The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2

 

“We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction.” So spouts the fourth and final instalment of what has been one of the hugest box office smashes of the decade, Suzanne Collins’s “The Hunger Games.” Perhaps this sentiment would have been more resonant as intended had it been less reflective of how this film panned out.  Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence), the Mockingjay for the beleaguered districts of Panem is taking their fight along with the members of her love triangle, Gale and Peeta (Liam Hemsworth and Josh Hutcherson) to the Capitol. Their plan is simple: to put an end, once and for all to President Snow’s (Donald Sutherland) vicious hold on their lives. With a lacklustre opening featuring Katniss in hospital after being almost strangled to death by her Capitol-corrupted boyfriend, Peeta the film has an appropriately bleak tone. Snow (Donald Sutherland) who used to be a menacing presence in previous instalments, has lost most of his edge as the villain, restricted to unthreatening announcements periodically throughout the film. It is the monsters he sends after Katniss and her team in a briefly chilling scene in Panem’s underground where the group are attacked by an incessant team of slimy, Gollum-like creatures that provide most of the film’s gore factor. It was at least, the section of the film the audience woke up.

Francis Lawrence, of Water for Elephants fame has helmed the last three instalments of the massively popular series. However what might have been an explosive, roller-coaster ride of a finale is instead a lacklustre, slow plod through a poorly executed narrative. As faithful as the director might have been to the books, this adaptation fails to move us the way it wants to due to characters that we’ve simply forgotten to care about, so underdeveloped they fade into the background. Game of Thrones alumni Natalie Dormer and Gwendoline Christie as Cressida and Commander Lyme are among the many wasted performances in a film that doesn’t pick up until more than halfway through its 2 hour running time. For all Lawrence’s presence as a performer in this series so far, not even she can make up for a finale that failed to make the transformation from book to film a successful one.

Travelling Alone Abroad and in Life

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So I haven’t posted in a while because I’ve been busy being a jet-setter for the past three months. Also, I’ve been really not fantastic at giving this blog a proper purpose. I think my problem is that I’ve been trying to do things with it that don’t come naturally, like I thought writing a travel blog would be fantastic and I’m sure it would have been if I gave it enough time and energy. But the fact is when you travel, it’s about actually doing and seeing things and not so much about sitting back at the hostel to blog. Or else, I was just too distracted by my fabulous surroundings!

The truth is, I am finding more and more the purpose of this blog is really meant for me. It is a place where I can write everything down that I am feeling that I don’t want to burden my family or friends with, and that I shouldn’t really have to try and make something false out of it. So from now on that’s what I will do, and I will write everything here for me and not for the purposes of pretending to be some wannabe, pretentious writer, which I can keep within the confines of my own Microsoft Word on my own laptop.

So here’s what’s been happening….

I went from this:

Living it up in Europe for a fabulous three months, to this:

Understandably, the transition from seeing the world and seeing my bedroom wall again has been difficult to readjust to. I do have the post-travel blues folks. But, if one is to live in the real world, ain’t nobody got time for that! If travel taught me anything, it was that you take your baggage with you and you bring it home again. I had problems before I left and I have them now: I thought taking time out and going on an adventure for three months would somehow magically eradicate everything that was wrong with my life. That it might rejuvenate me to tackle life when I came home, if I came home, which I think I knew before I went I would ultimately do.

Before heading off, I was ready to kill anyone who got in my way work-wise. I wanted to slice my customers up Hannibal Lecter-style and serve them with a nice white wine. I was definitely in need of a break. And a break is definitely what I got.

I loved the feeling of waking up every day of the week, not knowing what amazing places I would see that day, or where I would end up. And I saw a lot of shit…

And I learned I could do it all alone. I was so afraid of going everywhere by myself, not being able to meet people; that I would hate everything and want to come home to safe and boring Perth, town of Boredom.

That said, it wasn’t all cake and roses every single day. While I never really got homesick, (because what is there really do pine for in Perth? :P) I did get painfully lonely some days which I knew was inevitable. My time in New York haunted me because of this, it is such an awesome city with so much happening you just want to share it all with someone other than your own two feet. I wanted to enjoy it so much more than I did, and even the most famous galleries and museums couldn’t shake my mood. I was never more happy than to see my parents than I was when I met them in Hawaii, sick as a dog, crying and moaning about how I didn’t enjoy my first Busabout tour as much as I could have, or that I was sick of seeing everything with my own eyes and not with the added pleasure of someone else’s. It really does make a difference, walking the world alone and to do it with just one other person makes all the difference in that world sometimes.

But I would not change a bit. In fact, by the close of my travelling, I relished being alone. I adored tramping about London (granted, a city so much easier to navigate alone than say, Milan) on my lonesome, a city so vested in history and culture that I could cry. In fact I did, and frequently, unashamedly. While the quality of life there is pretty questionable if you’re not a member of the aristocracy, it is without a doubt one of the most exciting hubs of art and creativity there is and I wish I had not been as stupid I was than to enter the country without a working visa, or I would still be there now kicking up dust with Will Shakespeare, Anne Boleyn or the frankly delicious Tom Hiddleston.

But I don’t believe in regrets. Regrets take you back in time, not forward. They make demons of your current life, the one you’re meant to be defining for yourself, and not based on past decisions. The only struggle I have now is finding some kind of plausible direction. As I knew I would, I feel adrift in Perth. I feel like no matter what job I get, it will never be enough for me to live here for the rest of my life. It will never be enough period, which is so irrational in a world where most people would simply be happy with a job, the economic climate being the most horrid shit that it is. I know I should be contented with family and friends and the fact that I, unlike so many others in the world have access to stable jobs and a comfortable life. But it’s like they say, travel ruins you and instills in you a restless, frenetic desire to climb the higher mountain next time, take the road less travelled and every other tired stereotype you want to throw in.

My solution right now is making myself get busy. Going to the gym when I’m bored, get some kind of job that will be somewhat stimulating and challenging. So, pretty much anything. Just not retail, for the love of God.

Hopefully something more uplifting to come folks,

Peace,

–Tara

Tips For the Solo Traveller

Current Music: Always by Bon Jovi (Wombats Hostel lol)

Not entirely sure if I have anything new or monumentally groundbreaking to bring to the table, but in the name of sharing experiences with fellow or aspiring travelers, here goes.

Just over a third of my way through my own journey, I have already seen so much and learned a lot about being on this road alone. Alone…there’s the key word that prickles instant anxiety into many a mind. For the first few weeks, it’s the epitome of every feeling you might have. A fun companion that threatens to put a bad smell over everything you do. Why did I think I could do this? I won’t meet anyone…I”m not going to make it past the first month…I want to go home.

And a multitude more with tearful messages sent back and forth between mum and friends and mum.

For me, the prospect of solo travel was about as welcome as birds “suddenly appearing” and deciding to use my blonde locks as a shit basket. I was pretty much a nervous wreck, because it meant a few big decisions had to be made. Something someone born with a severe and permanent case of indecision is ill-equipped to face. I faced quitting a job I hated to begin a journey on an open road with no clear goal in site, except to see as much as I can for as long as I could. I was or am, at an age where most if not all of my friends are in relationships, getting married, focused on careers or having babies to consider galavanting aimlessly around the world with me. Which is perfectly understandable.

But to use that as an excuse not to see the world was not something I was prepared to accept or make my life decisions on, so off I went! And so, we come to the first of my “never-before-heard-of-world-class-pointers”:

1. Plan, plan, plan and plan some more.

Luckily, many people are born with the natural gift of organisation and are able to successfully apply it to every aspect of their lovely, list-filled lives. Not I. That said, if you are intending on going on a larger trip like I was, you might not need to have the whole thing literally mapped out. But if you are able, plan as MUCH of it as humanly possible. Stay at least 2-3 weeks ahead of the game especially when travelling in summer, where so much is booked far ahead of time by people who ARE organised:) I learned this the hard way when recently trying to book a night in Edinburgh to coincide with a tour I was going on. This was a fortnight in advance and I thought just maybe I had left enough time. How very wrong I was. Literally every hostel had upped their normal rate of $25-$35 a night bookings to $75-99 and I was royally screwed. This was for dorms of 10 people or more. PLAN people. Know where you’re going at least a month in advance so you can stay where you want, at the right price. Especially when booking flights within Europe in particular- book at least a month in advance for the difference between a $40 pass to Paris rather than $135 one way.

2.  Decide how you want to travel.

If you’re anything like me, travelling alone is daunting enough. I couldn’t fathom the idea of organising train travel in Europe across multiple countries and navigating it along, despite it being relatively easy. Mainly, I didn’t think I would have the mental stamina: training it everywhere has the potential to be quite isolating, which is why I opted for Busabout, which is literally what it sounds like. You pay for bus transportation around a circuit of Europe with a bunch of other like-minded younglings (the age actually varies a hell of a lot, so you’re bound to meet a LOT of interesting people) jump on a bus, and your transportation is taken care of for you. It gives you the freedom to see as much of a place as you want, individually or with a group and go at your own pace. There’s always Contiki and Topdeck, particularly handy if you’re travelling alone for the first time but keep in mind these are very structured and in some ways, limited way of seeing the places you’ve always dreamed of. You get to see the castle, but not go inside it. It is, however great for meeting other people and on my contiki I did 5 years ago I had the time of my life and still have friends from that experience today.

3. KEEP BUSY!

Now that you’ve planned your accommodation, fill your days with activities that will not only get you participating in the new and exciting cultures around you, but get you interacting with other travelers. A single conversation with another person can fulfill your social quota for the day sometimes and make it better. There are plenty of days you could easily spend strolling through the streets of Paris or Amsterdam with gelato in hand, people-watching. But there are some days where you’ll be more conscious of being alone than others, and you’ll wish for the companionship. Talking to people in the dorm, in the bar leads to getting drinks, leads to going to the sites or just going for a meal instead of going it alone the whole time. Book day trips, pub crawls and go on the free walking tours that come with most hostels.

Lastly, don’t forget to treat yourself once in a while, rather than focus all your energy on that shoestring budget. If you want a little comfort, don’t be afraid to check out Airbnb to rent yourself an affordable private space for the night. Bunking it with other people all the time can get uncomfortable and chances are you will need that break on one occasion or other.

–Tara 🙂

 

DUDE! I’m in Croatia!

Dude I’m in Croatia!!
And what a stunning country, it certainly deserves all the tourism HBO’s Game of Thrones has given it. But it deserved it long before that.

Check this:

Just a teaser of the Dalmation coast where I have yet to spot any little spotted pups soaking up the sun. It seems like there are thousands of clustered little towns along this coast and with every tiny community there comes coral blue waters, with small open beaches known only by the locals. Most people on my bus chose to sleep but I couldn’t keep my eyes off the coast.

 My first stop in Croatia is the beautiful national park of Plitvice, a UNESCO World a heritage site. It’s interesting to note that the Ottoman wars were a backdrop for this site, a park so filled with beauty it’s difficult to imagine death and gore treading the same steps. Plitvice is brimming with waterfalls to rival those of even Jungfrau, Switzerland and when you walk inland from the lakes it’s like stepping into a hidden world. Or if you’re like me who sees pieces of movies everywhere, it’s rather like the forest between Hobbiton and Rivendell.

Don’t see it? Well I guess you had to be there.

My next stop was Split, a beautiful little coastal town with a population of approximately 178,000 people. To be honest, I was only here two nights with my Busabout crew and the impression I got was this: if you’re a party freakin animal, this is your hub. Just walking down to the docks that first night my group and I got approached no less than 5 times by different club reps, asking if we wanted to party. Granted it WAS July 4th, but the seed was nevertheless planted. Maybe I was there for too short a time, but to me this is a party town, charming to walk through the Old Palace Walls and visit the beaches, but otherwise I have no great desire to return.

Dubrovnik on the other hand, is another thing. Otherwise known as “King’s Landing” to anyone who doesn’t live under a rock, Dubrovnik is a key location for HBO’s epic fantasy Game of Thrones. Seriously, if you haven’t heard even a whisper of this show by now, I want to know what you’re doing with your life. So appropriately,right outside the Old a town walls, you can take the official tour, or go kayaking, or take a sunset tour, or go on some random celebrity cruise. You can guess which one I chose.

 

Walking down to Old Town from my rooms is quiet. It’s Sunday and most people worship durin the day, so it’s a peaceful journey. Dubrovnik should be dubbed as The City of Steps, and you can’t fail to walk from 200-300 any given day: guaranteed to work off that ice cream. But it is so worth it- the Croatians take pride in their city, lining most walkways with bright flowers, leading down to the touristy hub. But you don’t so much mind the tourists here, nor the blistering heat because you’re too busy losing your breath over the sight of the water and that famous coastal palace (for Thrones fans, the Rat Keep).

Dude, I’m in Prague!

current music: Wasting My Young Years

Hello bugs!

I am currently being antisocial in my dorm bunk writing this blog rather than joining the raging blowout across the way. Most of you that know me would expect this sort of antisocial behaviour, but really I’m saving some hardcore partying for later on ( really and truly!!)

What to say about Prague…well they say a picture says a thousand words!

 
Try that on for size! Prague is without a doubt, one of those cities you envision a fairytale might take place. Except for all the bloody tourists! That’s a given really for peak season during European summer, but one does wonder how much a city can surrender to its own tourist traps.

Not to say that Prague has lost any of its poetic identity- and it is poetic. Like much of Europe, there are a thousand cobble-stoned streets (a few of which I almost sprained my ankle on, tragic!) it is also the proud home of Franz Kafka. On every map of the city without fail you will find a trusty pinpoint for the birthplace of Kafka, the museum dedicated to him and various book shops stuffed with his novels. I didn’t go to any of them ( this lit major did not think to pick up a volume before travelling to his hometown) but there is enough here to get your literary feet dirty. Ha diddly ha.

Things I DID do:
1) Prague Castle

Needless to stay, fucking stunning. The architecture blew me away, though I was less enthralled by the exhibit, a tad lacklustre , with little detail other than a few old chairs and the window through which the term defer extraction became known. Though understandably a lot of items from the Bohemian dynasty are now lost, perhaps a bit more text? I did have fun imagining the royal balls Anastasia-style that might have occurred in the great hall (wrong country and period but you get the gist).

2) Old Town
Old Town is breathtaking. From the Astronomical Clock designed by Nicolaus Capernicus to the Old New Synagogue, there is much beauty here. Leading through winding streets, you find Charles Bridge, haven to street artists and some of the most stunning sights in Prague.

3) Pretlin Hill
Take a tram-like lift up Prague’s largest hill for even MORE stunning photo ops. While I couldn’t be fucked climbing another 300 steps to GET such views, I did bask in the glorious rose gardens they have to view.

4) The Museum of Medieval Torture ( could NOT recommend this more!! DOUBLE EXCLAMATION MARK!

It looks kitschy on the outside, 30 metres from Charles Bridge and within tourist trap range, this museum couldn’t be further from it. Over 3 floors of glass displayed instruments of torture with hideous portraits and plaques examining exactly how torture was conducted in excruciating detail. A bloodthirsty delight not for the faint of heart, but not to be missed either!

5) Lennon’s Wall

A beautifully graphic tribute to the much-loved musician, when I visited there was a busker singing Beatles songs which made for a great backdrop for picture taking. For the Croatian people the Beatles effect symbolised their dream for equality and freedom in what used to be an oppressive communist regime.

The beauty and culture of the city is undeniable. You can tell Prague natives love their city, if not their invading tourists- it’s like pulling teeth to get a smile out of a local here. Their accents remind me of the abruptness of Russian and the eye roll I got from my taxi driver when he found out I was Australian cracked me up.
Would I visit again? In winter when there are less crowds. But overall a beautiful city, top to bottom.

Testament of Youth

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“I shall never be able to confront the real, the imagined holds far greater terror for me.”

-Vera Brittain

It’s the advent of the First World War, and aspiring writer Vera Brittain has everything she desires in the world: a place at Oxford, and the affections of a boy in service to his country. As much as this film centres around a love story between two young people in a turbulent part of history, it is more so about enduring pain, and what to do when all the dust has fallen. How can it be, that one must get up and face a world when everything that was good seems so far away?

Vera (played with a fierce intensity by Alicia Vikander) first encounters Roland Leighton via her brother Edward (Taron Egerton), both soon to begin studying together at university. Historically, it was only during the 1870s that most women were given the opportunity to study at tertiary level and by the early 20th century, were still extremely limited by subject. It certainly takes some time before Vera’s father will consider allowing her to even study for the entrance examination, having much rather marry her off.

Having won a place at Oxford, and wholeheartedly expecting to spend her days with Roland frolicking about the school, dreaming of intertwined futures, naturally the lovers must be parted. Like her brother Edward, Roland’s love of King and country divide their paths, and thus the crux of the film’s tension is built.

Vikander attacks this role with an intensity that is quite understated. A natural performer, it is curious to observe her retreat into her own performance and she quite easily outshines the supporting cast by doing so. Kit Harrington (of Game of Thrones fame) isn’t given anything truly extraordinary to work with, but is nevertheless quite lovely to look at. When Vera decides to become a nurse to be closer to Roland and her brother, it is not only to follow them but as if to be entitled to the same opportunity to serve, ringing true with her desire to receive an education, duty calling her to aid also. Vera will not be left out of anything, and her fighting spirit endears the viewer to her character. As she experiences trauma her natural response is to plunge on into danger, as if to test her capacity for humanity, or perhaps just to remember that she still is one.

This film is lovingly put together, and I wish I could embrace the editor of this film, Lucia Zucchetti who has managed to interweave poetry, war and nature into an effortless blur of motion that tantalises viewers. There are quick shots to flashbacks tied to the present day that gives the film the building intensity required in portraying such a significant time in history, where it would be so easy to dissolve into sentimentality. Except that it never does.

–4 Stars

 

We All Deserve the Right to Love and How to Define It

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So there’s been a lot of moving and shaking and jigging and prancing about Ireland passing the referendum to legalise marriage for all human beings. I say all human beings because therein lies the biggest problem we have in society: we like to label things. We like to categorise people and objects to keep things organised, to feel better about ourselves when in actuality, we are creating a clear divide by doing so. I realise this is a generalisation of sorts, but the truth remains: we are all human beings, of flesh and blood and we should all take positive steps to ensure the sanctity of that remains undiminished.

I respect religion. It has been with us for centuries, and will be with long after our great-grandchildren cark it. It is human nature to want to believe in something that is bigger than ourselves. I want to believe that as long as humans exist, we can learn to coexist without hate, discrimination and most of all, live in harmony as equals. I also want to believe that Tom Hiddleston will whisk me away to London for our wedding at Westminster Cathedral, fangirls be damned. However, I would only allow this perfectly plausible event to go ahead if my gay friends and family members had the same opportunity.

I’m going to be very high-school student for a moment. Or, if it comes across to you that way, perhaps throughout this entire post. Anyway, the second entry the Webster New World Dictionary offers us in defining the word “equal” states:

“Having the same rights, privileges, ability, rank etc.”

This is pretty basic right? It needs little explanation? But unfortunately the concept of equality is still at odds with reality in many parts of the world, and perhaps we may never get it quite right. Why then, is it so difficult in western society, to afford gay people the same rights and privileges straight people have enjoyed for centuries?

Again, I must say I have a high respect for religion. My Grandparents were Irish-catholic and due to their influence, I was raised Catholic, sent to private catholic schools and much of my moral code has been informed by Catholicism. The fact that I do not practice today does not make me indifferent or a terrible person, but it is due to a growing doubt for this moral code. A moral code that refuses to include everyone.

I remember going to church every Sunday as a child. While most days I was bored senseless, I still felt part of a community and I grew to love the priest at my church, who gave every effort to make his sermons interesting.

The definition of marriage in the religious context has always traditionally involved a man and a woman, the purpose of which to express eternal love and perhaps give the world the pleasure of your spawn. But rather like the movements of your bowels after a particularly glorious indulgence in Indian food, this definition is in dire need of change.

My first argument is an obvious one: how does the concept of one man (or woman) desiring to demonstrate his love to another man (or woman) in the same way a straight couple has been able to for centuries affect anyone else?

The answer is simple: it doesn’t. And if you think it does, it shouldn’t. How does a pure demonstration of love in the most legally binding way possibly effect your heterosexuality, albeit your existence? What possible negative outcome does it have for people outside of that union, who are simply after the same recognition and rights that heterosexual people have from birth?

Oh wait, I forgot:

 

This is the number 1 thing I despise about anti-gay marriage supporters. A child deserves a mother and a father.

How about a child deserves a loving parent? Or failing that, a pair of them as seems to be the traditional number. You know, tradition can be a beautiful word but in this context it is absolutely ugly. Children need love, guidance and support, is it up to us as to where that love is sourced? Does that kind of love truly require definition? Unfortunately, the fight for equality demands it to come to that.

I can’t imagine life without my father. Or my mother. But is this emotion truly relegated to the sex either of them represent? I really think not.

Another common phrase: the children are our future. If this is so, shouldn’t we be raising them to understand and practice tolerance and compassion? Education starts young and it is critical to teach the right lessons early as shit generally tends to stick to the shoe for want of a FAR better image. But you really get the picture, vividly.

If we want to enforce any kind of positive change (such as equality) it needs to start now, without letting what is positively medieval and outdated transcend what is necessary. Which is tolerance. Which is acceptance. Which is love.

As long as we deny the right to marriage to all, we are a nation who is fostering and promoting discrimination. It is not enough to say that discrimination will always exist; there is no perfect world, and we do not live in it. So shouldn’t we all take the available steps to ensure that everyone is considered equal in the eyes of the law, legally entitled to the same things? As living, breathing human beings love is as universal as the air we breathe and requires no barrier.

 

–Tara

Please note: these are my own views. These are words from the heart, and clearly should not be viewed as expert. I am no expert. I do not wish to offend but undoubtedly will end up offending someone.

Woman In Gold

I cried in this film. These were not wracking sobs, but a slow morphing where I could feel my face contorting into a grimace, and then every quiver and welling of a tear. You could say it’s because any film with a subject matter including the Holocaust can prove a powerful trigger, but really it’s the way this film is put together, and the searing intensity of Helen Mirren.

“Women in Gold” is reminiscent of a recent film, “Philomena” released in 2013 and directed with great heart by Stephen Frears, who also happened to direct Mirren in her Oscar-winning turn as Queen Elizabeth II in The Queen. Both films centre around a similar formula and for each it is successful: two elderly women, each with their own singular quirk have suffered great losses, have had something dear to them stolen from them. For Philomena (Judi Dench), it was her son, taken from her twice in life, for Maria Altmann (Helen Mirren), her family’s paintings which are accompanied with a particularly harrowing history. For Austrian-born Altmann, these paintings by family friend and renowned Symbolist painter Gustav Klimt are the key to her homeland, as she knew it before the Nazi occupation.

In both films too, there is a notably younger, investigative companion aiding them in their attempt to reclaim what has been taken. Martin SixSmith is a British investigative journalist who helped Philomena Lee find out what happened to her son and in this film it is struggling lawyer Randol Schoenberg (Ryan Reynolds) who assists Maria Altmann in fighting for her right to the Klimt paintings ripped from her parents walls during a Nazi raid.

The emotional punch is wrought in the flashbacks interwoven in the film. We see a younger Maria, dancing at her wedding with her family around her. We see joy turn to terror as the Nazis infect Austria in full force, forcing a painful realisation that Maria and her husband must abandon her homeland and leave behind her parents. The level of loss seems to stomp on the heart repeatedly when we see Maria and Randol in current time experience setback after setback in their efforts to obtain justice. Reynolds is surprisingly earnest in this role, matching Mirren’s emotional performance for one of underlying  conviction as a man deeply affected by his experience fighting for his own history as much as Maria’s.

4 Stars.

The Age of Adaline: A Definitive Age

In this film an immortal woman must decide on the worth of love in a life that for eight decades has known more loneliness and fear than is imaginable. Adaline Bowman is a 29 year old widower and mother of one who who crashes her car underwater, is struck by lightning and survives, never to age another day.

What should be an exciting premise for a leading character is unfortunately marred by overreaching moments. Too often is the camera pausing on those lingering, pensive stares, with more time better spent pacing the story in a way that doesn’t fade to black so often, boring viewers unnecessarily. It is the kind of film that is beautifully realised on a technical level, with some exquisite cinematography by David Lanzenberg, but lacks the emotional punch it should. With a script that tries too hard, it is difficult for all the other elements to soar, though lead actors Blake Lively and Michiel Huisman certainly make a go of it.

Made famous by her teen roles in Gossip Girl and The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants series, Blake Lively makes a surprising turn as the titular Adaline, a perpetually ageless beauty whose life was made eternal after a car crash in the 1930s that involved a whole lotta lightning, and an over-zealous voice over. After a few brushes with the law who wish to make a specimen of her, Adaline is soon on the run for her life, changing addresses and identities each decade to survive, never able to form attachments that last without the need to leave. She must also watch her only child Flemming (Ellen Burstyn) grow older with each sporadic visit, the difference being that she herself remains the same. But it is Lively’s performance that anchors this film; at 27, she is somehow able to embody a woman of timeless elegance, with the wisdom and forbearance of time etched in every expression, so that we are able to suspend belief in the fantasy element of the film. It is an understated performance that reminds film-goers of the the demure Grace Kelly, with Lively definitely having the old-Hollywood nostalgia going for her.

As Adaline’s love-interest Ellis Jones, emerging talent Michiel Huisman is an equally redeeming figure, bringing a much-needed intensity to match the epic trajectory of Adaline’s journey. Ellis’s pursuing of Adaline allows the narrative to progress at a speed comfortable for the viewer, who wish to know more of Adaline’s past, through Ellis’s eyes. It doesn’t hurt that Huisman is disgustingly attractive as I frequently whispered to my companion throughout the film. However it is Harrison Ford who steals the film with a heartbreaking turn as Ellis’s father, who appears to have a connection with Adaline’s past that changes the film’s direction markedly.

This film was a bit of a let-down ultimately because it never rose to its full potential. It was sometimes emotional where it could have been heartbreaking. All the elements were there but seemed to fall short of epic because of the pacing of the storyline, which perhaps could have spent more time on Adaline’s past than her present with Ellis. We got snippets of period-costume when we needed a greater foundation laid for Adaline’s modern story and editing that served the frankly awesome storytelling.

3 1/2 stars.

 

***

 

Precious Little Time ‘Til Take-Off

Current Music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tRdBsnX4N4

So I have been struggling for a while now with a pretty important decision I will have to make in a couple of weeks. I feel like I have talked it out every which way, all over the shop, up the street until my insides are trailing behind me in a glorious raw ooze. Except there’s nothing glorious about that image.

In case you’re one of the 5,000 people I HAVEN’T told, I am finally fulfilling one of my lifelong dreams to go to Europe. Well, again. I went on this Contiki tour when I was 21 with a good friend of mine and it was the bomb yo.

I have always felt like an 85 year old dancing, except in a 26 year old body, awkwardly swaying at parties wishing I could go home early.Work, being the delightful sluts they are would not allow this, citing “blackout periods” as quoted in the yabba dabba doo I-have-stopped-giving-a-fuck-about-this-explanation. Instead they suggested I go in June and be back before Father’s Day, because God forbid I am not there to lick the asses of every customer buying a last minute, unthoughtful gift for their dads. I work in retail by the way, hence this paragraph of non-stifled bitterness.

 

Anyway, as usual I am curtailing off into beside-the-point land. I have a mighty big decision to make, and despite going through it as thoroughly as a woman searching for grey hairs (non yet bitches!), I have come up with nothing but a curious sinking feeling.

Sorry couldn’t resist. Yep. #HPForever #IAm26 #MaturitySpiralling

The decision is to take the hugest risk of my life by quitting a steady job I know how to do in a revolving-door laden-with-shit economy. All to undertake a personal odyssey abroad to see the world, perhaps work in it, immerse myself in culture and find some kind of meaning. Also to meet, seduce and marry the heir to a particularly lucrative dynasty/kingdom. By myself.

I have been wanting to do this ever since I came back from my first trip, fresh-faced and full of idealism about a career in the arts abroad and just generally being around pretty things. Such as this for example.

FROTHING!!!!!!

It has been about 5 years in the making really, so I really am going either way. The question is whether to quit my job and extend my vacation to 3 months and do it properly, or keep it to a good 9 weeks, come crawling back to Perth and back to my full-time soul-destroying retail position, but a job and security for myself nonetheless.

The real question is whether I can survive alone overseas. At least for a time. The thought has me in ten kinds of anxiety.

1)Fear of failure.

2)Fear of getting raped. (Hugely irrational fear that I actually have daily, but a fear all the same).

3)Fear of being isolated somewhere, making few connections, inevitably resulting in crying alone in a corner next to the Statue of David because I’m hungover and have forgotten where the hostel with a tattoo of “Dimitri Forevs” on my arm I don’t remember getting.

4) Fear of actually crying in a corner alone because I can’t handle it.

5) Fear of running out of funds.

6) Fear of strength and independence required to undertake such an odyssey and remain fabulous.

Ok so that’s only 6, but the “ten different kinds of anxiety” is derived from the “ten different kinds of pain” expression that I borrowed it from and in general, these fears are enough to be crippling in themselves.

To be honest, I blame highschool and being in a private girls school for that matter. Don’t get me wrong, I am ultimately incredibly grateful for the experience in general, as I wouldn’t have the friends I have today if I hadn’t gone, and it was a good education and all that jazz. Thankyou mother and father. But despite an immense amount of bullying in primary school, I remained a confident, happy child with clear dreams for my future, and to some extent that idealism remained in high school. But something happened in those five years that tore at that confidence, shredding it to a scrunched up piece of paper. It’s like your favourite shirt being shrunk in the dryer; I don’t remember a day in school I wasn’t anxious about something, but I was still young and the dreams remained. Also, I can’t think of anyone in highschool who WASN’T anxious most days.

Anyway, my point is is that this decision is quite big. So much so that it causes me daily anxiety and often I am not able to focus on my work, not that I’d want to, being retail. When I first thought of resigning, the freedom I felt coursing through my veins was so sweet. It was like my heart had been clenched so tightly in a fist and the sweetness of its release was divine. The feeling alone told me it was a good decision. The right decision even.

But the closer I get to leaving, the higher the panic sets. To an outsider, I can fully understand it would appear a bit brainless to quit your job to go travelling for 3 months with no definite plan or goal when it comes to career. I know a lot of people do it, and seem to find work abroad until they have enough, fly home and commence the whole “settle down, get a job and a dog” thing. But in this economy it seems a little scary to do. As a manager, I get up to 10 CVs a day of people looking for work and I think to myself…I’m going out into that world. A world without the full-time wage I’ve grown quite comfortable receiving, the lifestyle where I can actually pay and take care of myself and resemble something of an adult. While remaining 4 inside, as evidenced by this appalling post.

It’s a decision only I can make, I realise this. People have told me I’m “so brave” for choosing to travel alone, but it wasn’t a choice. Europe is calling and there is simply no ignoring it. Also most of my friends are in relationships and/or too busy with having a life and whatnot. Having babies. Which is all lovely and beautiful.

 

I feel like if I stay in my job, it will become harder to leave it. Or to find the motivation and energy to try something else, for fear of failing at it. I believe part of life needs to be about failure; it teaches us to be better, and that we’re human. I should mention that I have failed at 2 jobs before being moderately OK at my current position.

But in this position I am neither motivated nor challenged. It saps at my creativity and makes me feel older, more bitter and grumpier than I should be at 26. But I have no clear vision or goal for my future and have no idea what steps to take after quitting my job except to travel and smell the sea breeze and trying not to vomit for a while. Mostly I think it is the alone factor that concerns me, but 70% of people travel alone and the experience comes with great freedom.

What I wish most is that I had a firm feeling of confidence. I still have very little after all these years, and cannot commit to any clear goals I might make for myself. I am literally a fart in the wind and it’s quite smelly. What a delightful image to leave you with!

Toodle pips!!