French Slang Saturdays: Poche

Poche [adj]: Something or someone that sucks. Can also be another term for "lame", but is stronger than plate. The word literally means "pocket", but I have no idea where the slang usage comes from.

Bouchard-Taylor: Everybody Just Calm the F*%$k Down

Being an outsider in a province with arguably one of the most distinct cultures in Canada does give me a unique perspective on the culture and politics out here, and I've been mulling over how to address the Bouchard-Taylor Commission on Reasonable Accommodation since it started. And now that it has finally release it's report last week, I figured it was finally time for me to comment on it, although I'm opening a can of worms that will take several posts to properly cover.

While the whole circus Reasonable Accommodation had created certainly got everybody's panties in a knot, the final recommendations in the report were unsurprising to anyone with half a brain in their head (or at the very least a passing knowledge of the pedigree of its authors). "The foundations of collective life in Quebec are not in a critical situation," the authors wrote, which makes you wonder why the whole rigmarole got started in the first place. And the reasons are simultaneously complicated and simple.

The simple answer is of course Hérouxville, the municipality of 1,300 that in February of 2007 drafted a code of conduct for it's citizens that included, among other things, a ban against stoning women and the covering of their faces. A reactionary gesture, sure, but a reaction to what exactly? It wasn't as if Hérouxville had been the site of a recent influx of lady murdering Islamic extremists. In fact, the town apparent has exactly one immigrant family living withing it's limits, although the Wikipdeia article for Hérouxville maintains that they have none. It wants more-- needs more, if it is going to survive as a community, they just wanted to make sure they got the "right kind". Which of course sounds like code for "French, Catholic and White", which it could be, even if they don't realize it. Political correctness hasn't taken hold in Quebec the same way it has in other parts of Canada, and I've witnessed surprising casual racism from people I consider educated and aware.

It would be easy to label the whole Hérouxville incident as the result of uneducated, small town, small minded thinking. Except that it hit a nerve. The media went crazy. And the politicians jumped on a bandwagon that seemed to be gathering steam. The right leaning nationalist party, the ADQ, won some startling victories in the March 2007 provincial election to become the official opposition, fueled by populist anger at what they saw as the PQ's failure to protect Quebecois values.

Then, in fall of 2007, in Parti Quebequois leader Pauline Marois finally threw her hat into the whole ugly mess, tabling an "identity" bill that would require new arrivals to the province to swear an oath of loyalty as well as pass French and citizenships tests. The joke of course is that this was the second attempt at a Quebequois constitution the PQ had tabled in less than 6 months. A desperate attempt to stay relevant after being lambasted for suggesting that sovereignty would be on the back burner of her party's agenda after being sworn in earlier that month? The likely answer is yes, especially considering that this is also when the Bouchard-Taylor commission really started to heat up.

See, despite two failed Sovereignty referendums, Sovereignty is still a hot-button issue in Quebec. My own neighborhood has dozens of apartments with Quebec flag placards in their front windows. But let's face it, whipping the people of Quebec into enough of a frenzy to risk winning another referendum would take some serious cash, cahones and charisma and there isn't a party in Quebec with enough of any of these to make a serious stab at it. And so Sovereignty gets traded in for its ugly cousin: Nationalism. And while Sovereignty and Nationalism can seem like the same thing (it's got the word "Nation" in it), Nationalism becomes dangerous because it hinges on that thorny idea of Identity. And Identity is what leads to "Us" versus "Them" and the blatant insecurity that leads to things like the Hérouxville code.

Weekend Round Up: Sudoku, Housewarming and Improv

This should catch me up on round ups, now to tackle vlogging...

Friday: One of the unfortunate side effects of my recent weight loss is that not one of my bras actually fits me, so I decided to stop putting it off and went downtown to rectify the situation. Luckily, LaSenza was having one of their 3 for whatever sales so I was able to get a variety of colours and styles, meaning that I shouldn't have to do this again for some time. Then I wandered into Simons because none of my spring clothes fit either, and low and behold they were having a sale, so yeah, I bought stuff.

By the time I got home it was close to 9 PM and being that I had managed to get L hooked earlier in the week we opted to stay in and finish off Season 1 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Yes, we are lame.

Saturday: Our friend Isabelle was having her pendasion de la crémaillère (literally: "hanging of the chimney hook"), or housewarming for all you Anglos, so we trekked all the way out to St-Eustache in 450 area code. The event was actually quite lovely and we took advantage of the sun by lounging in the back yard. L had fun tormenting Isabelle's cat who had a booboo on his head and had been fitted with a plastic cone to keep her from picking at it. I gorged myself on cheese and red wine and managed not to be sick. At about 10 o'clock the kids were all getting restless so we caught a ride home with Annie and Mel. I felt kind of bad because I got the feeling they wanted to go out in Montreal after getting back, but L and I were bushed and actually passed out shortly after arriving.

Sunday: Despite getting to bed at a reasonable hour we were still quite late getting up and I lounged around doing sudoku for most of the morning. We had been planning to take advantage of Free Day at the local museums, but being that it was approaching late afternoon and things were no doubt quite zoo-y, we opted instead to stay at home and watch Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon. I started off loving the movie, but as most reviews I had read warned, by the time the third act rolled around all the cleverness and promise built up in the first half of the movie was replaced by the same tired horror movie cliches it had started off exploding. And they had the audacity to waste Robert Englund in a marvelous against type role as a Dr. Loomis type. However, compared to most contemporary American horror films it is still very smart and original enough in concept to totally recommend.

After wolfing down some homemade mini-pizzas for dinner we dashed down to the Theatre St-Catherine for Sunday Night Improv. I'd been meaning to check out the improv scene here for a while now and being that there were going to be special guests present as Sunday's show marked the end of the third annual Sketch fest, I figured now was our shot. It was an interesting format: competitive with coaches present and a real emphasis on scene building and character development. All of the performers were quite strong but the girl who ended up winning was definitely the strongest of the night. And a couple of the guys were promoting their Fringe show in a couple weeks which we will definitely try to check out.

Long Weekend Round Up: My Last Minute Trip to NYC, A.K.A. Trains, Metros and Subways or, Coney Island WTF

Yes, I am totally, woefully behind on my blogging and for that I apologize. With any luck I will be able to pump out Weekend Round ups for the last two weeks, a vlog or two and maybe even some political commentary before the next weekend shows up. We will see. In the meantime, here's the round up for May 16 - 19.

Friday: After bailing on a camping trip at the last minute, I suddenly got it into my thick little skull that I needed to go to NYC to hang with my Fletcher siblings*, Rock, Slim & Bunny. See, Rock lives in NY now and was getting ready to leave on a comedy tour of Canada and then he was off to camp for the remainder of the summer. Slim had been living in New Orleans with Linda, his wife, but she had recently gotten a job in NY and Slim was in town apartment hunting. Bunny still lives in Van, but was on vacation with friend in NY. And while I was making friends in Montreal, that house did a lot to shape me into the lovable neurotic mess I am today and the novelty of being able to just jump on a train to see everyone was something I could not pass up. So I purchased a ticket and spent Friday stealing myself up for the 10 hour (one way) trip.

Despite needing to pack and get organized, L and I still managed to fit in our traditional Friday night movie. This week it was Candyman, which I had actually avoided at a slumber party as a teenager, opting instead to play Ouija board with my friend's younger sister upstairs. I did not get into horror movies until much, much later and admittedly I still whine and scream and have to sleep with a light on after watching one to this day. In some ways I am glad I put off watching it until I was an adult because, hot damn, is it ever good. On so many levels. It's exactly the kind of heady, intellectual horror that I didn't think got made in America. But the fact that it was made by an Englishman and was based on a story by an Englishman lends credence to that theory. If you've never seen it, or even if it's been a while, I highly recommend checking it out. You'll be glad you did.

After the movie it was straight to bed since I had to be at the train station by at least 8:30 AM, which meant leaving the house at 7:30 AM.

Saturday: L walked me to the Metro in the morning as I started my epic journey on railed transport. The line was already quite long when I got to the station, but I managed to find a spot on the train next to a polite Brazilian woman. Being that this was my second time taking THE TRAIN TO HELL I made sure that I was properly prepared. Blanket to protect me from the freezing air conditioning? Check. Variety of foods and liquids to avoid having to buy a hotdog microwaved in plastic wrapping? Check. An assortment of books and magazines with which to occupy myself? Check. An MP3 player, DS or laptop with DVD player would have also been welcome accessories, but being that I own none of these, I got by alternating between reading and napping.

As I should have expected, the train was late, meaning that I had less than 5 minutes to make it to the theater for Rock's comedy show at 9 PM. Luckily, the train let off at Penn Station, a mere 4 blocks from the Magnet. I made it to the theater with two minutes to spare and entered the lobby to hugs from Slim and Bunny. The show seemed to go very well and afterwards we all went to a local bar called Walter's to hang out.

I met lots of nice people at the bar, including a friend of Slim's from DC who lives in NY now and her cousin from California who I got to talk hockey with (go figure, he's a Pittsburgh fan), as well as a nice lady who let me hold her autoharp. Afterwards we caught a cab to Rock's place in Queens and I pretended to strangle a 22 year old wrestling enthusiast with his seatbelt. He'd even shown me picture of him in spandex!


Sunday: Being that it is one of Rock's favourite places in the world and he had yet to make his annual pre-camp pilgrimage, it was decided that Sunday would involve a trip to Coney Island. On our way to the Subway we stopped at a bagel shop to get some nourishment and much to my astonishment I was able to get mine with tofu spread in lieu of cream cheese. My heart seldom knows such joy. While waiting in line a (very) New York cop tapped me on the shoulder to ask about my tattoo and was very disappointed when I told him I had gotten it done in Vancouver as he loved the work and was looking to add some more ink to his collection. I did my best not to squeal, but even Slim was impressed by the genuine coolness of this member of the NYPD.

After an hour and a half on the Subway (the length of the L line, in fact) we made it to Coney Island just in time for the rain to start. Joy. While waiting for Bunny and her friends, Rock, Slim and I rode the Cyclone twice, but opted to put off riding the Wonder Wheel until they arrived. We killed time in a pathetically ill-maintained spook house with a hilarious animatronic vomiting man out front, although I did feel a little bad that Slim had to ride in a car all by himself and thus didn't have anyone to turn to aghast as rubber Halloween decorations held together with duct tape wobbled feebly on their worn-out springs.

After having blown $5 on that mess we wandered up to Cha Cha's for a drink, but there was some sort of post-church luncheon going on so we had to find seats at the bar to watch the assembled five year olds crawl around on the stripped pole by the stage. Slim wisely ordered a White Russian which prompted the woman behind the bar to point at herself, because apparently she was a "White Russian". Rock and I tried to order pina coladas, but they were all out so we got strawberry daqueries and proceeded to get even colder than we already were. Eventually Rock was so chilled that he had leave to buy a hoodie from one of the local crap merchants.

Bunny and her friends finally arrived to join us for a drink and then we all opted to explore the boardwalk a little bit. Sadly, by this point Deno's was closed, meaning no Wonder Wheel, and Slim had left so we opted instead to ride the Cyclone a third time.

By this point it was pouring, so we found shelter in an arcade and played a bit of skee ball. Then we went back to the subway to pick-up Rock's friend Rosy who had just arrived. While on that side of the amusement area we stopped in at Nathan's for hot dogs and everybody else got ice cream at the candy place next door. Which is where I think I found the single grossest confection possible: candy glossed marshmallows. My fillings hurt just thinking about it.

After that the plan had been to hit the Freakshow, but it was also closed. So Rosy and Louie rode the carousel for what seemed like half-an hour while a small Latino child hollered his guts out before the guy selling tickets was able to yell at the guy operating the thing to shut it off. Then we decided to leave.

Back in Manhattan, Rock went back to the Magnet to prepare for his Buckshot and Benny show and I got some decent cheap Indian food across the street. The show was excellent as usual and afterwards we went for a drink with Kaitlin (a.k.a. the other half of BnB) and her boyfriend Alistair and I got to talk about how I hate smoked meat (sacrilege, I know).

After all that Rock and I took the subway back to Queens and I chatted with his roommate briefly about working in the video game industry. In yet another example of the world being too damn small, it turns out his roommate is head of development for a studio loosely affiliated with the company I work for and was on his way to Quebec City to lay down some smack. Being that I am very new to this industry it was really cool to be able to talk shop with someone who'd been immersed in it for some time and it was unfortunate that we both had to get up so damn early the next day for our respective trips as I would have really enjoyed getting more inside dirt. Next time, I supposed.

Monday: Got up before my alarm and wrote a nice note thanking Rock and his roommates for putting me up which I left next to the Caribou and Maple Syrup I'd brought down with me as peace offerings. Then it was on to the bagel shop to grab breakfast and lunch and a bunch of juice smoothies to replenish vitamins.

Back at Penn Station I was surprised at how comforting it was to hear people speaking French all around me in the line to get on the train. While the trip back home was supposed to be shorter than the trip there, we got held up at the border for what seemed like hours and it ended up taking even longer, meaning that in three days I had spent 23 hours on a train. L met me at the station and we had dinner at Nickel's before taking the Metro home.

*Background: Near the end of my last year of University I moved into a shared house in a residential neighborhood near school with a bunch of friends. We called ourselves the Fletcher family and we all had Fletcher names. Mine was Nancy.

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Warning: Mild spoilers to follow. If you haven't seen it yet, stop reading now. Otherwise, you've been warned.

So, like the mindless fangirl zombie that I am, I accepted my company's social committee's invitation and snapped up a stack of tix for "that movie with the old guy in the hat with the wip" for my friends and I. Thing is, I really wasn't that excited about it. I had done my best to avoid reading spoilers, promotional interviews, advanced reviews or anything else that would rouse my interest beyond, "Yeah, I should probably try to see it before everybody else tells me about it." What I did absorb prior to last night was a) The plot had something to do with aliens and b) The critical mass was largely positive.

And I guess it was these low to no expectations that informed my enjoyment of the film because I was the only one out of the six of us who seemed to genuinely enjoyed the movie. Is it perfect? No. Are there moments of staggering, eye-rolling stupidity that I'm going to blame on Lucas? Yes. Is the climax kind of abrupt and not very satisfying? Yes, but that's okay because the climax isn't the end and the ending is just fine, thank you very much.

Also, and I really hate to admit this in public, but I think I'm getting over my irrational hatred of Shia LaBeouf. At least until the next Transformers movie comes out, anyways.

I won't bother rehashing the plot because everybody knows that that's not what's important about an Indiana Jones movie. What I am going to try to do is identify what it is I liked about this movie and why.

First off, it's short and well paced. I have to say that one of my biggest pet peeves with the current crop of genre/action movies is that they are all WAY TOO FRAKKING LONG. I'm pretty sure Peter Jackson is to blame for this one, but Michael Bay took it to new, redonculous levels with last year's noisy time-waster, Transformers. Everyone has forgotten that "less is more". I don't care if you can stretch the movie out to 3 hours to fit in more explosions and guys jumping around on unconvincing CG sets. Just give me a beginning, a middle and an end and get to the end before I start wondering where it is. Making your movie longer, does not make it more interesting or important. You are not making The Godfather, you are making a B-movie with a decent budget. And that's a-okay.

The other thing that struck me about Crystal Skull, and it's related to my first point, is that it was kind of old fashioned in it's storytelling. This, I think, is one of the strength's of the Indy franchise. It wears it's B-movie origins on its sleeve without veering (too often, anyway) into high camp. It's exciting and playful, and the humour is warm and gentle. No crass cynicism, no irony trying to cramp its way down. And it's cut more old-fashioned too. The camera is allowed to sweep majestically across the landscape (bonus points to those who spotted the Touch of Evil Reference near the beginning) and the cuts are organic and preserve the integrity of the action. You can tell who is who in a fight. This is all instantly attributable to Spielberg and what makes him stand out from those who would assume his place as blockbuster movie king. No one, and I mean no one, is able to blend artistry and action the way that Spielberg can and that is why he is and will always be king. His true reverence for the origins of American genre film making are obvious and reassuring to me in a way. His is a respect that is all but dead, and it makes me very sad to think of what we are losing the American film cannon becomes newer and newer.

I liked seeing Harrison Ford and Karen Allen together again. I liked that it had a sentimental ending. I liked that it was set during the cold war. I liked that the big bad was a girl and that she was played by Cate Blanchett with a Natasha Fatale accent. I liked that Mutt was a greaser, even if those first shots of him in the hat made me giggle like a grade-schooler. I liked that it was set in the Amazon. I liked that it had a sword fight. And I even liked the aliens, so sue me.

And now what I didn't like. The prairie dogs were too plentiful and cutesy. Ditto for the monkeys. And the less I say about the repeated shots of Shia grabbing his junk, the better we'll all sleep at night. That said, I think a lot of the current backlash really has to do with people my age having inappropriate expectations. Imagine if you were a 12 year old watching Indy 4 in a theater. You would freaking LOVE it. Or maybe you wouldn't. Maybe today's 12 year old would find the elegant pacing and old fashioned charms too quaint. Without a boyhood admiration for Harrison Ford and Karen Allen, would their reunion mean as much? Who was this movie really made for? The 12 year olds, now grown, who grew up on the Indy movies? Or the 12 year olds of today, whose fanboy dads (and moms) dressed them in Indy drag and trundled them to the theaters? Honestly, considering these dueling target markets, I think the film did a very good job of appealing to both simultaneously. Was it high art? No, but neither were the first three. Was it silly? Yes, but it was also a lot of fun and dammit sometimes that's good enough.

Could anything have lived up to 20 years of hype and speculation? I will say this, though, and I think it's important to keep in mind: warts and all, it was still a hundred times better than even the best bits of the Star Wars prequels. And yeah, I went there.

Sidenote

I just got notification that a photograph I took when I was in California three years ago was chosen to be used on a Schmap Map of L.A. You can view the map and the picture here.

Also, French Slang Saturday will be late again this week. Sorry.

Weekend Round Up: Movies, Indian Food, Tam-Tam

Friday: After a busy week where L and I both entertained guests from out of town we opted to make it a quiet night in. After scarfing some leftovers from my lunch at Elio's I tried to make a few calls out west and L went to pick us up some DVDs. Sadly, they didn't have Wendigo or Paris, Texis and Henry Fool was only available on VHS so we ended up going with The Wicker Man (73), Un crabe dans la tête and Altered States. Popped on Wicker Man only to discover it was the US theatrical cut, not the UK Director's cut, but that was okay by me since I really didn't like it as much as L. But it was definitely worth it if only to see Christopher Lee in a kilt. Oh, and he sings too.

Saturday: L was busy at a course during the day so I chilled at home by myself and cleaned the kitchen and bathroom. When L came home we went for a walk towards the Plateau and had some excellent and very reasonably priced Indian food at Maison de Cari Golden. After dinner we walked back through Mile End and accidentally ended up in a Hasidic neighborhood. It was strange being so close to home and yet feeling like we had trespassed into another country, but very cool and comforting in another way. When we got home we watched Un crabe dans la tête which was directed by André Turpin, who is quickly becoming one of my favorite directors. After the movie we called it a night since L had to be at his course again Sunday.

Sunday: With L at his course again I met up with Alain and Marie-Claude at the Jean Talon market. They were there with some friends from Ottawa and were gathering supplies for a picnic on Mont-Royal park. Every Sunday when the weather is nice enough hundreds of drummers gather in Mont-Royal park for a huge drum circle known as "Le Tam-Tam". After a delightful lunch of sausage, cheese, bread and pesto we wandered into the woods a little bit to witness the other bit of lunacy in Mont-Royal park on Sundays: dozens of boys and men whacking each other with duct-taped swords. Some of them were in full armor, some only had chain mail or leathers, but the majority were in basic jeans and a t-shirt. After a couple of rounds of that we ventured back to the front of the park to paruse the hippie wares for sale on blankets, but being that it had cooled down considerable since we'd arrived we decided to call it a day and I walked home through Mile End so I could check out a used book store I'd spotted a couple weeks ago.

After purchasing a book on Herbal Magick and some body lotion I got home in time to record a French Slang video and work a bit in the little garden in the front. When L got home I cooked a nice pork loin in the oven and we watched Altered States which was both awesome and pure Ken Russell.

French Slang Sunday: Char

Char [n]: Short for "chariot", literally: carriage, wagon or truck. Used in France to describe a tank or chariot. In Quebec the shortened form is a slang term for car.

Weekend Round Up: Super-Lazy Weekend of Nothingness

Friday: Being that I never properly recovered from a late night talking UFC with my brother on Monday, we opted not to go out and instead just grabbed a bunch of DVDs. Sadly we only got through the first one, Chaos, which was confusing even for a Japanese film, before both L and I passed out.

Saturday: Despite the crap weather, I still wanted to go to Mile End to spend more money on organic cosmetics so we called up Annie and Mel and invited them out for breakfast with us. Went back to our new favourite Mile End spot, Zorba, and I got fluffy pancakes and super yummy sausages.

After breakfast I got around to making my purchases and $50 in deodorant, hand cream, face cream and toothpaste later (I am a sap...) we headed back home. The afternoon was spent cleaning the house and working on my French Slang Saturday video before Marie-Claude and Mark came over to watch the hockey game.

After the crushing, depressing defeat of the Habs, which incidentally also crushed the hopes of all Canadians of seeing a cup in Canada for the fifteenth straight year, we all trundled down to the old forum to catch our friend Andrea do her stand-up thing. Alain, who had been at the Habs game, met us there. The evening went pretty good, and Andrea was particularly in form. However, we've been going to enough comedy night recently that the host and the headliner were the only comics we had not already seen before and most of the material was kind of old news. After the show it was back home to bed.

Sunday: Weather was still crap so we stayed in and watched the rest of our movies, namely Hannah and Her Sisters and Phantom of the Paradise which I really want to learn more about. L put some more plywood and pressboard out for garbage pick-up. We had burgers for dinner and L went and got us some more movies. We got through The Mist and called it a weekend.

French Slang Saturdays: Écoeurant

Écoeurant [adj]: Another word that has different meanings in France and in Quebec. "Coeur" is the word for "heart" and "avoir mal au coeur" means "heartburn" or the pain you get before vomiting, so écoeurant in France is used to describe something disgusting or that induces vomiting.

In Quebec it can be bad or good, used in an exaggerated,almost ironic fashion: "so good that I almost puked..." Most often it is used in the same way "awesome" is used in English. When speaking, the "é" is sometimes dropped, giving you "'coeurant".

Like a lot of slang words in Quebec, variations can used as a verb or a noun. Ex: mon écoeurant, écoeurer, etc...

Movies I Watched Instead of Writing: Iron Man

The boy and I caught a preview screening of Iron Man yesterday, and I have to say that even with my high expectations, I left the theater pretty damn satisfied. Despite some initial reservations after learning that it was rated G, I've got to hand it to director Jon Favreau. He managed to make an entertaining superhero flick that was adult enough for me to enjoy, but tame enough to deliver the wide audience the studio wanted. It's pretty violent without being exploitive and Favreau is able to imply quite a bit without really showing anything.

While the plot is pretty standard and simplistic, the true strength of the film is the performances. Robert Downie Jr. is perfectly cast as the narcissistic scientist bad-boy come superdude Tony Stark. His dry wit and luminous charisma create a character the audience wants to root for, regardless of your familiarity with the original comic book. Jeff Bridges is predictably good and makes for a smooth and compelling villain, easily matching wits with Downie but never outshining him as often happens in these types of films. Terrence Howard is serviceable as Jim Rhodes and Favreau even gives himself a bit part as Stark's driver, Hogan.

Most surprising of all is Gwyneth Paltrow as Pepper Potts, Stark's long suffering assistant. Often the female lead becomes a super-hero film's greatest weakness (see Halle Berry, Kirstin Dunst, Katie Holmes, etc...), but Paltrow is one of those few actresses who "gets it". She does not resort to camp, although her portrayal of Pepper is delightfully flighty, and she is able to participate as a close equal to Stark. She is at turns on the ball and out of her depths, a sidekick but never second banana. The chemistry between Paltrow and Downie is also very strong and I would even say it is one of the film's great strengths.

The film clips along at a decent pace, lacking the bloat of many recent superhero movies being just over two hours long. The effects are impressive and fluid, never hijacking the story and the designs for the Iron Man and Iron Monger suits are beautiful to look at. If you like action movies, R.D. Jr. or superheros, see this movie. Also, stay until the very end of the credits for a special treat...