wet of lies

wet. that is the word that would best describe the day. i just rode home on my bike in the rain, after spending the afternoon in the rain. i guess the whole morning and early afternoon that i was out, i had no wet problems. but as of about six pm, when my day part 2 started. i should go to bed, but i can't sleep right away, so i have a cup of tea, which sets me back an hour, plenty of time to write this up. besides the wetness, today hadn't many events.
the highlight, besides dining on a sausage, churro, and buying pistachios, was going back to, as tio wally says, brikadeiro's, putting bella down--okay, so i didn't really do the putting down, but i was there--, and sitting down for Ridley Scott's body of lies, from David Ignatius' novel. besides dicaprio's age, i was stricken by Ignatius' story and scott's delivery. i kind of want to read the novel, now, but there isn't time for that right now. good intentions. for one, it was a successful thriller. it kept my mind spinning for a lot of the time, which is good for a thriller. also, there was much of it that i wanted to believe, and much that i wanted to disbelieve. there were incredible things that, because of ignatius' background, i accepted as truths--certain situations, attitudes. a certainly impacting component was dealing with the disposability of human lives for someone's greater cause. both sides harmed innocent people deliberately; that was that.
the plot was incredibly enthralling, there was even a love interest that was not dealt with in the common hollywood way--which leads me to the greatest part of the film: the cultural sensitivity. the film clearly advocated cultural sensitivity and appreciation over "the amreican right". the film tells the clear story of the individual american--a deft, red-blooded, beer-drinking american--sticking it to the man, and having things his own way. the Man, crowe, is a meddling american government authority/soccer-dad glued to his phone, and is a near perfect foil to the young, adroit dicaprio. while crowe bumbles through his operations, watching camera images and moving pawns from the homeland, dicaprio travels all around the middle east--amman, jordan and dubai, uae, and others--dabbling in hands-on "agent work", including international diplomacy, hot pursuits, torture, hostage negotiations and an attractive--on a good day--iraqi(?) woman. he comes to trust the head of jordanian intel, and learns that he is more reliable than his friend in langley, va. he makes many mistakes, dicaprio, but his biggest are two: violating the jordanian boss's trust, and (another, which i forgot...).
while the movie, on the surface, violates certain tennets of american life by having the hero defy his superior officer and "walk out on america", it upholds, i believe, the free american spirit. the spirit of the individual, with his/her right to come and go, and trying to lift every person--american or not--above the status of cogs and wheels; people are not just parts in an act to accomplish a goal, they are individual, valuable lives. from the beginning of the film, there is a tension between dicaprio and crowe on whether or not to try and save an informant--crowe mandates: "you milked him dry, he's no further use to us" (not a direct quote), while dicaprio argues, "i just granted him asylum", only to have to face that individual, who calls him a lier, a traitor, and send him to his death. the viewer sympathizes as dicaprio complains about the death of a middle man that they framed as a terrorist, while crowe acknowledges it was necessary. the jordanian, on the other hand, is portrayed as a cool, in-control man, who makes orders and gets things done: "we do not work like the CIA; it is too democratic". he is able to act swiftly and of his own accord, and thereby gets things done, thereby protects his friend, our hero.
in short, i applaud it, and--despite the enormous amount of violence and terrible language--reccomend the film. it made me want to go to the middle east, and fall in love with it. crowe says, near the end, "you don't want to stay here; there is nothing you could like here. i have an office down the hall from mine waiting for you, as soon as i get the guy who's in it now out of it". admittedly, it is the best crowe can offer, but the audience is captive to our hero's passions: we want him to stay and make the best of it. it made me want to do the same--go somewhere and be a part of it, and be more than just an american--go to the middle east, or russia or sumthing. oh, wait, God has me covered on that one: i was born into another such culture. a new world culture, but a brilliant one, nonetheless. i can't help but love my home, brazil.

Taken--and brought back

WARNING:movie spoiler probably included!
A couple of nights ago, I watched a different kind of action film. Taken, with Liam Neeson, was an action flick laced with home-spun emotion--sort of. The action is driven by the undying love for a father--who, for once, can use his skills to save her life instead of neglect her, which is his general track record. For that, I applaud the film; for once, I'm not in it for just the action--it's pretty good as a thriller.
Except for the action, of course. I am here, now, not to poke holes in the plot, but to point them out, of course. Most of those holes were in the action sequences. Most memorable to me was the raid on the docks--we already have experience with one man taking out six or seven armed ones--no problem there. The problem is, he runs outside carrying this chick to a random Jeep, and happens to find the key in the ignition--no explanation, of course, he just turns the thing on (later, when he steals another car, he does it the traditional way: using a coat hanger to get in and sparking the wires under the steering column). Then, of course he explodes a cluster of gasoline barrels that are sitting around in the parking lot--cuz that's what they keep around in dock yards, in case someone needs them (to blow up?!?). Oh, and they were right next to the bum-barrel of burning garbage or whatever it is that they burn--which is what lit the explosion. La-di-da, he doesn't get hit by any bullets, he gets away, destroying three cars--typical. One of them gets pushed onto a random ramp or pile of dirt and flips over, which was a dreadful action cut.
An intriguing point in the film is when he has to go through the tiers of corruption in Paris--and (SPOILER ALERT!!) comes back to his friend/contact. But he just wades stubbornly through it, tortures a man, kills plenty of others--nearly unscathed. He gets a blow to the head, a couple of bullets through the arm, and a couple of punches thrown in the side, but "you shoulda seen the otha' guys" would have been a fitting last line... Which brings me to my last point: the end, in which he returns peacefully home and gets away with everything!! I can hardly believe that just because all of the men (he did his best to keep the helpless, subdued women alive--and mourned those he didn't) he killed were involved in illegal activity it was OK?? France just let him fly back?? He threatened the family of a superior French officer, and waltzed through the airport security afterwards?? Oh, well. Everyone gets their happy ending...