The Vacuum of the future
Roomba
8/10
by Matt Kosloski
Do you remember all the sweet depictions of the future promised to us in TV and movies as a kid—hover boards, flying cars, and all of the other crazy shit? Well, skateboards may still have wheels and I’m certainly still sitting in traffic on the way to campus, but companies like iRobot are doing their best to bring us one step closer to that vision. You’ve probably heard about their flagship product, the Roomba—the vacuuming robot. If you’re like most people you probably also thought, “Who would actually waste money on that?” Well, I would. It may not give me any of the sassy backtalk spouting from Rosie on The Jetsons, but boy, can that motherfucker clean floors.
I actually purchased a refurbished Roomba Scheduler model from deal-of-the-day website woot.com. For $104, shipping included, I received the Roomba, a scheduler remote for programming it to run automatically, a charging base, and two virtual walls that do exactly what they sound like they would. The first thing most people will want to know is, “Does it do a good job of cleaning?” Let me step back a second as I feel I need to preface my response. I’m not a neat person, the three people I live with are not neat people—actually the dog is probably the cleanest of us all and he shit on the couch once. That being said, whereas most people would make the comparison to another vacuum they own, I’m judging this more against that mountains of filth that pile up as four housemates and a dog sit around in their own squalor.
With that out of the way, yes, it does an amazing job. When it first arrived, 10 minutes of meandering around the living room had half of its removable dirt compartment filled. It’s not that the Roomba doesn’t hold a lot of dirt; the rug was just that dirty. It rocks house on both carpets and hardwood floors. It’s not very loud when running; I’ve watched TV over it and given that I drink myself to sleep on a daily basis I’m certainly in no danger of being woken up by the cleaning. After it’s done, just grab it off the charger (yes, it even goes back to the charger when finished, though stairs present a bit of a problem), bang the dirt compartment out, and you’re ready for round two.
If the Roomba is so great then why doesn’t everyone have one? Aside from the fact that not everyone has $100 to piss away on something they normally do just fine by themselves, there are a few drawbacks. The biggest reason is because you need to make sure the floor is relatively clear of cords, papers, beer cans, and other sorts of things that it might get stuck on—a process that takes probably half the time it would to just vacuum the room normally. The Roomba takes thirty to forty-five minutes to clean, so in the end the whole process takes three to four times as long as a standard issue vacuum. So is it just a big waste of time and money? Maybe. But I’ve got a robot that cleans my floors—do you?
A blood-soaked american dream
There Will Be Blood
9/10
By Seth Silverbush
Immediately, There Will Be Blood is anything but gentle. The opening scene zooms in on a solitary oil prospector out in the middle of nowhere, USA during the turn of the nineteenth century. Strident violins set an uneasy tone as the camera fixates on the vigorous miner, desperate to find anything worth a penny.
The film, loosely based on Upton Sinclair’s 1927 novel Oil!, is a character study of Daniel Plainview, a leader, a sinner, a father, and a determined oil miner who does whatever is necessary to keep his business flourishing. When Plainview, played by Daniel Day-Lewis (Gangs of New York), enters a less-populated, religious town in California, many other interesting characters float onto the scene. An ambitious prophet and a strange step-brother emerge to produce entangled relationships soaked with oil and blood. Though the black gold appeals to everyone, it harms those who get too close.
Impatient viewers may find themselves struggling to stay seated during the lengthy two-and-a-half hour film. There are not many cuts in this film and sparse dialogue, making the motion picture seem slow, however, it is worth your time to stay and watch the film rumored to win an Oscar for best motion picture of the year. Writer and Director Paul Thomas Anderson, known for his accomplished film Boogie Nights, notes that the action may be somewhat slow. Anderson intentionally tried to develop long scenes to accentuate the performers’ actions with nothing but a musical score—a method used by Stanley Kubrick. This technique was a success. His cunning shots teamed with Radiohead guitarist Jonny Greenwood’s innovative soundtrack compliment each other as they create a magnificent tone throughout the film.
There are no action-packed scenes with secret agents destroying enemy helicopters and no intense sexual encounters–the stuff of modern day blockbusters. Nonetheless, the witty dialogue, powerful suspense, beautiful cinematography, and brilliant acting by Daniel Day-Lewis, Paul Dano, and others are more than enough entertainment. The film has no female lead, but contains enough fascinating characters to keep any viewer from wanting a pretty face.
Anderson does an outstanding job of raising dicey themes such as orphans and family issues, the delirious effect of money on men, and faith versus skepticism in his film. There Will Be Blood intertwines these themes in crazy ways that will keep the audience discussing this movie for days and keep viewers haunted by its dark twists for weeks.
Vaporizing vixen
Victoria’s Secret Mood “Succulent”
8/10
by Elina Vaysbeyn
I’ve always been a sucker for vaporizers. I’ve seen them in magazines like Elle, Cosmo, and Redbook. No, not the kind that sends you reeling into outer space after a bizarre, smokeless puff or two; a perfume vaporizer, also known as a vaporisateur or more commonly, the atomizer—probably the most feminine item ever invented second only to those soft, pink, scented, powder puffs. The vaporizer is nothing short of sexy. It resembles a hand grenade while evoking the elegance of the ninteenth century—how’s that for giving women a dangerously alluring reputation? If looks could kill, the vaporizer would be the ultimate weapon.
This New Year’s day my wishes materialized into reality. Celebrating New Year’s the Russian way, I get my presents each year on January first, seven envious days after just about everyone else I know, so bear with me. Tearing greedily at wrapping paper, I finally got down to the last gift. When the trimmings came off, I found myself staring down at a little box—not too little, but just right. I shook it, but to no avail. It already smelled magical. The box was black and had a seductive alligator skin design—I’m not into animal print, but this shit looked classy.
It was Victoria’s Secret Mood Eau de Parfum Spray in “Succulent.” At 2.5 fluid ounces, this bottle had quite a bit of liquid in it, and it wafted mesmerizing smells in my direction. Along with the cube-shaped thick glass jar, was the hailed pistol whip, the curvaceous man-eater. That’s what I call it when we’re alone. Anyway, the actual atomizer was firm and black, and produced a fine mist out of the nozzle, a relatively standard thing for a well-functioning vaporizer to do.
“Succulent” was described on the bottle as the “spicy smell of warm blackberries and intense Madagascar vanilla” as well as “summer splendor in the grass quickened with a heartbeat of exotic mystery.” You’re probably scratching your head right now, as you should—adjectives ascribed to perfumes are nothing more than a word jumble without an answer key. But little did I know, warm blackberries with grass and exotic mystery were right up my alley. Mood smelled awesomely “Succulent.” Victoria’s Secret also produces another Mood scent called “Sweet Craving.” I cannot vouch for this one, since I don’t have it, but VS hails it as a “piece of cake with rich whipped cream.” It comes in the same bottle and the same hot little box, which should not be overlooked. They also offer “Sweet Craving” and “Succulent” body lotions ($18) and candles ($15.99 clearance price). Do me a favor and don’t tell my mom this, but I checked on the price of the savory commodity, and it flew at $45. Appropriate or jacked up? You decide. In the meantime, I’ve got villains to vaporize.
Forbidden love
Lost in Beijing
8/10
by Roger Chao
Sex. Lust. Infidelity. These themes are no longer sacred in the American media. The average American can’t go two seconds without seeing some kind of sexual innuendo on television, in movies, or even in commercials. Yet, in the rest of the world, some countries are still coming to grips with these taboo topics. Take for instance Li Yu’s film Lost in Beijing (also known as Ping Guo). Premiering almost one year ago at the Berlin International Film Festival, this Chinese film about sex and adultery has faced controversy since day one. Shower scenes, graphic depictions of sex, alcohol abuse, and murder are just some of the topics covered in Li Yu’s film.
China has always been known for strict media censorship. It has extended it into the realm of the Internet as well. “Tiananmen Square” will draw no results when searched for on China’s Google. So, it is no surprise that the Chinese government officially banned the film on January 4, 2008. Nevertheless, it is slated for a limited theatre release in the U.S. on January 25.
Taking place in modern day China, Lost in Beijing tells a simple tale: Au Kun (played by Tong Dawei) and his wife Liu Pingguo (Fan Bingbing) are both working low- paying jobs in Beijing. They are barely surviving but very much in love. One drunken night, Pingguo is taken advantage of and raped by her boss Lin Dong (Tony Leung Ka Fai). The rape leads to Pingguo’s pregnancy, alienating her from Au Kun. Desperate for a child, Lin Dong offers care and financial aid to the young couple in exchange for the child after birth. Soon, however, the couple discovers that the exchange may not be all that simple.
Though the actors and actresses may be unknown to people in the States, the cast is actually filled with big name performers. Fan Bingbing is a popular actress in mainland China, and Tony Leung Ka Fai has more than 20 years of experience under his belt, acting not only in Asian films, but French ones as well. Their poignant performances make for easily believable characters. Even though Lost in Beijing is entirely in Chinese with English subtitles, each actor and actress have no problem getting their feelings across to the viewer. Oftentimes, with nothing but a simple facial expression, the audience can fully understand the emotions in a scene without a single word uttered. Director Li Yu’s cinematic direction also adds to the authenticity of the film. Techniques like close-up face shots, first person point of view, and unsteady camera movements give the film a voyeuristic feel. The cinematography, combined with superb acting, makes the movie seem more like a documentary than a work of fiction—further reason for censorship.
Rather than submitting to the Chinese government, Li Yu took a stand and released Lost in Beijing in its original format at the Berlin International Film Festival. His action did not come without consequence, as he and the rest of his producers were banned from making any movie in mainland China for the next two years. Still, Li Yu’s decision was ultimately the right one. Lost in Beijing is a film meant to be shown uncensored, with all of its raw and real emotions out in the open, for everyone—and anyone—to see.
“Whoa, dream big!”
Juno
6/10
by Tara-Jeanne Sullivan
It was touted as the little film that could. A warmhearted tale of a pregnant teen who’s cooler than cool—so cool, in fact, she decides to put her unborn child up for adoption instead of “procuring a hasty abortion.” Juno does have its few merits, it misses the mark by having a dialogue overloaded with witty puns and cultural references. None of which are ever heard out of the mouth of a 16-year-old—maybe a pop-culture journalist—but never a high-school kid.
While the film has a couple highlights, it is by no means the “film of the year” as many critics are saying. The dialogue is outrageous. Screenwriter and ex-stripper Diablo Cody tries so hard to make the lead character Juno, played by Hard Candy’s Ellen Page, appear hip that everything she says comes off sounding snarky and contrived. Lines like “Can’t we just, like, kick this old school? You know, like, I stick the baby in a basket, send it your way, like Moses and the reeds?” seem cavalier. On the other hand, the character’s comment to the adoptive parents, Mark and Vanessa Loring (played by Jason Bateman and Jennifer Gardner) is pretty great. Juno suggests that China gives away babies “like iPods. You know, they pretty much just put them in those t-shirt guns and shoot them out at sporting events.” I’ll give that one to you, Ms. Cody.
Aside from the completely unnatural dialogue, another disappointment of the film is the minute amount of screen time Michael Cera has as Juno’s best friend/virginity stealer. He plays the same character he did in Arrested Development and Superbad—a kooky, awkward kid just looking to fit in—but the eight minutes he was actually on screen were the best part of the movie. While Juno comes off as a smartass, her baby’s daddy, Paulie Bleecker, is honest and endearing. Juno spends the first part of the film spouting hipster nonsense about loving sick tunes and obscure horror movies. When Juno declares her love to doe-eyed Bleecker, proclaiming he’s so rad without even trying, Cera honestly quips, “I actually try really hard”—something every high-school kid can relate to.
Luckily, the movie didn’t fail miserably. When the script loosens its grip on pop-culture references in favor of true emotions, Juno redeems itself. During the last twenty minutes, Juno grows up and the reality of her situation begins to weigh on her and the adoptive parents. I have never been to a film where I almost left the theater outraged during the first half and then cried because I was so moved the second. Juno would have been a triumph if it weren’t for the tongue-in-cheek quotes every thirty seconds and the incessant indie-folk interludes. Yea, I enjoy that cutesy song at the end of the film, but jeez, my boyfriend put that on a mix-tape years ago for me—and he’s not even that cool.
Uh, smoke a blut!!!1
How to Roll a Blunt for Dummies by R. Prince
8/10
by Tori Burhans
Every time my friends get together to roll a fatty, those with skilled rolling abilities fight amongst themselves for the chance to showcase their expertise. Some roll them loose, while others prefer a tight, thin blunt. Regardless of your preference, the end result is always the same. I, on the other hand, never stepped up to the plate because of a lack of experience and knowledge. After receiving the book How to Roll a Blunt For Dummies by R. Prince, a man who boasts “over 20 years of rolling blunts and smoking weed under his belt,” I finally felt my time had come. Sold on street corners and at select retail stores for $10, the book is full of real life smoking experiences that I could only dream of having.
Prince starts off by discussing the illustrious history of the marijuana cigar and the myths that are attached. Whether this miracle invention was the brainchild of prisoners in Rikers Island in New York City or a cheap prostitute is up to the gods of fate, but it’s fair to say that whoever rolled the first blunt was a trailblazer and recognized American treasure. R. Prince breaks down the choices of cigars, discussing which ones are best, though it really all falls down to taste and preference. The author goes into extreme detail about the “smoking session,” including how to do it properly, how many heads should be in on a blunt, and how many puffs per pass one should be taking. Believe me, it is so much more complicated than you ever thought.
If you suspect your friend may be a blunt-hog, R. Prince clarifies there should be no more than five tokes during any session, and no more than four people. For every extra person, you are required by smoker’s law to roll a new blunt. This book is assured to bring your smoking to a much higher level, no pun intended, of course. Prince also dives into discussing the dreaded munchies, multiple types of paranoia (Is everyone staring at me? Is my phone ringing? Do I look high?), and defines a blunt predator. You know, those people who are always up for smoking, but never throw in? Turns out feigning a cold sore is the easiest way to get them out of your grill. The book is full of interesting “true life” stories like the one about a man who went to a therapist to rationalize why he was a “blunt hog.”
I had hoped to find guidance in R. Prince to improve my rolling techniques as well as smoking etiquette. Though he is probably an excellent blunt smoker, Prince isn’t exactly the best teacher, essentially saying “just roll it” in his step-by-step instructions. As to inhaling, “breathe in and then breathe out” is his pearl of wisdom. Some noticeable topics he fails to cover are shotguns and blunt wraps, though the “short-term memory loss” section may explain that easily.
Granted, Prince doesn’t have the best grasp of spelling or grammar, but his decades of experience render him exempt from judgment. Prince is the Buddha of blunt-rolling and his book will demystify the smoking phenomenon. To top it off, he placed a designated area to break up your weed on the back of the book. If that’s not a stroke of smoker’s ingenuity, I don’t know what is. After a thorough read, anyone, even me, once hiding in the shadows of my blunt-rolling peers, could become a brilliant Dutch Master.
Mucho Superstitious
The Orphanage
9.5/10
by Emily DeBeer
Even if your not a fan of horror movies or foreign films, I highly suggest giving El Orfanato, or The Orphanage a chance. The Orphanage, directed by Juan Antonio Bayona and produced by Pan’s Labyrinth’s Guillermo Del Toro, has rapidly become one of the year’s most critically acclaimed international films. It is a unique horror film, which emphasizes a thrilling plot rather than the usual scare tactics of over-the-top goriness, torture, and serial murders. The movie attempts to legitimize a supernatural world and plays on viewers’ fear of the unknown.
The film is primarily set in a beautiful orphanage in Spain. The house itself is so large, that even with several young children living there it seems hollow. The plot follows one of the children, Laura (Belen Rueda), into adulthood where she decides to purchase the orphanage with hopes of opening it as a home for special needs children. She moves in with her husband, Carlos (Fernando Cayo) and son, Simon (Roger Prince), who begins telling his mother about his new “friends” soon after they arrive.
Simon mysteriously disappears soon after communicating with his ghostly companions, and strange events begin to take place. The children from Laura’s past now haunt her home, and eventually force her to play elaborate games with them. It seems as though her only hope for finding her son is to decipher all the clues sent to her from another realm. Her husband does not believe in the supernatural nature of Simon’s disappearance, so Laura must use any means possible to communicate with this other world. In the end, it is her love for her son that allows her to fully understand what awaits her on the other side.
While there are some minor instances of gore and shock, the overall horror of the film is rather subtle. Scenes shot inside the house and at a cave beside a Spanish beach, provided an air of romantic antiquity, a re-occurring theme as Laura’s memories of the orphanage emerge. It is also important to note the subtly of the sounds heard throughout the film. While the classic creepiness of ghost children’s laughter was used one or twice, it refreshing that there was no ominous theme music to alert viewers of upcoming danger. Unfortunately, the language barrier made it difficult for me to judge the skill of the actors, several actors in the film, however, have been nominated for awards in Spain and the United States.
While The Orphanage does not posses the blood-soaked, adrenaline rush of typical horror films such as Halloween or Saw, it can be appreciated as a psychological thriller, in the vein of The Sixth Sense.
The Orphanage confronts many unanswerable questions concerning death and the afterlife. Whether or not you believe in ghosts and all this “unfinished business” business, it is likely that you will appreciate the quality of the story told in this film.
Graduating from the elevator
Markus Reuter & Robert Rich - Eleven Questions
8/10
by Cristiano Agostino
Let’s admit it: the exotic, convoluted genre of electronic music known as “ambient” has never been, and probably will never be, a staple in most university students’ playlists. After all, why would anyone desire to unwind to tacky New-Age litanies when you could just pop in your favorite Dave Matthews Band CD to lull yourself to sleep? Why should anyone have to spend their hard-earned cash for a seventy-five minute symphony of leaky faucets and rocks scraping?
Thankfully, a handful of artists are hard at work to prove to the rest of us that ambient genre can be more enticing than just moaning whales and industrial gibberish we associate with the genre. Among them is Robert Rich, a founding father of electronic sound manipulation in the ‘80s, pairs up with young Warr Guitar player Markus Reuter to bring us a delightful set of mind-expanding, highly rhythmic soundscapes in his latest release, Eleven Questions.
The music the duo produces is elegant and unusually restrained, while retaining a dynamic and heavily percussive edge, reminiscent of African drumming as much as Indonesian gamelan. Rich’s patented electronic chirps and blurps blend seamlessly with bamboo flute lines, feverish percussion work and occasional melancholic piano lines. Although only sparingly featured, Reuter’s imprint on the work is undeniable, lending to the composition the harder, King Crimson-inspired edge often lacking in Rich’s solo work.
The thirteen short tracks blend so perfectly into each other that picking some standouts is no easy task. The opener, “Reminder,” showcases Rich’s skillful use of ethnic and unusual instruments, which he includes as major elements in the musical texture. The following track, “Reductive,” comes as close to abstract painting as music possibly could—Reuter’s angular, tense bass lines weave a complex polyrhythm which, surprisingly, feels almost danceable. Then, it fades into a subdued, soothing melody.
Of course, with such a variety of sounds and atmospheres, it would be hard to keep the same quality throughout; the album does have some weak moments. For instance, the fiddly “Reception,” where guitar slurs and sparse piano playing are coupled with some rather unpleasant chewing sounds. Another, “Refuse,” is far too monotonous.
The duo, however, makes up for it by nailing the final two songs. “Rebirth” and “Remainder” shift emphasis from the electronic to the acoustic, painting delicate melodies that bring the album to a delightful close. They prove that ambient music has the right to move out of elevators and supermarkets, and into our stereos.
