A more complete answer to the "How Many James Bonds are there?" question

Last time around I just joked that James Bond was a Time Lord, complete with a screengrab from one of the worst episodes of Nu Who ever simply because it happened to be the one in which Timothy Dalton played a Time Lord. Let's be more serious this time.

The facts:
Roger Moore is 3 years older than Sean Connery who is 9 years older than George Lazenby who is 5/7 years older than Timothy Dalton* who is 9/7 years older than Pierce Brosnan who is 15 years older than Daniel Craig. Roger Moore is 41 years older than Daniel Craig. Clearly, they cannot all be the same man.

*Wikipedia can't determine whether Dalton was born in 44 or 46. Given what I know of the actor and his desire for privacy, this does not surprise me.

Casino Royale establishes that the Craig Bond became a 00 agent after the Cold War ended, but four of the other Bonds have had missions explicitly dated to the Cold War: Connery in From Russia With Love, Moore in The Spy Who Loved Me, For Your Eyes Only and Octopussy, Dalton in The Living Daylights, and Brosnan in the precredits of GoldenEye. Therefore the Craig Bond cannot be the same fella as the Connery, Moore, Dalton or Brosnan Bonds. Craig!Bond's character arc in Casino Royale - starts off young and aggressive and energetic and a bit of a pup, actually, and matures via the drawn-out-over-several-hours process of falling in love with a woman who then goes and dies on him - is virtually identical to Lazenby!Bond's back in On Her Majesty's Secret Service, to the point where I can't imagine why the same man would need to go through the same arc twice. (In the novels, the Bond/Tracy romance in OHMSS is basically treated as a midlife crisis, but Lazenby was 29 and the script was duly amended. At least, I assume that's what happened.)

So Craig!Bond is a different man from the others. Good start.

So Fem!Thor is not The Thor

Pretty sure I called it. Per The Science Webzone io9*

When Thor becomes unworthy, a mysterious woman picks up Mjolnir

So there you have it.  "Thor" and "a mysterious woman" are separate entities.

*it's called The Science Webzone from now on as a courtesy to those baffled by what it's trying to accomplish running articles blaming things on Earth's shrinking ice caps, when Earth's ice caps are not shrinking.

How to not suck: a premier for modern bands

I have friends (I question their judgment). They try to get me interested in modern music (I continue to question their judgment). As a result I've been exposed to a lot of awful crap and would like to throw some advice out there to anyone aspiring to play three chords on a guitar and get laid.

     1) learn how to sing. 
This is critical. If you're trying to ape John Lennon's nasal whine, you should be aware that that's far and away my least favorite thing about The Beatles. I am deadly serious: I would rather listen to "Revolution 9" on repeat for eternity than "Tomorrow Never Knows" on repeat for eternity. So, please, learn how to sing.

     2) no, seriously, learn how to sing.
Some of you sorry sacks out there can't even ape John Lennon's nasal whine. If you can't carry a tune, you might be able to get away with shouting backing vocals, provided they're really easy. But for the love of God, stay away from the mic.

     3) be influenced by good classic acts.
Really anything from the Beatles to Iron Maiden to Queen to Black Sabbath to AC/DC to Pink Floyd.

     4) wear those influences on your sleeve.
I'm not going to accuse you of plagiarism: I like Led Zeppelin (mostly).

     5) learn how to sing.
The "(mostly)" comes into play when Robert Plant starts screeching, whether it's reaching for notes he can't hit or just forgetting that he's not a woman.

     6) don't clip your album all to hell.
So you can sing. And you've got at least one other bandmate with cognizable talent. Great! And you've gotten a recording contract. Super! Now, record your album at a volume that will allow your consumers to actually appreciate it.

     7) learn how to sing.

Announcing my next project

As you might have noticed, my blog-thru of A Game of Thrones is reaching its end. At some point I will do the sequel, simply because I've already thought up half the snarky chapter titles, but I don't intend to immediately start that.

This weekend I was helping a friend move, and as we were driving to his new place he asked me who my top five favorite directors were. And I really, really didn't have any sort of an answer for that.

See, the director has a crapton of hats to wear. Take, for example, Skyfall. I really don't think very much of that film's script, but I do think that it's well-shot and well-acted and well-edited, and whether Sam Mendes took a hands-on approach to those parts of the production or just picked the right people, he deserves some credit.  I just don't know how much.

Is The Prestige my favorite film because Christopher Nolan directed it? Or is it my favorite film because of the stellar performances, excellent story structure, and Wally Pfister's magnificent cinematography?

Anyway, while I was sitting there in the car, navigating a gridlock while trying to answer my friend's question (I ultimately came up with Nolan and Spielberg for sure, and played with a bunch of other candidates ranging from Stanley Kubrick to Peter Hunt), I realized it'd probably be easier for me to list my five favorite cinematographers than it would be to list my five favorite directors.

So my next project on this blog is going to be entitled "Such Cinematography." I'm going to go through films, a few scenes at a time, and point out camera-work and lighting that appeals to, impresses, or just downright puzzles me. I already have a list of films I want to do this for, some of which are famous for their cinematography and others where I just noticed things that I want to point out.

And the reason that I'll be going through them a few scenes at a time is either because I have the attention span of an alcoholic badger or because I'm in law school and don't have an infinite amount of time on my hands. You can figure out which is true.

AC/DC: a premature obituary

And here we are. A post I didn't really think about but kind of knew I was going to have to write since April, when the news first broke that Malcolm Young, AC/DC co-founder, songwriter and rhythm guitarist, was either "taking a break" or leaving the band, due to ill health.

Now it's pretty clear. Malcolm Young, age 61, is too ill ever to tour again and has retired from the band. He won't be on the album due out in November - so I was wrong about that - nor will he be touring with them next year.

It's Wikipedia official, people.

This is, effectively, the end of the band. Malcolm Young will be replaced both in studio and on tour by his nephew Stevie Young, 57 (Angus and Malcolm are the babies of their generation), who previously filled in for Malcolm on a 1988-89 tour while Malcolm was in rehab. Malcolm's brother Angus, the flamboyant lead guitarist, may be the face of the band and Brian Johnson may be the singer, but ask any AC/DC fan and they'll tell you that Malcolm Young is very much the power behind the throne.

So I'm sure some people will say this is premature - there's an album and a tour coming up - but I'm going to go ahead and write the band's obituary now. And also laugh at the word "premature" being applied to anything related to this band, whose lead guitarist to this day wears a schoolboy uniform on stage.

The Air Raid Siren

Today in 1981, Bruce Dickinson joined Iron Maiden, replacing Paul Di'Anno as lead singer. It's fair to say that this was the biggest and most important thing that happened that year. (1981 also included two high-profile assassination attempts, the very first Space Shuttle launch, and the appointment of the first female Supreme Court justice. I might be applying a bit of hyperbole here.)

Not yer usual Cracked.com rant

Longtime readers/stalkers a) will be alarmed by the new design, and b) will know that I kinda have a thing against Cracked.com for a couple of reasons. One, their photoplasty contests aren't funny, and two, they seem to think that all their articles can be improved by a half-dozen "fucks" and "shits."

Anyway. Today Cracked.com has an article out about various video-gaming sins. And #2 on the list is Padding. Except, they don't talk about actual Padding, or at least not as I understand it.

See, they're talking about "pointless missions." But when I say "padding," I'm thinking more like what I complained about vis a vis Skyrim's Dawnguard DLC. Okay, that requires some clarification, because I whined a lot about Dawnguard.

(Today's ADD-addled diversion: I'm doing this post on my gaming PC rather than my usual one. When I went to go get that link above, I found I'm going to need a bigger background for higher-resolution computers.)

My principal complaint about Dawnguard (and yes, it's very hard to choose just one) is that the penultimate mission just dragged way. The. Hell. Out.  When you tell me "go get Auriel's Bow," I assume I'm in for one dungeon trawl, not four plus a ginormous Space Flea From Nowhere sidestory.  What Cracked is actually whining about is more accurately described as "boring-ass fetch quests."

A Blog of Thrones (Chapter 55) Catelyn VIII: And A Child Shall Lead Them

Previously on A Blog of Thrones, either Robert's final failure brought the chickens home to roost, or else Varys's plot ran exactly as planned.

You really can't tell with these sorts of things.

The last James Bond film you saw

I don't mean "which one was the one you've seen most recently?"

I mean, out of the however-many-that-existed the first time you got caught up, which one took you the longest to get around to seeing?

For me it was Diamonds Are Forever, an absolute clusterfrak of a film to go out on. I recently bought another copy of it because someone (*cough* my sister *cough*) lost our original copy and, having re-evaluated films like OHMSS and Quantum of Solace and even The Living Daylights, I thought I'd be fair and revisit Diamonds as well.

It still sucks.

For my best friend it was A View to a Kill. Yikes.

Somehow my lucky dog of a cousin managed to expose himself to twenty other Bond Films before getting around to From Russia With Love, On Her Majesty's Secret Service, and, and I kid you not, The Spy Who Loved Me.

Yes, really.  OHMSS I can understand, as that film has an awful reputation it in no way deserves. But the other two? Really?

I mean, seriously, The Spy Who Loved Me is the film you should show someone who's never seen a Bond Film, because the only problem with saying "this is a Bond Film" is that your friend will come away thinking they're all that good.

Weekend Song XXII

Quite the throwback* on this one, with some very Old Skool (and live) Iron Maiden

*okay given my musical pallet, "throwback" may be the wrong word. But this is pre-Bruce Iron Maiden, which makes it pretty old for that band.

So Captain America 2 was actually an adaptation of Moonraker (the novel)

And a more faithful adaptation than the film, at that.

The villain is disguised as a super-patriot. His plan involves launching something which he says will keep people safe but is actually designed to kill a whole lot of people. The two main heroes, during the course of their investigation, end up buried under rubble after an explosion (although because this is Ian Fleming we're talking about, in the novel the end up nekkid).

And so on.

CONFIRMED!

Back in June, I made the following "joke:"

Are they going to get Charles Dance back for Tywin's funeral? Big risk: he'll still out-act everyone, though I admit that kind of the point of Feast is how thoroughly everyone and everything was buried under his shadow.

CONFIRMED!

A Blog of Thrones (Chapter 54) Daenerys VI: Bond Villain Stupidity

Previously on A Blog of Thrones, Bran was mopey. But not because he was a cripple, for once.

Daenerys is naked again, because she spends an awful lot of this book in fairly compromising positions. Speaking of fairly compromising positions, I thought I'd share with you the sexiest thing I found on Reddit the weekend of the nude celeb photo scandal. It's just below the fold (and perfectly safe for work).

A Blog of Thrones (Chapter 53) Bran VI: Something’s wrong with Robb’s leadership style, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

With the irritating repetition and tedious inevitability of a stupid commercial on YouTube, it is time yet again for a Bran chapter. I've got my sinuses all bogged up so I can't smell the stench of self-loathing. On the plus side, now I can do that nasal whine all the modern male singers use. And it could always be worse; I could suddenly decide that what I need in my life is an obsession with MOBAs.

Previously on A Blog of Thrones, Jon Snow broke. I still haven't explained that. Hahahahahahaha.

A Blog of Thrones (Chapter 52) Jon VII: The Sleepwalking Dead

Previously on A Blog of Thrones, we spent three chapters watching things go entirely to pot in King's Landing.

Dawnguard autopsy

I'm generally liking Skyrim. But not so much the Dawnguard DLC.

So, the good stuff: there are some new Dwemer ruins for you to run around in. There's a Werewolf perk tree, so that's not a complete waste now (yeah, immunity to disease is great and all, but it doesn't make up for an unarmored melee combat form or a lack of sleep bonuses).  There's a sidequest where you can explore another round of Dwemer ruins (because we weren't utterly sick of that by the time the Blackreach quest in the main game was over - oh, and, just for kicks and giggles, the Elder Scroll you used in the main game swings back into relevance here, so I hope you didn't sell it). Apparently there are new things to smith, yay.

The bad: This will take a while.

The main character of Dawnguard is an incredibly bored-sounding I Hate You Vampire Dad-style vampire lady named Serana. Literally everything she says is delivered in a tone of voice that suggests her actress really didn't want to be in the studio. (Disclosure: her actress is the same actress who ruined the female Demon Hunter in Diablo III's expansion, delivering every line with a husky whispershout.) This despite the fact that, towards the end of the story, she gets long drawn-out confrontations with two people who screwed her over. During the first one you're stuck - the game doesn't put you in "conversation mode," but it does stop you from drawing your weapon. (As soon as the basically-a-cutscene is over, just FUS RO DAH him off the balcony. Dullest boss fight ever, and this after he sends waves of obnoxious minions at you.) The second time there's nothing to stop you sneaking up behind the guy and stabbing him in the butt. "Fun."

The other characters are: Isran, a knight-templar vampire hunter who naturally acts incredibly prejudiced and... well, you know what, there are these two groups, the Vampires and the Dawnguard, and it's funny how the vampires really don't give two f*cks about the Dawnguard. That's really all you need to know.

The plot. Where to begin? Ah, what the hell, let's just go in order. Spoilers from here on out.

Some random James Bond thoughts

In the process of hunting down information about an outfit that Diana Rigg wore in one scene of On Her Majesty's Secret Service, I stumbled across this post on clothesonfilm. (Obviously it's a bit dated.)

Here's the interesting bit, comparing the issues post-Quantum to the kerfuffle that led to The Wizard Some Call Tim leaving the role back in the early 90s.

Hmm…Does anyone see this as a little bit of history repeating? A not entirely dissimilar situation occurred after Timothy Dalton signed as Bond for The Living Daylights in 1987. Soon followed License to Kill in ’89 and then nothing for six years, until Pierce Brosnan finally got his shot and saved the series from near extinction with GoldenEye.

Well. Quite. Edgy, serious, "back-to-Fleming" actor aw frak it, just see my Quantum of Solace post for an interminable list of comparisons between Licence to Kill and Quantum of Solace. Neither film was particularly well-received by general audiences (though both are utterly super and deserve a second look), and MGM held off on making another one afterwards, pleading "financial difficulties," which is fair enough.

Now, I know a thing or two about what The Property of a Lady (as Bond XVII was known while Dalton was still attached to the project) was going to look like, and what it was going to look like was Licence to Kill on speed. Bond kills the baddie with a frickin' blowtorch, for example.

Now, although Charles Helfenstein says, in the section his thoroughly-researched book The Making of the Living Daylights that deals with Dalton's departure from the role, that there's no evidence to suggest that MGM muscled Dalton out, the fact of the matter is that Dalton was still up for the job in early 1993 (after his contract had expired) and had changed his mind a year later. It probably wasn't friction with the Broccoli-Wilson family, given that Dalton popped up at Cubby Broccoli's birthday party two days after announcing his departure. So... what was it that made Dalton change his mind about coming back, if it wasn't MGM's refusal to green-light another film while he was in the lead role?

(Maybe the fact that Dalton read the books, in which Bond was stated to be 37, and faced mandatory retirement from 00-status at 45, and Dalton was nearing the age of 50 when he stepped down. That's all I've got. I'm sympathetic to the argument that Dalton wasn't as enthusiastic about him playing Bond as Cubby Broccoli was, but that doesn't explain why he was willing to come back in 1993 only to change his mind within a year.)

That makes me wonder if Skyfall, twisted and confused and decidedly overrated wretch that it is, wasn't the result of a compromise that Barbara Broccoli and Michael G. Wilson made with MGM to retain Mr. Craig's formidable services. Shove the tone back Goldfinger-wards, despite the massive step backwards that represents, in the name of money.

Oh well.

In other news, RIP Richard Kiel, aka Jaws.

I'm really just dropping this link here because I'm on my other computer and can't be bothered to save it there for myself.

In other news, my law school schedule sucks.

"Deep Breath" and "Into The Dalek" mini-Who Reviews

Before I begin, I want to make one thing clear:

Steven Moffat is full of himself.

There, now that that's out of the way, we can talk about Peter Capaldi's first two episodes as The Best Doctor Who Ever.

...you know, aside from [insert all your other favorites here], and Patrick Troughton.