Songs of May 2006 at Elementary Funk
Welcome To Wedgedale
The Wedge parodies the Australian way of life and the culture purported through the media and its various incarnations. Bred like the white starch that makes chewing a collar so hard, the comedy wavers. Between the sly and subtle pokes in the seconds long scenes to the more drawn out pastiches, it's still hard to take any chance with. The laff track is so overbearing, so patronising by its mere presence that watching this hammers too hard the conversation of what is comedy.
Wednesday, 31 May 2006
Tapping into a broken neck
Sensing a sniff of being partly back into the swing-a-ling ding of things. On the tip of a forty minute morning's rush, the spark delivers just under three hundred words for a review of The Hanging Man. Looking down the barrel of a deadline never feels quite right.
Destination: The Brag #161, featuring a cover story on The Presets. Nothing remains on return.
Sweaty palms from last night's walk away from the Yo-Yo Championships in Newtown evident. Fingerprints all over the edge, white lines on red ink. Nothing to do with snatching the copy away from the group reading just a few lines before the train leaves the station.
Tuesday, 30 May 2006
X-Men 3: The Last Stand
Morning session. Plenty on the buffer from a pace out over Ultimo to walk into George Street. Quiet, and the smell from the bathroom soap is pleasant.
Faces of the leaders, of Xavier and Magneto, are looking fantastic for their time travelling ages. The work superb and from there on in the chase to knock down the references and nods to the comics is on.
Stan Lee and Chris Claremont flash for a few seconds in the opening. It's like watching a computer being hacked by Mystique at Stryker's hold.
Finally, a Danger Room sequence where the students really get into the challenge of the battle. With a Colossus/Wolvie fastball to boot. Strength of the team as a unit is apparent. Albeit a little shaky.
Smashing pace is quick and the Beast appears to be the only real character with time on screen to linger about. Everyone else just flashes through in quick succession or as minor characters. Psylocke is barely there.
No astral plane for the very final moments of X-Men 3. Three people in the cinema walking out at the ultimate blank screen to catch one glimpse of the future.
Most of the focus is on the mood, the dream and the battle. A rather sad end to the trilogy as it stands. Fantastic action scenes and the one-liners are ripping mad at ease. Classic.
Tuesday, 30 May 2006
Australian National Yo-Yo Championships 2006
Feeling nothing in the legs for the chase toward the departing train, it was only a chance to see the others of the group around on the other side of St. Stephens Hall. Two new faces in the gathering, three of old. Documentary crew in slackware interview the players and get a feel for the grounds.
Whiteboard suggests a schedule that follows a lax adherence. A serious bloat spreads wet margarine around the edges of the butter mix. With the competitors of the Yo-Yo Championships hesitant to face the judging of the tricks list and show off their skills on stage, time dilates to an unbelievable degree.
No idea why. It's a relaxing atmosphere and the comradery over shines any real competitive streak and tire slashing. Still, the strength of competition belies any real level of grandiose boasting.
Not waiting for the glacial movements, an opportunity to shadow judge the contest is on and the clickers start their warm up as the players hit the stage.
Furious and frenetic, keeping up with the left hand and the right hand assigning negative and positive points is tough. Figuring out what is an actual trick and what is merely set up for the next takes a bit of fine-tuning. The speed at which the string bounces and the axle jumps not great for a first time shadow judge rough on the entire tricks repertoire.
Impressive displays all around. Far more so in the composition of the Y division. A section of the day for the freestyle movements and tricks set to a soundtrack. Not all shine though, one of the Jesters taking a lot of time trying to nail the stereo, almost completing a knock too.
Scoffing down the sausages at the grill enough to sate the hunger for the rest of the day. It's all about the packing and the allocation of stomach space after all. And flair. Bonus points always go for flair.
Monday, 29 May 2006
The Amazing Race does Perth and Darwin
Exciting as it ever is, the The Amazing Race continues the fine aural tradition of exacting an even more pronounced version of the Australian accent. Filtering through the lens of the Americans, even the most shallow of strine deepens to the bottom of a cavern, boundless in the ockerness of it all.
Even on the legless dash back from missing the State of Origin poetry slam event, the intensity of the race continues apace. Cracking whips in the face of host Phil, the race to the mat of the Darwin leg is the stuff made of excitement and one-sided shouting cheers to the slightly dusty television screen.
With Ray and Yolanda clear and out of the tussle at the end of the Australian leg, fury drops down to the other three. An extremely tight situation with Monica and Joseph (MoJo), BJ and Tyler (The Hippies (TTow!)) and Eric and Jeremy (The Frat Boys) all rubbing up close to one another. Close enough for fisticuffs even. And there in lies the hunger for that one million dollar prize.
Saturday, 27 May 2006
BTC 14: Drop it like a rock
Early confrontation is the scene. Movement in the trenches, the unexpected appearance of a blank look and the volley of attitude. From left toward the right and back again in a rise of temperature. Cause for a sideline witness to the execution of the dead and lost. Of filth that squeezes cheeses lies behind the back in front of the face.
Taking a cue on falling down, the face of it all leaves a tap running. Frequent requests at the unveiling, the relief is part of the game. A need to keep face while under the mask. Careful not to spit from the accumulation on the plastic from a run into words. Words, it seems, is the primary engine in steaming up the confines. Of breaths longer and warming faster.
Action figures figure into some action from their state of petrifaction. Five hours, it seems, may be the limit the eyes will only bear with no sense of periphery vision.
Friday, 26 May 2006
Cavorting with dust, the expenditure of sight
Straight short on the back. One after the night on the day and the entirety of it all feels like the man finding no finger tips to his gloves. Quite the wrenching experience to sense a reversal and general contraction. It's the start toward the other side of holding long. Ringing on a swing, the foreshortening of it all.
Hard Time Season Two #1
Life in prison has got to be hell. Watching it through the eyes of a guy who doesn't exactly know what's up with all that he controls, doesn't diminish the conversation. Essentially, it picks up enough for a fresh slate, for a new year to read on from and there isn't a pressing need to file through the first season/volume to understand what's going on.
Down #1
Cold and a little on the chill, the prospect of going down into the abyss looks like it's nothing but fun for the more flexible of morals. Rubbing two fourths of the temples into a sweat, it harbours a sense of viciousness, of a certain remark. Too hard and there's the need to pull out the ointment.
Ultimate Spider-Man #86
Too much reading into the issue leaves a hole gaping through the tunnel. Peter gets his act together to deliver an impressively light rail of humour with a possible corn and carrot mix. It's the sentiment that counts and dry cleaning a superhero's costume never really did have easy to read labels.
Angel Stomp Future
Gritty and visceral, the future is menacing and disgusting. Not just on the visual scape of it all, but for the lengths people will go to to find salvation, to seek solutions to their problems. Nasty world filled with instant flash glimpses of tech that just is so ingeniously there for the possibility, years away from actual fruition and exploitation.
Fell #3
A lot of time in the dressing room, the lady at the front asks up and wonders whether or not that ripping sound is a sign of things being all OK. Things aren't and it's just as well the tear is confined to the fabric. Walking into the naked dresser, it's a bit of a running chance that makes it all happen, and flow and move along like nothing really is the matter. But something is the matter and that is there's a glimmer in the back.
Friday, 26 May 2006
BTC 13: Magic carpet ride
Without fail, spinning the cyclone of the vacuum cleaner recreates itself into a people magnet. Time with quiet is the best time to wheel out the sucking and the whirring. And, like the dust and fibres that inevitably find themselves on the inside of the bagless, the wandering of people onto that very carpet.
Two weeks straight, the quirky sensation burns their ears to bring their eyes and bodies inward seconds before electricity pulses through the grey cord lying about the floor. Points in the day at their most unmasked.
Sunday, 21 May 2006
Mission: Impossible 3
Cutting through the city, racing to make the session, the fifteen or so minutes that buffer the start of the trailers and the start of Mission: Impossible 3 are gone with the lungs.
Rejoice in the on-screen construction of the mask. Excellent throwback to the series episodes where they would actually feature the making of the disguise used in the mission. More time on the mechanics of devices lends a better drop to the whole world of the IMF.
Flipping this on the stir fry is spending too much time in the offices and headquarters of the IMF. Cloudy and shifty, the whole mystique of the organisation falls away from this overexposure.
Classy explosions, magnificent stunts and the weaving plot of infestation makes the rounds around a few choice jabs here and there. More than just Ethan Hunt? Got that too, team work is the life blood of the Impossible Mission Force after all.
Working the whole movie around the Rabbit's Foot, the line seems to vanish. Dropping any real path toward a solid conclusion, the whole reason behind the film seems to walk out faster than the need to complete the mission. Like it never really mattered. That seems to bring the whole early afternoon session down.
Saturday, 20 May 2006
MOY 7: Poppy seeds into the laminate abyss
Resetting every other day, the desk is now a confirmed location for disappearing items. Especially of bottles concerning oddly sparked tea sports drinks and blue flavoured juice.
Clearing out the debris, the longest form of stay is of a few Business section pages of the Sydney Morning Herald; a page of stocks and the crumbling rise of spitting into the wind without a bib. Nothing too overbearing.
Taking the concept of territorial expression to the hilt, a canvas of poppy seeds, squeezed and crushed into the tabletop and memo lying atop and beneath the keyboard. Gone. Along with it, the single pellet from a citronic chewing experiment in driving the question of, "What's that weird smell?" from all around inside the audience of arm's reach.
Vanished in the lot, a box filled with nothing more than the lingering scent of a brand new keyboard. Believed to be immune to such an act, now it appears that nothing is safe from the not so nightly purge. Sickeningly, thin film continues to reside on the surface of the keys and of the mouse.
Friday, 19 May 2006
Loose Candy
More than a single double on the door list, two names making for four seats go up in the air. Burning over a half hour in the city, the trek toward Dendy Newtown for a sneak peek preview of Candy loses out on making an extra return statement all the more valid. Slow to burn, chances to make it out of the building quickly set themselves alight, running around with the ticking of minutes. Soon enough, all too many and there is left nothing for catching a spot. Thankfully, the preoccupation of others makes the decision and lost opportunity easier to swallow.
Thursday, 18 May 2006
The Hanging Man at the Drama Theatre
Muscles made rock solid with hurt fight for a tight run to close out the box office. From the Krispy Kreme at Wynyard to the fountains near Jacksons on George, nothing but collapse ready for the amble up the walk to the Western Foyer of the Sydney Opera House. Timing is off with an empty stomach feasting on the abyss.
Thirty seven seconds late for the actual performance start according to the lady. Eight minutes before the first break and shower of noise for late shuffling. Nonetheless, a latecomer in with the rest of them. One of which is a thinner than ever before Zoe Sheridan (2DayFM and The Russell Gilbert Show) in red boots. Breaking walls, Death notices us and throws a line out later in the night.
The Hanging Man is strange for all the things they say and all the things they do. Production is less the morbid state and far more a humourous injection. Playing with laughs and fooling around with thought, the work is a fascinating spectacle. Not just for the set work, a marvellous feat in itself, but for the way in which the actors break the rhythm and bend the melody. Smoothly absurd and erratically penetrating.
Wednesday, 17 May 2006
BTC 12: Wither the vestiges of vexed vapour
Tasty is the sweat that pools behind the cover of a mask worn for an entire shift. Leaving no room save for the eyes, the slit for the mouth and the area around the sides of the face, winter finds no grippage. With each breath and twitch, a little more is added to the warm air.
Remarking on how cool the movie was, a random skirmish recruiter finds easy acceptance in not signing up any combatants from the store. Another, with a chest bearing sheer material, insists that there are deals that can be made for the sourcing of more. Possibilities assuredly, willingness and desire altogether another matter.
Few weeks remain as the season of V for Vendetta charges into a close and off into the sunset of DVDs. After that, hopefully the flow of questions from the people about the mask will subside into the ether.
On walking into the postmatch of a friend's netball game, a small boy takes fear from his sighting of the mask. Perhaps enough to trigger an inkling of a traumatic event. Thankfully not enough to lose control of bodily functions between the peeking and the shivering.
Sunday, 14 May 2006
MOY 6: Manero wants to breakdown
On the side of black, white holes otherwise seen prominently from more than a metre hang back and rest. With a week off of movement and of assisting in the general air of despair and disdain for public appearances under the gun, the entry fee loses a belt.
Colluding with the cold and a lay over from a splendid night at the ballet, a continuance of the rubbing effect. Tight, and with no real room for movement, the high hitch leaves a desire toward use of a sewing machine.
No belt, no holes, no pocket watch pocket even. A distinct change in stride coming from a simple switch. At least the burn and irritation are comfortable enough to generate heat without the raw blistering sensation of an adverse reaction.
Not enough still to bury deeper into the skull an immense desire to once again cast aside the commute and leave for the solace of hermitage. Such is the curse of living in and interpreting an environment by others.
Saturday, 13 May 2006
Worship the pagan gods ye fool!
Distraught by the faceless onslaught of nothingness, a chance to reflect on review pushes out Silence. Hazy and a couple of days past due, the implications of the creative audit block hopefully only as menial as the mental challenge of waking up with a mind filled with thoughts.
On and on over the program in hand and the tickets between the fingers, finding alternative routes to display lose minutes to the hour. Running backward makes no sense and leaves little in the way of clear construction. Nothing for it but the hope that jittery segments provide even the slightest semblance of a coherent whole.
Friday, 12 May 2006
Giselle at the Opera Theatre
Forever lost into the recycling pulp and rushes, call/cast sheets for performances of Giselle disappear after midnight. Striking up a small nuisance, picking up a programme from beyond the velvet rope is simple and all the people in their button-ups so very helpful. Unfortunately, this does not extend into rescuing the simple sheet, now into the ephemeral.
Crossing the path of the stage door, the Borzoi of the performance strut their white and silky stuff. Strange looking dogs, further confirming the feel of the setting of Giselle.
Wonderfully beautiful, a sad tale of a woman who dances beyond her heart's strength and finds her love lost and looking for a way to comfort their extremely brief affair.
Post performance discussion about a severed limb not in keeping with the mood and emotion of the night. A garish reminder that not everyone knows about the darting eyes and scattering brain.
Wednesday, 10 May 2006
Silence at the Seymour Centre
Opening night after party for Silence handles the ricotta cheese well. Dry hands ever the important factor in cracking glass bottles of water. Even the slightest of moisture will kill the skill.
A brunette double-dipper by the cheese and chilli is unrepentant in her drooling ways. Dip, bite, double dip to her own delight. Her friend tries to keep up with the social spit swapping with the open mouth slather.
Sakata crackers lose out to the crunchy crunch of the celery and carrot sticks on offer. Last train out of the city, a lingering mill about with the actors and their comrades baking an hour long. Pink ugh boots crash only a few streets away.
Lesbianism, honour and the priesthood feature under the cheek of the production. An olde English tale of a prince, his bride and the king out to sate his own unholy desires.
Wonderfully charming, the performances are hilarious and masterful. A deft hand in comic timing and skill in the script. The high in the first act swoons to the bellow and sweet taste of the second act and its final scenes.
Monday, 8 May 2006
Mind.Body.Spirit at the Convention Centre
Stalls and stalls and stalls of the Mind Body Spirit festival, hardly an overpowering pungency in the incense and rampant use of sandalwood. Subdue the nostrils for this, the beating smell in the air a rather clean one.
Tasty zing in the samples, the little paper shot glasses of tea and all sorts of seedy swill making the tongue flashback and jump. Zinc water testing at first a foul fat water flavour that then goes to be rather pleasant. An entire four hours sustaining the body from nutrients in vegetarian food made to taste and smell like meat, lollies in wrappers and the smell of potato salad.
Fat man wearing an Incredibles costume manages to elude a photo op. Dawdling angels are easier to snare. And far more pleasing giving the girth of the man's over the belt bulge.
Stall for the Church of Scientology does brisk business and a man at the spinal alignment booth throws up all sorts of lines on a diagram. Severely towering to the right he says, a four kilo difference with the right side carrying a lot of the burden.
Minutes after the door people stamp their rubber stamps, the ink runs out into a blur of red, bleeding across the fine lines of the skin. NOT NEGOTIABLE on the exit, NTERED in the morning. Back pocket full of pamphlets and brochures and an envelope still carrying all the money save for the entrance fee cut in half.
Full body exhaustion done with twisted muscles and corking tendons under a blanking mind. Spiritually as wretched as ever.
Monday, 8 May 2006
MOY 5: Grease lightening
Oils ain't oils but the oils on the keys slip and slow programming. Others would have a tinker and a toy, the acceptable risk of using workstations for and from others. Any hints of resting fingers and the palm on the face clearly and savagely taken care of by the thin film coating the fingertips. Predilection for contemplation put aside in the flurry of knuckles flying across and zapping out lines into new verse and style.
Running against the clock minutes here and there, lost on the footing of the keyboard, build up to a chase race through the streets of the city and down into the pebbles of the Chinese Garden of Friendship in Darling Harbour. Minutes blow out easy when the travelling pauses to black out and rest steps on the way from running out and running up to.
Saturday, 6 May 2006
Mystery screening theatre at Dendy Quays
No matter how trendy in its independent status, few are in the audience. A morning session hard for a big number to catch themselves inside a cinema. Harder still with all the mystery air in the communications and invitations not revealing anything before hand. Nothing save the location, the time and the need for feedback after the event.
The Scottish-Korean helps pass the leading lull with a laptop as heavy as a desktop tower. It would later go on to be a cause for a twitchy shoulder. Cutting a swathe with other bags into the muscles with no relent. Pain? Oh, the pain, the pain of it all.
Flavoursome with a Mystery Science Theatre 3000 vibe, Double Take, former SBS Cult Move presenter Des Mangan with Gabrielle Judd, punch up a plausibly bad horror known as Horror Hospital.
Looking back to see the two voices at the end, at the same moment they display the credits of production, cause in not knowing all the names of the people responsible for the work.
So bad that it's good, the experience is something new and totally out of the field. A passing conversation and a cheap price the recommendations on the feedback form. Double bonus complimentary tickets an unexpected reward for an altogether stitch up of corny dialogue over an extremely goofy horror film.
Friday, 5 May 2006
MOY 4: Speaking in fruity skins
Running back into the face of singles, a fresh take and a whirring mind juice an answer with folate stickiness covering the fingers. Controlling the opening of bottles of juice problematic for the second time in a row. Fine motor ability in mastering the crack of the ring in one and the popping of the freshness seal on the other leaving as quick as the day is out and done.
Wednesday, 3 May 2006
Death has a sense of selfish humour
Curdling the hours leading up and into the day, a review of Speedy Mustard at the Stables Theatre manages to break and render itself done. Day past the actual mark of two, the groggy feeling of remembering a blank slate making things all that much harder to task.
Worse still when recollection finds nothing outstanding in the night occurring on stage. Sheer pain from blacking out and napping in the middle of the middle of the performance. From the plough of insomnia to the warmth of a hot spotlight generating a comfortable environment. Seriously detrimental to any theatre review assignment.
Wednesday, 3 May 2006
MOY 3: Tiny dancing figures
Falling legless down an abyss of minor repetition cast upon itself never-ending. Chances of cancellation made for the quick and clean to tear a little ratty on the edges. Nevertheless, a standing triumph in the waning hours of daylight see a few less blindspots vomit across the vision.
Tuesday, 2 May 2006
Museum of smashed ruins with zombies outside
Seriously underestimating time and the expansion, tripping into the past with actors in make up and ambiguous clothing takes the focus away from a city overrun by zombies.
Sporting a massive need to explore the city from one very convenient location, a trek through the upper floors of the Museum of Sydney. Proving to extract more hours and more attention than initial forecasts, a mere three storey structure balloons into a world extending far beyond the reaches of dead birds, archaic posters and missing whale oil in a glass brick.
A wall of postcards, in script far less legible than the pain of cracking a few wrists, is more inspiring for the fact that one author is on his apparent death bed. Snuggling with sniffles to Death's side, he has the presence of mind to write a postcard wishing others interest and concern.
Four hours, or so very much a shave under, presents the other half of the day. Other museums to visit on the back of a Ticket Through Time in the Heritage Houses Trust now under question. One musuem is one day, and the prospect of partaking in more than that ludicrous.
Monday, 1 May 2006
