I like to be entertained, but just as much as that, I'm greedy to relive it all again through reviewing those things I paid good money, and irreplaceable time, to see and hear.  Mostly you'll find commentary on books, movies, Formula 1 racing and its politics, as well as the occasional football rant and television show analysis.

I'll keep them short.  I realize I'm likely only talking to myself.  But that's never stopped me yet.

Contents:

• Formula 1
• My First Rock Concert
• Formula1 - 2008 Season Opener
  
• Movies
• Great Films
• Good Films
  
• Not-So-Good Films
  
• Bad Films
  
• Films That Make You Go 'Hmmm'
• Lunasa Review

Formula 1 - 2008 (back to top)

So Mr. Mosley, by un-invitation, was absent from this weekend's Bahrain Grand Prix. (Just as well. He didn't miss much.)

The pressure is pouring in from all sorts of autosport and related entities for Max to put a brown bag over his head, permanently, and resign.

He says he's done nothing to compromise his job. He admits frolicking with five hookers for five hours and getting his backside beaten to the need for a bandage. (Which is at least a little impressive for a 67 year old.) But he denies all of the Nazi-related detail, saying that it was a tabloid device to draw his family history into the mix and spice up the story.

Now if Mosley wasn't playing Gestapo, that certainly blunts the stinger, but I still don't think I can look at him without sniggering. Already my husband and I have started blaming unaccounted-for bruises on 'playdates with Max'. This is a problem for the dignity of the sport. I think he should resign anyway. Although I can forgive him his kinks if he's not a sick bastard, I still can't take him seriously anymore.

Such is the risk of creativity. 

My First Rock Concert (back to top)

I'll be happy to stipulate at the outset that most of the problem is with me.  There is a certain dollop of soul missing from my ingredients and, like unleavened bread, I have mostly failed to rise.  I've simply never had the music in me.  

Don't get me wrong, I like music just fine and it can be quite nice to have a soundtrack to my day, but it's almost always something external, a set piece, an acquaintance kept at some distance.  Last night, it was at the length of a foam earplug - I went to my first rock concert.

I don't much go to concerts, but that has nothing to do with the music.  It's the people.  Large groups of enthusiastic strangers rarely bring out the best in me.  And I don't have any of last night's fare in my own music collection.  Last night was for brownie points.  My husband was, and is, a big fan of the band Def Leppard.  For the price of the endless goodwill of my spouse, we got to hear three bigname bands.

I'm not going to be unkind (well, yes, I probably am) but let's just say that if the year is 2008 and you are in the band REO Speedwagon, you should probably wear a shirt while working at anything other than gardening.  And maybe even then too, just to avoid sunburn.   There's something to be said for knowing your place in the rockitude food chain.  Unfortunately, that's all I really have to say about that portion of the show. 

Afterwards, that band got the biggest gufffaw of the night for asking $50 for a logo tee shirt.  Get real.  You may be wanting to give those away, boys, publicity being what it is.

Styx was talented, though.  Over the years, they've shuffled band members to the point that nothing sounds like it did on the radio, which is a shame.  I think there should be a law that if  two roadies and the bass player are all that's left from the band's heyday, you should have to change the name.  But still, they made a pleasing, if really, really loud, noise.  I had two major complaints, though.  (Only two - that's not so bad, now is it?) 

First, fairly high up on the list of things-that-are-tedious are  endless grinding and screeching flourishes.  It's indulgent and unbalancing to the audience.  We don't know when to clap.  If they'd have stopped the songs where the blessed things ended, they'd have had time for 'Mr. Roboto' and 'Babe'.  If you're going to do Styx, there are going to be certain expectations.

The other problem was 'Renegade'.  I only agreed to this whole undertaking (in the row I had with myself over the expenditure of eardrum vs. money element) to hear that song.  It has to be started a capella from silence.  It wasn't.  And the singer kept interrupting the opening lines by tipping the microphone at the mooing herd in the first eight rows.  I didn't pay to hear them moan.  I'd probably pay them not to.  They didn't give me the chance.

Anyway, at a point, I was becoming skeptical of the whole production.  Come to think of it, I think that point was in the car on the way to the show when we realized it was too late to stop for dinner first.  But there was a White Knight.  And his name was Showmanship.  Def Leppard was tremendous.  Go figure.  And what I said about certain people keeping their shirts on?  There are double standards that are delightful, no matter if you've seen fifty winters.  If your name is Phil Collen and you wring a guitar for Def Leppard, you should never wear a shirt ever.  Not even in church.  

Joe Elliott can still sing.  A one-armed drummer smashing his toys rightly is still as cool as it ever was.  And the angelic sound crew knew how to keep it crisp without making our ears bleed.  

I clapped.  I cheered.  I didn't know the words and still I even shook a hip.  And, believe me, my wiggle is highly reclusive. 

I don't know that I'm a Def Leppard fan, but I do know that I didn't want my money back.  Great show. 

Formula 1 - 2008 (Or Why I Stayed Up Until 3AM Last Night) (back to top)

Nine crashes.  Six mechanical failures.  And one driver who forgot there was a traffic signal at the end of Pit Lane .  I hardly know what to say.  The best I can come up with is, "Wahoo!  We get to do it all again next week!"

It’s difficult, at least for me, to say how much of last night’s/today’s/what-the-hell-day-is-it-in-Australia-anyway’s mayhem stemmed from the new old-school rules regarding traction control and engine braking.  I don’t know if the new standardized ECU (electronics control unit) caused some teams a variety of integration difficulties leading to reliability issues.  It’s too early in the season and I’m not near savvy enough to comment.  All I can say, is that it was business as usual for Formula 1, as far as I’m concerned: gorgeous, noisy, exciting, and full of political intrigue, with plenty of English to be picked from a variety of accents. 

For sports enthusiasts, I can only say, give F1 a chance if you haven’t. The field of players is small enough that, in no time, you’ll be intimately acquainted with the personalities and relationships.  Its history is full of guts and glory and feuds, really good feuds.  The venues are exotic and a geography lesson, at the very least.   And the intricacies of the cars can satisfy all, from the pure aesthete to the ultimate engineering geek.

Personally I fall somewhere in the middle.  I have a reaction to the swoop and flash of the machines that’s not particularly wholesome, but even more than that, I love the giddy little thrill in the feats of aerodynamics and technology achieved here.  I don’t understand many of them, but I swoon at the accomplishments of mankind - somewhere, someone understands it all.

People are so cool. 

Movies (back to top) 

Before you feel the urge to tell me, I'm well aware there is no rhyme nor reason to the lists I am about to post.  They are not in chronological, alphabetical, catagorical order, or grouped according to theme, relevance, or lead actor.  I can't do it that way and although I usually hate arbitrariness, films are a shade of an exception to this rule.

Great Films - Do not miss these, as your life may one day hinge upon it. (back to top)