Last night, as Lisa took the kids to dance class, our van passed the 100,000 mile mark on the odometer. To celebrate, it wouldn’t start on the way home. Luckily, it appears to have been just the battery. A jump start got Lisa back on the road, but I do not like the coincidental timing; it seems too much like an omen for my liking.
Last night I also watched Prometheus, the Ridley Scott prequel to Alien.
It’s a beautifully filmed movie, and I think Noomi Rapace does a good job of anticipating the feminine warrior that comes to fruition in Ripley. (Kudos also to Michael Fassbender for a magnificent job portraying the android, David.)
There were many questions left unanswered by the film, and many relationships that existed in a vacuum and were never explored – David and his creator, the creator and his daughter, the frigid captain, the tame affair between the lead scientists, and so on. In some ways the film seems incomplete and vague. Personally, I don’t mind the ambiguity regarding the plot points, because in real life this situation would never lend itself to a tidy and comprehensive denouement. The relationships? They bother me a lot more. Why bother bringing them up at all, if they are to serve no purpose?
Overall, I loved the film. Grade: A
I’ve also finished reading The Westing Game, the Newberry award winning young adult novel by Ellen Raskin.
was swell. But . . . this book won a Newberry and has been read and beloved for
more than 30 years. I have to ask: WHY? The mystery at the core of the book was
OK, but nothing special, and the writing (if the late Ms. Raskin will forgive
me) is slipshod and devoid of style or skill. I don’t see the charm or the
value of the book, and I’m going to grade it a C.
Book #79 of the year