Alexis blogs

Or: The Style of Our Love is Very Charismatic

I had my first taste of Bollywood last night. Monica and I were looking for something new to do (other than our usual routine of going to Target or Meijer and then ending up killing time at a coffee shop or bookstore), so after we went to Target, we decided to go to a small theater she knew of in Novi that showed foreign films.

We inspected the now-playing posters outside the theater. There were several that we assumed were from India or at least that region, a French film, and “Thank You for Smoking.” Monica was in the mood for a comedy, so we selected a film called “Chup Chup Ke” based on the coy expressions of the actors on the poster and the tagline (or translated title?) “Love meets confusion meets love.”

We bought our tickets, and I was pleased to discover that the theater offered coffee and tea in addition to the usual theater fare. So we waited with our popcorn and tea for our theater to empty. While waiting, we admired the rather beefy-looking gentleman, who I think looked kind of like Hugh Jackman, adorning the posters for an action movie called “Krrish“. We decided that we might just come back to see “Krrish.”

I watched the other people milling about the lobby waiting for their shows to start. The crowd was mainly Indian, and very little of the conversation that reached my ears was in English. Then Monica called her parents and left a message in her family’s fluid combination of Macedonian and English, and I felt very monolingual.

We wandered into the theater, took our seats, and chatted over the rather loud pre-preview commercials – some of them in English, some in what I’m guessing was Hindi. They showed a preview for “Krrish.” It began with a closeup of his rippling biceps as he ran and a caption along the lines of: “Like his father, he was special.” Eyeing the flexing muscles, I muttered to Monica, “He’s special, all right.”

Here’s a little synopsis of “Chup Chup Ke”: A young man named Jeetu fakes his own death by leaping into the ocean to escape his massive debts. He is rescued from drowning by two men with their own money problems. When Jeet realizes the men expect a reward for his rescue, he pretends to be deaf and mute and becomes their responsibility. One of the men offers his sidekick and Jeet as collateral for his own debts, and they become servants in the household of a mustached gentleman. The house faces a “Taming of the Shrew”-type situation where the master forbids anyone in his house to marry until his mute daughter, Shruti, has found a husband. Shruti falls in love with the cute and clever Jeet, and Jeet falls in love with the beautiful artist Shruti. Drama and comedy ensue as the truth of Jeet’s background is revealed.

It was a cute story, and it had me rooting for Jeet and Shruti’s happy ending. In true Bollywood style (according to Monica), it had plenty of song-and-dance numbers, which were pretty entertaining but became redundant sometimes. Even Shruti broke character long enough to sing a duet with Jeet, which presumably only occurred in her daydreams. After the movie, Monica wondered aloud if Jeet was truly in love with Shruti, and I replied, “He must have been, or he wouldn’t have taken the time to learn the choreography.”

There were also plenty of awkwardly phrased subtitles, my favorite being the lyric, “The style of our love is very charismatic.” I repeated it to myself silently a few times so I would remember it for this post.

All in all, I’m sure it beats “Click.”

The Lord of the Rings ads on TBS.

“Frodo” is my favorite.

When I returned from a short stay at my mom’s house this week, I threw some of my old VHS movies in a shopping bag, toted them back to my apartment and stacked them up on the floor underneath the DVD shelf of my TV table.

Among them was Disney’s 1993 version of “The Three Musketeers,” starring Charlie Sheen, Oliver Platt, Chris O’Donnell, Tim Curry and the “24″ guy.

Now, I know this isn’t a particularly good or remarkable movie. It’s just kind of a fun flick. But when I was 10? I loved this movie. I watched it about every day for goodness knows how long. I knew all the lines. I annoyed my friends by explaining the (rather uncomplicated) plot. To this day, I get a little burst of favorite-kid-movie glee when I see a “Musketeers” actor in any other film, and I still identify each and every one of them from their roles in this movie. (Yes, even Charlie Sheen. Yes, even Tim Curry. I was too young to know “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”) The opening credits of “Kinsey” (O’Donnell, Curry, Platt) practically had me cheering.

So tonight, after years of letting it demagnetize on the shelf, I popped the tape into my hybrid VCR/DVD player and watched it again.

At first, I was rusty. A few characters popped up that I’d forgotten about. (”Look, it’s eyepatch dude! Hey, it’s the squeaky-voiced guy with the wanton sister!”) Then it all came flooding back. I knew how all the extras would be killed off. I could anticipate each line before it was spoken. There were even one or two “Oh, NOW I get it!” moments. And a couple lines that I still can’t make out, even after all this time.

I enjoyed watching it this time just as much as I did when I was 10. Granted, much of this enjoyment was due to some MST3K-style heckling, but don’t worry. Nobody else was around to witness my dorkiness.

So I’m curious. What’s your dumb movie that you memorized when you were a kid? And if you haven’t watched it in a while, watch it now. It’s so much fun.

I seem to remember the Olympics being a big thing once. Everyone would talk about them, look forward to them, know when they would start and end, get excited, make time to watch them and know the names of the figure skaters. (Remember that whole Tonya Harding/Nancy Kerrigan thing? Back when the Olympics were big?)

This time I didn’t even know they were on. It might be just me and my general apathy regarding sports, but it seems like Olympic fever has died down in my lifetime.

Last night I was at a birthday party and the TV was on, and it was only after watching about an hour of figure skating and dudes stacked up on sleds (whose idea was that?) that I thought, “Hey, that’s the Olympic logo—ooooh.”

Maybe I would’ve caught on faster if I hadn’t missed the thing with the flame—or if I hadn’t already started on the cheap champagne.

Anyway, the Olympics seem to have lost their spark. (Get it?) Maybe it’s time to spice them up a bit.

I’ve got it. We’ll pack all the Olympians in houses together and keep cameras on them at all times, and find out what happens when world-class athletes stop being polite and start getting real. That’ll draw some interest.

I haven’t been watching “Lost,” but here’s a little funny (with spoilers from the Jan. 18 episode, so beware) for my “Lost”-obsessed friends (i.e., everyone I work with): Molly Ringwraith’s condensed episode parody.

For the rest of you, have a look at Ms. Ringwraith’s “Lord of the Rings” One, Two and Three.

As long as I’m starting the blog off right with posts about things I’m embarrassingly ignorant of/incompetent at (got to make a good impression), allow me to get something off my chest.

I don’t know the Beatles.

Not well, anyway. I could perhaps identify a few songs of theirs. For about half of those songs, I know the tune but not the lyrics. The other half: The lyrics but not the tune. I know who John Lennon was and what happened to him (because of “Mr. Holland’s Opus”), and I know who Ringo Starr is (because he has a cool name and has been on “The Daily Show”), and I think I know the other two guys’ names, but I won’t mention them here because if I get them wrong, I’ll be in trouble. I know I could identify them on TV because they had funny hairstyles and labeled their drum set. There are, of course, numerous references to them in our culture, many of which I can pinpoint. In fact, one of my favorite Barenaked Ladies songs is “Be My Yoko Ono.”

However, I have come to realize that ignorance of the Beatles is socially unacceptable. When I hear a song I don’t know and ask what it is, I can always tell it’s the Beatles from the dumbfounded/appalled stare I receive in response. This, what I call “The Beatle Effect,” is perhaps tripled when I make the mistake of not immediately liking whatever song of theirs I hear. When such a thing occurs in the presence of friends, I may ask, “What the hell is this?” Quite innocently, of course.

I asked that question today at work, and my friends were powerless against the Beatle Effect. One threw a bottle cap (and missed me by three feet). Another pointed at me and declared, “Don’t make me come over there!” which I suppose was a threat, although it did come from a fairly skinny fellow who studies law.

I know there is a super-duper ultimate Beatles CD set that I could simply buy and use to educate myself against the wrath of the Beatle Effect. Because of a conversation that took place in the middle of class today between my professor and another student, I know that this CD set has loads of special features that would help me learn the story of the Beatles. I could use the video component to learn to identify the name and face of each Beatle. If there are lyrics in the liner notes, I could use them to clarify any unclear words (warning: audio link, not for classrooms or computer labs) and memorize the classics.

I fear, however, that if I educate myself, learn the names, learn the songs, I may become guilty of a far worse crime: What if I don’t like the Beatles?

Would disliking them be better or worse than not knowing them? Would I become an even greater aberration than I already am? Would my friend with the bottle cap improve his aim?

These questions trouble me. Because you know what? I have heard a few Beatles songs, and I thought they were just OK.

(Please don’t hurt me.)