Mood:  accident prone

My cyber-twin Pengwyn recently commented on how strange the acting profession is, when you compare it to other jobs.  Few other jobs require you to alter your appearance, mannerisms, and voice every few months.  As Pen commented, poets aren't told they have to grow a beard or dye their hair in order to compose verse.  They don't have to fly to Prague, write two lines, then fly to a studio in LA six months later to write two more lines that take place earlier in the poem.  Plumbers aren't told they're too thin or too old or too ethnic for the part.  Teachers don't have to adopt a Russian accent for the fall semester and a Canadian accent for the spring semester.  My job description doesn't say "must resemble Sean Bean".

Acting might not be steady work, but it certainly isn't monotonous.  I think it would be interesting if accountants had to get their ears pierced in order to get a promotion, and nurses had to learn how to use a bow and arrow.

While we're on the subject of work, here's a small piece of advice:  never medicate a cat on the morning of your annual performance review.

Midway through the meeting, my boss got an odd look on her face and said "What is that?"  I looked down, and found an antibiotic pill stuck to my shirt pocket.  The cat had coughed it up surreptitiously while I was busy praising him for being a good boy about swallowing his pill.  Apparently I had spent the entire morning prominently sporting the yellow and white capsule. 

We agreed that one of my "2007 Goals & Objectives" would be not to walk around with pharmaceuticals stuck to my shirt.

Posted by dessicatedcoconut at 1:48 PM EST

Updated: December 12, 2006 2:33 PM EST

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Mood:  suave

Faramir and Dilios.  Let's compare:

1.  Both wear leather.

2.  Both are the sole survivors of a hopeless military campaign.

Obviously, this means David's been typecast.  He now has no choice but to appear in these upcoming film projects about lopsided battles fought in supple bovine pelts:

1.   La Charge Aux Folles A gay version of Pickett's Charge.  "Does this secession make my butt look fat?"

2.  Easy Bonaparte  Waterloo, re-enacted by rival biker gangs.  "Bornnn to be exi-i-i-led..."

3.  Theirs Not To Reason Why The Charge of the Light Brigade, except with hunky RAF pilots.   If they'd all been wearing expensive leather bomber jackets, maybe they would have been a little more careful about galloping half a league onward into the Valley of Death, hm?

4.  We Band Of Brothers The Battle of Agincourt, from the French point of view, as fought by 1980s heavy metal guitarists.

5.  Da, Comrade! The Ukranian Waffen SS Division Galicia holds off the Red Army's advance on Lviv in July of 1944 while wearing S&M gear.

Posted by dessicatedcoconut at 1:05 PM EST

Updated: December 9, 2006 11:51 PM EST

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Mood:  quizzical

Among six-year-olds, the urge to mimic famous people seems to be common, judging from anecdotal evidence consisting of a sample population of David and myself.  As a youngster, David got his start by doing impressions of Gough Whitlam (former prime minister of Australia) and Harry Butler (narrator of the ABC TV series In the Wild).  Wouldn't you love to have seen that?

Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, I was wasting a lot of time at recess imitating Richard Nixon and Howard Cosell.  Who among us has not succumbed to the temptation to impersonate the President?

INSTRUCTIONS FOR IMITATING RICHARD NIXON FOR FIRST GRADERS

1.  Shove your tongue under your lower lip.  For added effect, the tongue should be a toxic shade of blue from having recently eaten a popsicle.

2.  Scowl heavily.  At this moment, you are not a six-year-old girl.  You have jowls, heavy eyebrows, and five o'clock shadow, and you've just eradicated the gold standard.

3.  Slump your shoulders.  Raise both arms, make double peace signs, and growl "I am not a crook".

4.  Explain who Richard Nixon is to uncomprehending classmates.

Howard Cosell was more fun to imitate, because of his robotic, nasal delivery and erudite vocabulary.  It was hard to imagine a Monday Night Football broadcast without his huffing metaphors.  "THIS...IS...HOWW-ID....CO-SELLLLLL," I would quack into the ear of my best friend, who hated him, while we were waiting in line for our turn at kickball.  "WE...ARE...IN, THE, MIDST....OF GLAD-I-TOR-IAL COMBAT."  She still hasn't forgiven me for this.

Ronald Reagan also presented an easy target, with his folksy, absent-minded ramblings and habit of starting every sentence with "Wellllllll...."  Drop in a few casual references to Nancy and nuking the Russians, and Bob's your uncle.

I'm not saying these were great imitations, but it was a good alternative to dodgeball and suicide (an inexplicably popular game involving a brick wall, a tennis ball, and coming home from school with a lot of painful welts on your butt).

So, if you know any six-year-olds, encourage them to start studying the mannerisms of world leaders.  You too could have a miniature Golda Meir or Helmut Kohl walking around your house, and who knows where that could lead.  In my case, it seems not to have led anywhere.

Posted by dessicatedcoconut at 11:34 AM EST

Updated: December 7, 2006 12:33 PM EST

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You've probably heard about  the weird connection between Pink Floyd's "Dark Side Of The Moon"and The Wizard of Oz.  If you cue up Dark Side of the Moon, and push "Play" right as the MGM lion roars for the third time, a series of astonishing and remarkable coincidences unfold between the screen and the music.  I've tried this myself, and it's reeeeeeeally freeeeeeeeaky.

So that got me to wondering: what sort of music might lend synchronicity to David movies?

Here are some suggested combinations to spice up your viewing experience:

Molokai/"Black Coffee" by Heavy D & The Boyz

Black coffee, no sugar, no cream/That's the kind of girl I need down with my team raps Heavy D, as Father Damien shouts his confession to the Bishop from a dinghy.  Far out, man.  Pass the Cheetos.

The Two Towers/"Candy Man" by Sammy Davis Jr.

Who can take a rainbow...wrap it in a sigh?  Faramir, of course.

Three Dollars/"Blister In The Sun" by The Violent Femmes

If you time this just right, Eddie will appear to walk down the street as the Violent Femmes sing "When I'm walking, I strut my stuff..."  Plus: "My girlfriend, she's at the end, she's starting to cry".  It's like they wrote the whole song while watching Three Dollars.

Van Helsing/Schumann's "Diechterliebe"

Nothing overlaps here.  Let's move on.

Dust/"Blinded By The Light"

For a complicated plot, choose an incomprehensible song.  What could be more fitting than to watch Luke collect flesh wounds while Manfred Mann sings "Scott with a slingshot finally found a tender spot/And some bloodshot forget-me-not said daddy's within earshot, save the buckshot..."

Cosi/a kitchen blender

Wow!  Push "Puree" right as Doug starts rapping.  The rhythm is exactly in synch.  Totally weird.

Better Than Sex/your car's left turn signal

Sit in the car with a portable DVD player and push down on the turn signal lever just as Josh starts up the monologue about his girlfriend back in London.  Josh will appear to be saying "TINK-a...TINK-a....TINK-a...."  If you want, you can honk the horn too.

Posted by dessicatedcoconut at 1:03 PM EST

Updated: November 29, 2006 1:47 PM EST

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Mood:  a-ok

"Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you."

"Unless you get hit in the head by a dictionary."

-- words of wisdom from my niece and nephew

David's "Policing the Pacific" gig sounds intriguing.  Until recently, I didn't realize how dependent South Pacific states like East Timor, Papua New Guinea, Fiji, and the Solomon Islands are on Australia to help maintain law and order.  Australia is a nation of only 20 million or so, already stretched thin with commitments in Iraq and Afghanistan, and all their neighbors turn to them first in a crisis.  There is no NATO or EU equivalent to help spread the burden around.

There is a loose alliance of southeastern Asian nations (ASEAN), formed about 40 years ago, who are working together to build a free-trade area.  Although ASEAN is an economic alliance, it's been suggested that these nations might be persuaded to join Australia in forming a peace-keeping coalition for the region.  In the meantime, Australia is shouldering most of the obligation of supporting its faltering neighbors.

*abrupt subject change*

One of my fervent movie wishes is that someday David and Jonathan Teplitzky decide to work together again.  I'm an ardent admirer of Jonathan Teplitzky's strong color sense and offbeat way of composing frames.  Think of the "tiny David head on large Susie body" shot in Better Than Sex.  Or this little moment in Gettin' Square, where Sam Worthington pauses for a nanosecond in front of a mural of a Native American headdress:

I don't know why, but something about this aesthetic sensibility reminds me of Mr. Tyzik, the "head crushing" man from Kids in the Hall. 

Posted by dessicatedcoconut at 11:06 AM EST

Updated: November 20, 2006 12:06 PM EST

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It's election day today in the US.

One can't help thinking of that lovely ballot scene in Answered By Fire, where thousands of East Timor residents turn out to exercise their hard-won right to vote, despite threats, violence, and militia harrassment.  The only thing I had to worry about this morning was finding a parking space, and getting through the handshake gauntlet of eager local candidates.

So vote!  Because you can.  You'll oil the gears of democracy, get a free sticker, and meet nice people like my mom, who's working the polls today at her local station.

On an entirely different topic, I was watching a video of Possum Magic with the girls last weekend.  Possum Magic is a children's book about a young possum named Hush, whose Grandma Poss has turned her invisible to protect her from predators.  Unfortunately, Grandma Poss has forgotten the spell to turn Hush visible again.

So they travel around Australia sampling native delicacies, and Hush gradually becomes visible.  They eat ANZAC biscuits in Adelaide, Minties in Melbourne, pavlova in Perth, and so on.   Hush finally becomes fully visible when she eats a lamington in Hobart.  In order for Hush to stay visible, they go around every year and do the eating tour all over again.

I mentally wrote a sequel to the book, featuring David movies at each pit stop:  Alex in Adelaide, Mark in Melbourne, Faramir in Fremantle, Brett in Brisbane, Doug in Darwin, etc.

An All-Australia Wenham Film Festival might not counteract invisibility, but it would sure be effective against boredom.

Posted by dessicatedcoconut at 11:54 AM EST

Updated: November 7, 2006 12:20 PM EST

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THREE DOLLARS GOOD!

by The Incredible Hulk

Movie based on Elliott Perlman novel, but Hulk not know how read.  Hulk only know compelling character study when see it.

Robert Connolly skillful director.  Him concerned with global economy, high finance, and impersonal brutality of urban life.  Hulk hate cities.  Give Hulk claustrophobia.

David Wenham give shrewd thoughtful performance.  Bring tear to eye of Hulk.  Chemistry of cast very good.  Hulk think little girl actor do good job.  If Hulk make same movie, Hulk make Eddie less puny.  Able to lift cars.   Hulk also wonder: where Eric Bana?

Plot simple:  Good man with family have hard time.  Childhood sweetheart appear every nine and half year.  When Eddie lose job and youthful idealism, Hulk angry.  Hulk SMASH puny TV screen.  Aargh!!  Hulk not know how movie end.

See “Three Dollars”, or Hulk smash you too.

Posted by dessicatedcoconut at 10:07 AM EST

Updated: November 3, 2006 10:37 AM EST

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Mood:  mischievious

The other night, just before Halloween, I was in line at the health food store, waiting for my pineapple to be rung up.  The cashier was clad in a fuzzy duck costume.  Stapled to the front was a square piece of chicken wire.  Her face was made up with very realistic bruises, contusions, and blood.  I wanted to ask her what her costume was, but I was afraid if I did, the bruises might turn out to be real, resulting in an awkward apology.  (My guess is she was a chicken unsuccessfully crossing the road.)

Even though Halloween is past, it's never too early to start planning your David/Dessicated Coconut-themed costume for next year:

David's Character In "Marriage"

1.  Ring the doorbell.

2.  When asked who you are, say "I don't know yet.  But keep checking imdb.com."

Alex's Architecture Firm

Logistically, this one is pretty tough.  To be a convincing architecture firm, you must be equipped with a diverse staff of dedicated project managers and draftspeople, plus the latest in CADD and 3-D rendering technology.  You also need ample pinup space, conference rooms, and parking.  Few people take this into consideration before attempting to go trick-or-treating as an architecture firm.

A 56K modem

1.  Cut out two eyeholes from a grey cardboard box.

2.  Ring the doorbell.

3.  When the person answers, wait for 4 - 6 minutes.  Then say "Trick or Treat!"

4.  Receive the candy (freezing once or twice during the upload). 

5.  Wait another 4 - 6 minutes.  Then say "Thank you!"

Posted by dessicatedcoconut at 4:12 PM EST

Updated: November 3, 2006 10:46 AM EST

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Mood:  on fire

I don't know why, but my spam has been extra weird lately.  I've gotten email from Australia ("A low-interest loan for you!"), Sharpe ("Enjoy sssex with her"), and some guy named Howard Dean ("Democratic Presidential Campaign '08").

 My favorite aspects of spam are the randomly inventive names ("Rosario Thacker") and the junk-filter-evading subject lines, which sound almost like haiku if you savor them on their own:

 Unpleasantly, of our complete.  You, Pherl, will be nothing.

Now, doesn't THAT just make you want to dive in and read the rest of the message?  All your base are belong to them.

The other day, I watched Gettin' Square again, and was just bowled over by the courtroom scene.  That is a phenomenal piece of physical comedy.  It's done with such subtlety and skill: Johnny missing the chair, the timing of the dialogue, the smug little head motions at the end after he's weaseled bus fare and lunch money out of the prosecutor.  Just brilliant.  David deserved every bit of the AFI award for that scene alone.

I've also been musing over Answered By Fire, which unfortunately didn't do as well in the CBC ratings as hoped.  It's a very powerful and extraordinary movie, particularly in light of the renewed violence in East Timor, and the current situation in Darfur.  The analogies are fairly close.  Similar to what happened in East Timor, the Sudanese government, after signing a separate peace agreement with the SPLA, has armed a militia that is attacking civilians with helicopter gunships, burning villages, obstructing access to humanitarian aid, and going into refugee camps nightly to slaughter men and drag women away to be raped.  Foreign witnesses are being quietly removed.  The international community has been shuffling their feet over whether this constitutes "genocide" and warrants appropriate action, but it's mostly a semantic debate.  Genocide doesn't always mean targeted butchering of a particular ethnic group; it can be carried out through indirect means, such as taking Aboriginal children away from their parents to "breed the color out" (as one Australian official said in 1933), or failure to provide legal or military protection to threatened groups, as happened in East Timor.

Thus far, Darfur has been viewed as a humanitarian emergency, not genocide, and the UN won't act unless invited in by the Sudanese government.  Among their limited options are to put peacekeepers on the ground in Chad to try to stop the violence from spreading.  I don't see the US intervening as they did in Kosovo, not with troops already overextended in Iraq.  Meanwhile, over 2 million people have died.

Wow, this turned into a depressing blog entry.

Posted by dessicatedcoconut at 12:57 PM EDT

Updated: October 27, 2006 4:13 PM EDT

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Mood:  suave

This story is probably going to get me added to the "No Fly" list, but... 

My mom is seriously addicted to a brand of peanut butter not available in her area of the country.  She asked if I would bring a jar with me last weekend when I flew to Baltimore.  Stupidly, I put it in my carry-on bag, thinking that OF COURSE peanut butter wouldn't be classified as a liquid, gel, or aerosol under the new FAA regulations.

No go.  I knew I was in trouble when the X-ray lady started inching my bag back and forth on the belt.  There was a minor kerfuffle, during which the jar was removed from the bag and brandished accusingly. I pleaded that it was a special gift for my dear mother, that technically peanut butter isn't a liquid or hazardous substance, and besides they hand out free peanuts during the flight anyway so why arbitrarily criminalize peanut butter?  Each plea got the same response: "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you're going to have to throw this out."  (Never argue with security personnel.)

I decided I wasn't going to let a bunch of terrorists stop my mother from getting her peanut butter.  There was still half an hour left before boarding.  I walked back to the car, opened the trunk, got out a plastic bag and a Swiss army knife, and started scooping the peanut butter into the bag.  In my furtive haste, I cut my finger.  Anybody watching through a surveillance camera would have seen an agitated passenger rummaging ritualistically inside a car trunk, fiddling with a knife and a jar, flinging blood onto the pavement, and muttering incoherently.  The scene wouldn't have looked out of place in a Murray Whelan telemovie.

Then I wrapped the bag in a paper towel, stuffed it in my sock, and limped nonchalantly through the metal detector, reeking of peanuts (thank goodness they didn't have bomb-sniffing dogs, or my ankle would have been toast).  The expression on my mom's face when I handed her the goods was priceless.  My sister accused me of being a "peanut butter mule".

Just to wrest this post vaguely back on topic, the reason I was traveling was to attend a family party for one of my cousins who just got married.   They lived in Sydney for many years, in Bellevue Hill.  My cousin was 13 when they moved, and it was a bit of a cultural adjustment to get used to school uniforms (gray tunics, gray underwear, house girdles).  When they handed her the list of school supplies, she was momentarily confused to see rubbers on the list.  In most places in the English-speaking world rubbers are erasers, but in the US they're condoms.

Similarly, we say "pencil", but they say "tractor"; and their word for "ruler" is "weapons-grade plutonium".  No wonder the school supply list was confusing.

Posted by dessicatedcoconut at 10:11 AM EDT

Updated: October 10, 2006 11:00 AM EDT

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