26-24

If you understand the significance of that scoreline, you'll know what a high I'm on right now.

Movie review: "Stardust" (2007)

In an attempt to impress Victoria (Sienna Miller) aka the prettiest girl in town, Tristan Thorne (Charlie Cox) promises to fetch her the star they've just witnessed falling from the sky. Easier said while sipping champers than done. This is 19th-century England, he's a mere shop boy and retrieving said object will mean passing through a magical wall into the forbidden-for-good-reason realm of Stormhold.

The recurring message in this fairytale – which faithfully reproduces Neil Gaiman's 1998 illustrated novella – is "things aren’t what they seem". As when the star turns out to be a radiant young woman named Yvaine (Claire Danes). She and Tristan are the most made-for-each-other couple since "The Princess Bride"'s Buttercup and Westley and their gallery of friends and fiends is no less wacky...

Lamia (Michelle Pfeiffer) leads a trio of witches who wanna feed on Yvaine's heavenly heart, Captain Shakespeare (Robert De Niro) is a lightning-harvesting pirate with a closet full of frilly secrets, Ferdy The Fence (Ricky Gervais) is exactly what he sounds like, and then there are the princes of Stormhold, assassinating each other in a struggle for the throne (the losers forced to spectate as ghosts).

The paths of these and all the characters I didn't choose to describe cross in elegant, unexpected ways that are as horrible, humorous and heroic as a fairytale should be. Like "The Princess Bride", "Stardust" has the comfortable familiarity of a fable, while managing to be entirely new.

Final word: Much more than it first seems.

[Australian cinema release date: September 20]

DVD review: "Tales From Earthsea" (2006)

From the Japanese equivalent of Disney, Studio Ghibli, who brought us (most recently) "Howl's Moving Castle" and "Spirited Away", this stunningly animated, subbed/dubbed flick is loosely based on the "Earthsea" novels of US author Ursula K. Le Guin.

However, instead of being directed by lovable old Hayao Miyazaki, it was helmed by his son Goro. The two fell out over the project and that darkness has transferred onto the screen – turning what was originally a dreamy fantasy story somewhat nightmarish.

As the insane and creepily effeminate wizard Cob tries to remove the barrier between life and death and make himself immortal, the natural balance is upset. Plants and animals die, and sailors see a dread omen in the sky: dragons tearing each other apart.

It's up to two kids, Arren and Tenar, and the mighty mage Ged to stop him – while sorting out their personal baggage. Arren's a runaway prince pursued by a shadow creature, Tenar's a scarred orphan (literally and figuratively) and Ged has history with Cob.

For those who buy into the plot (it helps if you've read Le Guin’s books), or who lose themselves in the visuals and score, the ending is a symphony of destruction and glorious rebirth. Others may find "Tales From Earthsea" too violent and serious for a 'toon.

Final word: Not recommended for children – highly recommended for anime-loving adults!

[Australian release date: September 12]

"NO JUNK MAIL"

Is what it now says on my letterbox.

I had to do something - the unsolicited mail was multiplying like apprentice Mickey's broomsticks. Every time I unlocked and lifted the flap, I'd reveal 1-2 supermarket catalogues, 2-3 restaurant menus, and 3-4 flyers from folks eager to discount my pizza, iron my clothes, value my property (pity it's a rental), expedite my tax refund, instruct me in aikido (and be like Steven Seagal?), bathe my non-existent dog, invite me to their club to see a world-renowned Elvis impersonator... I was paranoid that one night I'd sacrifice a pile of it at the temple of recycling and inadvertently miss an important missive.

The plastic sign I paid a few coins for at the hardware store (to a gent in a bowler hat!) could either be screwed to the letterbox through a loop on the top or stuck in place with adhesive strips on the back. As my 'box is metal, I went with the second option. Worried the "empty" loop would look stupid, I tried to saw it off with an Exacto knife only to a) almost nick a finger, then b) send the blade tip flying (let's hope the hoover locates it before my sockless foot does). Resigned to postal shame, I made a half-hearted attempt to snap off the unwanted piece by hand. It came away as neat as you like.

Falling star, burning moon

Like many Aussies, I'm gradually changing over to energy-efficient light globes. When a traditional bulb blows, I replace it with the new kind. I've grown accustomed to the way they take a minute to "power up", and I don't mind the extra expense when they last longer and save on greenhouse gases. I just wish they weren't so chunky. Whatever you do, don't accidentally let one drop eight feet onto a ceramic coffee table because you think it's clicked into a worse-for-wear light fitting. Besides the dustpan'n'brush work, there's a terrible sense of waste.

At 8.30pm this evening, I ventured outside to view the total lunar eclipse. I couldn't be bothered changing from my PJs, so I just threw on a black jacket, black beanie and trainers. (I'm sure I looked like a cross between Arthur Dent and a cat burglar...except nowhere near as cool as that sounds.) It took me a while to spot the moon, which was only visible through the gap between two tallish buildings. There'd been suggestions it could appear blood red. To my eye, it was a pale orange. Clouds drifted across the face like smoke masking a distant fire.

[explosive sneeze]

I haven't set sneaker outside since Friday. Yesterday, I had that "swallowing a razor blade" feeling whenever I gulped. This morning, I was awoken at 6.30am by a shrieking flock of sulfur-crested cockatoos (that some joker up the street insists on feeding) to find I'm the owner of two leaking nostrils and one painful, chesty cough. Left a croaky message on my boss's answering machine to explain my absence. While my concentration's OK - I seem to have skipped the headache/fever stages - it wouldn't be fair to risk infecting my coworkers or their families.

The only advantage to being inside for 60+ hours is you burn through plenty of media...

I finished Coach Dungy's autobiography, which was intensely moving. Tears rolled down as he described the suicide, for reasons unknown, of his teenage son Jamie - and again when years of humility and hard work were rewarded with a victory in Super Bowl XLI. My bookmark now protrudes from an altogether different sort of athletic memoir, Paul Shirley's "Can I Keep My Jersey?", subtitled "11 Teams, 5 Countries And 4 Years In My Life As A Basketball Vagabond". It's cynical, sarcastic, often witty, never boring and as anti-religion as "Quiet Strength" was devout.

Have only crammed half the contents of "Dungeon" #150 into the cobwebbed corner of my brain reserved for role-playing modules. While enjoyable, it's slow going when you need to continually refer back to maps to see where the room/area being described fits into The Big Picture, or pause to process a bunch of stats.

"Clangers" is all watched. Four hours of sheer wonderment. Further examples of the series' inventiveness - the Clangers hook space junk from a flying boat using a magnet on a fishing line, their caves are lit by glowing deposits of honey, a pair of top hats are linked by a cosmic wormhole, a type of golden fruit contains compressed air...

Next disc into the DVD player will be the two-part, live-action TV adaptation of Terry Pratchett's "Hogfather". Tired of waiting for it to screen here (unless, stealth bomber-like, it managed to avoid my dorkgeeknerd radar), I imported the deluxe edition. Hogfather, the Discworld version of Santa Claus, is AWOL, so it's up to Death and his grand-daughter Susan to save the annual celebration. A cast that includes David Jason, Nigel Planer, Ian Richardson (AS THE VOICE OF DEATH) and Tony Robinson augurs well.

As I sit at my computer, nana rug over my lap, box of aloe vera-infused snotrags on my left, tumbler of water on my right, the only noises I can hear are the machine's cooling fans and traffic from the main road. Even in the eastern suburbs, Mondays are peaceful. That wasn't the case yesterday as our medium-density hive was alive with the sounds of people entertaining, vacuuming, relocating and, in my case, playing Mr O. Osbourne's latest album on repeat. It's laughable how heavily treated his vocals are, yet "Black Rain" is eminently listenable.

By the way, it might seem to regular readers that I go through a lotta music CDs that I discard after a day or so. No-one could be blamed for surmising they're pirate copies on which I place no value. Such is not the case. I'm in the enviable position of having a friend (LA) who reviews albums for three or four magazines and shares the love.

Now that's cleared up, here's something free for YOU.

In 2006, despite never having graduated from college himself, writer/director/actor Kevin Smith co-taught a class for UCLA's School Of Theater, Film And Television. The big fella helped his students put together six short episodes of a lifestyle show entitled "Sucks Less With Kevin Smith", designed to be watched on the Net or mobile phones. Each ep featured three segments about diverse leisure activities (eg. visiting a "haunted" house in the desert, turtle racing, Cut & Paste showdowns*), with links filmed in KS's Los Angeles comic store, Jay & Silent Bob's Secret Stash - West. MTV's university channel mtvU was a partner and you can watch the entire series on its site at www.mtvu.com/on_mtvu/sucks_less.

*Gun graphic designers are given 15 minutes to create a digital poster on a mystery topic that isn't announced until the comp kicks off. The audience watches their efforts on huge projection screens while partying in a nightclub setting.

[clears throat]

Don't expect any derring-do involving live sporting contests, exotic restaurants or fan gatherings this weekend as I'm stuck home like Tarzan's Grip while nursing a sore throat.

It manifested yesterday, but it's conceivable I caught the bug in the early hours of Wednesday morning, during a kamikaze karaoke mission. An incident report is available on Cubisia, although I dispute SC's claim I was "totally trashed" - merely badly littered :-)

As I type this, I'm listening to Black Sabbath's "The Dio Years" and blissing out on Tony Iommi's fretwork. Anyone who says the band's nothing without Ozzy is an ignoramus.

The PC monitor seems unusually bright to my sickly sight, so it's time to return to reading "Quiet Strength" by the Indianapolis Colts' Tony Dungy (the first African American coach to win the Super Bowl). That and issue #150 of "Dungeon" (the last print edition before it becomes web-based). Remember Bargle from the teaching adventure in the "D&D" Basic Set? He's back for the attack!

I'm also merrily making my way through the DVDs of 60s/70s UK kids' stop-motion animation show "Clangers". Been hearing Brits name-check this for years and it's as unique and imaginative as they suggested. Clangers are pink, woollen, aardvark-like creatures who communicate by whistling and live on a planet where a dragon dispenses dinner from soup wells and an iron chicken lays an egg that hatches into musical notes...

Hey, I've just realised there's half a tub of caramel fudge ice-cream in the freezer!

Unearthed arcana

Neil Gaiman was right to praise them in interviews. Punters on eBay can be forgiven for driving up the price of secondhand copies. And Fidra Books are eternal champions for reprinting both titles in the past year.

Victoria Walker's "The Winter Of Enchantment" (1969) and "The House Called Hadlows" (1972) are terrific all-ages fantasies in which magical objects allow the heroes to sidestep time, jump worlds and defy demigods.

While "T/H/C/H" is better structured, I don't believe it's the superior read - and I could have done without the vision of nuclear war. Also, "T/W/O/E" is charmingly illustrated by the author (who hasn't drawn since!).

Ms Walker's now Mrs Clayton and her prefaces to the new editions form a two-part autobiography of her fascinating adult life. They remind me of the afterwords in Piers Anthony's "Incarnations Of Immortality" series.

Just to recap

Steady rain kept me flatbound today except for a dash to my not-so-beautiful laundrette. It was a different story yesterday and possibly even one worth recounting.

I spent the morning at SMASH! (the Sydney Manga and Anime SHow), watching preview episodes of bonkers new series "The Melancholy Of Haruhi Suzumiya", being hassled by a stallholder for wearing my Toronto Blue Jays cap the *right* way round, and eating food on sticks (tofu that tasted of fish sauce, pork and vegetable dumplings).

The afternoon found me in the company of AP, PR, baby HP (who I got to hold briefly until he started crying), and AC. We were at Henson Park, Marrickville to see the Jets play the Dragons in Premier League...er, league. It was a convincing win for the home team - 30-6. Too bad they were already out of finals contention.

I ate my evening meal at the Kilimanjaro restaurant. Rather than rising like Olympus above the Serengeti, it sits unassumingly on a corner of King St, Newtown. Budget portions at budget prices, all served in wooden dishes, accompanied by native (is that term PC?) music that makes you dance in your seat.

My main course was cubes of lamb in a spicy tomato sauce with lentils, kidney beans, etc. For sides, I ordered a crunchy watercress salad with spicy dressing, tamarind and pepper; perfumed couscous; plus African flat bread - yellow, thin yet surprisingly doughy, flavoured with onion. I chased these down with a "flower drink". It was the same shade as apple and blackcurrant juice but had a more nectary sweetness.

Afterwards, I ended up at Good Games in the city. One of the owners (ED) and another bloke were playtesting the new "Legend Of The Five Rings - Samurai Edition" CCG. Curious, and having been dissuaded from my intended purchase (on the grounds of it being a rip-off), I left with an "L/O/T/5/R" Mantis Clan starter kit.

As for today...the poor old Knights were flogged again (bring me the head of Brian Smith!). Hopefully Liverpool can overcome Chelsea and bring balance to the Force.

Now I'm off to finish a novel I plan to blog about through the week.

Obligatory "D/W" posting

Finally, an automated recommendation from Amazon that was worth ordering: the BBC spoken-word CD "Moths Ate My Doctor Who Scarf" by Toby Hadoke. Don't let the Edinburgh Fringe credentials fool you, this isn't stand-up comedy. It's more like sit-down amusement as TH retraces his timeline of "D/W" devotion with the help of actors (including Colin Baker and Louise Jameson) and brief samples from various episodes. In the course of 55 minutes, he extolls the program's virtues, defends it from common criticisms and makes us understand (if we didn't already) why a boy might latch onto the imaginary figure of the Doctor and never let go.

Rasslin' update

There were four matches before the intermission and three after. Suprisingly, Masato Tanaka vs TNT (the reigning champ and, coincidentally, owner of the AWF) was the pre-break bout. MT was in awesome shape, combining the tanned, corded muscles of a bodybuilder with the agility and scar tissue of a pit fighter. He didn't miss a trick and sold every blow. The early scheduling made sense when the match was declared a no contest after run-ins by Steve Corino (and his hench-honey) and Billy Kidman. We'd see all five again in the main event.

The tag-team title match warrants a mention on account of the fact it included fan fave The Captain. He really seems to have grown into his cricketer gimmick and currently finds himself partnered with Bluey Bonza, a footy player character. Did I mention the size of the audience? Less than 150. Still, we had great fun yelling, "Grapple tackle!", "Line and length, Captain," and so on until the dastardly Platinum Players cheated their way to victory and retained the belts.

Corino vs Kidman was...surreal. SC and his babe were heckled so fiercely he grabbed the microphone and spent 10-15 minutes replying. Then BK - who'd looked like he just wanted to start wrestling - took the mic and spent another five sending up everything Corino had said. Who knew the guy was so funny? While the bout that followed won't make any highlight reels, the preamble elevated it to something meaningful and an illegal object and payback run-ins kept it moving. After his loss, Steve burst into tears and vowed never to return to Sydney.

While it's been a crappy week work-wise...

...it's been a fruitful one for catching up with people.

On Tuesday, I joined the M. family for dinner at an Italian restaurant in Newtown called Twelve, then a gig by Oz country artist Felicity Urquhart at The Vanguard. Guzzled unfamiliar grog in the form of Moretti beer (dapper chap in green suit on label) and a potent red wine known as "The Bull". While she doesn't quite have the vocal chords of Catherine Britt, the unfortunately initialled FU is a more mature performer, rockin' out on her own compositions (especially "Big Black Cloud") and sweetening tracks by Slim Dusty, Dolly Parton and Hunters & Collectors.

I departed the office early on Thursday to meet PG at Central Station (he'd just put his lovely wife DG on a plane to the States). Took him on a walking tour of Randwick before we spent the evening eating trash cuisine - including those wacky new "NRL - The Works" thick-cut potato chips that taste like every crisp flavour mixed together - and watching a rental DVD of "Ghost Rider", a download of "Destroy The Humanoid", and a coupla games of English Super League on Foxtel.

The Mazda Australian Rugby Championship - designed to bridge the gap between club rugger and Super 14 - commenced on Friday and PB and I were at North Sydney Oval to watch the Sydney Fleet sail past the Central Coast Rays 25-19. Given that they're now the link between the Galloping Greens and the Waratahs, there was no question of me not supporting the Fleet. The crowd was reported as 3.5k but I reckon it was closer to 5k - long lines for tix and the vendors inside barely coped. Afterwards, PB and I were joined by his lovely missus VB for a feast of prime cuts and hot sake at Neutral Bay yakiniku restaurant Katsura.

Yesterday, after my housework and bunny duties were done, I had a notion to try the Mexican fare at Guzman Y Gomez in Newtown. By a freaky-deaky coincidence, I ran into the person who'd alerted me to its existence - my workmate AH. Ended up eating lunch with him and his partner S. (who I'd describe here as "lovely", except I hardly know her). I had the "peppers and onions" and "tofu zacatecas" burritos which were mucho filling. Wobbled citywards, where I wandered the CBD for two hours in an attempt to burn the calories. My sole purchase was a fridge magnet of the Slytherin house crest - kewl!

Tonight, I'm bound for the AWF "Global Attack" pro wrestling show at the UNSW Roundhouse, where I'll hopefully catch up with LA. The card features America's Billy Kidman and Steve Corino, and Japan's Masato Tanaka (who I ain't seen live before). The bar features cheap James Squire, if I remember rightly :-)

DVD mini-review: "Dynamite Warrior" (2006)

Would you pay good money to see a martial arts period piece about a former monk with the deadliest knees in Thailand battling an evil wizard who's allergic to sunlight, a yoke-wielding cannibal and a buffalo-rustling tractor salesman - assisted by a rival wizard who may have murdered the monk's parents, rockets of all sizes and shapes, and the menstrual blood of a beautiful virgin of a certain zodiac sign? Yeah, so would I.

[Australian release date: August 15]

Pa(ren)thetic

The weekend began with me getting loaded on Costa Rican Imperial beer at the Civic, then being shown the door at what Al Bundy would call "the nudie bar" (for accidentally smashing a bottle of Heineken). It ended with me lining up to have a DVD signed by a former Doctor Who (Sylvester McCoy - who I'd previously met at Whovention 2000).

In between, I learnt how to take care of my sister's pet rabbit for a week (easy-peasy), watched both series of "Spaced" and most of the extras on the "3 Disc Collectors' Edition" (now I see what all the fuss was about!), rediscovered my love for Barbecue Shapes and ate proper hot baked ham for the first time in years (perhaps decades).

I skim-read the August ish of "Newtype" (sorry, none of the recent anime sagas excite me), lingered over the Vertigo graphic novel "Fables: Legends In Exile" (same magical feeling I had on first venturing into Gaiman's "Sandman"!), also read "Ricky Gervais Presents The World Of Karl Pilkington" (transcripts from RG's early podcasts with added KP mentalism), and will next embark on Susan Cooper's 1963 Arthurian-themed romp "Over Sea, Under Stone" (it's my aim to complete the five-book cycle before seeing the film adaptation of "The Dark Is Rising").

Not a lot happened on the gaming front, though I did make it to level 22 on "Zoo Keeper" (gotta save those binoculars!). And I just had an extended Internet sesh, which has caught me up with every site I've ever cared about and unearthed a few treasures (eg. the new "D/W" toon "The Infinite Quest" is all over YouTube, kids).

I'll try to be less of a beer-fuelled fanboy in future (yeah, right).

Dinner and a movie...and a videogame

* Ordering oshinko rolls at Sushi Train has developed into a habit. They contain sticks of yummo, yellow, pickled daikon.

* "Stardust" - which I viewed at Paramount HQ - is a fairytale flick on a par with "The Princess Bride"! Do not miss!

* The completion of "Zoo Keeper" (my latest DS diversion) involves love, marriage, birth, death, hatred and redemption.

Part the seventh

After the cinematic stinker that was "Dr Plonk" (see below), the DVD of "49 Up" came as a squirt of pine-scented air freshener. Utterly engaging, as the series always has been. For me, Michael Apted's ongoing documentary project isn't about verifying the Jesuit saying, "Give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the man." It's a celebration of the different ways we find fulfilment and happiness.