The World According to Ploy

May 30, 2009

Terminator Salvation, or: I Don’t Think You’d Like It…

Filed under: Movie Reviews — by Ploy @ 7:21 pm

I didn’t like it, either.

Okay, so I’m not saying we have the same taste. I’d rather bet a good part of my fortune that we have totally different tastes. But really, it’s going to take a person with a very specific kind of taste to enjoy Terminator Salvation (which henceforth will be referred to as T4.)

I’m partial to bombs, wars, monochromatic color schemes (think Underworld and 300), and things sci-fi. And even I didn’t like T4. So if I didn’t like it, who’s going to like it? Die hard Terminator fans? Not really…I mean, this has nothing to do with the first 3 movies, at all, except for the character names. You don’t see anything get transported into the past, you don’t see Sarah Connor…although, and this may be a spoiler, you get to see Arnie. Or maybe it’s computer generated; I’m not sure. Well, most likely it’s not him, he’s too busy trying to fix California’s debt problems.

T4 starts with Marcus Wright (Sam Worthington), a prisoner on death row – we’re not told what exactly he did, but it did involve the death of two officers and Marcus’ own brother. He is approached by Helena Bonham Carter, in the role of a cancer-ridden scientist, Dr. Kogan, who asks him to donate his body (dead, of course,) for some kind of research. Now Marcus, sensible man that he is, realizes that he doesn’t have use of his body after they kill him, anyways (brilliance! really,) so he agrees. But he demands she kiss him in return. Dr. Kogan agrees, but then again, Marcus is hot, who wouldn’t. After he kisses her, however, he goes on to say, “So that’s how death tastes like.”


Then we are transported 15 years into the future. 2018, to be exact. And from there, the movie proceeds to be a total mess. It’s loud. It’s confusing. It’s like being in a battlefield, which, well, is the setting for much of the movie.

John Connor (Christian Bale) leads a faction of the Resistance that’s somewhere just outside of Los Angeles. He’s moody, brooding, and really, really hates terminators. In times of confusion, he’d listen to the tapes his mother recorded for him. There was a point in the movie where she advises, “Just follow your heart.” Look, that had NO RELEVANCE at all to the movie. John’s our hero, but he’s busy shouting and screaming and shooting all the time, and he never really has to make any decisions, much less one that includes his heart. I think they just included that sentence, because, well, all action movies seem to tell heroes to follow their heart. Cliched, non?

Shoot. Bomb. Run from Terminators. Blow them up. Get down. Roll in mud. Get up and shoot their heads off. Run. Shoot again. Out of bullets – oh no. Get caught and thrown at an iron beam. Pick yourself up – because in the T4 universe things such as broken bones and fractured spines do not exist. Someone throws you another gun. Shoot more machines.

This morning I actually debated between T4 and Angels & Demons. But I have this thing with seeing action movies on the big screen (just the thought of having to watch Watchmen on my TV makes me cry…) Plus, I don’t have much faith in Tom Hanks. Never had, really. I don’t usually trust men without cheekbones. Does that make me superficial? Hell yes, but it also makes me happy. So there.

But look, even Christian Bale’s cheekbones didn’t save this movie. I wanted to like his character, but John Connor was just angsty, too angsty. I found myself rooting for Marcus Wright (who I’m quite sure had even more screentime than John Connor)…but then he couldn’t save it either. It was just to much of a mess for two very good pairs of cheekbones to cut through.

You know, actually, at first I was going to say “I Don’t Think You’d Like It….But I sorta did.” I was ready to overlook its defiance of the laws of physics, biology, and even general healthcare and sanitation……..You know why I changed for “sorta-well-it’s-not-that-bad-I-could-live-with-it-it’s-not-such-a-big-waste-of-money” into “WOW I wouldn’t see this again if I could go back in time? You want to know why?

Two words: Sony Vaio.

The Resistance troops use some kind of touch-screen device to communicate to each other, and from the shape of it, you can tell it’s a Sony device. It’s shaped like a PSP, for the sake of christ. Then, just in case some people can’t recognize a PSP, in the one scene where John Connor breaks into Skynet, trying to free human hostages, he pulls out said device and plugs it into the lock. And they zoom in on the device. And it said SONY VAIO. And I promptly choked on my frappucino.

“Sony?” The lady sitting next to me echoed.

I wanted to turn to her and say “Do you feel my pain, too? Do you????” But I was still choking.

John Connor’s been running all over battlefields, ducking from enemyes, getting hurt and bloodied. He carries this thing around in his vest and surely it should be scratched and all. But the screen and the SONY VAIO looked brand-spanking-new. It was painful. It was the worse product placement I’ve seen in like, EVER.

To conclude. I don’t think you would like it. I don’t like it. Don’t see it. Or actually, go see it so I’ll have someone to diss-cuss it with. Cuz I saw this alone. No one else I knew wanted to see it. And I think they were right. But I need to share this pain. OH, this pain.


May 29, 2009

Speak clearly, please.

Filed under: Angst,Sheer Insanity — by Ploy @ 11:40 pm

I can speak two languages fluently: Thai and English. Thai was the first language I learned and is the main language I use when, well, I’m in Thailand. I use it at home with my housekeeper. With my parents, I alternate between Thai and English, though when I’m yelling and/or ranting and/or trying to explain that I had nothing to do with the five thousand baht missing in the bank account, I tend to speak in English just because I can’t be bothered to translate anything into Thai.

Even though I’m much more comfortable speaking English, I think I speak Thai pretty well. I know all the words and I enunciate clearly. I hate it when some people speak Thai with an accent…….WHY? Why can you not speak clearly? Is there something in your mouth? Has someone knocked all your teeth out? Is your tongue swollen?

The only, ONLY acceptable reason to not speak a language well is because you don’t have native fluency in it. But when all these Thai MCs come on TV and start speaking accented Thai, I always change the channel. Or if I’m feeling mildly masochistic that day, I watched the entire segment and then sigh to myself. Why butcher a language? Speaking with an accent INTENTIONALLY, with the, well, intent to look cool, is not something to be proud of.

If you’re going to speak in a certain language, speak clearly. Even after years of learning Japanese, I still have an accent…and that EMBARRASSES me. It’s the same reason that, while I’d stay home and self-study French, I’d never enroll myself in a class: because I’ll never be able to master that accent. Look, I see Thai people who don’t dare speak English because they have an Dear God, shouldn’t the logic apply in the reverse situation, that if you don’t speak Thai clearly, then please, don’t dare to say it? Much worse, most of the people with the accent are the ones born and bred in Thailand.

There was this girl on UBC right now (Ms. Inspiration, really) who was advertising some furniture fair. She spoke Thai with an accent, so I though, “Hmm…maybe she’s one of those rich girls who went to school in England or something.” …but then she spoke English, and her accent was somewhere from the South of Bangkok and it grated my ears and I actually growled.

Speaking Thai with an accent, especially when you’re Thai, doesn’t make you look cool. It makes you look, simply idiotic. (Notice how I bold, italicized, AND underlined that.) I’m not one to be a nationalist, but clearly, if it says on your passport that you are Thai, could you please at least ATTEMPT? Or if you speak Thai with an accent, then please, GO FIND SOME OTHER LANGUAGE TO SPEAK FLUENTLY. If you can’t speak clearly in any language at all, then you are a very, very sad person and should go find a hole to, well, hole up in forever.

If someone can send this to those Thai TV channels that hire those dumb MCs, I’ll forever be in your debt. I might even write an entry devoted to you. It will sing you praises, you have my word.

PS. Speaking with an accent, in and of itself, is not wrong. There’s nothing wrong with speaking a language not your own with a trace of an accent, it might even be cute (the Scots!) But when you TRY to speak in an accent, with the ultimate goal of looking cool, therein lies the problem.

May 27, 2009

Frozen Flower, or: On Sex in Motion (Pictures)

Filed under: Movie Reviews,Uncategorized — by Ploy @ 10:12 pm

During lunch this Monday, my good friends B, G, and KK brought up the topic of “Frozen Flower,” a Korean movie (South, of course. If the North ever made a movie, it would be called “Hail Our Great Leader And His Wonderful Haircut”.) From their description of it, I was intrigued. Well, who wouldn’t be with a summary that included the words “nudity”, “explicit sex”, “boobs”, and “gay men”?

So yesterday night, after having watched numerous performances of ‘Gee’ and concluding that at least 2 out of the 9 girls in Girls’ Generation can actually sing (because honestly, I’ve never had much faith in Korean girl groups ever since S.E.S. broke up,) I was in the mood for more Korean-y stuff. Then “Frozen Flower” popped into my head. So, thinking “Here goes,” I searched for it and launched myself right into the 3rd clip. Because I suspect the first twenty minutes would’ve been just talk, talk, talk…and I wanted the action.

And wow. I got action. (That’s in italics, mind you. Anything in italics is, as a rule, special.)

The king and his bodyguard were in action. I have nothing against the idea of that. Directly nicely, acted out convincingly, it could have and quite possibly would have been a good scene. But it wasn’t. They looked like they were trying to take a bite of each other’s neck. In a rabid way. Not in a sexy way. It looked forced. Later, I scrolled down to the comments and someone wrote “They should’ve gotten the actors drunk first,” or something in that vein, and I agreed. I actually laughed.

But onwards I continued, because later, said bodyguard gets into action with the queen. It’s a love story of two men and one women, set against a political backdrop; but unlike your typical story, here the two men are in love and the women comes between them. The conflict that runs parallel to this is that the more powerful neighboring kingdom (where the queen is from) demands that they produce an heir, or it will forcibly install a crown prince. The king realizes that in that scenario, he’ll just be a figurehead. He needs an heir. But he can’t bring himself to sleep with a woman.

So he orders his bodyguard to sleep with his queen (and that’s where we were before I went on tangential-flashbacky on you.) The first time the bodyguard tries to sleep with her, it was a rather touching scene. The king comes to see her in the bedroom, gives her a kiss (which is probably the most intimacy – physical or emotional – that he’ll ever show her) and leaves to call the bodyguard in. The bodyguard enters, looking awkward and troubled, but attempts to do his task. The queen just lies still, but then tears start to fall. And he realizes he can’t do it.

The expressions on their faces…I actually felt a pain for the three of them in that scene. She looked resigned and so hopeless. Bodyguard looked like he would rather just disappear, not because she was repulsive, but because he’d slept with her husband and now he’d had to sleep with her. And the king, who I’d hated up until that point for being such an unemotional prick, I actually felt sympathy; he kissed his wife, showing her at least a modicum of kindness. He couldn’t have been that pricky, then.

But things took a turn on the second night. In the first night, the queen had her nightgown on. In the second, she took it off, which threw me off: Why agree all of the sudden? Maybe she realized the dire consequences if this didn’t happen. but still, wasn’t it too easy? Ok, whatever. I continued watching. Things got graphic. To me it was pointlessly graphic. Good news the second night, mission was completed. But then somehow, queen and bodyguard fell in love…and they went at it every night, it seemed. Like, it seemed like an entire eternity went by with them going at it like Leporids…in all positions. Fine. You love each other. You lust after each other. You are passionate for each other, even though you know you’re doomed. Fine. I get it. Would you stop now? Please?

Alas, it went on.

At which point I found B on MSN and typed “NIGHTMARE…NIGHTMARE!!”

The nightmare wasn’t the sex itself. It’s the pointlessness of the sex. In the case of Frozen Flower, I felt like I was watching a sex tape/porn. Why include so much sex? Why show so much skin? WHAT IS YOUR POINT, DIRECTOR? Your leading actors have great abs. I can see. I drooled, all right? Your female lead is petite and cute, and yes she does have a great body, not to mention I covet her skin. But Jesus…WHAT IS YOUR PLOT? STAR-CROSSED LOVERS? Shakespeare wrote one hundreds of years back and no one needed to see Romeo getting it on with Juliet to cry at the end.

Sex with a point is good. (I did not mean to suggests anything. You shouldn’t even be thinking that I am suggesting anything. I would like to keep my blog PG-13, thank you very much.)

You see, in 300 there was this sex scene between Gorgo and Leonidas, and I thought that it was beautiful. And this may sound weird, but to me, it was choreographed well. You could actually sense that those two people loved each other. And there was one scene in the entire movie, but you realize the ties that bind these two people, which made the end even sadder. If you haven’t watched 300, go watch it. And if you have, then go watch a scene from Frozen Flower. And then…well, compare.

Excessive sex is boring, it becomes pointless. It doesn’t add anything to the storyline. When a movie has ‘excessive sex’, it essentially crosses over into porn category. Honestly, this felt like porn with a historical twist. Minus points also to the fact that the sex seemed forced. Seriously, booze would’ve helped, not just the king-bodyguard couple, but also the bodyguard-queen couple. And if in the story, the king had gotten himself drunk enough to sleep with his wife…maybe no one would’ve had to die in the end. *Sighs* But then we wouldn’t have had a movie.

On the bright side, the scenery and costumes were pretty, so kudos for that. The lady who played the queen was a pretty good actress; her face could possibly convey a thousand emotions, so she gets props. But then the props get taken away because I got so sick of seeing her breasts.

Oh, well. Next target: Terminator 4!

May 26, 2009

It’s not what you wear. It’s how you wear it.

Filed under: Fashion,Sheer Insanity — by Ploy @ 1:07 am

This blog entry was inspired by me surfing around’s fashion section (don’t ask how I ended up there…Links to links to links to links…et voila) Some lady wore tie-dye jeans, and I thought she didn’t look that bad, but people were saying “Honey, you are cute but those jeans are not.” And I was thinking…wait, why blame the jeans? Clothes themselves are not wrong. Clothing items are never wrong.

It depends on how they’re worn. How you wear clothes reflects your style. The clothes themselves do not*.

 As a teenager**, I grew up with a few simple sartorial rules:

1) Do not wear horizontal stripes, because stripes makes everyone look fat.

2) As a very short person verging on dwarfdom, I cannot wear a long skirt, because that’ll make me look short.

3) Jeans and t-shirts can solve anything.

Gee, but I was wrong. I wouldn’t know how wrong I was till I entered college and started reading Japanese fashion magazines (PINKY rocks! Thanks to Book for introducing it to me!) According to those magazines, all rules can be broken. I’ve seen models my height (as yes, in Japan, models can be 5′ or shorter) wear long skirts and maxi dresses. Most striped clothing items are of the horizontal variety; rarely do I see vertical stipes. And I’ve never seen any of them wear jeans and a t-shirt…perhaps once in a blue moon, but they pull it off entirely differently than the American way. PINKY and those magazines may not have transformed me into a fashionista by any stretch of the imagination, but what they did, which I am eternally grateful for, is breaking all those rules above, and much more.

 As for the title of this post, “It’s not what you wear. It’s how you wear it”, I think this statement really applies to Mary-Kate Olsen. She’s unpredictable and ecclectic. She dresses like she blindly gropes for a minimum of three tops in her warddrobe and throws the on, then piles on a handful of jewelry that she just grabbed randomly from a chest. But you know what? I think she always looks perfect. She’s fabulous. I like her style even more than Nicole Richie’s (who ranks right after MK on my ‘Non-Japanese Fashion Icons’ list.) Nicole Richie has that boho look I love, but overall, I think she follows trends (though very, very well). MK, however starts trends.

And over the years of stalking Mary-Kate’s street-style and paparazzi pictures, I notice a general trend in her clothes. As in VERY GENERAL.

1) Skin is not a shirt. Have you ever seen MK’s cleavage? No, I didn’t think so. But this doesn’t mean she’s not sexy. I think MK is sexy despite her layers of clothes. I think it’s her makeup, and also her confidence.

2) Leggings are not pants. I have yet to see a picture of MK, or Ashley, for that matter, wear leggings as pants. Lindsay Lohan wears leggings as pants. Do you want to be like La Lohan? No, I didn’t think so.

3) Being thin helps. Ok, so truthfully, she herself achieves this by chain-smoking Marlboro Lights and drinking soy decaf lattes instead of having proper meals. But the matter-at-hand here is, I think being slim helps a lot. Maybe that’s just me and the culture I’ve be raised in, that girls should be skinny and waifish (regrettably I am neither skinny nor waifish, but I am healthy and I can roundhouse-kick you – sort of – so I am happy (at how fit I am, not at the thought of injuring your posterior))…though that’s probably the culture that you wear raised in, too. I’m doing a mental shrug here, but I think you get my point. I’m not saying go puff and caffeinate yourself to stickfigure-dom, but there are healthy ways out there to be fit, n’est-ce pas?

4) Accessorize. Mary-Kate as the best collection of accessories I’ve seen ever. I covet every ring she has, though I make do with the ones I get from Platinum, which are cheap and good, by the way. I don’t know the store’s name, but it’s on the second-floor. You’ll know it when you find it.***

WAITHOLDUPPAUSE…Before I end, one last point: “how you wear clothes” doesn’t only mean how you put clothes together. It’s actually the overall presentation: hair, makeup, and then the internal factors, like personality, confidence, and manners. For some reason this reminds me of the Japanese mindset (or at least what I am led to believe is the Japanese mindset) that beauty is both external and internal. We’ve all heard that a cruel beautiful person is essentially ugly. But vice versa, a very kind, selfless person who dresses like a homeless, honestly, can’t survive, not only in this day and age, but in any day and age. Or can, but it would be rather difficult. I’m not being superficial. I’m just expressing my opinion. You have to look good inside and outside to survive. It is not either or. You need both.

Tomorrow, wear whatever you want, but wear it with a  bright smile, good hair and good makeup, shoes and a bag that complement your clothes, not clash with it. Wear it with impeccable manners and kindness, humility and confidence. Wear it with personality. Be Nicole (that is, follow trends very, extremely well) or be Mary-Kate (start your own trend, but make sure it still has some artistic merit; eg. a barrel for a dress really will never catch on, even if it is your own very unique trend.) DON’T FORGET, however, to make sure that it goes with the overall setting. That is , I would still bash any one who wears sunglasses in malls – confidence or no – or who stomp around in Uggs in this weather. Not that I’ve seen anyone wear Uggs in Thailand, thank Heavens, but you never know, you never know.

As for me, tomorrow I’m staying at home. I can already picture myself padding around the place in old sweatpants, my ratty old PE shirt (circa Beverly Vista), black-framed glasses, unwashed hair pulled into a ponytail, and face sans maquillage. But that’s when I’m home. That’s how I wear it.



*Dang, but that phrase right there just made me feel positively ancient.

**Though in the case that one picks out, say, a cut-out, heavily sequined corset top in red, and at the same store picks out a feathered boa and fishnet tights, clothes would then qualify as a reflection of one’s style.

***I’ve realized that anyone who says “don’t worry, you’ll know it when you see it” is possibly the worse guide ever.

May 23, 2009

Star Trek, or: Their Phasers Are Set To Stun

Filed under: Movie Reviews — by Ploy @ 11:22 pm

Have you ever watched “Lady in the Water”?

A few years back, while we were at the DVD rental place, my sister added “Lady” to the stack that I was holding. “Isn’t this supposedly horrible and you absolutely hate it?” I asked with a puzzled frown.

My sister nodded. “Precisely, which is why you need to see it.”

At that moment, I thought of the events that had occurred recently, but none of them seemed to involve me in any kind of dispute with my sister. The motive of revenge discounted, I put the DVD back on the shelf. “You’re kidding, right?”

She puts it back in my hands again. “No. You need to see it, because it’s so bad. You have to watch it so you’ll know what a bad movie is”

And so we went home with “Lady,” and my sister saw it that I was sitting in front of the TV and turned the movie on. I couldn’t move; if I tried, she’d immediately wail that I wasn’t paying attention and that I should.

I cried throughout the whole thing. Well, almost. The tears of boredom never physically manifested, but really, I could feel my heart wrenching.

It was horrible. And halfway through the movie, I realized why. It wasn’t only the plot (though that does take half the blame, I guess), nor exactly the casting (cast yourself in a movie? Jesu Christi!) but rather…the lack of music. Yes, there was a period of around 30 minutes or so in “Lady” that there was complete silence and characters moving around. If you should ever want to try torturing anyone, seriously, chaining them to a chair and forcing them to watch “Lady in the Water” should be a viable option.

But this is not about “Lady,” this is about “Star Trek,” which has gone into my book as the best movie I’ve seen so far in 2009, and most likely probably will be the best movie I ever see this year.*

My friend Ginger (who ‘guest-stars’ here quite often) and I rushed into the theater just as our evil villain Nero (played by Eric Bana! I didn’t know this until I looked it up in Wiki a while ago) was attacking the USS Kelvin. Acting-Captain George Kirk (i.e. Kirk Sr.) stays behind to attack Nero’s ship while everyone else gets on their pods and escapes the melee. Everyone here also includes his pregnant wife. They communicate via an intercom of sorts as she goes into labor and he is attacking Nero’s ship. The baby is born and named just seconds before his father kamikazes the Kelvin into the enemy ship. It was probably the most touching scene in the movie.

And do you know why?

Because it had a score.

Star Trek’s been getting commendations for the casting, the script, and the sequences…but really, the score should get some credit, too. As an action movie, it does get pretty loud, but mostly, the blasts and bombs play to a background score that makes the scene seem grand rather than just pure guns. Or laser beams. Whichever. There, do you understand why I mentioned “Lady in the Water” now? If not, here’s a whack on the head: THE SCORE MAKES UP HALF THE MOVIE. One doesn’t realize that until it’s gone. Ever since “Lady”, I’ve learned to realize the importance of background music…and oh hell, “Star Trek” has really, really good music.

On to the cast. When I first saw the poster, I was apprehensive because well, Chris Pine? The last time I saw Chris Pine was in “Just My Luck”, and while he was rather cute in “Just My Luck”, well, would he make a good Kirk?  

You know what? He made a SUPER EXCEPTIONAL, RIDICULOUSLY CHARMING, SLIGHTLY REBELLIOUS AND EXTREMELY ENTERTAINING KIRK. (Ahh, the English language, one wishes you would contain more capital letters so I can really express how happy I am.)

James T. Kirk, as played by Chris Pine, reminded me of all my favorite movie heroes. He’s flirty and charming, like Rick O’Connell. He has witty quips and sarcastic remarks, like Tony Stark. And his facial expressions are hilarious, like Jack Sparrow’s.

And then there was Zachary Quinto’s Spock, who seemed to be more angsty than the original, more emotional yet also still adorably, stubbornly logical. The other cast members are strong, too: Simon Pegg (“Shawn of the Dead” & “Hot Fuzz”!), John Cho (oh, Harold, sweet Harold), Anton Yeltchin (I’ve never heard of him before, but his “…victor, victor two…” line will endear him to me possibly forever), Karl Urban (whom I remember more as from “LOTR” than from “Pathfinder”), and Zoe Saldana (she appeared briefly in the first “Pirates of the Caribbean”)…there’s more. And they’re all perfect.

I won’t say much about the plot. One, because of course, that would be a spoiler, and two, well, when you come down to it, there is actually not much in terms of a plot. Bad guys want to destroy earth. Good guys therefore must defeat bad guys. Yes, it does lack philosophy or important issues or whatever you want to call it…but the point here is how they present the story. It’s pure fun, a summer blockbuster movie in every way.

So walk into the theater and enjoy the ride. You will be stunned.


*When I say “best,” please note that I am partial to all things sci-fi and/or fantastical. I’ve said a quite a few times that I love costume drama, right? But more than that, much, much more, I love adventure. I love science fiction and fantasy. I love mummies and spaceships and swordfights and laser beams and monsters, and so on and so forth. Viva Geekdom!

May 20, 2009

The Duchess, or: Trapped

Filed under: Movie Reviews — by Ploy @ 1:08 am

The Duchess is one of those movies that I wanted to see and didn’t want to see at the same time. I hate anything stressful, but then again, I love anything with period costumes. And then the costume-loving part finally won the internal conflict and voila, I found myself renting it from the store, and finally forced myself to watch it on the final day (note to self: must return tomorrow, oodles of overdue DVDs debt is not beneficial, as you know)

The costumes are pretty. Keira Knightley is pretty, she has that regal bearing, and she’s very convincing as Georgiana, our eponymous character. The movie opens with her as a young, vibrant girl, happy and all smiles. When she learns of her marriage to the duke of Devonshire, she’s even excited and happy. Any 17-year-old girl thinking that 1) the man they’re going to marry is in love with them and 2) they’re going to be a duchess would be happy, right?

The first tragedy, however, strikes on her wedding night. I almost cried in that scene. It was utterly depressing. You could see it on Georgiana/Knightley’s face…at first she seemed nervous, and then it was just painful. I wished I could’ve jumped into the screen and bashed Ralph Fienne’s head with a baseball bat (on a tangent: I bought a baseball bat a while ago at Jatujak. So yes, my threats are quite real. Somewhat. While I have the tool, I’m still hindered by the fact that I exist in the nonfiction world. We’ll overcome that some day, somehow.)

Ralph Fiennes/the Duke, is a bloody bastard. Maybe not in bloodlines, he’s too pompous an arse for that, but really, his behavior is atrocious. He’s cold blooded and unfeeling. His lack of interests in political matters also paints him as having less intelligence than a pot of petunias.

Well, he may not be that stupid, however. As the movie progresses, you do realize that the duke manipulates people quite well. He is, apparently, “the most powerful peer in the land,” and he knows it. He’s also a husband, which gives him all the power, and the wife none at all. The more I watch it (I’m using the present tense because the last 15 minutes is still playing right now) the more depressed I get. It’s unfair to Georgiana. It’s unfair to her lover. And even though Georgiana’s best friend, Bess, betrays her, I sort of have an idea of why it happens. Read: the damned duke.

This is an unhappy movie. I don’t recall any moment of comedic relief in it. At all. AT ALL. It is sad and depressing and while it won’t give me nightmares, I don’t think I’ll have good dreams tonight.

(I wish I could’ve watched, instead, The Mummy for the 1283249025th time. I’d really love to dream that I’m shooting some 3000-years-old corpses to oblivion. )

It’s almost ending right now. The duke has just walked over to the window to see his children playing, and said, “How wonderful to be that free?”

He turns to look at his wife, who gives him what isn’t exactly a sad smile, but more like a resigned look, as if she’s always, always wondered the same thing, and when she finally had it in her grasp, he took it away from her.

Would I recommend you watch this? Yes and no. Yes if, and only if, you’re a sucker for costume drama like me. In addition to the costumes, the setting and the scenery is beautiful. There’s also the use of light and color, which makes the film aesthetically pleasing. The reason I wouldn’t recommend this to you is because of the plot, or rather, the lack of one. When it comes down to it, The Duchess is just two hours about a woman who lives in a society that is confining in terms of its rules, laws, and also clothes. I wished they could’ve added in more about Georgiana’s political campaigning (there was a brief glimpse of that during the beginning of the movie); maybe perhaps I could’ve felt admiration for her…but as it is, the only thing I feel is sadness.

May 15, 2009

Alex Pettyfer VS. Them

Guest starring: Marisa “Ginger” T.

Round 1: Pettyfer VS “The Twilight Guy”


Ginger – He looked ok as Cedric, but the fact that he doesn’t shower just scares the hell out of me.
Ginger – Rawrrr I’m a vampire but I smell like garlic!!!
Ginger – Jing jing a. “I’m a vampire, let me put more powder on my face, like he wants to compete for a part in memoirs of a geisha.
Ploy – Let’s google him. What’s his name?
Ginger – Errr.
Ploy – Let’s just type Cedric Diggory
Ginger – The fact that we don’t remember his name….is it Edward Cullen?
Ploy – That’s his name in Twilight, you idiot.
Ginger – Pale face. Let’s look up Mr. Pale Face. I only remember Alex Pettyfer right now.
Ploy – Hahahahha Pale Face.
Ginger – You know who he reminds me of? Marilyn Manson!
Ploy – Oh! Robert Pattinson.
Ginger – It’s like, no competition, Alex Pettyfer hands down. It’s like Alex Pettyfer can be my boyfriend and Edward Cullen can be my butler and shine my shoes.
Ploy – It’s not Edward Cullen!
Ginger – Oh yeah! Whatever his name is.
Ploy – Comparison ends.

Round 2: Pettyfer VS. “Girly Man”


Ginger – Don’t forget to tell them who girly man is
Ploy – Zac Efron. He’s ugly
Ginger – I cannot stand his face.
Ploy – Did you watch High School Musical?
Ginger – Yeah! When he comes out and sings “It’s the start~” I want to shove something in his mouth. I know it’s mean but…he looks like he belongs with the Brady Bunch. (Though I like Brady Bunch…)
Ploy – People say he has sexy eyes. It’s disturbing eyes
Ginger – I think he kinda looks like Ken. Mind you, not always a good thing.  Zac Efron reminds me of Ken. Reminds me of my childhood where I used to turn barbie lesbian cus Ken was so not hot.  

Ploy – Eww. He looks like that (points to a picture on google)
Ginger – He doesn’t even look girly-girly.
Ploy – Disturbing
Ginger – Somehow tranvestites still look more natural to me. But that’s just me.
Ploy – End of discussion. Pettyfer wins. Again.

Round 3: Pettyfer VS. Jonas Brothers


Ploy – The Jonas brothers COMBINED can’t even beat Pettyfer.
Ginger – I must admit one of them looks good.
Ploy – Him? (Points to one)
Ginger – Yeah.
Ploy – What’s his name?
Ginger – I don’t remember.
Ploy – Nick?
Ginger – Try Kevin.
Ploy – Not it
Ginger – Joe? Joe Jonas. But I don’t like his ni-sai. He dumped Taylor Swift in 30 seconds, you know. On the phone.
Ploy – Eww.
Ginger – For Camilla Belle. They’re eyebrow twins. It’s the fate of the eyebrows. Though I kinda like Camille Belle.
Ploy – Hahahah.
Ginger – At least I would let Joe Jonas be my driver, cuz at least I can show him off. I’ll be dating Alex Pettyfer. Pale Face can shine my shoes. But I can’t put Zac Efron out in daylight. I still dont’ know what to do with him. Maybe he could be under the table and pick up my eraser dust.
Ploy – You’re mean.
Ginger – Hey. They’re the one with millions of dollars. Give me a break. I don’t think they care about what I have to say anyways.
Ploy – Joe Jonas actually has nice facial features, you know.
Ginger – Yeah. That’s why he can be my chauffeur. He can drive me and Alex around Pale Face has to stay home though.
Ploy – Zac?
Ginger – Lock him up in the basement. Feed him through a straw.
Ploy – So Pettyfer wins again. Hands DOWN, biatches.

The Verdict:

Ginger – I don’t think it’s like a versus anymore.
Ploy – Nope. No competition.
Ginger – The Hot versus The Nots.
Ploy – Yeah!


PS. These are just 0ur OPINIONS. Maybe you think Alex Pettyfer looks like crap and __________ is the hottest person in the universe. That would be your opinion and we would respect it, too.

May 14, 2009

i hate thailand. – the second issue –

Filed under: Angst — by Ploy @ 11:03 pm
Tags: , , , , ,

A long, long time ago, I wrote a note called “i hate thailand”, in which I complained about how Thai people do not wear sunglasses. Or if they do, they don’t wear it for practical reasons. Sunglasses in malls? What the heck? Why…WHY? I mean, it’s not practical. It does not make you fashionable; it makes you look ridiculous.

Wearing sunglasses when you’re out, however, should be necessary, especially in the summer months were the sun glares like a huge gigantic spotlight in the sky. But no, if I wear sunglasses and walk around on the streets, people would most likely stare and think I’m ridiculous. And the only reason I don’t wear sunglasses in public is not because I’m embarassed, but I fear for the safety of those who might give me weird looks. I don’t want to maim anyone.

That said, I now have a new issue with Thailand. Namely, rainboots. It’s been raining cats and dogs and quite possibly, at the rate it’s going, unicorns, for the past few days. Just last Saturday, actually, my soi flooded. As in water-level-up-to-the-knees flooded. Eww.

I don’t like the rain in Thailand. Whenever it rains, I go into my She-Hulk mode, ask any of my friends. Just the thought of dirty, possibly acidic rainwater hitting my skin or, God forbid, flooding the streets, is enough to piss me off horribly. Rain anywhere else is tolerable, though. I don’t think it gets dirtier in Thailand.

If I had rainboots, however, this would all be ok. I wouldn’t mind trudging through dirty water – with debris and trash floating – if my feet were protected. Bangkok floods, people. The entire city floods. Technically I could drive, but 1) if it floods, I really don’t want the car in that water and 2) I’d still have to get out of my car to open the gate, ergo, I’m still in the water, in the rain. In that mess.






PS. Look at them. They are cute. And so practical. And Thailand in the rainy season would be the only place and time that these cute wellies would look ridiculous. Jesu Cristi…@_@

PPS. – May 15 – I have just been informed by my friend Krit, who lives in London, that the majority of Londoners don’t wear rainboots. If this is true, then it is sad, and disheartening, and may be related, however so remotely, to why GB here lost all their colonies. Hmmph.

May 9, 2009

TWAP for Mother’s Day

Filed under: Sheer Insanity — by Ploy @ 11:11 am

Ok, so Mother’s Day is actually tomorrow, but I must insist on writing this today because 1) I feel inspired today, and we all know that I don’t do anything unless I am inspired, and 2) I am feeling slightly better because I just took a shower and 3) I also just made myself a cup of tea, and I think tea cures everything (in the times when it does not, it does make one feel better, which is enough for me to haul myself from the sofa and type this up). Anyways, on to mothers. Well, actually, just mother. My mother.

My mother and I are more like friends than well, parent and child. Quite a few years ago, when I was going through that hormonal, teen-angst period, we were actually enemies (at least I felt like we were). But we both outgrew it. I guess the raging hormones stopped raging, not to mention I mastered the art of tuning people out. Somehow we established a civil relationship upon our return to Bangkok almost six years ago…and by the time I graduated HS, we were actually friends.

Friends. I mean, I don’t know anyone else who invents ridiculous names for their mothers (the most recent of which is อ้วน, or “Fatty”), or speak in casual terms with her, just like you would to a friend. She doesn’t mind. When my mother is not in a bad mood, she’s a really cool friend. She’s also a good listener.

My mother is naturally a very polite person; she speaks to waiters with the same vocab she uses with the people she meets at formal receptions. I’ve never seen my mother request anything from anyone without adding “ka” at the end. It’s the one thing I’ve picked up from her. Afterall, you don’t want anyone spitting in your food.

But if anything, you should see my mother when she stares down rude salespeople. Out of all the things she can do, it is what I most admire her for. Yeah, if my mother were Bruce Banner, then rude salespeople would be gamma rays, and overexposure to them would turn her into the Hulk. She is downright haughty and scary when transformed. I’ve seen her send ridiculous, ignorant people scurrying down to do her bidding or find the manager. She isn’t rude, per se, but she exudes a deadly aura so elegantly well that if I were the salesperson, I would probably do as she bid, too.

Recently, while in Singapore, she told me about how one of her friends’ niece was developing a smoking/drinking problem; the girl smoked right in front of her aunt. It was rather rude and distasteful, and I told her that. Then my mother talked about how smoking and drinking is bad for you. I pondered for a moment then offered, “You do know that I drink, right?” and then, for good measure, I added “Prim does, too.”

My mother considered this. “Well, yes you do. Not often, right?”

I smiled uber-brightly and gave her a peace sign.

“Well, mom, you drink too, right?”

“During receptions, sometimes wine”

“No, like, I mean, ok, when you were young, you drank, right?”

She smiled. For a moment, my mom looked like she was lost in her old memories. I was about to ask her again when she said, “Of course. So drunk I took my friend’s guitar to Loy Kratong”

I choked on the plane food, and not particularly due to its cardboardy taste. “You did WHAT?”

“After I graduated from college, my friends and I took a trip to the beach. We, naturally, drank. I drank a lot, actually, and I was rather drunk. I don’t really remember what happen that night, though I did wake up in the hospital the next day. My friend was there, and told me that I took his guitar and floated it out to the sea, signing the Loy Kratong song all the while. I denied it, of course, and that was when he pulled out his battered guitar.”

I blinked. Rapidly. Whoa.

“He made me pay 3000 baht, which back then was quite a lot of money. He was also mad at me for a few days,” she laughed. “After that day, I swore I would never drink again.”

If I could’ve raised an eyebrow, I would. But since my supercilium talents do not extend so far, I just continued to blink.

“Well, mom,” I finally said. “You really are quite cool.”

Well, we’ll still continue to have our arguments and tantrums (though the latter I insist would solely be from her side), but all in all, when things are good, I love my mother. Just don’t let her annoy me too much xD

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