So here's a question I never dreamed there would be an answer to: What do Burt Reynolds (Mr. Smoky and the Bandit himself), Jason Statham (the balding, middle-age epitome of the type-cast actor), Ron Perlman (does he need any explanation?), Ray Liotta (usually a very solid actor), John Rhys-Davies (Gimli and Saleh from the Indianna Jones trilogy, I don't count the most recent offering as part of the series), Matthew Lillard (Without a Paddle) and Leelee Sobieski (Joan of Arc and a nubile teen co-ed in The Glass House) all have in common? The dubious honor of playing in another tripe ridden offering from German director Uwe Boll (the brains behind such classics as House of the Dead, Alone in the Dark, Bloodrayne and Bloodrayne II: Deliverance).
Had I realized who produced/directed this gem I wouldn't have wasted my time. But waste it I did and after fifteen minutes I wanted to burn my eyes out. As cliché as it is, it was a trainwreck and I couldn't stop watching (or taking notes on all the ridiculousness that made up the two-hour long nails-on-a-chalkboard).
First off, the music. Um....well. I don't know if it really qualifies as music. The discordant notes laboriously squeaked out by a string section that seemed to be composed of a group of arthritic monkeys. There were numerous attempts at creating a rousing feeling or a somber one for the more tender moments but these fell appallingly flat.
One of the afore-mentioned tender moments comes when Jason Statham unsurprisingly discovers he is indeed the king's (Burt Reynold, of course) son. The king is lying on his bed supposedly dying from an arrow shot by Matthew Lillard's character but the wound to his chest in the area of his lungs and heart does nothing to hinder his speech in any way. Burt explains how great the responsibility the kingship brings and then initiates this confusingly contradictory exchange with Jason:
Burt- "As long as there are kings; as long as there are lands they will fight over it."
Jason- "Battles fought for power and lands. None of these wars have any end."
Burt- "We fought for peace. Peace is a dream. A dream that maybe you as king, you will bring peace forever."
Did I miss something here? Did not the wise old king just say that as long as kings are around there will be war? Not the best last words I've ever heard in a movie. But that is not the only flaw in the dialogue. Here is another Shakespearean line delivered by the king's general to Jason's character: "I would be proud to have you fight by my side so I may keep an eye on you." What does that even mean?
The editor should be shot for being drunk when he pieced this movie together. The cut scenes were terrible. One instant a bad guy and his horse are riddled with arrows, the next they are tearing through the king's army without an arrow in sight, then back to being riddled with arrows. Jason takes an enemy cavalryman down, along with his horse, then is immediate set upon while he is still on the ground by another cavalryman but the first horse and rider are no longer in the frame.
Who cast the Cirque du Soliel rejects to play the forest maidens swinging by their legs in vines (jungle vines in a pine forest? Really?) and flinging vines like Spider-man flings webs at the enemy. Lame. The same self-proclaimed protectors of the forest boast that no one enters the forest without their knowing but somehow Ray Liotta (the bad guy) gets a huge dude in a rubber costume and black armor riding a black stallion right to the edge of Burt and Jason's camp and out again without anyone noticing.
This movie's lameness can be summed up in the line Burt utters to Jason and helps Jason realize he is his son "Wisdom is our hammer. Prudence will be our nail. When men build lives from honest toil..." then Jason finishes with "courage never fails."
Can a movie get a negative star? If so, this one deserves five of them.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Why Do This To Myself?
There are many people I know who say running is crazy. And they are right, to a point. Why run? Why put myself through the strain and stress of running any further than across the street? Aside from the number one rule in a recent movie (rule #1: Cardio), I run because every time I do I learn something more about myself, about my body, about my mind and about the commitment I have to a dream. It is not always something good that I learn about myself, but even this seemingly negative information is enlightening and can serve to strengthen my mentality for the next run.
I don't run to win, at least not at the point I am in my running career (if it can be called such right now). I don't even remember the last race I won, it was sometime during my senior year at Anadarko High School but that was over a decade ago. So there remains the valid question, especially in our competitive society; Why? Because I can. Because once you break through the wall your inner critic places before you and prove that negative voice wrong, that you are capable of so much more than you think, then anything is possible. You become a better person. More confident. More at peace with yourself and your capabilities.
I run because, like kids on a playground (at least when I was growing up) it makes me feel good. Because it makes me smile, and laugh, and sometimes ache. Because it was something I, and each of us, was born to do.
I don't run to win, at least not at the point I am in my running career (if it can be called such right now). I don't even remember the last race I won, it was sometime during my senior year at Anadarko High School but that was over a decade ago. So there remains the valid question, especially in our competitive society; Why? Because I can. Because once you break through the wall your inner critic places before you and prove that negative voice wrong, that you are capable of so much more than you think, then anything is possible. You become a better person. More confident. More at peace with yourself and your capabilities.
I run because, like kids on a playground (at least when I was growing up) it makes me feel good. Because it makes me smile, and laugh, and sometimes ache. Because it was something I, and each of us, was born to do.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Joshua fought the battle of Jericho....
And the walls came tumbling down. The only word that comes to mind when I think about the Groundhog Day 10k I ran today is brutal. I felt good when we arrived at the stadium and when I went through my warm-ups but once we started the good feelings scrammed and were replaced by feelings of doubt and almost apathy. It was quiet alarming to be honest. I have never felt more unmotivated at the prospect of running before.
The race started at 0530 (that's 5:30am for those of you not familiar with the 24 hour clock) and there were maybe half as many people there as were present for the Reindeer 10k in December. I don't know who organized the race, but they should be shot, or at the very least horse-whipped, for instructing all the walkers to proceed to the FRONT of the group! What kind of brainiac thinks it's a good idea for a mass of runners to line up behind about fifty walkers on a track? The starter yelled, "Go!" and we were off! Not really. I had to basically walk to the first turn as I tried to weave my way through the mess of bodies. When I finally got a chance to start running I was immediately cut off by a girl who was completely oblivious to her surroundings and was aimlessly drifting from one lane to the next.
Luckily we only had to do 3/4 of a lap and then we were out on the streets. If any of you have been to the desert in the winter before you will know that it is pretty dark at night. This was the case here. There were so many people tripping over rocks or rolling their ankles I didn't even bother to count how many I saw. We weren't a block from the stadium when all motivation abandoned me. My body kept telling me to quit and my mind was ready to accept the idea. I checked my watch at least five times in the first seven and a half minutes but that realization did nothing to improve my mental situation.
I kept telling myself to just keep going for a little more, to reach the halfway point and see how I felt. When I finally did, I was cut off again (and this time given an elbow to the biceps) and wanted so badly to throw in the towel. I depressed a button on my watch and squinted to see the little blue-green numbers glaring up at me. Mocking me. My body was done but the race was only halfway done and my pace was nearly three minutes off my target time. I don't know at what point on the second loop of the 5k course (a sick, twisted idea concocted as an homage to the Bill Murray classic) I decided to finish; it might have been when I passed the stadium and the Siren-like call of the finish line so painfully close but not really close at all, but I promised myself I wouldn't give up. I mean, if I gave up on a 10k how was I going to convince myself to get through an entire marathon at a faster pace than I was now struggling with?
So I ran. And ran some more. Eventually I passed the guy and girl I had been drafting off of for the first four miles and slowly crept up to pick runners ahead of me off one by one. Then something strange happened. I started to get passed as well. What the deuce is this? I asked myself. I hate getting passed (one reason I tend to start these races towards the back portion of the middle of the pack). But I was only able to catch one of the guys who passed me. I crossed the finish line with the unimpressive time of 0:45:20, a minute slower than I ran it last month.
Ah well. At least I finished. I overcame my inner critic and broke through the wall of doubt that had threatened to unceremoniously flatten me and deal a significant blow to my confidence as a runner. Not bad for having been laid up for three and a half weeks before the race with a gimpy foot. There are six 5k's this month. We'll see how those go.
The race started at 0530 (that's 5:30am for those of you not familiar with the 24 hour clock) and there were maybe half as many people there as were present for the Reindeer 10k in December. I don't know who organized the race, but they should be shot, or at the very least horse-whipped, for instructing all the walkers to proceed to the FRONT of the group! What kind of brainiac thinks it's a good idea for a mass of runners to line up behind about fifty walkers on a track? The starter yelled, "Go!" and we were off! Not really. I had to basically walk to the first turn as I tried to weave my way through the mess of bodies. When I finally got a chance to start running I was immediately cut off by a girl who was completely oblivious to her surroundings and was aimlessly drifting from one lane to the next.
Luckily we only had to do 3/4 of a lap and then we were out on the streets. If any of you have been to the desert in the winter before you will know that it is pretty dark at night. This was the case here. There were so many people tripping over rocks or rolling their ankles I didn't even bother to count how many I saw. We weren't a block from the stadium when all motivation abandoned me. My body kept telling me to quit and my mind was ready to accept the idea. I checked my watch at least five times in the first seven and a half minutes but that realization did nothing to improve my mental situation.
I kept telling myself to just keep going for a little more, to reach the halfway point and see how I felt. When I finally did, I was cut off again (and this time given an elbow to the biceps) and wanted so badly to throw in the towel. I depressed a button on my watch and squinted to see the little blue-green numbers glaring up at me. Mocking me. My body was done but the race was only halfway done and my pace was nearly three minutes off my target time. I don't know at what point on the second loop of the 5k course (a sick, twisted idea concocted as an homage to the Bill Murray classic) I decided to finish; it might have been when I passed the stadium and the Siren-like call of the finish line so painfully close but not really close at all, but I promised myself I wouldn't give up. I mean, if I gave up on a 10k how was I going to convince myself to get through an entire marathon at a faster pace than I was now struggling with?
So I ran. And ran some more. Eventually I passed the guy and girl I had been drafting off of for the first four miles and slowly crept up to pick runners ahead of me off one by one. Then something strange happened. I started to get passed as well. What the deuce is this? I asked myself. I hate getting passed (one reason I tend to start these races towards the back portion of the middle of the pack). But I was only able to catch one of the guys who passed me. I crossed the finish line with the unimpressive time of 0:45:20, a minute slower than I ran it last month.
Ah well. At least I finished. I overcame my inner critic and broke through the wall of doubt that had threatened to unceremoniously flatten me and deal a significant blow to my confidence as a runner. Not bad for having been laid up for three and a half weeks before the race with a gimpy foot. There are six 5k's this month. We'll see how those go.
Monday, February 1, 2010
You may find me crazy, but....
I love to run. I never really thought I would say that. Growing up and all through the three high schools I went to I played sports. Basketball, football, baseball. If there was a ball involved I was game. I would play and play and play and I never really thought anything of it. I knew I wasn't the best on the team, per se, but I knew I was better than most. Especially on the football field.
I remember in off-season football my junior year we would run laps aroun the football field. Our field in Anadarko, Oklahoma is located in a sort of valley with a fairly steep slope that runs around the field in a horseshoe shape with the open end facing the fieldhouse. The coach would have us line up with the other players from our position (I lined up with the other wide receivers) and we would run up one tip of the 'U' shape, around the bleachers, the opposite endzone, the visitor bleachers, down the other tip of the 'U' and then complete the 400+ yd loop. I never really thought much of the fact that I was consistently running the circuit in less than a minute, at that time the competetive nature in me took over and all I wanted was to come in first. Every time.
Well, it just so happened that my position coach in football, Coach Williams (the best coach I ever had the pleasure of playing for), was also the head Track and Field coach. The other coaches had him leave track practice, which took place at the same time, and watch me run. He came one day with his own stopwatch and when we were done he asked me to run track on the 4x400 relay team. I blew him off that year, saying I didn't like running around in circles. What a fool I was!
Happily, I did not make the same mistake the next year. I went out for track my senior year and we eventually qualified for State. Needless to say we got our butts kicked, but considering we qualified last out of 16 teams and finished 6th it was a rewarding experience.
I didn't seriously run again for nearly ten years. When I, basically on a whim, signed up for the 2009 Disney Marathon. I overestimated my athletic ability and vastly underestimated how grueling it is to run 26.2 miles. The day before the race I was still with my family in Grovetown, GA and seriously considered not driving the 400 miles to Orlando, but thankfully my very supportive and vocal wife convinced me to go. We were going to miss the runner's expo and package pick-up so we had my brother-in-law, Jacob, pick it up for me and arrived at my sister-in-law and her husband's house just before 10 o'clock that night. I think I got something like two hours of sleep, if that much.
The atmosphere was electric. Literally thousands of people were milling around at the staging area, a fairly talented band played songs meant to hype us up, and I knew I was hooked. Only once during the race, I think it was at mile 18, I said to myself, "what the hell am I doing out here?". I knew I should've actually trained for this, the longest run I did was 14.5 miles, but there was no way I was going to let lack of training keep me from finishing. I crossed the finish line at 5 hours and 4 minutes and came to find out that my racing chip only registered at the halfway point, so I was in the very last group to start and didn't get the adjusted time because of the malfunctioning chip. Lame. But there's nothing that could be done about it.
So here I am, just over a year after my first marathon and I have a decided that at the very least I am going to qualify for the Boston Marathon. I know if I actually train for this I can drop my time sufficiently to attain that goal at the very least. We'll see how I do once I get back to the States and participate in the Chicamagua Battlefield Marathon on November, 13th.
I remember in off-season football my junior year we would run laps aroun the football field. Our field in Anadarko, Oklahoma is located in a sort of valley with a fairly steep slope that runs around the field in a horseshoe shape with the open end facing the fieldhouse. The coach would have us line up with the other players from our position (I lined up with the other wide receivers) and we would run up one tip of the 'U' shape, around the bleachers, the opposite endzone, the visitor bleachers, down the other tip of the 'U' and then complete the 400+ yd loop. I never really thought much of the fact that I was consistently running the circuit in less than a minute, at that time the competetive nature in me took over and all I wanted was to come in first. Every time.
Well, it just so happened that my position coach in football, Coach Williams (the best coach I ever had the pleasure of playing for), was also the head Track and Field coach. The other coaches had him leave track practice, which took place at the same time, and watch me run. He came one day with his own stopwatch and when we were done he asked me to run track on the 4x400 relay team. I blew him off that year, saying I didn't like running around in circles. What a fool I was!
Happily, I did not make the same mistake the next year. I went out for track my senior year and we eventually qualified for State. Needless to say we got our butts kicked, but considering we qualified last out of 16 teams and finished 6th it was a rewarding experience.
I didn't seriously run again for nearly ten years. When I, basically on a whim, signed up for the 2009 Disney Marathon. I overestimated my athletic ability and vastly underestimated how grueling it is to run 26.2 miles. The day before the race I was still with my family in Grovetown, GA and seriously considered not driving the 400 miles to Orlando, but thankfully my very supportive and vocal wife convinced me to go. We were going to miss the runner's expo and package pick-up so we had my brother-in-law, Jacob, pick it up for me and arrived at my sister-in-law and her husband's house just before 10 o'clock that night. I think I got something like two hours of sleep, if that much.
The atmosphere was electric. Literally thousands of people were milling around at the staging area, a fairly talented band played songs meant to hype us up, and I knew I was hooked. Only once during the race, I think it was at mile 18, I said to myself, "what the hell am I doing out here?". I knew I should've actually trained for this, the longest run I did was 14.5 miles, but there was no way I was going to let lack of training keep me from finishing. I crossed the finish line at 5 hours and 4 minutes and came to find out that my racing chip only registered at the halfway point, so I was in the very last group to start and didn't get the adjusted time because of the malfunctioning chip. Lame. But there's nothing that could be done about it.
So here I am, just over a year after my first marathon and I have a decided that at the very least I am going to qualify for the Boston Marathon. I know if I actually train for this I can drop my time sufficiently to attain that goal at the very least. We'll see how I do once I get back to the States and participate in the Chicamagua Battlefield Marathon on November, 13th.
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