“This was interesting, if you find a crushing lack of clarity interesting.”
* * *
Perhaps you’re curious about Canadians (though this documentary’s premise suggests you’re probably not, at all). You probably won’t find your answers here, whatever they may be.
Or perhaps you are a Canadian yourself, hoping for a kind of closure, a definition, an explanation, a raison d’etre, something existential. Likewise you probably won’t find such substance here.
What you will find is a somewhat personal journey, intercut with celebrity interviews, more valuable for their amusement than deep insight.
About three decades ago, we grew up watching “Rowdy” Roddy wrestle. As far as we know, his final work was on the forthcoming Portal to Hell.
Through Portal we hoped to see him revisit the kind of world he brought to life in John Carpenter’s They Live. Easily one of the quirkiest and most brilliant B-movies of the Eighties, it was subtle and gross, subversive and exploitative, great and terrible at once.
“Tell them I am like Jackie Chan …but from Canada.”
* * * *
May I burn in eternal hellfire if I ever make fun of any of the people in this documentary.
I sometimes wonder how I might come off if a documentary film crew followed me around all day. Under that kind of scrutiny, I don’t think anyone comes off well. Ever.
In my case, it would probably be one of the dullest documentaries ever made.
For all the things I might say about Elliot ‘White Lightning’ Scott, the star, pivot point, subject, eye of the hurricane featured in Kung Fu Elliot, he doesn’t make for a dull documentary.
Quite the contrary. This 2014 movie by New Brunswick-born filmmakers Matthew Bauckman and Jaret Belliveau starts off unassuming and then roundhouse kicks you right in the feels.
I can’t discover everything myself.
Right now it’s Pride week, in Toronto, Canada, and all around the world. We’ve been celebrating it in our own way for years now. Grushenka likes the parades. Me, I’ll always be an audio/video geek; I make mixdiscs, playlists, and the occasional “top five” for our site.
“You and me. But that’s fine. So long as we’ve got each other, that’s all that matters.”
Today I am going to celebrate Father’s Day by burning some bacon for the best male person ever invented.
When I was a permed and awkward adolescent girl growing up in a trailer in permafrost Northern Alberta, I believed that men people didn’t have feelings. None. Or at least, they didn’t feel their feelings like I, a brooding female person, did.
Turns out men do have feelings. Lots. They have complex inner lives. They write poems, long letters and music that communicate the cave-spelunky, deep-down feelings they have in their male-type bodies.
They brood. They quietly regret. They share their feelings in complex and entertaining ways. They don’t just smash beer bottles against trees and crash their pick up trucks when they are feeling low.
So today, I am grateful that I get to hang out today with the best man I have ever knowed. Here are a few blog posts that touch on my feelings (and junk) about men and family and fathers.
I’ll work on the bacon. (Also the Fallout 4 Special Edition with Pip-Boy was sold out …sorry).
“We don’t always get the kind of work we want, but we always have a choice of whether to do it with good grace or not.”
There are times where I become literally frozen with admiration. Normally a blabber-mouth of the highest order when it comes to the people and things I admire, my tongue …and my typing fingers were stilled by the news that the immortal Christopher Lee had died.
As the site’s resident goth, with my rooms stuffed with vampire paraphernalia, I was tasked with writing this great man’s memorial. What did I do instead? I puttered, I fussed, I napped. For shame. This was not a very Christopher Lee way to live my life.
This man was pure, unadulterated, real-deal bad ass of the highest order. 6 foot 4, a former intelligence officer, Lee fought the Nazis, came down with malaria six times in one year, and climbed Mount Vesuvius – three days before it erupted.
On the day bad-assery was redefined by Christopher Lee, we stood in awe and wept.
His was a Dracula you knew could really, actually hurt somebody. There was a pair of enlarged, bear-trap incisors behind that stiff upper lip. The guy could chew up scenery in his 80s. His voice could scare the tight pants and armless t-shirts off the most die-hard metal heads. And he dropped his first metal album at the age of 88.
His resume reads like a man who tore everything he could out the throat of life. An opera singer, world-class fencer, speaking six languages, a metal god, Lee was also a huge and commanding presence in movies that shaped my shadowy world.
Mostly, I am not worthy. Christopher Lee, I salute you.
“Original Canadian-produced action-adventure animation, something that we haven’t really seen in this country since Rocket Robin Hood…”
* * *
Several weeks ago was 2015’s Free Comic Book Day. Since then, I’ve tried in vain to locate the one free title of most interest to me: Captain Canuck #0.
I’ve checked in every comic book shop I’ve found, and nobody has it, free or otherwise. Apparently it was too low in supply and exceedingly high in demand.
Damn, missed it again!
First I missed the creators’ Ottawa expo appearance. Then I missed the Indiegogo crowdfunding campaign for webisodes. Now this issue zero debacle . . . crazy! How hard is it for an avid fan to get ahold of Canadian content?