Apparently, there's a new Batman movie

Warning: Annoying Movie Thoughts/Spoilers Ahead:

I finally joined the ranks of Batman: The Dark Knight viewers yesterday. I went into this movie with massive expectations, so the fact that it didn’t disappoint speaks volumes. I’m guessing I’ll be watching this one for years to come. Here’s some of my thoughts:

I was looking forward to a deeply sinister Joker. However, I thought his malevolence and sadism would be counterbalanced by a twisted lovability. Although he does carry out elaborate, and carefully-crafted schemes, I was hoping he would engage in battles of verbal wits or present his diabolical plans in puzzle form. Instead, Ledger’s Joker was a demented sociopath with little to love and much to revile. Since this is surely what the directors intended, I need another viewing to see if the notion grows on me. My first reaction, however, was nostalgia for the color of past characterizations.

Michael Caine gave my favorite performance as Bruce Wayne’s butler. Urbane, wise, proper, and sensitive, all flavored by a tiny sprinkling of silliness, he pulled off the role impeccably. I also continue to like Christian Bale as Wayne/Batman, although his Batman voice makes me cringe occasionally.

It’s impossible not to leave satiated by the eye candy. And sorry, Maggie Gyllenhaal, I like you but I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about sweeping panoramic shots of Hong Kong’s and Chicago/Gotham’s skylines, the underground laboratories, the sonar-generated simulations of various scenes around Gotham delivered by cell phone signals (neato idea), and of course, the action scenes (four of which were filmed at IMAX grade)…

…which leads me to my next point: nice work showcasing yourself, Chicago. My newly adopted city opened its arms to maniacal car chases on Wacker and demolitions aplenty and carried it all off with aplomb, if I do say so myself. Let me add, though, that it’s rare to see a firebombed semi on LaSalle. I always keep my eyes open for these things and have only spotted 2 or 3 in the last year. Also, I know the ferries were departing from the pier, but where, exactly, were they headed? Michigan? I was cool with considering the Chicago River as a barrier to the north and west, but gosh, those Gothamers might have considered spilling out the South Loop and catching I-90…needless to say, those parts took some suspension of disbelief, which I was more than willing to indulge.

As far as the issues go, terrorism and balance-of-power stand out. The Joker’s terrorism, however, is better characterized as anarchy. He is a walking oxymoron in that he employs shrewd reasoning to prove logic and order non-existent. Ultimately, he partially succeeds. Dent rots as a bastardized Two-Face and Batman flees with an angry Gotham at his heels. A few people make the decision—as a few made critical decisions earlier in the movie—that the truth cannot be tolerated by the masses. So really, The Joker has played a draw.

How this movie is rated PG-13, however, is something far beyond my analytical capabilities.

In a flash

I missed my 10 year high school reunion last weekend. My buddies gave me the update and tore through a whole sequence of names that I haven't considered in a decade. He's cool. She's hot. He's a drunk. She's not cool. He wasn't there. He's married. She's engaged. I have to admit, I was pretty bummed I couldn't make it home for this. I guess I experienced the typical pattern of thoughts in the face of a 10 year reunion:

For one, holy sh*t that was fast! I remember the sights and smells of high school so distinctly at times. I envision my locker, and see my parking spot, and smell the nachos, and remember the faces. On the other hand, I've gone a long ways in those 10 years. Geographically, psychologically, intellectually, emotionally. I could carry on a conversation with nearly anybody in my class, no problem, because I was fundamentally the exact same person. But so much of me hadn't come to fruition. Probably the biggest thing that's changed is I've fallen in love with challenging my mind. Laziness covered that spot before. High school was a time of self-discovery, friendships, unrequited loves, music, the thrill of drinking, and amazing Spokane nights. High school was personality coming to the fore and emotional development...but so much has happened since. I can only assume that everyone else in my class has gone through their own evolutions in the past decade and developed into their skins somehow.

In our daily lives we can only accommodate so many friends. Those near take precedence, because as Johnny Cash says, "flesh and blood needs flesh and blood". But for those farther than a stones throw, I want to find a way to reincorporate you. Really, I just want to throw stones at you, but I'll do it lovingly. So, the wrap-up is I'm bummed i couldn't make it to my reunion because those 10 years went pretty quick, and we'll only get a handful or two of ten year windows. I think we need to put something together for Christmastime.

purrrrrdy good

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Thanks to Kim W. for this...and (afterwards) every news organization on the planet.

Alefest, I heart thee

And on the seventh day, God rested. But in the afternoon of the seventh day, he became antsy from inactivity. Those preceeding 144 hours of brilliance left him craving invention. So God poured all his omnibenevolent forces into one last creation: Alefest. And it was good.

So needless to say, Alefest Chicago trucked into town on Saturday and I partook in the festivities along with some jolly companions (thanks to Annie for unwittingly providing a picture!). For a pittance of monetary input, we received the joy of sampling 20 potions from over 50 breweries worldwide. Let it be known that we went expecting small "tastings" and ended up getting about 1/2 a pint per tasting. Considering some of the belgian and framboise selections topped 10% alcohol and the tendency of some volunteers to forget taking tickets, 20 was streeeeeeeeeeeeetching it. I will proudly say that although I didn't finish the full tastings towards the end, I did indeed sample 20 beers. Actually 18, because I revisited my two favorites.

The fest took place on the grass directly outside the Chicago Bears' Soldier Field. My scheming to clandestinely enter the stadium either via scaling the walls or tunnelling underneath became more elaborate and idiotic as time elapsed. Sadly, these brilliant ideas did not come to fruition. Meanwhile, we endured some mugginess with an occasional rain and made the most of the stupendous libations flowing freely.

So let me quickly dispense with the beer-related criticism: One, I simply don't like pilsners. The aftertaste will never agree with me and I find them pungent. I've tried, maybe for the last time. Two, wheat beers are hit or miss for me. I love a good hefeweisen as much as the next summer reveler (think Widmer Brothers in Portland), but alot of wheat beers bear hints of Belgian white ales...which brings me to my third, and last, criticism. I'm not a fan of most Belgian whites. Again, there are exceptions like the widely distributed Blue Moon Belgian White. Add an orange slice to that beer and I'm in heaven. But that's the exception, unfortunately.

Okay, enough of the bad stuff, let's get to the good stuff...which was roughly 90% of the tastings. I'm going to list off my five favorites, counting towards the cream of the crop:

5) Samuel Smith's Pale Ale (Yorkshire, England): I liked the nuttiness and chocolatey flavor of this moderately dark ale. SS's brown is a favorite of mine, and you could taste the aroma of the brewery pervading their other selections. For me, that's a big winner.
4) St. Peter's Cream Stout (somewhere old, England): This will be a great winter selection. Creamy's the word with a full, lasting flavor.
3) Podkovan Dark Lager (Czech Republic): I liked this beer because it tasted like a delicious brown ale, but finished lighter.
2) Floris Apple (Belgium): I was surprised by this. A lambic brew akin to a cider. Fruity, light, and dry on the finish. A tiny bit of carbonation washes it down perfectly. So refreshing and not too sweet.
1) Breckenridge Brewery Vanilla Porter (Breckenridge, Colorado): I love vanilla for its simplicity and its rich tones, so when crafted into a smooth, delicious porter I was in heaven. This was hands down my favorite discovery.

If I would enhance this joyous experience in any way, I'd encourage some volunteers to learn more about the samples they poured. Many tables had representatives from the breweries or really knowledgeable volunteers, which was great. But there were a few instances where reading the bottle offered more information than the server. Also, they might want to beef up the food selections in order to keep the drinking merry and appease the hungry stomachs. All things considered, however, they did a phenomenal job with Alefest Chicago version 2.0 and I can't wait to upgrade a year from now!

Cheers to you, Alefest.

Rachmaninoff at Ravinia

There are a few professions I observe where, for a split second, it seems there is no comparable outlet for the myriad intellectual and emotional charges surging inside our bodies. When you see a person at the peak of that profession those feelings multiply. When you have a moment, kindly add ‘pianist’ to this short list of unrequited professional loves.

A certain someone I know harbors a questionably-healthy obsession for Rachmaninoff’s 3rd Piano Concerto. Therefore, when word surfaced that the Chicago Symphony Orchestra (CSO), along with a world reknown Russian pianist, Denis Matsuev, would be performing this number at the outdoor music venue Ravinia, nothing short of Lake Michigan drying up would stop us from attending.

CSO performed two other Rachmaninoff pieces without a featured piano part beforehand, which were both spectacular. That gave us a chance to appreciate the violin and cellos (among others) before the pianist absolutely dominated the show. After a brief intermission, Matsuev took center stage. As a bit of background, the 3rd Piano Concerto has driven accomplished pianists mad with its technical difficulty. Supposedly, only a handful of people on earth can complete a flawless performance and imbue the piece with all the nuances it requires.

Luckily, we stumbled upon one of these living legends. Matsuev, himself, evoked thoughts of a (relatively speaking) attractive Frankenstein. But that is neither here nor there. Well, it might be here a bit. Standing over 6 feet tall and fairly well-built with blocky shoulders and face, he almost made the huge piano look small. Matsuev exhibited a stage flair while playing, but it didn’t seem fabricated. The concerto was so demanding that at points he would drop one of his arms to the side for a brief rest and continue on with the other. Some moments I honestly thought the keyboard would crack under his relentless, but precise, hammering only to find respite a moment later in a soft, feather-light section demanding utmost delicacy. Within a nanosecond he could switch modes seamlessly. Throughout it all, the haunting melody of the concerto spun the threads together. You could physically see Matsuev pouring himself into the piece that lasted roughly 30 minutes and upon finishing it, he burst from the bench and embraced the orchestra conductor. We were positioned to the side of the stage near the front so I had a good view of Matsuev as he strode from the stage. His face looked exhalted and beaming.

Without exaggeration, I can say that was the most moving musical performance I’ve ever witnessed. Also, it surpassed Tim Reynolds’ solo guitar as the most technically challenging show I’ve witnessed at such close range.

Aside from the music, the venue itself made memories. Ravinia consists of the covered orchestra seating (our seats) that is, nevertheless, still open to the elements for 270degrees. Outside this orchestra area, large grassy swaths invite people to bring food and wine and enjoy the music from loudspeakers scattered throughout the grounds. From what I saw, these seats don’t offer a view of the stage, but they also only cost $10. Pretty sweet deal…..barring bad weather.

Unfortunately, bad weather came. And it came. And it came.

Thunderstorms swept through the area throughout the day, but a relative calm pervaded before the start of the show. We went up and met with some friends preparing their grassy perch just prior to the show but, alas, the rains returned. The sky was unforgettable: a solid bank of incredibly dark clouds came roaring in from the west bringing the storms with it. I’m pretty sure the four horsemen galloped on their steeds amidst that turmoil. K and I scrambled for cover down below and left our poor friends to fend for themselves. As it turns out, they found refuge under a covered area in one of the food/drink buildings and managed to make the most of the show. That does go to illustrate the dangers, however, of the grassy seats.

Anyways, the storms ripped and roared throughout the show. There were moments when the orchestra mounted a charge with drums banging, horns blowing, gongs ringing when, meanwhile, lightening blazed through the sky and deafening thunder followed shortly thereafter. All in all, mother nature choreographed herself impressively with the music.

Amazing

An incredible visual trip inside the body.
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A dip

Nothing short of a revelation dawned upon me last week: you can swim in Lake Michigan along the Chicago shoreline. Call it absurd (it is) that it took me 15 months to grasp this fact, but it made it no less exciting. Tonight, after babbling a week straight about intending to do so, I finally swam in Lake Michigan.

It was so easy. I put on my running shoes, grabbed an old towel, and took my apartment keys. That's it. In the hot and slightly humid early-evening sunlight, I ran down to the lake shore. There are two popular sandy beaches within a mile of my apartment, Fullerton and North Ave, so I picked a less congested spot between them. Although asphalt and concrete replaced sand, I could jump off a 5 foot ledge and get a real plunge into the lake.

I run along that shoreline multiple times each week, but I erected a mental barrier of non-possibility regarding swimming. Summer appetites, however, usurp caution so I started asking around. As it turns out, the water is tested a minimum of 5 times each week for safety conditions. Info is available here. Although unhealthy conditions do arise a couple times each year, the lake is almost always suitable for swimming and you can check online for updated status.

So that's all I needed to know. I hurled myself into the cold waters of Lake Michigan and let my body adjust to the temperature. Like Priest Lake in Idaho, after you get past the initial rush of icy chill, the water feels supremely refreshing. The high rise condos lining Lake Shore Drive started to shield the dropping sun, but I managed to find a 100 foot swath between buildings where I had all the sunlight I ever needed. There, in my little gap of heaven, I swam towards the John Hancock Building towering a mile south, but it looked like I could reach out and grab it (I swam in the bit of water just to the right of this photo). It was a surreal feeling to glide through that water with the Magnificent Mile so close, the runners and bikers and rollerbladers zooming along the lake path, and a pair of tennis shoes and a towel waiting for me up the ladder.

Ahh, summer in Chicago.