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The Hermit, the Troglodyte and the Chocolate Factory
Sunday, a friend of mine, a fellow with whom I work while at the Royal Tyrrell, came up to Edmonton for a visit on a rare break from his current position at the same museum. My friend, who I shall call Trogador, is a troglodyte; he lives in a teepee. The reason for this is that he is one of two principal people operating the summer camp offered through the Tyrrell. He works with children from morning till night five days per week and uses what time he as away from the little beasties to set up for the next week’s camp or to develop programs. And so it was up to myself, and another friend, who I shall call Dan, to provide a mediocre substitute for some much needed therapy.
Sunday afternoon, Trogador came into town, and by about 10pm he and I were stuffed with BBQ and quite tipsy at Dan’s (incidentally, neither Dan nor his room-mate drink, but tolerate it extremely well). Only on a limited number of occasions have I ever heard someone bemoan their life nearly as much as Trogador did on Sunday. Being a twenty-five year old dateless wonder, who still hasn’t finished a bachelor’s degree and is an underpaid camp counselor living in a teepee and being forced to tolerate begrudgingly incompetent and unanimated co-workers gave him much to rant about. It’s funny how somebody who is so jaded works so extremely well with children.
Yesterday, Trogodor returned to Drumheller and I accepted an invitation to go with Dan (who is incidentally diabetic), his girl-friend and another couple to see Tim Burton’s rendition of Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I was disappointed and the version with Gene Wilder was better; better Wanka, better story telling, better blend and balance. Since I can’t give anything away, I’ll suffice it to say that one of the movie’s most glaring problems was actually the effects. Tim Burton is well known for his use of dramatic scenery and splendid visuals. In this movie he tried to accomplish too much of them with CGI. In the beginning of Edward Scissor Hands, there was a menacing cookie making machine. I was expecting devices like that to populate the factory. They did not. What actual physical machinations there were (i.e. the singing ‘small world’ style puppets seen in the preview) were really effective, while several that were CGI were superfluous, distracting and actually lessened the magic. Most of my other problems with the movie pertain directly to major thematic points and the superiority of Gene Wilder to Johnny Depp, but I’ll let those of you who see the movie make up your own minds.
The Hermit, the Troglodyte and the Chocolate Factory
Sunday, a friend of mine, a fellow with whom I work while at the Royal Tyrrell, came up to Edmonton for a visit on a rare break from his current position at the same museum. My friend, who I shall call Trogador, is a troglodyte; he lives in a teepee. The reason for this is that he is one of two principal people operating the summer camp offered through the Tyrrell. He works with children from morning till night five days per week and uses what time he as away from the little beasties to set up for the next week’s camp or to develop programs. And so it was up to myself, and another friend, who I shall call Dan, to provide a mediocre substitute for some much needed therapy.
Sunday afternoon, Trogador came into town, and by about 10pm he and I were stuffed with BBQ and quite tipsy at Dan’s (incidentally, neither Dan nor his room-mate drink, but tolerate it extremely well). Only on a limited number of occasions have I ever heard someone bemoan their life nearly as much as Trogador did on Sunday. Being a twenty-five year old dateless wonder, who still hasn’t finished a bachelor’s degree and is an underpaid camp counselor living in a teepee and being forced to tolerate begrudgingly incompetent and unanimated co-workers gave him much to rant about. It’s funny how somebody who is so jaded works so extremely well with children.
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