Spamalot Vs. The Da Vinci Code: This Time It's Personal (Oh, Wait. No It Isn't)

This morning found me IMing Kathleen to see if she wanted to meet for lunch today.
She responded that she was too busy today and said, “Maybe next week.”
I pointed out that last week she said, “Maybe next week,” and that in pushing things off another week she had shattered my illusions about the world and destroyed my trust in her.  In this fashion I successfully guilted her into agreeing to meet me for lunch tomorrow.
Of course, that left me with nothing to do today.
Sure, doing nothing is pretty much old hat for me, but as I’ve mentioned a few times, I’ve been a bit restless of late and so the usual routine has begun to grate on my nerves.
Beyond that, I continue to feel no desire whatsoever to engage in my usual pursuits.  Drawing seems pointless (and for some reason, in humid weather, causes me to sweat profusely), particularly since I’ve been getting no hits whatsoever on Heroic Portraits (Though that may change once I start mailing things with the Heroic Portrait stamps I had made.  Check out Zazzle.com; you can create your own postage there.), so anything I draw is essentially for my own edification, and lately I’ve be saying “Fuck edification.”
Okay, I haven’t actually been saying that, but it does express my sentiments pretty succinctly.
Beyond that, I just didn’t feel up to sitting here and listening to the dark bark over the apparently surprising fact that, just like she does EVERY FUCKING DAY, his owner walked out the door and left him alone.
So, what to do?
For the sheer hell of it, and since I finished reading it the other day, I opted to head over to the theater and take in a showing of The Da Vinci Code.
This was a bit out of character in that I generally avoid going to movies alone unless it’s something that I really, really want to see, and since I was hardly overwhelmed by the book that clearly wasn’t the case.
Still, it was something to do.
I’m not inclined to give away any plot points, but I will say that I enjoyed the book a great deal more, and I was rather puzzled by some of the major changes made to the plot, many of which seemed completely arbitrary and did nothing to add to the story.
What I found most interesting, and this is slightly spoilerish, is the fact that the book focuses a great deal on how the “Sacred Feminine” has been robbed of its power by the church which is led by men who have stripped women of their former power and status, a notion that in the book and the movie is cast in a negative light, and yet, ironically, in the movie the feminine, in the form of Sophie Neveu, is similarly robbed.  Though she is at the forefront, the character of Sophie plays much less of a role in moving the action than she had in the book.  The one puzzle that she manages to solve is done so only with a helpful nudge from Robert Langdon, the significance of a vital piece of evidence that had been recognized by Sohpie in the book is instead recognized by Langdon, and much of her background, which demonstrates her to be an extremely intelligent and capable person, is quickly glossed over.  With a few notable exceptions, she was largely a passive participant, serving as little more than scenery (On that score she did very well, as Audrey Tatou is a very attractive woman), or at best an easy hostage.  That there was considerably more significance to her than that is almost irrelevant despite the fact that it was rather central to the plot.
I suppose that it’s hardly surprising though, as Hollywood’s track record when it comes to the treatment of women isn’t much better than the church’s.
On the topic of the church, a very clear effort was made to make the movie more palatable to Catholics, casting Langdon into the role of apologist and advocate, questioning the validity of some of the more defamatory claims made about the church.
The problem with this was that in order to do this Langdon’s character had to be dumbed down a little, having no prior knowledge of some of the information presented.
Beyond that, though, there was something of a contradiction in the form of a character who was shown to have a great deal of contempt for the church who later backpedals and makes a distinction between the actions of members of the church and the church itself in such a way that you feel as though you’re being hit over the head with it.
Those sequences seem to cry out, “See?  We very clearly said that Catholics and the church itself aren’t bad, just that there are some bad people who happen to be Catholics and officials in the church.  Please don’t hate protest us.”
Paradoxically enough, though, the screenplay actually increased the role of the church (or rather, certain bad people who happened to be in the upper echelons of the church) in the murderous plot at that was driving the action.
Another problem with the movie was the unavoidable issue of condensing the story, which meant that a lot of scenes from the book that were interesting but not necessarily integral or irreplaceable, didn’t make their way on to the screen.
For me, despite the acknowledged question as to their accuracy, some of the most interesting parts of the books were the sequences in which Langdon would go into “lecture mode” and expound on the significance of various symbols, words, and historical events, and, sadly, most of them were not included.
All of that being said, it was an okay movie, and it definitely had its moments.
As mentioned, Ms. Tatou was lovely, and she did very well, despite the comparatively anemic role, as Sohpie.
Watching Sir Ian McKellan perform is always a pleasure, and while I’m still not quite sure I buy him as Robert Langdon, who doesn’t like Tom Hanks?  I mean, it’s Tom Hanks.  You have to like him.  I think it’s a Federal Law.
I hadn’t known ahead of time that he was in it, having not seen him in any of the publicity or noted his entry for it on IMDb, but as I sat in the theater before the movie started I thought, “I’ll bet that Bezu Fache is played by Jean Reno.”
And wouldn’t you Reno it, I was right.
Anyway, after the movie I made the irritating (People just become more retarded every day) drive home, and so here I am, telling you – at length, as per usual – about my day.
Of course, I still have to tell you about yesterday, so this promises to be an especially long entry.
Before heading down to Scott and Stacy’s house for dinner, I had to decide what I was going to wear to the theatre.  While they apparently have no dress code per their Web site (and per the evidence of our own eyes once we got there), I felt that I should dress up at least somewhat.
Upon entering my closet I discovered two things.  First of all, I apparently no longer own the shirt I had intended to wear.
Secondly, the clothes in my closet all seemed to belong to someone who is much thinner than I am.
The pants I was going to wear fit, but did so while demonstrating that I’ve gained a lot of inches since the last time I had occasion to dress up and so I opted to go with black jeans.
I had tried to buy some different dress pants earlier that day at Super Target, but the racks there demonstrated that I’m the only person in the world who would even consider buying actual pants at this time of year.
In any case, once I got there I had dinner, was nearly treated to an altogether different kind of show than the one Scott and I were heading to by two nursing mothers (Stacy and Jamie, whose kids Scott and Stacy had been babysitting), ate dinner, and then sat down to get in the spirit of things by watching a bit of Monty Python and the Holy Grail before heading out to DC.
Along the way we ran into the usual traffic bafflements (a sudden stop followed by an extremely slow return to movement that had no apparent cause), and once we got to DC we were met with the usual DC driving frustrations (one way streets, no left turns, etc.), eating up most of the “good time” we had made.
The parking garage we parked in looked like something out of a first-person shooter and was extremely cramped, with a multitude of support beams that only added to the feeling of claustrophobia.  That we had to park two deep (all the way forward against a wall with a parking space behind us) was cause for some concern, as were the extremely tight quarters.
Once we were out of the parking garage and on the street we were almost immediately accosted by some guy rattling off some story about having left his uniform on the Metro or something and only having $1.65 to his name and something about his sister and apparently he needed money.  He had started off by saying, “You’re probably going to laugh at me.”  He was right.
We told him we couldn’t help him and went walking off in completely the wrong direction before discovering that the theatre was the other way.
Once inside we were seated in the very last row, which was, apparently, located directly in front of the standing room only area.
Still, it was a decent vantage point from which to watch the show.
I should say right away that I hate musicals.  If I want to listen to people singing I’ll listen to some proper songs, and when it comes to dancing, if it doesn’t have the word “exotic” in front of it, I’m unlikely to be interested.
That being said, however, I am a nerd, and therefore I love Monty Python.
While I can no longer rattle off random quotes from the show or the movies with the same easy confidence with which I can recite my name (Jon something or other), there was no question that I would be willing and able to put aside my antipathy towards musicals in order to see this show.
And I’m glad I did.
If you’ve seen the aforementioned movie you know the basic plot of Spamalot, though there were many significant – and entertaining – changes made to the story.
I wouldn’t be able to do it just in describing it, but suffice to say that it was extremely entertaining and I highly recommend that anyone – Python fan or not – who can see this show do so.
I think that, beyond my fondness for all things Python (there were multiple references to other Python material, such as a quick reference to the famous “Parrot Sketch,” and the inclusion of “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” as part of the program), I liked this musical because it pokes fun at musicals, and Broadway in general.
I think that my favorite scenes were the recruiting of Galahad, which involved The Lady of the Lake and her “Laker Girls,” and quickly turned into an hilarious “pep rally,” and the scenes in Camelot that were like something straight out of Vegas, complete with sexy showgirls.  “What happens in Camelot,” King Arthur noted, “stays in Camelot.”
During the intermission, like good little drooling fanboys, Scott and I shelled out way too much money on souvenirs.
I went with the “What happens in Spamalot stays in Spamalot” long-sleeved T, but unlike Scott I couldn’t bring myself – even knowing that it was a joke and that I would never open it, or, god forbid, eat it – to buy a commemorative tin of SPAM.
I do applaud Hormel on being good sports and having a sense of humor, though.
All in all it was a very good time and I’m glad I went, though in general I still hate musicals.
Getting out of the parking garage was less of a challenge than it might have been, as there was no car parked behind us, but the fact that we had taken the minivan, owing to the superiority of it’s A/C, proved to make things a little bit tricky.
Once we were out we were quickly (for DC) on our way.  Somewhere along the way we saw a guy and his kids walking on the sidewalk and it seemed as though he was doing his best to try to ditch them, quickly veering off in a different direction and leaving them several paces behind and showing no apparent (or parent’s) concern for whether or not they’d noticed (which they did, though not right away), and he continued walking at a brisk pace well ahead of them.
It was a bit after 11 by the time Scott dropped me off at my car.  I was feeling a bit puckish and considered stopping somewhere to get something to eat.  I noticed a Taco Bell, but realized that despite the fact that I was quieroing, at my age I have no business eating Taco Bell that close to midnight and that doing so couldn’t possibly end well, and so I opted to have a simple sandwich once I got home.
And that was my night, which was punctuated by me waking up this morning and reaching up to scratch an itchy spot behind my ear, a spot that I’d obviously been scratching throughout the night, as when I reached back to scratch it I was greeted by a wet feeling and upon withdrawing my fingers found them covered in blood.
There must have been a pimple or bug bite or something that had been scratched raw.
Still, the random bleeding was less of a mystery to me than the reasons behind me dreaming about buttering bread right before waking up…
In any case this entry has rambled on well past the point of long enough, and to summarize, Spamalot 10, Da Vinci Code 6.