The Hyperion Institute

I have been busy with some extra-curricular adventures, and have fallen behind a few days in my planned column writing. However, not wanting to leave you in the cold, I thought I would take a few moments to answer some of the comments/email I have received.

Several readers wrote to ask “What the hell?” after I posted a conversation between two people that went absolutely nowhere. Hey, they can’t all be winners, folks. For the record, while the conversation happened in my head, neither person was me, and I had nothing to do with it. I just wrote what they said. And I agree: while there may have been something salvageable in there, as it was presented: terrible.

Several people wrote to ask why The Hyperion Chronicles are not up to date. It’s me. I have been behind lately, and by the time I post I am usually too tired to fix things. I have a new plan starting next week, though, and I should never be behind again. (Stay tuned.)

A few also wanted to know why there was so much stuff going on in Monkey Barn. I wrote this letter to the Monkey Barn audience, hopefully explaining.

On my uncle’s birthday party (and the surprise musical guest Shawn Mullins), Sea Hag said she’d like The Decembrists to surprise her, while Dragon voted for Andrea Bocelli. As I threw down the gauntlet, I can only surmise the rest of you have no musical interests whatsoever. At all. I will forevermore refer to you as the TDB (Tone-deaf-bastards).

Speaking of my uncle’s party, Koz wrote to back up my brother Achmed’s absurd claim that the food served at the party was heavy hors d’oeuvres and not a meal. You’re both (and anyone who agrees with you) missing the point. I will admit that the mouth-watering chateaubriand could be served as a hors d’oeuvre, as could the horseradish sauce and the cheese platter. But friends, rolls are not hors d’oeuvres under ANY circumstances, and when rolls were served NEXT to the beef, cheese and spread….that, little chickadees, is an implied sandwich, and that means a meal. QED.

Before I get to the final piece of mail, I wanted to say that in preparation for reviewing RATATOUILLE, I attempted to rank all eight Pixar movies. I found myself unable to do so, and beg your help. I have laid out the contenders and asked you to weigh in on how the Pixar movies stack up.

Speaking of that review, Lady Jane Scarlett correctly points out that I neglected to mention the “shorts” that go before all Pixar movies. The one in the theatre is called “Lifted,” about a young alien learning to raise people into the craft (presumably for probing). My understanding is that the DVD has an additional short. I miss the days when movies had shorts before them, and I applaud Pixar for continuing the tradition.

“Anonymous” wrote to ask how a movie can be in the 86^th Percentile and only get a B+ in the Genre Grade. I have explained my ratings system many times before, but as I continually get new readers, it is always good to go over how I do it again.

My Suspension of Disbelief Index is how seriously to take the film. A clown eating a small child in a serious historical movie like ELIZABETH: THE GOLDEN AGE would be a serious flaw and a legitimate complaint. The same event in DUDE: WHERE’S MY CAR would not even make you blink.

My Genre Grade judges the movie in its genre only. For example, ARMY OF DARKNESS or HAROLD AND KUMAR GO TO WHITE CASTLE would never in an infinity of years score highly overall,¹ but in their respective genres are enjoyable movies. When you add in the fact that some of you (and here I shake my fist in rage) watch movies based on the genre, not on the quality, then the Genre Grade becomes even more important.

The Pantheon Percentile seeks to judge the movie against all (non-porn) movies that have ever been theatrically released up to this point in time. That is a big thing. This is different from a Letter grade, where a 75 is usually a C, a middle grade. In the Pantheon Percentile, an “average” film would score a 50, whereas the best movie ever made (LEGALLY BLONDE 2: RED WHITE AND BLONDE) would score a 99.999999.²

Further questioning my RATATOUILLE review, Bear disagreed with my assertion that having Remy talk to other rats but not humans was disjointed. I agree with Bear that Remy’s attempts to communicate were both flawless and hilarious, and I do not have a problem with the editorial choice. (Bear points out that director Brad Bird consciously does this because he felt that rats talking to humans takes the story one step too far down that old suspension of disbelief I wrote of above.) My point (poorly expressed), is that having Remy talk virtually non-stop the first third of the movie, and then stop talking completely (not even in narration to us, the audience), while trying to teach Linguini to cook, and then talking again during the conclusion; that sequencing was a little start-and-stop. It certainly did not lessen my enjoyment of the film, but as a critic I am obligated to point out flaws if they are legitimate, and I only mentioned it, really, in comparison to say Bird’s THE INCREDIBLES, which made the emotional changes more seamlessly. (But I wouldn’t kick either girl out of bed unless she wanted to do it on the floor, if you know what I mean.)

Keep those comments and questions coming!

Hyperion
November 14, 2007

Notes
¹ Although: in infinity + 1 years you might have a shot
² I’m totally kidding. The best movie ever is SISTERHOOOD OF THE TRAVELING PANTS.

She still lives with her mom outside the city
Down that street about a half a mile
And all her friends tell her she’s so pretty
But she’d be a whole lot prettier if she smiled once in a while
-From “Lullaby,” by Shawn Mullins

Many things happening at the Institute lately. I wanted to bring you up to speed:

@@@@@@

Over the weekend we had a surprise 50th Birthday Party for my uncle. He’s a big shot in this town, and has does business with or helped a lot of people over the years, so the party was packed.

My cousin’s boyfriend (who is a chef) contributed some of the food: chateaubriand. My friends, there is no way for me to describe the incredibleness that was this thing. I have a picture, but it just doesn’t do justice to the slices of heaven.

They were served cold, on platters, and I added mine to cheese slices (first swiss, then muenster) and rolls. There was horseradish sauce my mom went nuts over, but I wanted nothing masking the chateaubriand.

It was as if God had a cow.

With the possible exception of Bern’s Steakhouse in Tampa this is the best beef I have ever eaten. (And I ate about 7 pounds of it.)

Incidentally, the next day my brother Achmed and I were arguing over whether the spread (which also featured several dips, special fried rice, fried wontons, shrimp, chicken legs and a host of other foods) constituted a meal or just hors d’oeuvres. My brother strongly averred it was just heavy hors d’oeuvres, and just because people could eat a lot did not mean dinner.

I, on the other hand, pointed out the juxtaposition of rolls, cheese, condiment and the chateaubriand clearly meant and implied sandwich, which I also think would be a great band name. I think if you have an implied sandwich, you have a meal.

The reason I write about all this, though, is the special guest. My uncle has a nightclub and a recording studio, and over the years has helped many bands and singers get started. One of those Buddy helped give some breaks to paid back the favor by showing up as a suprise: Shawn Mullins. You may remember him from that breakout hit “Lullaby” back in the ’90s. Mullins is the kind of guy who never wanted to be monstrously huge, and has kept to playing smaller venues all over the country on his tours, while continuing to make great music.

It was pretty sweet to have him suddenly appear, and he played a short set in really cold weather (we were outside), which the crowd just loved. It made me sort of proud of my uncle that he meant enough to someone as big as Shawn Mullins that he would come play at a 50th birthday party.

And it got me to thinking. Let’s say you had a birthday party, and you’re a big shot, which means a loved one is going to surprise you with a band to play a private concert. It doesn’t have to be someone you helped get started or anything, but

if you were going to be surprised by a singer/band at a birthday party, who would you want it to be?

Leave you answer in the comments, and I promise that no one will make fun of you unless you pick one of the following:

Menudo
Babs
Milli Vanilli
Starlight Vocal Band
Jem and the Holograms

As for me, I asked my mom who she would get, and she thought about it and said Nora Jones. That’s a pretty great answer, and I would love it if she played. But if it were up to me I would like Garth Brooks out of retirement (that would be a sweet private show), or else Boyz II Men. I think that would be a sweet private concert, especially if they were all a cappella. (Chicks like that stuff.)

I leave you with the video from Lullaby. It featured a then unknown Dominique Swain: you can see why she went on to be a star. Great song. Great night. And hella-great chateaubriand.