Angels&Demons

This weekend I did one of my favorite things: I went to the movies with a dear friend of mine. It has been quite a while since last time I went to the movies with any of my friends, and that's something that shouldn't take me so long to do. I'm not really what you'll call a "movie-freak" who would see about anything and everything that comes out on screen, but I certainly like to go, either alone or with my friends, and enjoy a good time. That's after all, the point of all movies. Then again, with this friend of mine we didn't go to any movie either, but a VIP movie theatre where, as usual, I enjoyed the movie with a Heineken and some California rolls. (Note: I gara start asking something else, because those rolls taste too much like vinagre.) In case you are wondering, we went to see Angels&Demons, and no, we don't really recommend it. Sure, the movie was full of interesting questions, such as the idea of maybe Pope John Paul II being victim of murder, but all in all, it was plain. For it to hold some interest, you should not see The DaVinci Code before you see this, or you'll be frowning because, dude, Brown kills a Silas in TDVC only to pull another one on A&D. BUT if you don't see or read TDVC first, you are at lost about who the hell Robert Langdon is. So wha do I recommend? Don't waste your time with this movie, unless it's a "must choose" between this movie and, lets say, 17 Again or High School Musical. It is bad, only it's not as bad and it's not that much of an insult for the average human intellingence.

I dunno how the translation was in other languages, but the Spanish subtitles told a different story than what was said. Can't really vouch for the English-Spanish translation, for I hardly pay any attention to it, but when it came to the French and the Italian it simply sucked. It's a good thing I've some level of knowledge of French to actually understand what was said, but, for instance, I've no formal education on Italian language, and even so, I found unspeakable mistakes in the translation. Sure, that has nothing, really to do with the movie itself, which is still crappy and way too foreseeable to be honestly enjoyed (no matter how sinful Ewan McGregor looks dressed like a priest), but if you are a Spanish speaker, currently located somewhere in Latin America, I advise you to rent the movie and put on the English caption.

I know it's not quite usual for me to go missing for as many days as I did this time. These days, from Friday up to today were days of strong and deep meditation, where I turned mostly to my journal and blotched my fingers with ink spots, wrote my heart out, even though many thoughts remained in my mind, locked away either with hate and anger, or with simple contemplation. I marveled again in the solace a blank book like a journal can give to one's soul. There are a lot of things that require calm thinking from me in these days, matters concerning my future and things like that. I won't deny it, it tremendously pisses me off to have to deal with someone as utterly shallow, phony, prone to self-serving speeches and full of futile curiosity as my mother-in-law. Each time she comes into my mind, a single scene from Neon Genesis Evangelion plays in my mind. Little Asuka stares through a window and you can hear her father and her stepmother talk. The stepmother doesn't like her and she tells her father:

- Don't forget I can stop being her mother anytime I want.

This single line mutates in my head as I replay it over and over until it becomes:

- Don't forget I can stop being her daughter-in-law anytime I want.

This weekend I also took the chance to indulge in a bit of reading. Mom fished out for me a copy we have of of one of Vonnegut's books, translated to Hungarian, but even that's better than nothing. The book itself is a translation of Slaughterhouse 5. I must say, I'm enjoying this writer's work even if I already read his biography and know he walked away from writing saying that "writing was a job", and turned to drawing, painting and sculpting. Oddly, my choices go the other way around. In Slaughterhouse 5 Vonnegut goes crazy, chopping up the book, writing himself into it, and making strange decisions he follows through.

The translation, for me, it's a bit strange, for I'm not really used to read the free speaing, profusely cursing modern American style in Hungarian, so suddenly finding words such as "motherfucker" translated to Hungarian, rather literally, proves to be shocking.

I've not finished the book yet, but I've already decided to build up my Vonnegut collection at home, only I'd require all books to be in English... to avoid unnecesary shocking. ^_^