A Galaxy More Than Meets The Eye.

Glory be! Star Wars Transformers! Where have these been all my life? Give a raise to some brain-box toy-making person (or high-level executive) somewhere. These are far, far and away the best toys of the season. I haven’t been as excited about the merging of two universes since Alien vs Predator! Or Batman vs Judge Dredd. Or Robocop vs Terminator. Or Batman vs Superman. Look, any ‘VS’ combo actually; I’m an absolute sucker for them. It’s just a shame they nearly always suck. But not this time! Well no, this isn’t a VS, but it’s a merging of two universes and from where I’m sitting it’s kicking goals. Shame there’s no Boba model, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. Gold!

The starwars.com page is here.

Shakin' Quakin'.

Woah. Just finished playing Quake 4 with my big Sony headphones on for the first time, and I am a jittery mess. I've never used proper phones before. What a difference it makes! I was jerking around in my chair like a boiling egg! Intense! I need to go and turn some lights on...

Strange bedfellows.

Winter just got given this pyjama top. Do you find it:
a) cute and adorable, or b) strangely disturbing?

If you can’t read them, the stitched words say, “I love to play with my little friend the mouse.” Note that these words are being said by a cat. Maybe I've lost my innocence, but I'm going with b).

Big bother over nothing.

OMG OMG AWESOME AWESOME 2NITE IS THE NITE I LITERALLY CANNOT WAIT 2 FIND OUT WHAT BIG BROTHERS “WORLD-FIRST” THAT THEY HAVE PROMISED WILL SHOCK ME IS GOING TO BE IM SO EXCITED I JUST CANT HIDE IT I CANT WAIT I CANT WAIT MY HEAD IS LITERALLY ABOUT TO EXPLODE!!!

Or not. No-one loves their hyperbole more than Channel 10, but they’ve failed to deliver so, so, so many times that their ads now provoke nothing within me but apathy and exhaustion. Wonder too, I guess; wonder at how they can continually get so excited over nothing, and find the enthusiasm and inspiration to talk up a vacuum.

It’s like how they love to promote Australian telemovies as being WORLD EXCLUSIVES. Yeah, because the US TV networks were just banging down Channel 10’s door, desperate to get first-run rights for the latest Aussie telemovie. Talkin’ loud, sayin’ nothing. It’s pretentious and it’s pathetic. I think I’d be more likely to watch if they just said, “Hey this new telemovie’s pretty good. Worth checking out. Maybe give it a look?” Not working, Channel 10, not working.

“But ah-ha,” you cry, “clearly their advertising IS working because you noticed it and now you’re talking about it!” Yes I noticed it; I also notice dog poo on the footpath, and I am talking about it, but not in a positive way (and to, what? an audience of five people?) And talking isn’t the same as watching.

I cannot conceive of any possible WORLD-FIRST revelation that would convince me to watch the new Big Brother, short of Gretel being stuck in front of a brick wall and shot… now that’d be a world-first, and it’d certainly be a shock… oh Channel 10, don’t tell me? Don’t tell me you’re finally going to deliver on your bluster? Hey, even better, what about if they raised the furiously-spinning George Orwell from the dead and he got to pull the trigger himself? Ratings gold!

You know, I don’t think they will. The 'shock' will come, the 'shock' will go, everyone’ll shrug their shoulders, say, “meh, whatever,” and life will trundle on as before.

A funny thing happened...

You know when you read a joke and you laugh because it’s funny, but at the same time it’s an uncomfortable laugh because you recognise far too much of yourself in the punchline?


Yep.

WARNING: New OFLC symbols.

Like some virulent strain of acne, the new-look classification symbols from the Office of Film and Literature Classification are currently popping up on movie posters and DVD packaging everywhere.


The classification system has gone from being a visible yet unobtrusive aid, to a lurid, incongruous, eye-sore. A big, goofy, candy-coloured, eye-sore. They make me twitch. They irritate like an allergic reaction. And they're patronizing: they’re so bright, they’re so BIG, like I’m some moronic mouth-breather you need to speak s-l-o-w-l-y and c-l-e-a-r-l-y to, preferably in short, easy to understand words. The old system weren’t broke! Why spend taxpayer dollars fixing it?

The OFLC state the reason for the change on their website:

Research conducted by the OFLC, as well as feedback it has received from consumers and industry, has consistently indicated that the old classification markings often suffered from being hard to find or hard to read because they were too small or not obvious enough against the background.

I have never - not once - had any problem with locating and understanding the old markings, and I find it difficult to believe that others would have either. Unless there was something wrong with their eyes or their brains. I suppose the symbols can move around on movie posters, but to only so many places. Où est Charlie? it’s not. And on DVDs? Bottom-left front cover, bottom-right back cover and bottom of the spine. Every time. So where’s the problem?

Or are we perhaps talking billboards viewed from a moving car by the driver concentrating on the road in peak-hour traffic? That’s our baseline, people. That’s our minimum communication requirement. Dad’s driving home from work along the freeway, trying to choose “suitable entertainment products for his family and friends,” and all he’s got to work with are roadside billboards. He needs our aid! We need to “inform his choices!” Informing your choices. There’s a disingenuous slogan if ever there was one. Quite how they inform my choices by banning films and restricting what I can see, I’m not too sure. I guess it's more catchy than "Informing your choices within a set of parameters determined by us" though, isn't it?

The old system was great! It did its job unobtrusively, and it was there to be found if you needed it. It wasn’t like neon signage out the front of a strip club. I can’t believe that so many people must have had so many problems - renting Se7en for eight year old kids or something - that it warranted such a dramatic change. The OFLC’s pre-change research showed that the public had a very high familiarity with the existing symbols, so why not just stop there? Job well done, let’s call it a day. No, they had to use my money to go and tinker. And what did they decide was missing? Colour! The old system had no colours! Ye gods! No wonder there was such confusion.

The best rationalisation they can come up with for introducing colours is: “The use of colour will assist consumers in choosing suitable entertainment products for their family and friends.” This is what feels so patronizing. Letters apparently aren’t enough for adults, they need conceptually appropriate colours too. So, I'm guessing Green is ‘Friendly’, good for kids; Yellow is… also ‘Friendly’, although I find it unsettling; and Light Blue is… still pretty ‘Friendly’ really. I’m not getting much sense of a scale here. Ah, here we go: Red is ‘Warning! Danger!’; and Black is clearly ‘DEATH!’ So I’m not too sure what the colours add? They’re not clear indicators by themselves, they still need the letters, so why not just have the letters? Do another survey OFLC and ask people to identify what ‘Light Blue’ signifies. And of course everything falls apart in newspapers where most ads are all black anyway. What? Free Willy 12: Freedom Baby Yeah is rated ‘R’?!

I don’t mind classification info, I just don’t want it to be the primary point of attention. These new symbols are big and they’re bright. The ‘designers’ have certainly fulfilled the brief criteria to make the symbols more visible. In spades. My problem is that these now glowing beacons are then indiscriminately slapped onto a poster or packaging with no regard for its existing look and feel. A designer and/or artist has toiled to craft a poster that creates a mood and conveys the tone of a film. The image sucks you in and helps you imagine the world of the film - or it would, if you could just drag your eyes away from that enormous coloured box in the corner.

It’s an issue for me because I love my cover art (music CDs included), and I like to enjoy it as its creator intended. If it comes with stickers stuck on, the stickers come off. No price tags, no ‘I’m cheap, buy me now!’ and certainly no ‘The latest album from Whoever featuring the hit single Whatever’. I hate those. If the band’s name isn’t on the cover, that’s how they want it to be, but thanks for helping record company. A cover is a small canvas, but it’s still a significant one, and one that I don't think should look like some cyclist's jersey or a piece of packaging designed by Microsoft.

Now with some images, like this postcard for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, it doesn’t really matter.


There’s so much colour in the image already that the rating is barely noticeable. So really, sometimes the new system’s made no difference at all; the rating's just as “hard to find” as ever. Where I think it does matter though is with covers like this one for The Passion of the Christ.



Could you spot the difference? The artist has carefully crafted an intense and powerful image, filled with mood, emotion and drama, with a deliberate and restrained colour palette, and then the OFLC go and whack a bright red sticker on it like it’s a Red Spot Special at Safeway. Suddenly there’s this glaring distraction competing for your attention and sending the visual to hell.

Look at Ben Hur for another example. What do you notice first? The wonderful, iconic image or that yellow blob that competes in its unsubtly with Charlton Heston’s acting?


I wonder if any directors will aim for a particular rating so that the classification sticker won’t compromise the film’s imagery? If I was a director I hope I wouldn’t, but you never know. “I know I’m making Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, but that yellow sticker would match the poster’s palette best, so do you mind if I don’t show any chainsaws? Or killing? Or actual violence?” Where the colours are concerned, I think the Dr Who packaging below is close to the best you can hope for. Different shade of yellow but, hey, I’ll take what I can get.


Last year a poster for the classic 1920 film Metropolis was sold for $A941,000. It’s a sale that I think shows how significant an artform film art can be. Lucky the poster pre-dates the OFLC. I’m not sure how the price would’ve been affected if there’d been a big green, G-rated blob on it.


Sure, not all film imagery and packaging is as significant or as deserving of respect, but on the whole I think it’s something that deserves to be treated with more respect than the OFLC is affording it now. I like the American system (circled below in green). Discreet, there if you need it, and allowing the cover art to speak with its own voice, unmolested by innumerable bits of superfluous junk. (I know this is a Platinum Edition, and so therefore cleaner than most, but this is my ideal).


I guess I can’t turn back the Australian clock, but at least I can buy Region 1 DVDs if I need to. Thank you Office of Film and Literature Classification for helping to inform my choices.

Winter in South Park.

I have of course added her to the collection, but I felt that Winter deserved her own South Park post.

Stations in life.

Saw an interesting example of the generation gap at the station this morning. I was out taking Winter on her first train trip, and was quite happy to just sit and watch the world go by, so I didn’t bother finding out when the next train would arrive.

A teenager walked onto the platform. He wanted to know when the train was due. He went to the automated Timetable Information panel and pressed the button to hear the recording. It didn’t work; he only got an engaged signal. He pressed it again. Same result. He pressed it again. Yep, same result. He pressed it two more times, then gave up and walked away.

An old man came onto the platform. He also wanted to know when the next train was due. He looked up and down the platform, then walked right past the automated timetable and up to the comprehensive, printed version stuck on the wall. He found out what he wanted to know and went and sat down.

I would’ve liked to think that I’d occupy the middle-ground between the two: familiar and comfortable with technology, but able to cope and adapt in its absence; however I must admit the old man and his crazy, low-tech piece of paper took me by surprise. I guess I’ve become too familiar with the new. I’ve lost my calculator, and now I can’t work out how much my drink and donut will cost together...

Of no relevance to this story whatsoever is that the old man was wearing a ‘Rope Quoits Association’ windcheater! Never seen one of those before. Love it. Everyone should have a hobby.

I Am Parent, Hear Me Snore.

Well, I think I can say I’ve passed the test and am now officially a Parent. I’ve endured a near-sleepless night; I’ve called and woken childless friends at 9 in the morning because I’ve been up since 6:30 at it feels like midday; I’ve managed to get the baby and stroller into the car and gone out for a coffee with Kate at a local café; and while out I had two sets of old Italian grandmas burst with effusive exclamations of praise while peering into the stroller! And all in one morning!

The real clincher though, the undeniable proof, was recognising the feeling of righteous indignation at the friends that I woke with my morning phone call. “What do you mean you’re not up yet? I was up with the sun. What are you: a sloth, a complete waste of space, a teenager?” Yep. I’m there. :-)

Have Mercy.

Kate and Winter came home from the hospital yesterday, and what a crazy week it’s been. Every day feels like the first day in a new job at a new workplace. You’re not quite sure where you fit, or exactly what you’re supposed to be doing. I feel like a child carrying a overly full cup of tea across the room to Grandma. My eyes are fixed intently on the cup, my double-handed grip is tight, and every step is slow and deliberate. I know I’ll loosen up in time and that it won’t be long before I can deliver the cup with a reverse three-and-a-half somersault in pike position, but I ain’t there yet.

We were so impressed with the Mercy, both the hospital and the staff, and while Kate’s glad to be home, I don’t think she would have minded staying a while longer than she did. She thought she could get used to ticking a series of boxes and having every meal delivered right to her in bed! Yes, I’ll bet. The only two things I could complain about were the midwife who told Kate not to cry when unable to breastfeed successfully because it’d make her milk dry up, and also the broken clock in Kate’s room that was stuck at 6:30. I couldn't find where the batteries were supposed to go.


At least it was right twice a day, I guess.

Reality is just a conception.

I came home from the hospital after an amazing day of discovery and wonder with my wife and my new child… and I had to put the bins out.

Real life can be so crude at times. :-)

Footnote: I was trying to think of a title for this post and couldn't really come up with something I liked. I knew that I wanted it to be something about 'reality' or a 'reality check' or something, but nothing seemed to quite fit. Inexplicably, I suddenly tuned right into the track I was listening to, 'Boomp Boomp Chomp' by The Sons, where the vocalist was singing, "Reality is just a conception that truth will always replace"! Freaky. Don't know if it's exactly what I was after, but it just seemed so serendipitous, I had to go with it.

Have a Rice Day.

It’s hardly a Marian apparition, a weeping statue, or even Jesus Toast, but it’s still pretty freaky and maybe a possible omen of, you know, like, summat an’ stuff an' that?


Imagine my surprise as I staggered out of bed this morning, shuffled into the kitchen, and happened onto this miraculous visage in the kitchen sink. Last night’s leftovers transformed into a sunny, shiny, saffron coloured smiley-face. The day was a good one, so clearly some powerful, mystical, long-grain force is at work in my life and in my kitchen, but is there more to it? What else could it signify, what does the future hold for my family and me?

Winter, aged 3 days.

Alright, alright; I promise that this’ll be the last, absolutely the last, post of unflattering comparisons, but surely I’m not the only one to see similarities here?


The midwives tell us that a bit of sorbolene will clear up Winter’s dry skin issues. I wonder if The Thing ever tried that? And she's really strong like The Thing too. At least, I assume that's one of his attributes. I've not seen the movie or read the comics/graphic novels, but he looks more like he'd be up for kicking in a reinforced door, than hacking into Evil Corp's mainframe on a computer. Come to think of it, I'm not even sure his name is The Thing. I just pulled that out of the ether, but it seems right. I must have heard it somewhere, sometime. Pretty harsh, isn't it? I'm all for calling a spade a spade, (or a thing a thing), but hopefully his Fantastic friends don't call him that. He's got enough problems just dealing with his dry skin.

And hey, it looks like those Arnie predictions weren’t that far wrong!


Fresh from the womb and already she’s got a signature pose down pat. Well, pretty close anyway. Might need a bit of work on her tone, and I think she’s got a bit too much of The Thinker in there, but definitely a promising start!

Distinguished guests.

I arrived at the hospital this morning, and caught the lift up from the carpark to the Level 1 foyer, where I stepped out into a deep blue sea of suits. From nowhere an amplified voice suddenly boomed in my ear, and there, surely no more than ten metres away, was Bracksy - sorry, The Hon. Bracksy - welcoming me to The Austin!


I couldn’t believe it! How’s that for the government serving the people?! I’m not even a member of his electorate! He was making a speech about Winter’s healthy future or something, and I’ve got to say I was impressed. If only John So had been there as well…

First day of Winter.

Well, I'm so exhausted that all I've got time for is: Welcome to Winter Beatrix, seen here with a colostrum goatee after her first feed.


Details of birth are: born at 7am on Monday 3rd April after a 6 hour labour, height: 52 cm, weight: 8.8 lbs... and some other stuff I can't recall at this time. A few dramas at the end, but most things went well. Just so good to have her here.

Obviously, obviously, more to come. :-)

Standing by...

Well, we're off to collect our baby from the hospital. I think that's the way it goes? Kate will be annointed with the 'Magic Gel of Inducingness' around 2, and then... well, let's see what happens.

I think George from Blackadder describes my feelings best when he says: "I wouldn't miss this show for anything. I'm as excited as a very excited person who's got a special reason to be excited, sir."

Spot on. See you all in Berlin for coffee and cakes.

The Joys of Parenting.

The first parenting lesson I’ve learned from experience is that everyone who’s a bit ahead of you will always tell you to enjoy your current situation “while it lasts”. The entire experience of parenting seems to be perpetually viewed through a haze of nostalgia, a recollection of how easy you had it “back then in them good ol’ days”, and if only you’d realised what you had when you had it.

You see, pregnant couples tell non-pregnant friends to enjoy their freedom while it lasts; third trimester people tell second trimester ones to enjoy the glow while it lasts; parents with newborns tell third trimester people to enjoy being able to just jump in the car and drive to a restaurant or a movie while it lasts; parents with a 1 year old tell those with a newborn to enjoy being able to carry the baby around in a bassinet and put it in a corner when you’re out while it lasts; parents with a two year old tell parents with a one old to enjoy it while their children can only crawl and can’t just walk around wherever... blah, blah, blah and on it goes!

So ENJOY WON’T YOU!

Most people seem to forget - or at least neglect to mention - that while every stage has its struggles and its difficulties, it also has its own unique set of thrills and rewards. Bring it on.

Infantile humour.

I was going to post some sort of ‘Kate’s gone into labour!’ or ‘We’ve named the baby Chyleigh-Lee’ April Fool’s Day joke, but decided it might not be appropriate. Or even funny, you know? I haven’t played an April Fool’s hoax since I was a teenager, when I replaced my Mum’s crystal glasses with plain glass tubes from a heater we were throwing out, then while Mum was having breakfast in the next room, I went to the cupboard and while innocently asking how old the glasses were, I started smashing the tubes to bits with a ceramic mug. Misjudged the humour potential on that one, I did.

Anyway, what I will tell you is that Kate’s been so inspired by this Britney Spears sculpture that’s just squeezed out a storm of controversy, that she’s decided to give birth on a bearskin rug as well!


Lucky me; I got to spend all yesterday driving around to discount rug clearance centres trying to track one down, and finally secured a cracker at a price never to be repeated.

I am relieved that at this stage it looks like ‘Alpha’ won’t be born on April Fool’s Day. That’d be a lifetime of hilarity right there: “No, that’s right. It actually is my birthday today. I wasn’t trying to trick you, but that’d be a good one, wouldn’t it? Have to try that next year!” You’d have to join a club with all the February 29th babies: “Yes, I guess that’s right; I am only 6! Never thought about it like that before!” Good one!