It is Time! Again?

By Hannah Lee.

I ironically cried in The Lion King 3D, three times. The first was during the ‘Circle of Life’ opening when I realized I’d actually paid to have my cherished childhood experience ruined. The second time was when Mufassa died, and finally, when the credits rolled and I was reminded that I’d just paid to have my cherished childhood experience ruined, I cried again.

It may sound a little overdramatic, but considering Walt Disney home videos taught me how to use the remote control from the tender age of four, watching an old favourite 17 years later in 3D did something to taint that nostalgia. I found the visual conversion distracting, the catchy musical numbers I knew all the words to suddenly looked and felt like cheap stunts and worst of all, it crushed any faith I had in modern movie magic meeting the standards of days gone by.

When I left the cinema I snapped my 3D glasses (fuck… that cost me a dollar) wondering how anyone could have let such a travesty take over our screens. Why was it necessary to convert a perfectly good 2D film into 3D? And who in their right mind, with any respect for the original film, would buy into this molestation of a classic?

Read the rest of the review here: http://thefilmkid.wordpress.com/2011/10/31/it-is-time-again/

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Greek Mythology Reworked

Ulysses, James Joyce

She would follow, her dream of love, the dictates of her heart that told her he was her all in all, the only man in all the world for her for love was the master guide. Come what might she would be wild, untrammelled, free.

The Secret History, Donna Tartt

It’s a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves?

The Penelopiad, Margaret Atwood

I picture the gods, diddling around on Olympus, wallowing in the nectar and ambrosia and the aroma of burning bones and fat, mischievous as a pack of ten-year-olds with a sick cat to play with and a lot of time on their hands. ‘Which prayer shall we answer today?’ they ask one another. ‘Let’s cast the dice! Hope for this one, despair for that one, and while we’re at it, let’s destroy the life of that woman over there by having sex with her in the form of a crayfish!’ I think they pull a lot of their pranks because they’re bored.

The Early Poems, Alfred Lord Tennyson

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew

Endymion, John Keats

Until, from the horizon’s vaulted side,
There shot a golden splendour far and wide,
Spangling those million poutings of the brine
With quivering ore: ‘twas even an awful shine
From the exaltation of Apollo’s bow;
A heavenly beacon in their dreary woe.

The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller

“Name one hero who was happy.”
I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason’s children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus’ back.
“You can’t.” He was sitting up now, leaning forward.
“I can’t.”
“I know. They never let you be famous AND happy.” He lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you a secret.”
“Tell me.” I loved it when he was like this.
“I’m going to be the first.”

From: http://the-library-and-step-on-it.tumblr.com/tagged/from-the-vaults