"Predators": Partly Reviewed With Partial Spoilers

It's commonly the case that I watch a movie and see nothing but the fundamental problems that, if addressed, would have made the movie good or better. This is all just my opinion, naturally, and I can certainly be wrong. As capable as I am of admitting fallibility, I am none too capable of keeping my opinions to myself, and so I feel I must address the shortcomings which I saw in the 2010 film "Predators".

There are really only two severe problems I had with the movie, so this shouldn't take so very long. The first thing I felt was annoyance with the initial premise. In the film, a gaggle of soldiers, mercenaries and such are kidnapped and airdropped into a place where the predator aliens hunt them. It feels like an old, hoary freshman film student's idea to have a bunch of strangers wake up together with no idea of where they are, or what's going on.

Memories Of Shiftless Adolescence

When I was in middle school, I had to take a home economics class. It was a very good thing for me to do, although the habits they sought to instill in us didn't stick for me. That doesn't mean that I was then or am now deliberately resistant to cooking, cleaning or the mending of clothes. It means more that I have lacked the discipline and the general wherewithal to apply what they taught, much as I have wanted to.

I have some fond memories and keepsakes.Our class time coincided with the daily broadcast of Sheri Lewis' show "Lamb Chop's Sing-A-Long", and we enthusiastically (if a bit ironically) watched that every day as we labored, barring the days that we were in the kitchen. As we watched the aforementioned show, we sewed, and I was really bad at that. I spent the entire semester just trying to thread the machine, and our diligent teacher never noticed (or never intervened). I eventually made a little pillow, which I still have.

Ordered, Not Delivered

The other day, I said to a friend that we had to watch "Chinese Hercules". To explain, that's a martial arts film featuring Bolo Yeung, who is a kung fu artist of some regard. Here's how it came up: There was a movie-watching group I was a part of, and the rule was that each movie had to connect to its predecessor by one of the people involved in its production, be it an actor, a crew member or even a caterer.

One of the films we watched was "Shootfighter", a rather risible film which happened to feature Bolo Yeung. I think we may have watched another of his films to get to that one, but I'm not sure. At any rate, I attempted either before "Shootfighter" or after to get "Chinese Hercules" in there, but it was not to be. The voting members of the group decided on something else, and so I would have to hold out hopes of seeing it some other time.

Fast Pass

I was shopping for groceries last night, and managed to gather together the essential to actually produce a few meals, rather than just something I could eat as a late dinner that very night. The latter is what I had done several times, and I was determined to do more this time out, as the trip over to the store is not one I relish making every single day. Well, I got my food, so I'll be all right for at least a couple days, I think.

I noticed while shopping that I had so successfully gotten out of the habit of buying the old, bad foods that I hadn't even thought about it since I could remember. I really tried to recall the last time I had entertained the idea of buying canned pasta, chili or the like, and I couldn't. I used to buy them almost exclusively, struggling to get through the week with fewer than ten cans. I had begun to regard myself as a connoisseur with a good sense of what brand was what.

Dark Alleys Of Cinema

If I haven't said so already, I love old and obscure movies. There are those, including friends of mine, who out-do me in this regard, but I fall pretty well outside of the mainstream. I have lately been watching the Sylvester Stallone/Kurt Russell buddy cop film "Tango & Cash" over and over again- while doing other things mainly, but it's still an extreme act. One would have to wonder why it is that I'd do such a thing.

I have grown more social over the years, but I remain a solitary, introspective creature. I can hardly stand to do things in the kitchen when other people are around, not because I don't want them to know I'm doing it, but just because I am more at ease alone and with no obligation to share. That last part must not sound too endearing, really. Anyway, solitude is a precious and necessary condition for me at least part of the time.

A Listener

A thing happened the other day. A friend of mine and I were heading home from an improv show on the subway, and we were talking plenty. It's a given that with me involved, the conversation was loud and potentially objectionable. If you haven't gleaned this yet, let me say that I have been criticised by strangers multiple times for talking too loud on a city bus, where the standards are pretty generous. Anyway, this wasn't like that exactly.

This was not a case of someone being sorry that I spoke. It's more that I was sorry someone was glad that I spoke. It went like this: At some point, my friend told me he'd bought some Groupon voucher for a restaurant we'd been to. He explained that he paid ten dollars for a twenty dollar voucher, and my brain had a problem with that. "Why," I asked him, "didn't they just give you a ten dollar voucher for free?"

Das Boots

Boating is a pleasant diversion. I have relatively seldom partaken of the pastime, but have managed at times to canoe, pilot a houseboat, and pilot a yacht as well. There are some interesting similarities and differences. A canoe requires perhaps the most labor, and I am not especially eager to expend that effort. They are the simplest and cheapest of the bunch though, and that is something not to be disregarded.

Houseboats are fun. You can't be too eager to get somewhere, or eager at all to get someplace far away. When I did it, we were in a lake with a lot of narrow canyons to it, and I learned a lesson about how slowly a boat answers its helmsman. Certainly you don't get your turns as fast as you might like on a houseboat, which runs slow and turns slow. We easily might have hit something with me at the wheel, but got lucky.