I never thought it would come to this; I may be going into Facebook withdrawal. It's only been 24 hours since I made my decision to abstain from Facebook, and here I am, actually wishing I could go check my news feed. I'm actually missing be able to check on people. Hearing about how (INSERT POLITICIAN HERE) is the anti-Christ? Not so much.
Am I tempted to break my Lenten resolution? No. It was an impulse decision, so I didn't have enough time to prepare myself; hence, the weirdness I'm feeling right now. Also, see my previous post about my serious lack of impulse control. But I am resolved. It was doing bad things to me. But I had to at least acknowledge that this may not be quite as easy as it seemed yesterday.
And besides — my wife will tell me if anything real happens, so it's not nearly as self-centered as it sounds.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Losing face
I've never been terribly good at the Christian Church's tradition of giving things up for Lent. To begin with, I have no willpower. Lent is, as I understand it, a time to deny one's self of a pleasure. It reminds us of Jesus' 40 days of temptation in the desert, as well as a way of preparation for the joy of Easter through denying ourselves certain pleasures. Well, self-denial has never been something I've excelled at, so there's that.
So, with the thought that most people actually do give up things that they enjoy, the fact that I swore off using Facebook for Lent yesterday is probably not at all in the spirit of the occasion. I initially created my Facebook account several years ago in order to see some photos posted from an overseas family member. Since then, it has served a valuable function by allowing me to contact friends that I would have never have otherwise been able to, and to get a better sense of the day-to-day activities of my far-flung family — both good things.
Lately, though, Facebook has become a tiresome exercise in the worst that the Internet has to offer. Every time I check Facebook, I am subjected to a daily dose of political vitriol from both sides of the political spectrum. Like anyone, this is tolerable enough when it happens to line up with my own views, but infuriating and anger-producing when it does not. Since one of the things I am trying to tame is my temper, a period of abstinence from the thing provoking the anger seems the wiser course.
I want to like Facebook — I really do. I want to know more about what my family is doing, and have even been tempted to do more frequent posting of my own comings and goings. But actually getting to the content that matters to me is increasingly becoming too much work, being, as it is, lost amid the political broadsides and humorous placards from well-meaning friends and family. For example, some vital news about one of my nephews was buried yesterday amid so many such posts that I would never have known about it if my wife hadn't seen it and told me.
I know my abstinence comes at a cost — by ignoring Facebook entirely, I'm throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Things that I might have seen from family are now, effectively, lost to me unless I see an email or blog post from them. And that alone tempts me to resume using Facebook come Easter Sunday. But if I do, we're going to have to put some ground rules in place.
So, with the thought that most people actually do give up things that they enjoy, the fact that I swore off using Facebook for Lent yesterday is probably not at all in the spirit of the occasion. I initially created my Facebook account several years ago in order to see some photos posted from an overseas family member. Since then, it has served a valuable function by allowing me to contact friends that I would have never have otherwise been able to, and to get a better sense of the day-to-day activities of my far-flung family — both good things.
Lately, though, Facebook has become a tiresome exercise in the worst that the Internet has to offer. Every time I check Facebook, I am subjected to a daily dose of political vitriol from both sides of the political spectrum. Like anyone, this is tolerable enough when it happens to line up with my own views, but infuriating and anger-producing when it does not. Since one of the things I am trying to tame is my temper, a period of abstinence from the thing provoking the anger seems the wiser course.
I want to like Facebook — I really do. I want to know more about what my family is doing, and have even been tempted to do more frequent posting of my own comings and goings. But actually getting to the content that matters to me is increasingly becoming too much work, being, as it is, lost amid the political broadsides and humorous placards from well-meaning friends and family. For example, some vital news about one of my nephews was buried yesterday amid so many such posts that I would never have known about it if my wife hadn't seen it and told me.
I know my abstinence comes at a cost — by ignoring Facebook entirely, I'm throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Things that I might have seen from family are now, effectively, lost to me unless I see an email or blog post from them. And that alone tempts me to resume using Facebook come Easter Sunday. But if I do, we're going to have to put some ground rules in place.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
A director with flare
A couple of nights ago, the final piece of the puzzle for new Star Wars movies, apart from the casting of actors (or, hopefully, the re-casting of actors), was announced. J.J. Abrams, Hollywood golden boy de jour, was confirmed as the new director for Episode VII by Lucasfilm.
Abrams is a favorite of many of my co-workers, particularly for his involvement on Lost. The only of his movies I'm familiar with is, of course, Star Trek. While I'm grateful that he and his team were able to kickstart that beloved franchise, I initially didn't think Abrams was the man for Star Wars. He seemed too trendy, and with a vision that was too specific and personal to take on someone else's world. If anything, the fact that he did Star Trek took him out of the running for Star Wars, in my opinion, since he put so much of himself in that film. I really don't want lens flare to start injecting itself into the Star Wars world ever 15 seconds.
There's also the fact that no one man should have that much absolute power over geekdom without some sort of general election, or something. Either, way, I thought it wasn't a good thing.
In one of the articles I read on this, the writer referenced a TED Talk where Abrams talks about his love of mystery — both in life, and in storytelling.
There are a couple of cool things that came out of this talk. For one thing, he sounds like an Apple Geek's Apple Geek, which makes me like him immediately. The main thing, though, is when he references the first Star Wars movie as his primary example of the importance of withholding information in storytelling. I won't pretend to do it justice here, so just go and watch it.
Abrams is a favorite of many of my co-workers, particularly for his involvement on Lost. The only of his movies I'm familiar with is, of course, Star Trek. While I'm grateful that he and his team were able to kickstart that beloved franchise, I initially didn't think Abrams was the man for Star Wars. He seemed too trendy, and with a vision that was too specific and personal to take on someone else's world. If anything, the fact that he did Star Trek took him out of the running for Star Wars, in my opinion, since he put so much of himself in that film. I really don't want lens flare to start injecting itself into the Star Wars world ever 15 seconds.
There's also the fact that no one man should have that much absolute power over geekdom without some sort of general election, or something. Either, way, I thought it wasn't a good thing.
Happily, after a couple days to reflect, I'm pretty sure I was wrong.
In one of the articles I read on this, the writer referenced a TED Talk where Abrams talks about his love of mystery — both in life, and in storytelling.
There are a couple of cool things that came out of this talk. For one thing, he sounds like an Apple Geek's Apple Geek, which makes me like him immediately. The main thing, though, is when he references the first Star Wars movie as his primary example of the importance of withholding information in storytelling. I won't pretend to do it justice here, so just go and watch it.
Before I started watching this talk, I was pretty indifferent to Abrams getting his hands on Star Wars. After I saw it, I was one board 100 percent. Because, like Michael Arndt, he seems to get what makes Star Wars special at a basic level. It's not the characters, or the worlds they inhabit, or the technologies they use — its the story, and how that story is told.
I love the Prequels; to me, they are just as much a part of that world as the Original Trilogy. But what was missing, particularly in the first two films, was a sense of suspense. I'm pretty sure that, between Arndt and Abrams, that won't be a problem for Episode VII. And that is a very good thing indeed.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Starting with a whimper, not with a bang
Since the announcement that Disney was going to buy Lucasfilm, Ltd., and all of the Star Wars movies, characters and other assorted ephemera contained within, I've been pretty upbeat about the future of the franchise. Here, at last, was the possibility of new (and canonical) Star Wars movies; a chance to see Luke, Leia (and, just maybe, Han) hand the Saga off to a new generation of Jedi. I had long thought that Saga wouldn't outlive George. Now, for the first time, and completely from left field, was the possibility that the Saga might outlive me. It is now entirely possible, and even likely, that R2-D2 will live on after George, just as Mickey Mouse has outlived Walt Disney and Ub Iwerks. And since the Saga seemed to be in capable hands, I was very, very excited about the future. The Star Wars fan in me who went dormant between films need never die — starting now, there will always be a Star Wars, as long as there's an audience.
But judging from what aired on The Disney Channel Friday, I find myself agreeing with those that say this may not be such a good thing.
It has been several years since I've watched The Disney Channel, but I'm familiar with the types of programs it airs — upbeat, professionally produced fare, typically of a good, if forgettable, quality, starring attractive and ethnically diverse examples of the target age group, and often geared toward promoting other areas of the Disney brand. Often, it's not so bad, and is frequently entertaining — I survived both Hannah Montana and The Cheetah Girls with few, if any, scars, and my entire family genuinely enjoyed all three High School Musical movies. So I have no bias whatsoever against what the channel has to offer.
That said, I think that the first post-announcement collaboration between Lucasfilm and Disney that aired recently on the Disney Channel has all the earmarks of being exactly what everyone is afraid of.
The show in question is A.N.T. Farm — a sitcom about child prodigies that started airing on the DC last year. The Nov. 2 episode, "scavANTger hunt," has the main characters embarking on a scavenger hunt around San Francisco, and entering Skywalker Ranch in order to secure the autograph of one G. Lucas. Once there, they (naturally) meet R2-D2 and C-3PO (with the latter not voiced by Anthony Daniels). A brief sample of the horror can be found here — watch if you dare.
Bear in mind, I haven't actually seen the entire episode; I've only heard a 2 minute audio clip played by The Weekly ForceCast. But that was enough — it was exactly the kind of meaningless character prostitution that everybody fears will become the norm under the new regime.
Thing is, there's a long history of equally dopey stuff with George at the helm — and, in point of fact, he's still at the helm. The deal has to be cleared by regulators before it takes effect, and the episode was filmed before the Lucasfilm purchase was even announced. I'm hoping that no one involved in the writing and production of the episode in question had any clue about the Star Wars deal; or, at least, that they had no clue about the timing of when it was going air. Because what aired is exactly what fans are afraid a Disney Star Wars will become, and it would have been stupid in the extreme to deliberately show millions of nervous fans that episode as a first taste of the future.
Fears aside, I don't think this is the shape of things to come. I think the people now in charge of Star Wars will take every measure they can to make the best Star Wars they possibly can. I think the Mouse's marketing department will continue to pull stuff like we've just seen from time to time, but that it will be the exception, rather than the rule. I am still terribly excited, and optimistic, about the future of Star Wars — mainly because now, there actually is a future.
But my enthusiasm has been tempered ever-so-slightly by this misstep, intentional or not. The less I see of this sort of thing, the better.
But judging from what aired on The Disney Channel Friday, I find myself agreeing with those that say this may not be such a good thing.
It has been several years since I've watched The Disney Channel, but I'm familiar with the types of programs it airs — upbeat, professionally produced fare, typically of a good, if forgettable, quality, starring attractive and ethnically diverse examples of the target age group, and often geared toward promoting other areas of the Disney brand. Often, it's not so bad, and is frequently entertaining — I survived both Hannah Montana and The Cheetah Girls with few, if any, scars, and my entire family genuinely enjoyed all three High School Musical movies. So I have no bias whatsoever against what the channel has to offer.
That said, I think that the first post-announcement collaboration between Lucasfilm and Disney that aired recently on the Disney Channel has all the earmarks of being exactly what everyone is afraid of.
The show in question is A.N.T. Farm — a sitcom about child prodigies that started airing on the DC last year. The Nov. 2 episode, "scavANTger hunt," has the main characters embarking on a scavenger hunt around San Francisco, and entering Skywalker Ranch in order to secure the autograph of one G. Lucas. Once there, they (naturally) meet R2-D2 and C-3PO (with the latter not voiced by Anthony Daniels). A brief sample of the horror can be found here — watch if you dare.
Bear in mind, I haven't actually seen the entire episode; I've only heard a 2 minute audio clip played by The Weekly ForceCast. But that was enough — it was exactly the kind of meaningless character prostitution that everybody fears will become the norm under the new regime.
Thing is, there's a long history of equally dopey stuff with George at the helm — and, in point of fact, he's still at the helm. The deal has to be cleared by regulators before it takes effect, and the episode was filmed before the Lucasfilm purchase was even announced. I'm hoping that no one involved in the writing and production of the episode in question had any clue about the Star Wars deal; or, at least, that they had no clue about the timing of when it was going air. Because what aired is exactly what fans are afraid a Disney Star Wars will become, and it would have been stupid in the extreme to deliberately show millions of nervous fans that episode as a first taste of the future.
Fears aside, I don't think this is the shape of things to come. I think the people now in charge of Star Wars will take every measure they can to make the best Star Wars they possibly can. I think the Mouse's marketing department will continue to pull stuff like we've just seen from time to time, but that it will be the exception, rather than the rule. I am still terribly excited, and optimistic, about the future of Star Wars — mainly because now, there actually is a future.
But my enthusiasm has been tempered ever-so-slightly by this misstep, intentional or not. The less I see of this sort of thing, the better.
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