. Oh, and stop with the ritual sacrifices, would you? Those aren’t cool.” With a wave, the Doctor followed his companion through the wooden door with the strange markings.
The Blue Box wheezed and faded, leaving K’iche to explain his conversation with a god to people who, fortunately, could testify that he hadn’t been drinking too much fermented juice. Although a night of drinking might be a nice break before he started the new project.
#
Itzamna the god watched the chattering group of priests and astronomers go into the temple. They couldn’t see him, so he didn’t bother hiding his annoyance. Insurable Time Lord! For all the power his people wielded, the one unyielding rule they had was to never cross the Time Lords, especially this one. His plan to enjoy planetary fireworks in a few millennia had come to nothing.
Still … while he couldn’t destroy the new calendar, or stop the Mayans from making it, nothing said he couldn’t store it in a safe place once it was finished. Maybe … beneath the Antarctic ice cap? Then he’d still get his fun, when people of another era found the original calendar and realized it would end. After that maybe, rather than destroying humanity, he’d let them stick around and see how entertaining they could be, in what they thought of as the distant future. It might be best to wait until they achieved space flight before putting them on trial.
Yes. He was getting bored being Itzamna anyway – instead, it was time for him to do what he did best: Mess with people. What was the point of belonging to the Q Continuum if you couldn’t have some fun?![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
