The wrong Alice indeed

Curiouser and curiouser, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland seems to curiously lose its wonderfully bizarre charm in its new movie adaptation by Tim Burton. It is understood that Burton didn’t get any emotional connection with the original story of Alice’s Adventure in Wonderland by Lewis Caroll and as well somehow disliked by the previous 1951 movie adaptation, Alice in Wonderland by Disney, therefore he created a new framework in his own version of Alice in Wonderland to give the old story a whole new spin. The premise was no doubt very promising, with all its gleaming star casts starting with Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Anne Hathaway and Mia Wasikowska. However it is turned out to be just another mediocre action-like movie with flowery visual frills that leaves no impression or whatsoever.

First of all, I admit, I never really liked the story of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Caroll. I feel that the story is very much random without any structure and adorned too much with nonsense. I want to love all the wackiness and trippy events in the story but all of them prove to be too much for me. I tried very much to like it though, but no luck, it just doesn’t click. Therefore I was very excited with what Burton had planned for the movie, as the new Alice in Wonderland movie might be my reason to finally love Alice in Wonderland.

It started all right with an older and much mature Alice downs the rabbit hole once again. It might not be as a cute start as I expected, but it is acceptable as it might just be a revolutionary start to a story that I don’t really cherish. Then the prospect started to get all hazy when the Mad-Hatter appeared. As much as I admire Johnny Depp, I was disappointed with his performance in this one. Watching the Hatter was like watching Willy Wonka in a clown frock. Then it all went downhill from there. Burton’s feverish imagination has truly transformed Wonderland into some kind of a Nightmareland. The Underland portrayed is devoid of wackiness, whimsy and wonder, it seems like the place has just recently dropped with atomic bombs with a radiation powerful enough to create peculiar critters like Jabberwocky, the March Hare and Blue Caterpillar. Then as if it is not enough to crack the story, a ‘legendary’ sword stepped in and out of nowhere it turned out to be some kind of ‘Alice and the Lord of The Rings in Nightmareland’, Alice mutated from a supposedly adorable little girl into Joan of Arc, the Jabberwocky slayer. Actions barged in, wittiness retreated and before you know it, the story had completely lost its catch.

Heavily bombarded with visual candies in 3D, the movie still failed to impress. It’s like riding an empty ride in visual-candy land. The actions displayed were trite and not completely suitable with all the slashing and crowding, which finally wrapped in an anticlimax of Alice beheading the Jabberwocky plus a bonus scene of the Mad-Hatter doing some kind of out-of-place achingly body-twisting break-dance.

Lastly, my opinion here isn’t revolving around my tepid interest of the original Alice’s Adventure in Wonderland, but of my opinion of the movie as a movie. I am not even compelled to compare the movie with the original story because I couldn’t care less with it (the story). I just think about the prospects of all the fascinating elements inside the story that out of its wackiness could be weaved into such a wonderful motion picture. Well, what’s done is done, probably the future Alice in Wonderland movie will be better, at least good enough for me to make the movie as a reason to love Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

unbearably simple, surprisingly dark

This is probably my most liked Indonesian book so far. It has everything I expect it to be. It’s short and simple, it doesn’t use any complex language, just fairly simple phrases and locutions, yet it’s brilliantly surprising and sometimes inspiring. I was smitten by the depth of some of the short stories the author wrote. One thing that blew me away was how immaculate the author has managed to gracefully weave simple Indonesian words together in her stories which makes them unbelievably straightforward, easy to understand, yet still succeed leaving scrumptiously dark after-taste after I finished each story as my lagniappe. In short, the book has successfully exalted the position of Indonesian language in my eyes. However as always happens in short-story compilation books, there are some good stories and some bad stories in it. We’ll just have to pick some and rid the others.

Japan’s magical war in the eye of a card-geek

This is the very first MTG (Magic The Gathering) book series I read. Let me tell you why I decided to pick up this book from the shelves at Kinokuniya Kuala Lumpur one afternoon a few years back. First, I was (and probably will always be) an MTG trading card games fan. I played it since I was in high school and I really enjoyed playing it. MTG has always been overly innovative and active contemporaneously by always breeding more and more card series with different themes every time for us to play. The possibility is near to endless as the fun. One of the series was Kamigawa cycle series. Of course as a celebrated player I always wanted to know the story behind the games ‘what makes it what I think it is’. Therefore one day I decided to buy the trilogy all at once: Outlaw: Champions of Kamigawa, Heretic: Betrayers of Kamigawa and Guardian: Saviors of Kamigawa. If you ask did I buy the other series of MTG books—no. Why? because this was a special case as in this Kamigawa series MTG for the first time highlighted Japanese culture in its card games which suited my interest of Japanese culture impeccably.

However honestly speaking I was devastatingly disappointed by the book. True, it was a story of wartime in ancient Japanese time, but it is written in American style! probably Hollywood! (of course youcan guess why: McGough is American!) And that’s awfully bad. Bad enough to make this book a one-star piece. The main character, Toshi, is a lone samurai that’s full of surprises and always present to impress. He met Michiko, the daughter and princess of the almighty, all-fearful, all powerful Daimyo Konda and together they venture dangerous journeys to save the whole realm of Kamigawa from the dreadful threats of the Kami (Spirits) that are invading the kingdom. Sounds cliche? I know. Moreover, I assume if I wasn’t a magic player, I wouldn’t be able to picture the whole creatures and heroes in this story. I could understand them well enough just simply because I’ve seen the illustrations in the cards that I’ve played. Maybe these revelations were the main reason why I read the book just after 4 years after I bought it.

If there was one thing that I like about this book, is the myriad types of mystical creatures that appeared in this book–although almost all of them appear incongruously unsuitable.

OK. Enough words. I think I’ll just have to finish the remaining two books and tell you what will happen next (even though I don’t think I would enjoy them).

Today I reached the office at 8.35 am

It feels good to be at the office

It feels right to be an early bird

It feels wrong today is Friday

Sekali Peristiwa di Banten Selatan: Not a bad read. Not decent either

A light read of a surprisingly average story with a cynical, almost typical happy ending. The plot is idiotproof, it doesn’t feed me much of satisfying noetic literary nourishment. However the story is very much genuinely Indonesian, and probably a perfect case study for anybody who wants to learn more about Indonesian culture.

Barry

I

This peculiar story began on one afternoon when we caught Wally, who was suddenly, without notice, about to leave the apartment that we rent together for good. Eric, the other guy who rent the apartment with us, wasn’t looked so surprised with this incident. “What have to be done, shall be done,” was his farewell bidding to him.

Just before Wally stepped out the door, I asked him about who is going to replace his part of the rent.
“There’s this guy,” he said
“Well, we have never seen him before.”
“You’ll love him. He’s a good man.”
“How old is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“He has a job?”
“Probably. I don’t know.”
“All right then, where are you going to?”
“I got a job in the town, I’ll move there.”
“In case you forget, let me remind you that you haven’t paid this month’s rent.”

“Oh, the new guy is covering for it.”
“Oh okay… Good luck with everything.”
“Thanks, I need that.”
Then he left.

II

Two days after Wally left, somebody was pounding on our apartment door at two in the morning. It’s not like Eric to open the door for anybody–not even the postman–so I opened the door.

I saw a Chinese guy, probably from the mainland of China, aged around late twenties. He was tall and clumsy. He threw a dead blank look from his shallow brown eyes. His slick hair was parted to the side, excessively greasy, like a slab of butter was melting on it. He wore a red thick long sleeved top despite of the sultry temperature in the corridor. He brought with him a large duffel bag, a suitcase and a shoulder bag clinging on his side. I surmised he was the new tenant.
“Hello, Wally?” he said
“Hello.” I said. “I’m Kenny. Wally’s left.”
“Candy! How are you?” He was briskly tapping my shoulder like I was a good old friend.
“You are?”
“Barry, Barry,” he replied. “You are my new housemate.”
“Yes, I suppose. And you are the new tenant?”
“Yes, tenant!”
“Your room is behind the door beside the TV set.”
“Oh, thank you, Candy.”
“Well Barry, have you got Wally’s 200 dollars outstanding rent with you?”
“Oh money!” He delved his shoulder bag and fished a small gaudy red envelope with a glossy golden dragon image on it. Then he shoved two crumpled a-hundred-dollar bills from his jeans pocket to the envelope, forming a lumped thing, stuffed it to my palm.
“Thanks Barry. And welcome.”
He then grinned slyly and rushed himself into his new room. The room’s door was broken, so it’s never locked. I closed the apartment door behind him.

III

The company of Barry in our apartment changed our lives for ever. Our fridge was stuffed with his alien food, which smell would permeate the kitchen. Practically it shunned me from cooking for an indefinite length of time and left me with no option but to dine outside. It’s not good to dine outside every day when your job was to babysit in apartment room 502. However I reckoned Barry had no job at all. He would usually confine himself for days in his room. He even took hold of our TV set by bringing it inside his room, where for countless of hours a day he would watch his China TV show, which explained why there were two Chinese guy that looked like electricians fiddling around with the TV set the day before.

The worst was the fact that I was impelled to use Eric’s bathroom inside his master bedroom for shower as one day I found a massive lump (or hunk?) of brown substance adorned with a handful of hair and a fetid stench stuck on the cover of drainage system just below the showerhead of our shared bathroom. I showed this to Eric and he said, “If you are uncomfortable with that, you know you can always use my bathroom.”
“Thanks Eric.” I said.
“Foreign culture can be as interesting as it is revolting,” he said. “And I think we should respect that.”
“Okay,” I said.

IV

One day Eric asked me if I was irritated by Barry’s daily activities. I said that I really was.
“What do you say if I said I could kick him out?”
“That would be nice,” I said.
“Well, leave it to me,” he said. “You’ll see him packing by tomorrow.”

The next day morning, I was just walking to Eric’s room to shower when I saw stains of brown thing all over the shared bathroom: the ceiling, the walls, the mirror. It left a curious trail which I followed all the way back to the door of Barry’s room. I knocked on the door. It was involuntarily opened at the first knock and I found Barry in a terrible condition. His face was sweating hard, his eyes were black and he has a bloated stomach like he was six-month-old pregnant or something. “Barry, what happened to you?” I said.
“Stomach problem,” he said, panting.
“Is that why I saw shit smeared all over our bathroom?”
“What?”
“Never mind. By the way you haven’t paid this month’s rent.”
“What?”
“200 dollars.”
“I gave you 200 dollars.”
“I thought that was Wally’s outstanding rent.”
“Who’s Wally?”
“Never mind,” I said. “Are you leaving?”
“What?”
“Are you leaving?”
“Where? No!”
“Okay.”

Then I went to Eric’s room. The door was locked. Eric had never locked the door before, so I knocked.
“Eric,” I called. “Are you there? I need to use the bathroom.”
Then I heard a muffled click from the door and it was opened “Come in,” he beckoned to me. I came in.

Eric’s room had changed overnight. There were strange spices of some sort of maroon flowers all over the bed, a curious skull of a goat smeared with blood circled by five burning crimson candles around it and a bizarre colourful periodical table look-a-like in the place of the usual poster of topless blonde with a caption “LET’S HAVE FUN THIS WEEKEND”. The window was plastered by black duct tape therefore no lights were able to get in. It was dark in there.

“Barry’s still here,” I told Eric. “And he won’t pay the rent.”
“I know,” he said. “He’s a more formidable enemy than I thought he was.
Looking around the room I asked Eric, “Did you cast some kind of spell on him?”
“Not just spell. It was black magic enchantment”
“Well it didn’t work out really well,” I said. “You might need a better spell.”
“I know. Let me try something else.”
“Okay.” I said.

Later that night, I was in my room when I heard a series of long muffled shriek and indistinct squeal from Barry’s room. Eric was working on his magic again, I thought. The squeal and scream lasted until near morning, with some irregular achingly glorious thumping sounds joining the orchestra of pain.

I saw Barry was packing his clothing in a small duffel bag in his room in the morning. The door was left opened. He looked even more awful than the day before. He looked completely disheveled. Bruises were all over his face and limbs. A lump of Kleenex drenched in crimson red was stuck inside his left nostril. He turned all of his body to the direction where I stand to meet my gaze. It’s clear that he couldn’t turn his waist nor cock his head. He was in a total mess.
“Good morning, Barry.”
“Last night was the most terrible night in my life,” he claimed.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. This house is evil.”
“Evil?”
“Yes, evil spirits everywhere.”
“Nothing that I can see of.”
“You will see. Oh. The pain…”
“Where are you going?”

Barry was about to answer when a big fat guy whacked our apartment door—snapping its hinges—and barged into the room. His face was bewitchingly ugly, hiding behind a titanic nose, puckered lips and a pair of slit eyes. He carried limped Barry and his duffel bag, lying in his arms. Walked away, leaving our door leveled with the floor. As they walked further away, I can see Barry briskly tapping his shoulder like he was a good old friend.

Eric joined me in the breakfast not so long after. “I think your magic works, Eric. He left,” I said. Putting a piece of pancake in his mouth he said, “He’ll be back. This is just the beginning.”

V

Barry returned a week after that. Looking much, much better. He brought some weird appliance with him: a weird high-hat that resembled a plunging dragonfly (with its translucent wings), a long yellow robe, a long slender sword, a stack of yellow-coloured papers and a huge white banner with a Yin and Yang logo on it.

“Candy, why are you here?” he asked anxiously.
“I’m making myself a pancake, Barry. What are you doing here?”
“Have you seen the evil spirit?” he swept the room concernedly.
“Fortunately no Barry. Have you?”
“No.”
“Where have you been?”
“Teacher’s house.”
“He gave you those?” I pointed at the weird hat.
He replied in a wide antsy grin.

“Barry’s back,” I reported to Eric while I was in his room that day evening. He was busy arranging the candles and flowers for his next dark ritual. His room was darker than ever. The walls were painted with shades of pitch black, burning candles were smeared all over the floor, the bed was replaced by a kid’s inflatable pool, filled with liquid substance that looked like blood with a rubber duckling floating on it.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I brought Nerissa with me.”
“Nerissa?”
“The virgin offering for the Dark Lord,” he replied while studying a fancy dagger with an entangling snake ornament wrapping its hilt.
“Your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Where is she?”
“Hi Kennyh,” said a voice behind my back. I turned over and saw Nerissa. She was naked. Red body paint was slathered all over her body. Her long wavy brunette hair was hanging loose behind her back. Her eyes were unnaturally red, the colour of fresh baby octopus sold in the sushi store. Beside that, she looked Mediterranean.
“Hi Nerissa, a pleasure to meet you.”
“Eric told me everything about you, Kennyh. Also about Bharrih. He gave you a hard time.”
“You know a lot.”
“I could know more, Kennyh. It’s a shame you know absolutely naught about me.”
“There’s always time, Nerissa.”
“I’m afraid there might not. My time in this world is austerely sparse.”
“My love, it’s time,” Eric beckoned to her after he donned his black hooded robe.
“Let this be our farewell, Kennyh,” she said.
“If tomorrow you’re around,” I said. “Would you like a Banana Sundae at Nancy’s? My treat.”
“If the Dark Lord permits,” she said.
And Eric shut the door and locked it twice.

VI

That night, I heard Nerissa’s constant moan and groan in accordance to Barry’s long falsetto cries. The apartment was like a zoo of demented animals. When Barry and Nerissa stop sounding, I could hear Eric chirping some curious phrases:

O doodling dog! O dainty duck!
Trapped in the fog, I’m feeling luck!
Break the log and shred some frock!
For he’s the bad hog in the wok!

It went over and over again. I didn’t understand what it was about at all. However Eric was surprisingly a quite good singer. Not for long, I fell asleep to Eric’s lullaby.

In the morning I was having my breakfast of a pancake in the living room when Barry burst out of his room in the most rowdy manner. He was breathing heavily with sweat drenching all over his body. The fancy dragonfly hat was sitting on his head. First, he was examining the room in a deranged way. Then he looked at me. Then he looked at the pancake. Then he looked at me again. Then at the pancake again. Then he yanked the pancake from the table, stuffed it to his mouth at once. For a while he had a trouble wolfing the pancake chunk. Then he swallowed it in a single painful gulp. For a glimpse his eyes looked like jumping out from its socket. Then he threw all the plates and utensils on the table in a single sweeping motion. Then he noticed that a mug with two pretty bunnies on it was still standing on the table. He took it and threw it against the wall. It was turned to pieces. He then kicked the black wooden table in means to overturn it. It didn’t budge. Then he tried to lift the table. Still didn’t budge.
“Wah!” he said.
“Oooh!” he said.
“Damnit!” he said.
“&#***!@!” he said in (probably Chinese).
Then he gave up. He fell to the floor and breathed as fast and as loud as possible.
“Good morning, Barry,” I said. “Trouble sleeping?”
He stopped breathing and gawked at me for a while. He breathed again and stood. “Where to buy pig here?” he said.
“I’m not sure Barry. You can try Ahmed’s oriental store.”
“Okay, thanks Candy.” He left.

Not long after that Eric came out from his room naked with plenty of scratch marks on his body. He looked tired and disheveled. With his bloodshot eyes he was studying the mess Barry had masterpieced.
“Is this part of your magic?” I said.
“No. He did this?”
“No, it was his better self.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s going to get a pig.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like pig.”
“Where’s Nerissa? I’m going to take her to Nancy’s.”
“She’s gone.”
“What? Where?”
“She’s with the Dark Lord.”
“When she will be back?”
“Never.”
“Oh.”
“She has done well. She will be remembered.”
Then Eric hurriedly left the apartment—naked.

VII

In the afternoon, I was cleaning up the great mess when Eric’s back. He brought a pair of wickedly scrumptious Japanese twins with him and two pussies—one black and one white. Both pussies eyed me suspiciously.
“Party in the flat tonight, Eric?” I said.
“Not without him,” he directed at Barry’s room.
Poor Eric, I thought. Now he couldn’t live without Barry.
He walked to Barry’s room and kicked the door open. Horrid stench pervaded through the air. He heel-and-toed inside the room and gently placed the black cat on Barry’s moldy-looking bed. It meowed and purred. “Good girl,” Eric said to the pussy and closed the door. Looking curiously assuaged Eric clung his arms on the both wickedly scrumptious Japanese twins’ shoulders, placing him between them and threw lewd grins at both. The twins looked at each other then to Eric and smiled, while lasciviously rubbing Eric’s bare hairy chest. Then they looked at me. “Be rejoiced now, Kenny, for I guarantee you that with the help of my wickedly scrumptious Japanese twin friends, there will be enough power to complete my ultimate dark magic ritual that without a doubt will send Barry for good from our home. Am I right Atsuko? Akiko?” the wickedly scrumptious Japanese twins beamed and nodded in assurance.
“I believe you, Eric.”
“No! Don’t believe my words. Believe what you will see.” His eyes gazed the wall as if it was the infinite space.
“Okay.” I said.
“You will see, Kenny—the power of the Dark Lord—tonight.”
“I can’t wait.”
Then the three of them went to Eric’s room, with giggles. For the whole evening, Eric was singing some pop songs loudly with the wickedly scrumptious Japanese twins in his room. I never knew Eric had a karaoke set.

Then Barry came with a small, pink-coloured pig—that looked like piglet—cuddled tight in his arms.
“Hi Barry. I see you found the pig.”
“Candy, what song is this?”
“Backstreet boys.”
“What’s that?”
“Boy band.”
“What’s that?”
“Never mind. What are you going to do with that poor piglet of yours?”
He was eyeing me without answer. None of those words means anything to him. Then I said, “Never mind, Barry.” Then his face brightened and he said, “Aha!” then whistled and went to his room. I saw the pussy was no longer there.

My phone rang. It was Mrs. Josephine, the cougar of apartment 502. She was asking if I was available that night to babysit her little cubs while she was hunting for younger men all night long. I said, “Of course Mrs. Jo.”

The night was placid. The two rascal kids were asleep when I arrived. I spent the night sleeping in Mrs. Jo sofa, cleaning the flat for the whole day had certainly drawn up my energy.

VIII

I woke up in the morning. Mrs. Josephine was still hunting. I yawned in the sofa. It was a fine quiet morning until the door was loudly whacked by something big. Something monstrous. It snapped its hinges therefore the door was level with the floor.
“Motherfucker,” I said. I thought it might be a robbery—a brutal one. Then I heard Mrs. Josephine’s voice.
“Mao, you are so strong, me likey, can you stay here for ever? The kids will love you. You are such a strong man with a strong heart. Maybe you have a lion’s heart, just like good old Richard. Maybe you were that lion in Narnia in the previous life. Oh, I always like that Lion in Narnia, I always love him, I do. He’s big, furry and strong. Like you Mao. Oh, please Mao stay here, Oh, I love you Mao.
“Motherfucker,” I muttered. What now?
I saw the big fat guy with his bewitchingly ugly face. I thought I he looked awfully familiar. Then I realized he was that very friend of Barry’s carrying lying Mrs. Josephine in his huge fat arms. Mrs. Josephine saw me hiding behind the sofa.
“Kenny? Kenny what are you doing there oh dear Kenny? You silly kid! Come out now. You are not afraid of Mao don’t you? Of course you’re not. What do you think of him? He’s sooo that-lion-in-Narnia isn’t he? Oh isn’t he lovely? I think we are going to marry. Oh I think we will. Will you come to our wedding? Oh I’m so happy Kenny, I am, I am.”
“Congratulations Mrs. Josephine. I do think he’s awfully nice. Of course I will come to your wedding,” I lied. I think he’s Frankenstein meets Yoko Ono.
“Oh aren’t you a sweet thing? Isn’t he Mao?”
Mao grunted coarsely.
“Well Kenny, you’ve been a good boy, now I will give you the usual tip of 10 dollars with 10 dollars extra because you’ve been really nice,” she said.
“Thank you Mrs. Josephine, anytime.” I said. I saw both of them going to a room. Then I left.

I went back to my flat. The place was handsomely quiet. I walked to Barry’s room. The door wasn’t locked. “Barry,” I called. No answer. I poked the door and probe the room. There wasn’t anybody. It was empty and curiously clean: no foul stench, no bags, no TV, no bed, no Barry. What the hell, I thought. Then I went to Eric’s. I knocked the door. “Eric,” I called. No answer. I tried to open the door. It was not locked. I came in. There was no Eric. There were no twins. There was just one wickedly scrumptious Japanese twin without her identical other. She was lying on the floor. Clutching a martini bottle on her body. I woke her up.
“Where’s Eric?” I said.
“He’s gone,” she said.
“Where?”
“To the Dark Lord’s side.”
“Where’s your sister?”
“He’s taken my sister with him.”
“Oh.”
We went silent.
“You’re not going with them?” I said.
“Only the chosen can go.”
“Oh,” I said, “Barry’s gone. He packed his things too.”
“He’s dead.”
“Oh.”
She was eyeing me.
“What does this Dark Lord look like?” I said.
She was still eyeing me.
“Nobody knows,” she said.
She stood up.
“I have to leave. My task here is done,” she said.
“Wait a minute,” I grabbed her hand.
She stared at me. I pulled back my hand.
“Don’t you wanna know?” I said.
“What?”
“What he looks like. The Dark Lord?”
“I do.”
“Maybe we could find it together?” I said. “I could help you. I could learn dark magic.”
She gazed at me.
“Are you serious?” she said.
“Yes.”
She bit her lip.
“I guess I can teach you a thing or two,” she said.
“That’d be nice.”
“I think we can try.”
“Great.”
We looked at each other.
“I’m hungry,” she said.
“What about banana sundae? At Nancy’s? My treat,” I said, slipping my hand in hers.
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay, should we go… Akiko?”
“Atsuko.”
“Oh, okay,”
“Let’s go,” she said smiling.

Atsuko and I live together in that flat ever since. Sometimes I see the mysterious black and white pussies cuddle in Barry’s room. I think they are lesbians. I miss Eric sometimes. Strangely, I miss Barry too. I haven’t heard anything from Wally. I tried to call him for the 200 dollars but it seemed he had changed his number. Well I couldn’t care less for Atsuko and I are now practicing dark magic together in our flat. So far we haven’t had the chance meeting the Dark Lord yet. And I’m happy for that.

***

This evening was a little bit lax, so I made myself this LB Christmas bookmark.

Annie’s Happy Marriage

Annie’s wedding was held in a small Chinese restaurant

She invited some of her friends and acquaintances

There were nine tables in the restaurant

There were four kinds of dishes served on four silver trays

There were fish sticks on the first tray

There was fried noodle on the second tray

There was boiled spinach on the third tray

There was white rice on the last tray

The enormous one-and-a-half-metre-tall cake was in the centre of the room

Annie called it the “Happiness Cake”

Nobody ate the fish sticks, because there are more sticks than fish in them

Nobody ate the fried noodle, because it wasn’t fried

Nobody ate the boiled spinach, because it was cold

Nobody ate the white rice, because there was nothing else to be paired with it

Nobody ate the “Happiness Cake”, because it was made of polystyrene

But at least everybody clapped when Annie split the “Happiness Cake”

But at least everybody cheered when Annie kissed

And at least Annie’s happily married now

This morning
I was sleeping
like a baby
as I flew away
it seemed as if
I had left all
my trouble behind
far far away

[REC]2: Zombies meet exorcism

I watched [REC]2 with some old friends on Saturday night at Blitz Megaplex Grand Indonesia as a part of Inaff Film Festival–probably an Indonesia Indie Film Festival showing a selection of obscure films from various countries.

Unlike its predecessor, [REC]2 is rather a tainted and convoluted zombie movie. Most annoyingly this is the kind of movie, which you are forced to watch the main characters irritatingly making series of ridiculous errors that ultimately lead to their demise by zombies that certainly have more brains than they are.

Beside that, if you think this is a kind of zombie movie that will satisfy your cravings for zombie, well you might be wrong, because apparently, this is NOT a zombie movie. I know if you watched [REC] you’d agree with me that it was pure zombie. But [REC]2 is rather inclined to “The Exorcist” movie kind of like. It involves a man-zombie that talks like a little boy, exorcism (completes with catholic priest, cross, and aggressive possessed little girl with enlarged pupils and a voice of a fully grown man) plus a number of intelligent conversations between the zombies and the main characters (only a steaming pot of chamomile and teacups are absent).

I believe [REC}2 is way worse than [REC], if you expect gruesome zombies that creep around the corner and will scare you out of your own living skin, it’s certainly still there, however the whole package is really strange because they tried to get some ingredients like zombies, exorcism and virus together. But they just don’t mix, therefore creating a tainted, convoluted storyline and lame (also cliché) ending. However I give the movie a merit of “its endeavour of creating something new.”

[REC]2 will be suited more to fans of The Exorcism and The Omen than fans of regular zombie movies like “28 Days Later”. Therefore for regular zombie fans, there are still plenty of good zombie movies to watch out there.