Year: 2006

  • A Scientific Romance, Ronald Wright

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Picador, 1997, 352 pages, C$32.00 hc, ISBN 0-312-18172-8

    As a unapologetic genre reader, few questions fascinate me more than the relationship between genre fiction and so-called “literary fiction”. What distinguishes a novel written from inside a genre from a novel written by a generalist, even though the two stories may share common elements? Part of the difficulty in answering the question comes from the idea that genre has its own gravitational pull: genre writers often start as young genre readers and keep reading in the genre (steadily but not exclusively, one hopes) until they’re ready to put pen to paper. It’s exceedingly rare that someone without any knowledge of a genre will write in it.

    So when a book like Ronald Wright’s A Scientific Romance makes it in print, it offers a unique case study in how a smart outsider can write science-fiction without it necessarily being shaped by classic science-fiction. Wright is not a child of the SF ghetto: he’s a trained historian, an essayist and an academic. As an orphan work standing in the genre but not being linked to it, A Scientific Romance offers a glimpse into the common, sometimes unexamined engines of SF.

    Actually, it’s not completely true to say that A Scientific Romance is not linked to genre SF: it’s just that its inspiration goes back a few decades earlier than most quick Heinlein knockoffs. A Scientific Romance uses no less an authority than H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine as an explicit jump-off point (it must help that Wells is widely acknowledged as a literary giant). Here, our academic narrator gets is given a previously-unknown Wells letter announcing the return of the putative Time Machine. Everyone else thinks it’s a joke, but our narrator (haunted by the memory of a dead girlfriend) wants to believe. Carefully arriving at the appointed time and place, he finds the machine and starts refurbishing it, planning ahead for a little trip in the future.

    The problem with using Wells as a distinguished ancestor is that you’re likely to miss out on what’s been done since, and so Wright pointedly ignores the whole body of SF time-travelling tales. This, interestingly enough, doesn’t damage the book as much as you may think: It allows A Scientific Romance to go places without being burdened by the baggage of genre SF, and helps give the book a very different flavour.

    Alas, it’s a flavour leavened by endless rumination. Wright is an intellectual and so is his narrator, so it’s not sufficient to sketch a love triangle, a dead girlfriend and a twisted personal history. Oh no: There has to be pages after pages of endless introspection, of flashbacks, of self-pity and recrimination. Personal guilt is the fuel of literature, and there’s plenty of that in this novel, starting from the fact that the book is written as to the narrator’s dead girlfriend. At some point, you just want to slap the poor sap and tell him to be a genre protagonist, suck it up, buy survival equipment, step in the time machine and go get himself a foxy girl from the future.

    By the time he actually cranks up the time machine and goes off flying in 2500, we have almost forgotten that this in fact supposed to be a time-travel novel. But if you were expecting the wonders of an advanced civilization or the wide-screen spectacle of an evolved humanity, brace yourself: Wright is a serious literary writer, and so his future London can only be abandoned, half-destroyed and overgrown with tropical abandon.

    The most interesting element of this second part is seeing the protagonist use his training as an archaeologist and slowly piece together the factors that led to the fall of civilization. Clues can be found in the most unlikely places, and if the novel has a sharp commonality with genre fiction, it’s in those sections describing the future past in bits and pieces. A few scenes of uncommon power are to be found here and there, such as the brief passage where the narrator finds a building with four tall chimneys and, nearby, a bulldozer. Brrr. [P.202]

    But this interest progressively phases out, even as the narrator meets the devolved remnants of the English people, indulges in a bit of anthropology, gets crucified for his sins and discovers what happened to him in another future. Naturally, human hubris gets blamed, along with the dangers of modern science and yadda-yadda: Someone should tell Wright that this story has been done before. Despite a good final chapter with flashes of interest, the novel sinks in the same self-introspective morass that nearly doomed its first section. In the manner of ruminative literary novels anywhere, there is no victory, no breakthrough, no palpable happy ending; just resignation at impending death, and a shrugging acceptance of the end of civilization.

    In genre SF terms, there isn’t much in A Scientific Romance that hasn’t been done better elsewhere. The book is interesting, but more as an exercise in contrasts than a pure reading experience… although mileage may vary according to attachment to genre fiction. There’s a reason why genre readers don’t care too much for introspection, defeatism or knee-jerk rejection of science: It’s dull and, from a certain perspective, it’s exactly the kind of things that genre Science Fiction seeks to disprove.

  • Tau Man Ji D [Initial D] (2005)

    Tau Man Ji D [Initial D] (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, June 2006) It takes some skill to make a boring racing film, and that’s almost what this is: Initial D feels limp and repetitive, hampered by subplots that go nowhere and a rhythm that seldom gets above first gear. Eschewing the technicolor craziness of movies such as The Fast And The Furious: Tokyo Drift, Initial D is down-to-earth and plausible, which makes the film seem even longer. We’re scarcely given any chance to get excited about the sullen protagonist, let alone find any reason to cheer for him. The accidental way in which he worms himself in a series of racing competition seems to reflect a passive observer more than an active participant. While the races themselves are well directed, the lack of diversity is a serious problem, not to mention the hum-drum nature of the featured cars. But the film at least has a special kick during the racing scenes –which is more than we can say about the non-racing subplots, the worst of which has to be a half-hearted romance with a spectacularly unsatisfying wrap-up. I suppose that a greater familiarity with the source manga might have helped, because the film on its own just doesn’t hold up.

  • Rize (2005)

    Rize (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, June 2006) There is a lot to like about David LaChapelle’s debut film, a documentary about the clowning/krumping dance movement. The advantages of tracking such recent cultural phenomenons is that it’s easy to reach back to the original movers and shakers, which in this case means spending time with “Tommy The Clown”, who first defined clowning. As with most things involving the American black community, there is a huge sociocultural element to Rize, and the film never shies away from it, telling once more the story of the ghettoized blacks of Los Angeles, and how clowning/krumping can be a way to rise above day-to-day life. (In a striking segment, LaChapelle reaches deep into archival footage to show African tribal dances, which share a strong similarity to the “modern” dance movement studied by the film.) When Rize truly gets into its subject, it’s gripping stuff: The “Battle Zone” sequence has a strong narrative drive, and its conclusion is the type of thing that breaks your heart. The dance footage itself is nothing short of beautiful, especially when LaChapelle breaks out the mineral oil for some final staged sequences near Los Angeles River. “The footage in this movie has not been sped up in any way.” the film tells us, which is ironic because it’s often most astonishing when it’s slowed down. Alas, if Rize has a problem, it’s that it could have used more narrative cohesion. Granted, the whole city of Los Angeles often seems like an alien culture to me, but still: I often felt as if the film needed commentary, context and explanations. (I’m not sure that this review is coherent, but I can guarantee it would have been even less so if it hadn’t been for Wikipedia.) Yet Rize remains fascinating, even when it’s difficult to figure out what’s happening: the wonders of pure energy.

  • Horloge Biologique [Dodging The Clock] (2005)

    Horloge Biologique [Dodging The Clock] (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, June 2006) Films about relationships are really not what I look for when I sit down to watch a DVD, but Horloge Biologique was such as success at the Quebec box-office that it was impossible to put off watching it much longer. It starts broadly enough, sketching portraits of three guys in the middle thirties are they each come to terms with much-delayed adulthood, settling down and having children. Ricardo Trogi’s direction is sharp and crisp, and the comedy seems relatively innocuous at first, headed toward the usual redemptive character arc. But that changes as the male characters are further defined as repulsive bastards, ones that can’t be bothered to make the right decisions even if it’s obvious. The female characters don’t fare much better: though presumably more level-headed than their boyfriends, they’re underwritten to such a degree that their roles as plot objects for the benefit of the protagonists becomes only too obvious. By the time the film wound down, I was actively hoping for a bus to mow down all characters. While I have to acknowledge the film’s ruthlessness (not everyone gets a happy ending, and even fewer of them deserve one) and competence in achieving exactly what it sets out to do, it’s too easy to loathe everyone in it.

  • The Codex, Douglas Preston

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Tor, 2004, 404 pages, C$10.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-765-34629-X

    Over the years, Douglas Preston has established himself as one-half of the Preston/Child team behind such preposterously entertaining thrillers as Relic, The Ice Limit or The Cabinet of Curiosities. But he also has a number of solo works on his shelves, The Codex being the latest of them.

    Fans of the Preston/Child thrillers will certainly feel right at ease as soon as the premise of the novel is explained. From the moment the three mismatched Broadbent brothers are summoned to their rich father’s side for a mysterious meeting, our interest is sparked: why is said father missing, his house empty of its treasure trove of valuables? It takes only one videotape to clear up the mystery and start the adventure: As a team-building exercise, their dying father has squirrelled away most of his fortune and hidden it somewhere in the world, in what will either become their inheritance or his tomb. Their only chance to retrieve the vast family fortune is to unite their forces and go treasure-hunting.

    A more straightforward thriller would see the three brothers shake hands on the deal and set off for primitive countries. But such a thriller would last about fifty pages and please no one. So the brothers all decide to forget about it and return to their lives. But the idea stays on, and it doesn’t take much time for all three brothers to either initiate the chase or be manipulated into following their father’s trace. They won’t go alone, of course, and it’s their companions that will determine their chance of success. From that moment, it’s the good, the bad and the clueless: Tom is the no-nonsense veterinarian reluctantly pressed into service by a young woman and the promise of invaluable medicinal information, the “codex” of the title. Philip is a haughty academic who soon finds himself way over his head as the quasi-prisoner of the private investigator he hired to help things along. Meanwhile, placid third brother Vernon bumbles from one adventure to another as his guru seems unusually concerned about the One Hundred Million Dollars! at the end of the chase. The three brothers separately set out to get the treasure, but they may not be alone in their quest…

    The cover blurb on the cover of the paperback edition bills the novel as “Raiders of the Lost Ark meets The Amazing Race!” and indeed, the novel is never as gripping as when the initial pieces are placed on the table, and we are promised a vast chase across the jungle as different teams all race toward the treasure. It’s a fabulous hook for a thriller, and for a while it looks as if The Codex is destined for great things.

    What follows is not exactly a disappointment, but it’s not quite up to the initial expectations. As all adventurers make their way deeper in the jungle, the usual adventure thrills are all here to be found: natural dangers, isolated tribes, character infighting and so on. Making everything a bit better are a few surprises to shake things up, and a number of amusing supporting characters. But the teams soon converge and end up with the classical good-versus-evil face-off, with too much book left to string along. The last act really stretches things a bit past the point of comfortable disbelief, creating a nagging sense of let-down.

    It doesn’t help that some subplots never achieve liftoff. A lengthy stateside digression involving a CEO is notable for an atypical ending, but it seems superfluous in the context of this novel. Worse: its interaction with another subplot where a troublesome love interest is morally dismissed smacks of cheap plotting.

    Nevertheless, The Codex is still a lot of fun, especially if it’s been a while since your last jungle-bound adventure. As for myself, I ended up reading it in unfortunate proximity with James Rollin’s earlier Amazonia (which sports a Douglas Preston blurb on its jacket, interestingly enough) and that may just be too many jungle thrillers to handle in the same fortnight.

    Taken on its own, though, The Codex is a serviceable thriller: exactly the kind of page-turner that’s a delight to read on the bus or on the beach. Its easy fluency with genre elements augurs well for Preston’s solo career. Indeed, back-cover indications show that Tom Broadbent makes a return appearance in Tyrannosaur Canyon. We’ll see about that.

    [June 2006: What about James Rollin’s Amazonia, you ask? Well, here’s the paradox: Even if Rollin’s curiously similar book (down to paternal matters) has a grander scope and a better pacing, it’s not quite so much fun to read as The Codex. Rollin’s characters are a bit flatter, and if his ideas are generally more wild and interesting than Preston’s, he is seldom as slick as his colleague in delivering the expected adventure. On the other hand, Amazonia is one of Rollin’s top books so far, proving that he’s getting better with time.]

  • The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift (2006)

    The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, June 2006) There’s something about this series, I don’t know what, that hits all of the buttons that come pre-installed with the Y chromosome. I’m no car freak, and yet plunk me in front of a The Fast And The Furious instalment and watch me cheer over the hot cars, the race sequences and the kissing girls. (It’s not a Fast And Furious film if there are no kissing girls.) Here, the action takes us to Japan, a move that plays heavily on the cultural dissonance and the most outrageous aspects of Tokyo culture. Here, drift-racing clubs take on the air of an cosplay convention and some movie-magic transforms drifting from a tire-squealing risky manoeuvre to a romantic, even heroic endeavour. The film makes no sense, of course, but that scarcely matters once the action has begun. Yup, the hero is a moron; sure, he looks twenty-five; no, he couldn’t have done all of that without being Pearl-Haboured by the Yasuka. But who cares: There are cars, there are girls (whoo, Nathalie Kelley), there are races and there is plenty of fun. As a B-movie, it’s remarkably successful… and it’s even better than 2 Fast 2 Furious.

    (Second viewing, On DVD, July 2007) A year later, this film holds up surprisingly well. Yes, the cars and the action scenes are still the only reason to see the film: The emphasis on drifting makes it feel fresh and original, and the script knows how to vary the thrills of the action sequences. On the other hand, well, the script is still as bland as it was in theatres, with too many incoherences to count and a final act that really misses Sung Kang as the film’s most intriguing character. But what makes the film hold together even as other cheap teen action films fade away is the unusual Tokyo setting, the rapid pacing and the go-for-broke modernity of the atmosphere where reggeaton, a southern white boy, a latina girl and American hip-hop all mix joyously in a Japanese setting. It almost makes one hopeful for the future of the younger generations. In the meantime, there’s still the cars, the girls and the terrific soundtrack to enjoy.

    (Third viewing, Streaming, December 2025) The Fast and Furious franchise could have degenerated in a few direct-to-video follow-ups if it hadn’t been for director Justin Lin and the jolt of multicultural vitality that he brought to Tokyo Drift. Not only the film that saved the series, but the one that set it on the path it would follow to box-office blockbusting, it renews with easy watchability after the sometimes-laborious 2 Fast 2 Furious and goes back to strong character work — not to mention the cars and the driving. Though tepidly greeted by reviewers at the time, the film has appreciated in the nearly two decades since. The world is kinder to the kind of cross-cultural matter-of-fact diversity that Lin sought and the success of later films gives a halo effect to this installment — and nowhere as much than for Sung Kang’s cooler-than-cool Han, who (as the franchise’ history goes) single-handedly caused the series’ time-bending shenanigans and contributed to its ensemble-cast approach. Other aspects work well too: Lin’s direction is well-tuned even from the film’s first few moments, the soundtrack is exceptional and the sheer fun of the whole thing can’t be underestimated. It’s not perfect, mind you: Lin was still inexperienced as a director, and the film’s third act is noticeably weaker than it should be. But it was the right film at the right time for the series, and it’s still quite enjoyable now.

  • Cars (2006)

    Cars (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, June 2006) From anyone else but Pixar, this film would be a mega-hit and a critic’s darling. From Pixar, it’s just another film in their collection, maybe not as good as some of the other ones. It’s certainly problematic at times: overlong, too sentimental and afflicted with muddled nostalgia. While Pixar films usually stand up well to multiple viewing, I have the feeling that many will choose to fast-forward a number of segments. Plus, I defy anyone to watch the romantic subplot and not think “Car Sex? How does that work?” And yet focusing on the film’s problems would be doing a disservice to the film’s undeniable qualities. While the story is a threadbare feel-good classic of redemption and the characters are pretty much all out of central casting, there’s a relentless degree of creativity in how the designers and animators were able to give human characteristics to cars. Some of the attempts look goofy, but others work surprisingly well. (I was particularly amused at the celebrity caricatures.) Otherwise, well, it’s “just” a solid movie for kids and adults alike… though the adults may not want to see this more than twice.

  • C.R.A.Z.Y. (2005)

    C.R.A.Z.Y. (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, June 2006) There’s no real way to go around the fact that a film about growing up in Quebec during the seventies (growing up gay, no less) sounds like an unbearable chore. The clothes? The haircuts? The colours? The… ergh. But C.R.A.Z.Y. embraces the era and, in no small part thanks to a fabulous soundtrack that ended up sucking a good proportion of the film’s budget. Despite the homosexual sub-theme (which is, despite the film’s reputation, only a small part of the whole), the film feels like an old-fashioned family drama, handled with competent care and attention. The episodic storyline runs a bit too long and loses track of itself during the third act, but nonetheless leave a pleasant impression. It doesn’t go much farther than that, but that’s often just good enough. (Hey, I was just born in the seventies, okay? I didn’t stay there long.)

  • Banlieue 13 [District B13] (2004)

    Banlieue 13 [District B13] (2004)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, June 2006) French cinema has often threatened to become an action powerhouse, but attempts so far have proved disappointing and -worse- fleeting. Still, writer/producer Luc Besson tries and tries again, and with Banlieue 13, he may come closest to replicating the insane energy of Jackie Chan films. Loosely set in a dystopian near-future where whole districts of Paris lie fallow and ungoverned, Banlieue 13 uses parkour and street fighting as inspiration for action scenes, with stunts that are good enough to leave you gasping. The narrative set-up is interesting (though ultimately disappointing, in no small part thanks to Besson’s predictable distrust of authority), but never mind the story: what really shines here are the two lead actors (Cyril Raffaelli and parkour guru David Belle), who kick and punch and jump their way to the end. They’re enormously likable characters, so let’s hope that they can keep it up: action cinema is often a matter of leads, and these two seem perfectly able to carry a film on their shoulders. As for the rest, well it’s almost all good: there is a definite lack of women in this macho film and the social commentary is overdone, but the film as a whole is dynamic, fresh and fun-fun-fun. Now let’s see the next one.

  • Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About, Mil Millington

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Flame, 2002, 338 pages, C$10.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-340-83054-9

    You really can’t argue against name recognition. Years ago, Mil Millington started a web site on which he started posting short humorous snippets of his daily arguments with his German-born girlfriend. The web site was a big hit, up to and including being ripped off in one of Britain’s biggest newspaper. Apologies, compensation and writing gigs from competing newspapers soon followed, along with a book deal. When looking around for a title and subject matter, Millington played it safe and resorted to the good old “write what you know” axiom: His first novel shares both a title and a basic premise with the web site that launched his career.

    Narrated by ordinary Brit bloke Pel Dalton, Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About is not too dissimilar to the post-Bridget Jones wave of chick-lit, or the Nick Hornby “male confessional” sub-genre: Tales of young adults lost in today’s society, trying to do the best they can with what life handed over. Pel is the classic underachiever, working in IT for a university library and trying to do as little as possible in order to make it from one day to another. His self-deprecating narration is immediately sympathetic, but he’s hardly the star of the novel.

    Oh no, that honour would have to go to Ursula, his German girlfriend. Much like what we know of Millington’s home life through his web site (though Millington assures us that it’s not an autobiography), the two of them are constantly arguing about the most ordinary things. Pel, of course, never wins. But don’t get the impression that the two of them are unhappy: As Pel’s work life becomes increasingly chaotic, the comforting crazy routine of his home life is just about the only thing keeping him grounded. In an interesting twist on the usual fictional relationships, they argue because they feel so comfortable together, not because it’s driving them apart.

    But the plot of the novel itself is nothing more than a clothesline on which to hang a series of humour vignettes. A trip to Germany is nothing but an excuse to riff on Anglo-German relations, in-laws, ski accidents and travel woes. Pel’s troubles at the office keep escalating to an absurd crescendo of wild circumstances that wouldn’t be misplaced in a thriller. Naturally, everything just keeps getting funnier as his life goes from bad to worse. If you’re looking for a laugh-aloud novel, this is it. Pel’s narration is packed with good lines, and there’s something for everyone as he goes from a rotten office job to a home life that’s no less stressful. A good assortment of supporting characters does a lot to complicate Pel’s situation… and crank up the laughs. The fact that Pel himself isn’t the most competent character around is funny, but the increasingly dysfunctional characters that surround him are even funnier. It’s a fast read, a good read and Anglophiles will find a lot to love in the dry British narration.

    The only problem with the novel is both minor and significant. As the novel unfolds, Pel gets embroiled in stranger and stranger problems at work, cumulating functions, learning dangerous secrets, rubbing shoulders with unsavoury characters and earning the enmity of his colleagues. Naive readers may expect all of this to reach a conclusion of sorts, as absurd or contrived it may be. But no: Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About simply stops even as everything goes up in a storm. It’s an absolutely deliberate gag: the point of the novel is to show how, even as they argue during the worst crises, Pel and Ursula are inseparable. But the effect is still one of disappointment, a vague sense of having been cheated of a resolution even as Millington took pleasure in making life hell for his protagonist with no intention whatsoever of resolving the various problems. Your tolerance for ambiguous endings will determine whether this is a book-throwing problem.

    But once you ignore the ending, Mil Millington’s debut novel is perfectly adequate: fans of the web site will recognize the style and the premise, fans of modern humorous romance will be satisfied and more generalist readers will enjoy the vignettes. Purists will also note that Millington’s hardly a one-trick writer: two other novels followed this one, with no end in sight.

  • An Inconvenient Truth (2006)

    An Inconvenient Truth (2006)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In theaters, June 2006) There is a moment during this film (I suspect it will be a different moment for everyone) where you just stop and tell yourself “Hmm… I just paid ten dollars to see a slide presentation on a scientific subject… and it’s great!” As a sucker for science, environmentalism, presentations and American politics, An Inconvenient Truth has a number of effective hooks on me: but the fact remains that this is a concert film where a slide presentation of global warming takes the place of a rock show. Al Gore makes an affable, enormously likable presenter: Ironically, the film falters when it stays with him and his family history, picking up as soon as the presentation starts again. It’s a slick piece of work, both from a technical and an rhetorical sense: The visual information is meticulously well-calibrated, dosed with humour and delivered with honed passion. As someone who’s already convinced of the importance of Global Warming, the film was already playing to a converted audience: still, I could only appreciate the build-up of the film, the oratory prowesses and the archival snippets (did you notice the footage from Fahrenheit 9/11 and The Day After Tomorrow?). While the film often plays hard and fast with causality (I wanted to ask questions at times, or point out areas that could use a bit more explanation), one of An Inconvenient Truth‘s best characteristics is how it make a complex scientific subject a lot of fun. Yay, science! The other big asset of the film -and one that may go unnoticed from the doom-and-gloom trailers- is how the film ends on a real note of hope, something fit to make anyone stand up and do something. A unique film –and one well worth seeing.

  • Les Aimants [Love And Magnets] (2004)

    Les Aimants [Love And Magnets] (2004)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, June 2006) Subtle yet intricate, this romantic comedy manages to weave an impressive number of sub-themes and tangled subplots in only 90 minutes. Serendipity reigns supreme in this tale of crossed identities, lost messages, misleading appearances and tangled characters. Yves Pelletier’s script contains plenty of artistic references to new-age beliefs, theremin playing, and Vermeer paintings (including a visual nod to “The Girl With a Pearl Earring”, thanks to Isabelle Blais’ uncanny resemblance) After a sputtering start, the film finds its way once all the characters are introduced and rolls along until a conclusion that leaves a few characters hanging by the wayside. Fortunately, the images are top-notch, and the actors all do a good job. (Plus, hey, there’s a small role for Isabelle Cyr.) Quiet but satisfying, Les Aimants is a little surprise even for those who follow the French-Canadian movie scene.

  • The 40 Year Old Virgin (2005)

    The 40 Year Old Virgin (2005)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On DVD, June 2006) I really expected to hate this movie, and this expectation never completely disappeared throughout the entire film: Time and time again, I found myself gritting my teeth in anticipation, dreading the obvious gags that would follow. But what’s perhaps most impressive about The 40-Year-Old Virgin is how it manages to side-step the obvious and deliver a surprisingly heart-felt comedy. Like the better sex comedies, it has a conflicted take on the subject, considering it as much as a source of problems than an end upon itself. Fortunately, there’s more to the film than a score chart, and perhaps the biggest asset of the script is the vast number of fully-realized supporting characters. The sometime rough banter between guys is spot-on, although the film allows itself a number of off-the-wall moments from time to time. Interestingly enough, this depth of characterization carries along a number of problems: The film ends with a considerable number of loose ands and characters left by the wayside, more than enough to pack a sequel if someone would be so inclined. Other missteps abound, especially during the increasingly moralistic and easy conclusion: After seeing the film top itself for so long, it’s a shame to see it fumble with the usual romantic comedy misunderstanding and spectacular finale. Despite the title, the trailers and the “unrated!” marketing, there’s actually an unnerving sub-text of stuffy morality weaved throughout, with a conclusion designed to charm mainstream America. In the end, the best I can say is that I didn’t hate the film as much as I though I would… and even laughed a few times.

  • Stupid White Men, Michael Moore

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Penguin UK, 2002, 281 pages, C$16.00 tpb, ISBN 0-141-01190-4

    I know, I know: Even if you’re an avowed liberal, chances are that you don’t like Michael Moore. Can’t say I blame you, really: If Moore can be bitterly amusing to watch, his loose relationship with truth has hurt his cause over the past few years. With his cultural stature after BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE and then FAHRENHEIT 9/11 (to say nothing of books such as Dude, Where’s My Country?) everyone feels entitled to a pot-shot or two in his direction. He’s fat; he lied; he got sued by that guy; he said this or that silly thing. As one of the most preeminent voices from the American left, he gets the enmity of conservatives and the dubious glares of the liberals trying to appease the centre. Ah, the wages of success…

    One of the sparks for that celebrity was the publication of a book called Stupid White Men, back in the woolly old days of 2001. Riffing on turn-of-the-century America, Moore offers observations on the “sorry excuses for the state of the nation” and targets the Bush administration before it actually had the chance to turn ugly. The UK edition of the book, here reviewed, offers a post-9/11 introduction and epilogue in which Moore bravely portrays himself (and the book) as nearly-censored victims of a timid publisher. Otherwise, Stupid White Men has already become a quaint time capsule from a pre-“War on Terror” period.

    Reading Stupid White Men five years after its original date of publication is often an exercise in futility. Moore’s denunciation of the way Bush won the 2000 elections seems so passé, much like his warnings about various members of the Bush cabinet. Over and over again, readers will want to grab a phone line to early 2001 and tell Moore that he hasn’t seen anything yet. That whatever outrage he musters over this or that minor incident should be marshaled for even worse abuses to come. On the other hand, Moore seldom shies away from criticizing the Clinton administration, which is an useful reminder that Bill only looks good in hindsightful comparison.

    And yet Stupid White Men isn’t completely past its expiration date. One of the greatest tragedies of an era where terrorists are hiding behind every security checkpoint is that this single-minded obsession with one particular (and relatively rare) problem has sweept everything else under the rug. Education, wages, racism, environmentalism, corruption: these are all valid issues, except that no one has been paying any attention to them when the GWOT swats everything else aside. Stupid White Men, at its best, it a reminder that -oh yeah- there are other, far more prevalent issues to solve.

    Alas, to get to those points you will have to wade through a lot of misplaced humour. Moore’s style has often relied upon buffoonery to make a point –-much to the dismay of everyone who would like to take Moore seriously. It’s not that Moore is incapable of being funny: it’s that he seldom seems to know when enough is enough. Stupid White Men is filled with passages where Moore keeps going farther away in absurdity when more restraint would have served his point a lot better. It’s difficult enough to balance the demands of hyperbolic humour with the factual accuracy of political commentary, but Stupid White Men is often too goofy for its own good. It doesn’t help that Moore’s satire can be so convoluted as to be indistinguishable from actual conservative rhetoric.

    This tension between class-clown humour and loftier social criticism eventually takes its toll: The cheap shots, the silly lists, the name-calling can be fun in small column-sized doses, but they get tiresome over the course of a full book. Even those who are on Moore’s side may come to appreciate what his opponents are claiming. In the political exposé/satire genre, Al Franken was generally more successful with Lies and the Lying Liars that Tell Them, reaching a better balance between facts and humour (though TeamFranken probably had a lot to do with the careful research.) It’s also worth noting that Moore’s follow-up, Dude, Where’s My Country?, is also generally better that Stupid White Men. So take heart, all Moore doubters: there’s still hope for him yet.

  • Valhalla Rising, Clive Cussler

    ByChristian Sauvé Book Review

    Berkley, 2001, 517 pages, C$10.99 mmpb, ISBN 0-425-18571-0

    I find it very difficult to be overly critical of Clive Cussler’s novels. Despite flaws that would doom any other writer, Cussler is just as daring as his alter-ego Dirk Pitt [TM] when comes the time to deliver the goods. Repetitive plots? Impossible technology? Ridiculous villains? Cartoonish action? Cookie-cutter characterization? Unbelievable twists? Everything-but-the-kitchen-sink plotting? It’s all pure Cussler routine, and after more than a dozen novels following the exact same template, it’s hard to be upset when the exact same features keep popping up from one book to another.

    If you want a true look at Cussler’s ambitions, read his interview in the Dirk Pitt Revealed companion guide. Cussler, an old advertising veteran and businessman, knows exactly what he’s doing and has no shame in delivering what’s expected of him. He’s found both an audience and a niche: why should he even mess with the formula? His readership is, by now, so large that he can farm out the Dirk Pitt name to collaborators and still use his royalties to go on real-life treasure hunts. Bully to him: he’s living his life the way most people would like to… and what’s a small thing like literary quality to stand in his way?

    Valhalla Rising is yet another thriller to come out of the vast Cussler Inc. Assembly line, and it begins exactly like the earlier ones: With a pair of historical prologues in which disaster strikes from a mysterious source. But before we can dwell too long on what this means for the rest of the novel, we’re off to the Pacific Ocean, where a dastardly plot ensures the sinking of a luxury liner. Is it the end for all passengers? Why, no, not when Dirk Pitt[TM] is around to perform a death-defying rescue. One thing leading to another, Pitt once again finds himself embroiled in a vast adventure that will lead him from the depths of the seas (twice) to a dogfight over Manhattan. Whew!

    In doing so, Cussler also stretches the limits of permissible plotting. It’s not enough for him to give himself a cameo in his own work, he also has to act as a convenient deus ex machina to rescue his heroes from one impossible situation and lead them to the next plot coupon. (Mysteriously disappearing when it’s convenient to do so.) It’s not enough to give one big techno/historical reward to his characters: they get three or four of them at the same time, from evidence of American Viking settlements to the real-life Captain Nemo to quantum displacement technology that would revolutionize modern science if this was a novel that actually took science seriously. (No wonder that NUMA’s Turing-bashing AI barely raises any eyebrows when it’s featured as a supporting character.)

    But all of the above pales in comparison to the end twist where, with less than ten pages left in the novel (SPOILERS!), a young man and his sister appear out of nowhere, lending a patina of of foreshadowing to Dirk Pitt’s[TM] book-long ruminations on age and his unsuccessful relationships. Yup, they’re his long-lost twin children, born of a mother everyone assumed dead. Cue a few hugs and the promise of a new generation of Pitt[TM] adventures. This is the type of thing that can destroy other writers’ books. With Cussler, it’s just another day on the job. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Chutzpah! is the guy’s middle name.

    It’s not all good, of course: Even allowing for Cussler’s customary craziness, Valhalla Rising feels a lot like Cussler’s last half-dozen novels in terms of writing: As Dirk Pitt’s adventures have gotten longer, the prose seems slower and the action scenes seem to balloon out of proportion: It’s now bad enough that you can just skim along the first lines of each paragraph and not miss anything important. Cussler could do forestry a favour and trim his novels by half just by tightening up his writing while leaving the plot alone. Heck, he may even discover that this makes up for faster-paced novels. In the meantime, it’s all to easy to gloss over the action scenes, picking up careful reading only when Pitt lets loose with one of his typical quips. Either Cussler’s writing keeps getting worse, or my patience is wearing thin.

    Otherwise, well, it’s the same-old, same-old Cussler. There are nice passages (I particularly liked the Manhattan dogfight and the trip to the Jules Verne archives) and good lines of dialogue in this overwritten mess, but in most other aspects it’s a Cussler that’s equal to all others. Some will see this as a boon, others as a problem, but no one will be disappointed or surprised by what they’re getting. Cussler has made himself immune to parody by delivering it himself. And that’s why, in all the ways that count, it’s hard to be overly critical of any book sporting Dirk Pitt’s TM.