Thoughts on Thanksgiving and the Latest Bond Flick

According to the New York Times, "For thousands of years communal meals have been a key to building cultures," and Thanksgiving is our chance to relive an older time; a simpler time. A time when people could celebrate the coming of winter with a show of overabundance. A time when Turkeys grew with ducks and chickens inside of them, and cranberries grew in cans.

With this in mind, shortly after my family's Soul Food Thanksgiving, I set off to the movie theater with two of my oldest friends to watch the latest offering in the James Bond series; Casino Royale.

Casino Royale is the Ian Fleming James Bond novel, and this movie is faithful to that concept. Which is admittedly a little weird, since, not only are we supposed to be introduced to a character who we all know so well already, but also one whose movies are so intertwined with the technology of the day and the near future. Since nobody wants to see a 'period' Bond film -- one made today, but set in the 60's, we have to deal with the fact that Bond of Casino Royale, a prequel to Dr. No (the first Bond Movie made,) drives a WAY more modern car than the Bond of Dr. No... even though... well, you get it.

Casino Royale also introduces the newest actor to take on the mantle of James Bond. I had only ever seen Daniel Craig in Munich, a movie that I disliked, so I wasn't so hot on him to start out. Plus, he's blond. And Bond shouldn't really be blond, should he?

The jury is still out on Craig as Bond. And here's why: he didn't actually play James Bond in this movie -- not a fully formed Bond, anyway. The movie intentionally set out to create an arc (I'm not sure what the hell that term means, but I've heard people (Christopher Moltisanti, I'm afraid) use it, so why can't I) wherein only at the last moment of the movie would James Bond become The James Bond. This was signified by only foreshadowing the famous Bond theme song until the ending credits. Which, by the way, was infuriating... like going to a ball game and not singing the national anthem until the game was over. There were several other lines that seemed to be in the movie just to hammer across the point that we weren't watching the real James Bond, not yet, anyway. For example, at one point, a waiter asks Bond if he would like his martini shaken or stirred and instead of the classic, "Shaken... not stirred," Craig does a single take at the camera and replies, "Does it look like I give a damn."

Even more unBondlike, perhaps, is that throughout the first two thirds of the movie, he also seems to be having trouble getting laid. He actually leaves a woman in his apartment to pursue her boyfriend to Miami. Early in the movie -- this was the first sign that Bond wasn't quite himself -- the old Bond would have (and often did) made love to someone else's woman and then chase after him. This unformed Bond was also much more temperamental, showing both more anger and more insecurity than the veteran Bond.

The New York Times review claims that "this new Bond marks a decisive break with the contemporary iterations." For my part, I hope that this is not the case. And I think it won't be. With the final line of the movie, "Bond, James Bond," and the playing of the theme song, I think the movie makers were telling us Bond lovers (don't take that the wrong way) that with the next edition in the series, Bond will return, more or less as he always has been. Which is good. More than anything, Bond symbolizes immortality. And for there to be a beginning to Bond hints that there might, one day, be an end to Bond. Which (unless they film it soon with Sean Connery,) I would never, never want to see.


For supplementary reading, check out this cool review in the Hindustan Times! Also note that in the original book, the featured high stakes game was Baccarat, not Poker. But, given the current poker craze, I think the directors made a smart decision... but did they really have to explain what a tell is?

References Volume 1

Even before my last, far too lengthy entry about the no-longer-undefeated Rutgers Scarlet Knights football team, I had begun an entry about a pervasive theme in my life: references. After a few weeks of jotting down ideas, I now have enough to swing a cat. So, for all of our sakes, I will explore the role of references in my life in an episodic manner reminiscent of Dickens (although he was getting paid by the word) or Tarantino (although he must have been getting paid by the ounce of blood.)

Since I moved to Brooklyn I've been meeting a lot of new people and getting a chance to hang out with some old friends who I haven't seen in a while. One thing I've noticed is that when I speak to almost all of my oldest and closest friends, we speak in a language specific to our friendship. It is a language riddled with references to past conversations, events, arguments, and movies we've seen together. Of the people who I meet, the ones who stick, tend to be the ones who manage to build a shared referential language in the shortest amount of time. Sometimes it only takes a single conversation!

Here are just a few of the most common movie references that have entered my vernacular and they're suggested uses, enjoy:

After realizing that I've just explained something that really didn't need the elucidation, "That's more or less the thing."

To excuse inexcusably predictable behavior, "Don't give me a gun, you know what I'mon do." and "What happened? They put me in a room with Joey Zazza. What do you think happened? I bit the guy's ear off."

After I put my foot in my mouth, "Street slang is an increasingly accepted form of expression. Most of the feminine pronouns to contain mocking, but not necessarily with misogynistic undertones."

To express disagreement, "I do not think that means what you think it means."

Or confusion, "I can only express puzzlement, bordering on alarm."

Impatience is actually expressed most clearly through quoting, not a movie, but an anonymous audience member at one viewing of a movie, "Lose the shoes lady."

When confronted with a frustratingly badly designed mechanism, I tend to fall back on, "You mean, you can recall it, like a defective pinto."

In the car, "Four lefts is a circle, you idiot."

If someone asks how much I want of something, I may respond, "Not a whole lot, just a little lot with nothing on it."

When asked to do something that I should have no problem doing, but for some reason am unwilling to do, I lower my voice into almost subsonic levels, and rumble, "We are the United States Government, we do not do that sort of thing."

From The Scottish Movie comes, "I told you it was my island."

At the dinner table, "It's got scallions."

For when you're in a tight spot, the simple answer is: "We're in a tight spot," but if you have a companion who you want to scare a little, try, "The lord says he can get me out of this one... but he's pretty sure, you're fucked."

Other movie quotes have managed to stick in the vernacular without actually having a discernible meaning. Prime among these is the highly dubious, "I'm your Huckleberry" and "Don't eat the penis. It's just garnish..." you'd be surprised how often that one gets used.

Finally, there's the always useful, "We didn't do that, did we?"

Please leave a comment with a movie quote that you use in everyday conversation or one that I do, but forgot to include!

The Banks Ain't Never Shook Like That

I suppose literally everything is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You never had breakfast this morning before nor will you ever have it again. Reading this entry is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. That said, I think we all intuitively know what a once-in-a-lifetime experience really is, and I have to report that being in New Brunswick last night to watch Rutgers beat Louisville was exactly that.

The first sign that New Brunswick was going to be a little different last night came in the form of a "mobile precinct" set up directly outside Stuff Yer Face, the beer and Stromboli joint where Mario Batali got his start. Cops were everywhere; on the corners and outside every bar. Surprisingly, at twenty minutes till game time there were only lines at a few of the bars. Maybe this was because Rutgers had added bleachers in the open part of the horseshoe shaped stadium to accommodate the overflowing crowd. Or maybe I've forgotten what it is like to live within five minutes walk of all of the bars. Nonetheless, it filled up quickly.

It was nuts. Crazy. Insane. Unbelievable. Brendan and I watched the game inside the packed to capacity Golden Rail, a bar that we have happily been the only customers in to watch some previous games. People were so attentive to the game that the bathroom lines were only full during commercials. The crowd in the bar was chanting Rutgers cheers... although I do have to report that the school's fight song (a very simple chant "R U Rah Rah, R U Rah Rah, Hoo Rah, Hoo Rah, Rutgers Rah. Upstream Red Team, Red Team Upstream. Rah (hoo) Rah (hoo) Rutgers Rah) seemed to have become to sophisticated for the current football fans, so we were reduced to screaming ARRRRRR!!!! YOUUUUUUU!!!! over and over again.

Before the game there was a really special moment. William Seward a 110 year old Rutgers alum and former water boy for the Rutgers football team (he was there when Paul Robeson played!) was interviewed and sang the Rutgers alma mater. In the bar, we couldn't tell that he was singing the alma mater, but when he pumped his fist holding a Rutgers pennant at the end of the song, I thought the windows were going to blow out we cheered so loudly!

The first half it seemed like everything was going wrong. The only solace was found in a shot of James Gandolfini on the sideline. With Tony Soprano on our side, how could we lose? The second half, things started going our way. In the last few minutes of the game I was jumping up and down screaming at the top of my lungs, and hi-fiving strangers like there was no tomorrow. When we won, the jumping continued, but the hi-fiving turned into bear hugs and comradely punches. I wanted to jump through the ceiling (and felt like I could) and at the same time I wanted to fall to the floor (which I definitely could have, but refrained from doing.)

An hour later, the scene outside was bizarre. The intersection of Easton Avenue and Somerset Street was jammed full of hoarse, screaming fans, triumphantly honking cars, and -- in case you were wondering what all of those policemen from earlier in the night were doing -- cops standing around with goofy grins on their faces watching over the celebrations with benevolence.

The game was a perfect mix of Classic Rutgers and New Rutgers.

Classic Rutgers: Watching the game in a male dominated, dingy, dimly lit bar, drinking Yeungling for a dollar.

New Rutgers: It was packed to the gills, standing room only, and it stayed that way throughout the game.

Classic Rutgers: We start the game out trying to do something that we don't do very well on offense (throw the ball) while neglecting the thing that we do really really well (run the ball) and end our first two drives with a punt and an interception. On defense we give up a couple of big pass plays and seem to be unable to get pressure on the quarterback. On special teams, we give up an enormous 100 yard kick return for a touchdown and then somehow manage to block an extra point attempt... and snatching a negative from the jaws of a good play... let a Louisville player pick up the ball
and run it into the end zone for two points. All of a sudden its the second quarter and we're down 25-7.

New Rutgers: We didn't panic. Our offense started making some plays, and our defense decided it had seen enough. In the second half Louisville had 6 possessions. They didn't score once. On five out of those six times Louisville had the ball, they went "three and out"-- they weren't able to advance the ball ten yards in three plays, so they punted the ball and gave it to our offense.

All the little things that used to kill Rutgers started going our way. The fumbles, the bad calls, the tipped balls. But the funny thing was that instead of disappearing, they kept happening, but with different results. For instance, Freshman Kenny Britt catches a pass and runs 67 yards down the sideline until he is inevitably stripped of the ball (Old Rutgers,) but recovers his own fumble (New Rutgers.) Jeremy Ito misses a field goal with less than half a minute left in the game (Old Rutgers,) but a Louisville defender jumped offsides on the play, giving us another chance and making the field goal five yards closer -- Result? Rutgers (New) wins the game on a 28 yard Ito kick that flies right through the middle of the uprights.

Old Rutgers: The television coverage repeatedly shows scenes from New York; the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State building (lit up Scarlet Nights Red,) and does a series of interviews on the streets of New York. We in the bar respond
by giving the television screen the finger and cursing at the network.

New Rutgers: The final call of the game, "... and it's Pandemonium in Piscataway!" as the crowd rushed the field will probably be remembered for a long time.

I suppose many of you might be thinking, "So what? Team wins big game. We get it." I think there are two reasons why this means so much. The first reason is personal. I never had a sports team to root for growing up. Not only did I not inherit allegiances to sports teams in the way that many people do (except of course for the sadly defunct Brooklyn Dodgers) but also, in Central Jersey, there is no clear geographic solution. You can root for Philadelphia teams or you can root for New York teams (many actually play in New Jersey.) You could root for the Devils (woefully bad until they got to be very, very good by playing the most boring style of hockey in the universe) and you can root for the Nets (which I do) but they're now moving to Brooklyn. When I got to Rutgers, I decided, the hell with it, they're terrible, but they are now MY terrible team. So, I became a fan.

I went to many home games. They were actually quite fun. There is nothing quite like being in an empty stadium, screaming with the other 500 people crazy enough to be out there. What were we screaming about? Usually we were cursing the ineptitude of our own players and coaches. I'll never forget the game when my section spent the first quarter and a half cursing at our starting quarterback, until we realized that he wasn't even playing. That must have been a real trip for him. After losing the starting job he has to sit on the bench and listen to us insult him anyway! Watching Rutgers football for 6 years has been an exercise in controlled pessimism. No lead can ever be big enough to be safe. No play can be safe enough that Rutgers hasn't managed to give up the ball, give up the first down, give up the big play, get called for a big penalty, somehow blow the game. Even at 8-0, until we won last night, I didn't feel secure. It wasn't real. We hadn't played anyone really good. Louisville and West Virginia were still looming. We could still blow it somehow. Under all those layers of New Rutgers, Old Rutgers was still lurking. Today, I don't feel that way anymore.

The second reason that last night was a big deal is that it is actually really important for New Jersey. I know a lot of people view big intercollegiate sports as something that detracts from the real purpose of the University. I have a bunch of arguments against that proposition in general and maybe I will blab about those at another time. But, specifically for Rutgers? Rutgers has always had an image problem. Where I went to high school, the reaction to someone matriculating at Rutgers was akin to there being a death in the family. Even within the Rutgers community, there is more talk of "the RU Screw" than there is of anything positive. We have never been able to either attract good students from out-of-state or get the good students from New Jersey to stay in state and go to Rutgers. This will help. I promise. It isn't necessarily rational and it might not be a good thing that football has this power, but I promise that in the next few years, brilliant students from afar will start showing up and those from New Jersey will look around and decide to stay in state and go to Rutgers.

And remember, what's good for Rutgers is good for New Jersey, and as goes New Jersey, so goes the nation. So, 9 down, 3 to go! Go RU.

Toasty Warm Apartment

This Saturday my housemates and I threw a housewarming party. After several months of floating around, it has been amazing to settle down into my new place and being able to entertain is one of the key benefits. Thanks to everyone who came out, it was, in my opinion, a smashing success!

West Ninth Street residents Aimee Brosnahan, Greg Zeleny, and Ezra Fischer

I forget who's idea it was to do this, but one of us suggested getting a roll of paper and some markers, and create a large poster for people to sign, doodle on, leave messages, draw on, etc. It seemed like people really loved it, and it was great to be able to go back the next day and have a visual reminder of the party (other than the empties, and few beer stains on the walls; beer stains on the walls - now that's a party!)

Here's a general view of our housewarming mural, with a few details.


The next morning, in a desperate attempt to clear the cobwebs out of our collective head, we cooked some brunch.

Check out Georgina's bizarrely perfect pancakes!

So, once again, thank you to everyone who attended, drank, danced, shouted, drew, kissed, schmoozed, ate, and, of course, left.

Until next time!