Boneshaker, by Cherie Priest

Very rarely do I come across a book that literally keeps me up nights with a flashlight, reading into the late hours, just to finish one more chapter, just one more, before sleep overcomes me and I'm forced to place my bookmark in place to continue reading the next day. There are a lot of books that I'm interested in, fascinated by, but there are very few that capture me with a interesting story and a writing style that makes the pages blur as I read. Cherie Priest's 2009 novel, Boneshaker did just that over the past couple of days. Boneshaker is one hell of a story, one that left me wanting more whenever I set the book aside. Capturing a trio of geek obsessions, Priest's novel is a compelling work of alternate history that blends zombies with steampunk, villains and mad scientists, all swept together in a story that was quite a bit of fun to read. Nominated for the prestigious Nebula and Hugo awards (It lost out to Paolo Bacigalupi's The Windup Girl for the Nebula), and armed with a good number of critical praise, Priest has quite a bit to be proud of with this book. Set in an alternate past, where the American Civil War has dragged on for nearly fifteen years, the city of Seattle is dying. Sixteen years prior to the beginning of the story, a machine, designed to mine gold in the frozen Klondike, destroys part of the city, unleashing an unimaginable horror upon the city: the Blight, a corrosive gas that kills all who breathe it, and reanimating their bodies and awakening them to a hunger for human flesh. The survivors of the catastrophe walled off the infected area, and began to move on with their lives. Sixteen years later, Briar Wilkes and her son Zeke eke out a meager living, plagued by their associations with the man responsible for the disaster, Levi Blue, Wilke's former husband, and Zeke's father. Determined to clear his family name, and to get some answers for himself, Zeke descends into the broken and poisoned city to uncover clues of his family's heritage, while Briar follows. Both discover that behind the Wall, survivors of the disaster form their own living, escaping the Blight and its victims, and living under their own rules. Briar is the only one who can save her son amongst the pirates, criminals and survivors in the dead city. Boneshaker is a fun story that draws upon a number of strengths to really succeed. While the book is an incredibly easy sell to anyone marginally interested in science fiction, fantasy, horror and other speculative fictions, its strengths lie more in Priest's storytelling and world building than the zombies (or Rotters, in this instance), steampunk brass or the action. Rather, she places all of these elements within a compelling alternative United States, and populates it with characters that are both well conceived and caricatured, forced into action with a story that fits everything together nicely. I really like the alternative America that Priest sets up, especially as a historian with a background in military history. Here, the Civil War has stretched on for over fifteen wars, with the Union slowly winning. Key military leaders remained alive, and because of the continuing war, technology continued to advance. As a result, there's airships, machines and other pieces of technology that somewhat makes sense with the events of the story. In doing so, an entire world has been created, with quite a lot of background information that Priest can draw upon, not only for Boneshaker, but for other books that are forthcoming in this world, titled the Clockwork Century. Last year, I was certainly aware of Boneshaker, but personally, I'm not a huge fan of zombies or steampunk, and the entire notion really turned me off, simply because most of what I've seen of the Steampunk genre really doesn't make logical sense to me. Simply adding glass and copper attachments to something mundane for the sake of making something historical 'interesting' just bothered me, because of the historical precedent behind it. What Priest has done, however, is put the advances in technology into a historical context that makes quite a bit of sense: historically, warfare is a major incubator for new technology, generally beyond the weapons used on the battlefield, and with items that have a number of uses that can be applied to a post-war period. Duct tape, the microwave oven, jet planes and radar, all technologies that are in commonplace usage today, owe their existence to warfare as a catalyst for their development. Priest seems to understand this, and in interviews that I've read, it seems that she's done her homework. The result really shows with a fantastic world that works. With that world in place, Priest sets to work with her story. At the heart of the narrative is a story about a family, one who's been split apart by the Blight that was unleashed when Blue's "Incredible Bone-Shaking Drill Engine" ripped through part of the city. Forced out into the Outskirts, away from the Blight, people are left to their own devices. Briar and her son live their lives, but they are haunted by what had transpired before. Zeke, in particular, knows little about what had happened to his father and grandfather, and because of his mother's unwillingness to really address the problems of the past, he gets no answers from her. To find them, he ventures into the dead city to find the answers. What happens next is a sort of journey of understanding and rite of passage, where both characters must learn to adapt and accept certain things about themselves. Things are complicated when both discover that there's a lot more to the walled off portions of the city. An entire culture and society of survivors has sprung up in the sealed off buildings, where people are largely ruled by a Dr. Minnericht, who resembles Briar's former husband. This is another area where the book really shines, and that's the use of this dead city. I've long been fascinated by what happens to buildings and societies when they're left to die, and books such as World Without Us and various galleries of empty cities are things that I seek out. Her creation of her own sort of underworld, lost and forgotten by the world around it, is really neat, and while there are a couple of flaws here and there, it serves as a fantastic setting for her tale. Boneshaker does have its share of problems, from some of the caricatured characters, namely Dr. Minnericht, who is essentially posing as Briar's former husband throughout the story. Built up through most of the book, the actual character was a bit of a letdown, and his element of the story seemed rather forced in, as did a subplot about the Wall's inhabitants rising up against his rule. Zeke's characterization worked most of the time, but at points, his dialogue just annoyed me, and pulled me out of the story just a bit. In the end, though, these are minor gripes that didn't impact the overall story too much. Boneshaker proved to be a quick read for me, and it was well worth the impulse buy when I was in the bookstore the other day. With a fast-paced story, with plenty of exciting twists and turns, interesting characters and a fun story, set in a very fun world, I'm eagerly looking forward to the next installments out of the world that Priest has set in motion. This book is pure dynamite, and while I'm still rooting for The Windup Girl for the 2010 Hugo, this book is certainly deserving of the heaps of praise it's already garnered. This was a fun read, one that held me up at night, distracting my thoughts at work, waiting for my next fix. More books need to be just like Boneshaker: fun, exciting, thoughtful and interesting.

Anias Mitchell's Hadestown

Last night, while driving home, I came across a radio report of a local artist who had embarked on a recent musical concept project, Anais Mitchell. Mitchell is a Vermont artist who's gained quite a name for herself with her unique voice and music within the state, and it seems as though this album is going to be a good one to launch her to quite a bit more attention.

The project, entitled Hadestown, is a retelling of the story of the Eurydice and Orpheus myth from Greek stories. The original story has to do with the death of Eurydice, and distraught, Orpheus travels to Hades to win her release, singing so mournfully that they release her, but with a condition: she must follow him out from the underworld, but if he turns to look at her, she will vanish.

In this retelling, Mitchell has taken the story and reworked it. Set in a 'world of poverty', she sets up a sort of feudal, post-apocalyptic world in which Orpheus is a poet and musician, and Eurydice his unhappy wife. Coming to the entrance of Hadestown, she's seduced and whisked away by Hades, the town's company boss, and he travels to Hadestown to win her release, largely following some of the major elements of the original myth.

What has come together is a facinating musical project, combined with a wonderful, complex and challenging story. Originally begun in 2006 as a stage production put on by Mitchell and Bread and Puppet veteran Ben Matchstick, the entire thing has been re-worked for an album, titled Hadestown. Characters are sung by an impressive cast of characters, including wonderful performances from Justin Vernon, aka Bon Iver as Orpheus, Mitchell as Eurydice , Greg Brown as Hades, Ben Knox Miller as Hermes, The Haden Triplets as the Furies and Ani DiFranco as Persephone. What made me really sit up was Vernon's participation - his album For Emma, Forever Ago, is one of my absolute favorite works in the past decade, and will likely remain a classic in folk music. The rest of the cast, however, works wonderfully, and the album comes together as a rich and diverse group ensemble that pushes the story forward far better than if any single singer had attempted it.

Hadestown is a concept project with a high bar to hit: another band has accomplished similar things, The Decemberists, with their albums The Crane Wife and The Hazards of Love, which tell a complete story over all, or most of the album. The Crane Wife includes a couple of myths that are incredibly similar to what's said in the Hadestown album, and it goes to show the power and widespread nature of common stories around the globe. On an album level, this is extraordinary, and where it leaves an album a bit harder to sell in the digital market of single songs, this album is sure to do well in Vermont with Mitchell's fan base, especially when the album stands out with this level of quality, the singers involved and the coverage that it's been receiving.

On one level, this album is highly appealing simply because any album that's marketed as a sort of folk-opera, post-apocalyptic retelling of Greek myth just sounds too awesome to pass up. I was a very big fan of The Hazards of Love by the Decemberists, because of the overarching storyline and complex storyline that wove its way through the album, not to mention bringing in other artists to sing different parts. It elevates music to theater, telling a fantastic story that really stands out by going to the roots of what makes things interesting: characters, motivations and conflict. Hadestown does this remarkably, setting characters and story into motion. The characters themselves are 'cast' brilliantly, and often, almost outshine Mitchell at her own game, particularly Vernon and Brown with their respective characters

Moreover, it's an interesting story, firmly within the realm of speculative fiction that combines the best of several worlds: the roots of Greek tragedy, modern day relevance, grim futures and characters that significantly add onto the plot of the album by their own actions. This album is fantastic on all levels: interesting, thoughtful, subtle, and entertaining.

Ferraby Lionheart & The Jack of Hearts

It's been a couple of years since we last year from troubadour Ferraby Lionheard with his fantastic debut album Catch The Brass Ring and self-titled EP. I really enjoyed both efforts, and such songs as Small Planet, Vermont Avenue, Before We're Dead and Pure Imagination regularly come up on my playlists at home. Lionheart brought together a rich, interesting and diverse sound with his songs, and in the time since his first album, I've been eagerly awaiting for the next album.

That has come in the form of The Jack of Hearts, and it's a bit of a different album than I initially expected. The Jack of Hearts is a superb album one that demonstrates that Lionheart's voice, sound and songwriting has improved since the last outing, and this album is his best work yet. When it arrived a couple of weeks ago, I put it into the CD player and it's been playing since.

The song that caught my ears first was Harry & Bess, the third track on the album, with an excited beat and groove, coupled with a fantastic guitar backing everything up. There's something between the lyrics and instruments that makes me really want to move, and the swing feel with this song is all but irresistible. Other tracks on the album carry with them a diverse sound and feel as well, from Arkansas to Sweet Tanzini to Dear Corinne. Each song really has their own stories, and like the country singers that clearly influenced this album, there's equal emphasis on the lyrics and storytelling throughout the album.

What makes this album so good is that there's a lot that falls into place here - the songwriting, the music, vocals, instrumentation and packaging (this, for me, is important as well, and Jack of Hearts nailed the cover this time). Indie-singer/songwriters have a difficult time really standing out in the internet age, with so much variety, but Lionheart manages to do so with a unique, interesting sound and image. The Jack of Hearts confirms that he's onto something good here, continuing his successes with the first album, and will hopefully continue to do so in the near future.

Blake Charlton's Spellwright

Blake Charlton's Spellwright is a fantastic, entertaining entry into the genre that has been fairly well received throughout the lit world, and for good reason. Charlton has put together a wholly original fantasy novel, changing up a couple of familiar elements, then replacing them in a familiar environment and letting the story go from there.

The story's plot is probably the weak point in the entire package, but to be very honest, that's something that I'm more than fine with - the fantasy story of a learner in school, guided by a mentor is something that's a pretty resilient story, and its something that works well between different books and authors. Spellwright is no copy of Harry Potter, but the similarities in setting would most likely appeal to a lot of people out there. With the opening of the book, a wizard is murdered during a Convocation in Starhaven, a wizard stronghold, setting Nicodemus Weal and his master, Magister Shannon, into a story that has been orchestrated by ancient forces, bent on returning to power. Nicodemus had been thought to be a sort of savior magician, for is abilities as a spell caster. The only issue was that he was afflicted by an inability to spell - Cacography, which makes him dangerous. As Nicodemus's friends are targeted by the killer, he has to uncover the motives behind the murderer, and the prophecy behind him.

There are a couple of elements that really impressed me with this read, primarily the world-building, and Charlton's use of his own personal experiences as subject matter for this book. In this world, Cacography is akin to dyslexia, which Charlton himself is afflicted with, and in a couple of recent interviews, he's talked about how that affected him, and how fantasy literature gave him a sort of path and direction to take. There's a real amount of attention paid here to words, and the magical system that has been invented here is really fantastic, almost like a sort of programming language for magicians. Here, words have power, but like any set of directions, the spells and abilities of magicians depend upon the correct components in order to get the right effect. It makes quite a bit of sense, and it gives Spellwright a very different feel throughout, which sets it apart from similar books.

In particular, Nicodemus as the central character, proves to be an interesting protagonist, as someone who's suffering from a disability, especially when considering how Charlton's magical system has been set up: words, sentences, paragraphs and prose make up the magical effects, and it's quite something to imagine being attacked by words themselves, or imagining the core of existence essentially complicated magic composed of words. The end result, especially for someone who loves books, is thrilling to read about.

The book isn't perfect - there's a little too much repetition, and the last couple of chapters seem like they've been dropped in, with too much showing over telling, but that doesn't really detract from the rest of the book. By the end, it seemed as if I had read through a six hundred word book, rather than a three hundred page book, and at the end, I felt that I wanted quite a lot more out of this world. Spellwright, in a way, is a bit of a tease, considering the world and history that has been set up for it.

This is the other major aspect in which Spellwight shines brightly: the world has been pretty well conceived, with a background history, traditions, societies and magical environment. But, while these sorts of things are good, what's better is that this background information is directly used and impacts the story as a whole, turning it from pretty scenery into a plot point, which is very good for a novel like this, and it more than makes up for the issues that I do have with the book.

I'm very eagerly awaiting for the next installment in the larger story - Charlton's hard at work on book number 2, and that will certainly be something to look out for.

Caprica

The first half of the first season of Caprica just ended, and I was thrilled to see that the show, despite my high expectations, was able to meet and exceed my hopes. Over the course of the first nine episodes of the first season, Caprica managed to surprise and delight me throughout at the concept and world-building that had been put into place - the show is proving to be a viable addition to the Battlestar Galactica universe, and hopefully, will continue to do so.

Set half a century prior to the events of Battlestar Galactica, Caprica fills the role of prequel, an already daunting task for any established and successful television show, setting up two major families, the Adams (Adamas) and the Graystones. A train bombing on Caprica kills daughters of both of the houses, setting the two families into one another, and putting together a series of events that sets a chain of events into motion, which will no doubt have its own trail to Battlestar Galactica.

Battlestar Galactica largely succeeded because it was a breath of fresh air in the Science Fiction world, breaking a number of the conventions when it came to a show set in space, with combat, military operations and complicated characters. What surprised me the most was that Caprica essentially threw a lot of that out the window, and began anew, focusing on entirely different themes, thus taking the show in different directions than I had expected. Where Battlestar Galactica focused on the military, politics and humanity under pressure, Caprica has gone a completely different direction, opting to look at a digital lifestyle and religious conflict in society, and in doing so, help to flesh out a lot about the 12 colonies that were really only hinted at in Battlestar Galactica.

I like what I see, and the show has grown, in story and in its tone/feel, from that first pilot, and it has revealed a world that is really well thought out, with a number of conflicts playing into other storylines. As with Battlestar, this series remains fairly relevant to today's society, which is a major point for Science Fiction: To be relevant, in a fantastic setting. As the digital revolution kicked off in the mid-90s, society has changed a lot as a result: computers have connected us together in ways un-thought of, and brings out the best and worst in society: while major disasters bring about hundreds of millions of dollars in donations, viruses and pornography lurks in the shadows. So to, on Caprica, this sort of world and environment has prevailed, with youths looking to enact their fantasies in places where there are no consequences. An interesting quote popped up one of the later episodes, where a character wondered that even though people could act as if there was no consequence, should they? The internet is certainly a liberating tool for people, for good and bad.

Like any major change, there are reactions in society. Like terrorism has sprouted up, pushed along by fundamentalist forces here on Earth, the same too has happened here, where people have begun to strap bombs to them in order to effect some sort of political and societal change. The results are the same: innocents are killed, and people continue onwards. Caprica does a lot here to demonstrate that it is a very different show than Battlestar Galactica, and the terrorism aspect is a major point that is seen in both shows - here, there is killing on the part of political entities, to raise awareness to their causes and beliefs, while in Battlestar, there were suicide bombings as a matter of survival. In both instances, it demonstrates that there's a convoluted and chain of events, with different intentions all around. What I appreciated about the first show was the ability to cause audiences to think beyond the screen and talk and reflect on what they were seeing. Thus far, Caprica has begun to do that, although it's not quite there yet.

To be fair, the show has its flaws - some of the characters grate a bit (although one seems to be gone at this point), and the show really isn't about what I liked in Battlestar: military science fiction, with action and firefights, some of the best that I've ever seen on television, or on any screen, for that matter. I'm hoping that at some point, they'll begin to work on that sort of thing, or work it into the third major show. As much as I loved the plot and story in Battlestar, the space combat proved to be a fantastic bit of entertainment, and allowed for some of the best visuals in the genre, even out of combat.

Hopefully, Caprica will be given the chance to survive beyond its first year - there is plenty of potential for the show as a whole, and there's still a lot to talk about.

The Pacific

Last Sunday, HBO began their World War II miniseries on the Pacific Theater of Operations, simply titled The Pacific, as their long awaited follow-up to Band of Brothers. Band of Brothers was one of my earlier influences in the history field, and ever since high school, seven years ago, I've been awaiting for such a follow-up, which has been worked on in the ensuing years. The series already has paid off in the long wait between 2002 and now. In the past couple of years, I've graduated with two degrees in history (one was specifically in Military History), and as such, my views on commercial history have changed a lot since I first saw it.

The Pacific follows three soldiers, Robert Leckie, John Basilone and Eugene Sledge, and where Band of Brothers is based off of the book by the same title, this series is following the memoirs of Leckie and Sledge (Helmet for my Pillow and With the Old Breed, respectively), while Basilone is a well known figure in the Pacific War history. As such, the series has a somewhat different feel, apart from the differences in location and military units. Instead, the series has started off with much more of a personal story, rather than the story of an entire unit.

The Band of Brothers comparisons is something that the Pacific will be unable to really escape from, and that carries with it a need for some changes in how the stories will be told, as well as certain expectations with its appearance and what sort of story that it will be telling. To be bluntly honest, this isn't a historical story in the slightest - it features real stories and actions, but care should be taken to remember that primarily, this is a dramatic war movie, stretched out over ten nights. It'll be highly accurate, with a lot of care in that department, but history it is not.

What I really appreciate about this sort of series is the ability to get younger students (upper high school and the like) interested in World War II history, which in turn can act as a sort of gateway to other conflicts. In my own studies, I was highly interested in the Second World War, for all of its complexities and differences, and things to study. It's something that continues to fascinate me to the present day, and I'm sure that I'll be fascinated for a long time down the road. Band of Brothers, when it was released, most certainly hooked a number of people, getting them interested in the character stories, and going from that point onwards to other happenings.

This miniseries focuses extensively on the Pacific theater, with the Marines who fought in the island hopping campaigns that dug into Japanese territory. While the European theater has been extensively covered with movies, the Pacific has had a lesser degree of interest, for whatever reason, and I'll be interested to see how well this comes off in the series. From the first episode, it's clear that there's quite a lot of attention being paid to the characters and their own stories. This first episode is centered around Robert Leckie and the 1st Marine Regiment as they land on the first engagement at Guadalcanal as part of the Battle of the Tenaru, the opening actions for the Guadalcanal campaign. The U.S. Marines landed and secured the islands, but were surprised when the Japanese defeated their supporting ships off shore. The Marines secured the airstrip on the island, and engaged Japanese soldiers on August 21st, in the middle of the night, when the Japanese came across their lines. The first assault was turned back, and the second attack was once again turned back by mortars and heavy machine gun fire. In the morning, the U.S. Forces counter attacked, and over the course of the 21st, the US killed most of the Japanese forces, with just a handful withdrawing.

This first episode shares a pretty limited view of this battle, with Robert Leckie taking part in the first assault over the night and through to the next day. Leckie was part of this battle in real life, as a machine gunner, and the episode captures, fairly effectively, the horrors of that first engagement, from both the determination of the Japanese soldiers in the 17th Army (attacking or committing suicide after they were injured, taking American soldiers with them) and the measures that the U.S. forces took in retaliation.

The Pacific is very different from Band of Brothers, as the Pacific Campaign was vastly different than the European one. There were numerous lessons to be learned in these differences, and I'm eager to see how the remaining aspects of the campaign play out for this series.

Holy Fiction - Hours From It

Rarely am I floored by an album that I've received to review, but let me get this out of the way right now: Holy Fiction's debut album, Hours From It is a stunning masterpiece of sound, and is already one of my favorite collection of songs from this year. The album has been on a constant rotation between my iPhone, computer and car, and it's one that I'm going to be listening to for months to come.

Holy Fiction's start seems to be like a lot of other bands: A pair of musicians started to collaborate in their spare time from work with their regular bands, and when their bands folded in 2008, this current lineup formed as more of a priority. The original lineup up Matt Geissler and Evan Lecker later expanded to include Jordan McCune, and later grew to six people with Asher Pudlo, Sally Wafik and Sam Lee. This diverse group of people came together, bringing their own voices and styles to the group to what it is now.

Hours From It opens with Iron Eyes, which has a summer-like, rich sound that just seems to hit the right notes with a sound that falls right into place for me. There's a certain vibe that I get from Vermont in the springtime, and for some inexplicable reason, this reminds me much of that feeling. The rest of the album gets better, with Exit, More Than Ever, Golden City Lights, Song 10 and Yes, They Were Here. Two Small Bodies and the title track, Hours From It serve as the album's weaker moments but even then, this hardly registers, and they're both easily stronger than a lot of other songs out there. As a whole, the album reaches near perfection for me.

The more tangible elements of the album are clear when you closely listen to this album. The lead vocals from Evan Lecker are set apart from other indie bands in that you don't really have to get used to his voice first before enjoying the music. The supporting players layer on the sound, with a great ambient sound from the keys, guitar and strings, while the drums and bass in particular deserve to be singled out, for their exemplary work over the course of the album. My biggest complaint is that this album is about four songs too short for this to be a full album: I'm left with wanting a lot more, and I desperately hope that the group will be working on new material soon.

While listening to the music and lyrics, I'm even more impressed with some of the wordplay and how the group worked the music and words together. In Exit, one line is: "Of undiscovered lungs/lay your hands down, breathe deeply", which is laid out smoothly and lyrically in a manner that works well, and is repeated later on in that same song - lines move from one to another effortlessly in the lead up to the launch of the chorus. This is something that's repeated often throughout the album. While I read through the lyrics from the songs, then listen to them, I'm amazed at how evocative they are - there is some great imagery here, with implied stories throughout, but just enough to prompt some ideas, leaving things open-ended throughout.

Listening over the album once again, it's clear that this is a remarkably consistent and interesting album that has just enough differences between songs to avoid the photocopier effect when it comes to lyrics, tone and the sound, but they're not so far apart from one another that there's disorganization and chaos from this. The end result is an absolutely stunning debut album from an unknown group, one that will hopefully put them on the map over the next couple of years. Mostly, though, I appreciate the fact that this album just feels right, soothing, interesting and exhilarating all at the same time. This is by far and wide the best album that I've listened to over the year thus far, and I have a feeling that there will have to be a lot of effort for others to impress me just as much as Hours From It has.

Listen to two tracks here:

Iron Eyes - Holy Fiction Yes They Were Here - Holy Fiction

Movie Review: Up

Pixar has yet to make a really bad movie. There's been a couple that I've been rather indifferent on, but when the company sits down to really do a good story, they really do a good story. Watching Up last night with my girlfriend helped to reaffirm that no matter what the subject of the movie is, it's likely going to be a very good one. While Up doesn't necessarily top The Incredibles, Toy Story or Wall-E for one of my favorite movies from the company, it's certainly one of the better films that I've seen from them.

When watching the first trailers for the film, I was struck at how odd the film seemed at first glance. A man decides to lift his house out of the city using balloons? Where The Incredibles focused on the nostalgia of the past, Wall-E at some of the dangers of rampant commercialism and the use of environmentalism, and so forth, Up didn't appear at first glance to really have any sort of interesting theme. Looking back, I should have known better, because I've enjoyed some of their other films where the stories weren't readily apparent from the early peeks at the film. Up is a story about adventure, about living life and appreciating what you have, but also keeping in mind that sometimes, you get far more than you expect. Up accomplishes its story in more ways than I can recount, in a wonderful and emotional story that is cute, funny and sobering at the same time.

The opening moments of the movie are possibly the best, and saddest moments that I've seen in one of Pixar's films. Carl gets married to Ellie, and we watch as their life moves along with them, but the tragedy that they aren't able to achieve that one last dream that they have always had: something that motivates Carl to escape from the life that he's had and go on one more adventure. As he gets his house to float away with thousands of brightly colored balloons, he picks up a small stowaway, Russell, a small asian boy who is a Wilderness Explorer (A lightly masked version of a Boy Scout) who needs just one more badge. Where Carl is tired and cynical, Russell is almost literally bursting with enthusiasm and excitement for his surroundings. Along the way, both have their expectations drastically changed, and by the end of the film, everybody learns something in the end.

What made the movie for me, however, was Dug the Golden Retriever. His introduction of: "My name is Dug, I have just met you and I love you," absolutely stole my heart because it's so close to how I imagine most dogs (especially my own) think. He's hyper, excited and an absolutely sweet dog and is by far one of the more memorable characters out of the Pixar films. The heart of the character really lies with the core of all Pixar films: enthusiastic and entertaining, and I kind of wish that the whole movie was about this funny talking dog.

What struck me the most was some of the central themes of the film, revealed through the interactions between Russell and Carl, is living out one's dreams. Carl and his late wife, Ellie had long wished to go on some sort of adventure, but life got in the way. At the same time, Russell has enthusiastically worked to collect all of his badges, and the two are swept up on an adventure, with each other cancelling the other out. Over the course of the film, Carl regains a certain amount of enthusiasm, but also comes face to face with the true nature of his dreams, while Russell finally gets to have an adventure, and to have a sort of father figure that he really hasn't had. The film acts as a really good bit of social commentary there, which I really appreciated.

However, the real message for Up comes right at the end, when Carl discovers that his wife had filled her journal with pictures of herself and her love, noting that their life together was the adventure, better than any mere trip that they might have gone on. Life itself is an adventure, and that things can come out differently than you expected, and that opportunities shouldn't be passed up as they come up. Russell says something along the same lines towards the end, that it's the little things that you remember, not necessarily the exciting trips and events that happen in your life, but the slow and boring parts. It's very true, and helped sit the movie into the entertaining and revealing at the same time category: the best sort of film, I think. Unlike where some of Pixar's other films have had more tangible themes and stories, Up has an incredibly personal and enlightening story that to me, seems to hold far more meaning to it.

In the end, Up is a fun movie, certainly one of Pixar's stronger ones. It's one that I would.... Squirrel!

The Monuments Men

The Second World War is possibly one of the most studied conflicts in human history. Recent efforts in the academic and popular writing market, as well as large budget productions such as Saving Private Ryan and Band of Brothers, coupled with the rapidly declining numbers of World War II veterans has only increased our appetite for stories from this monumental conflict, and as a result, a large number of books, television documentaries and movies have capitalized on the events of 1939 to 1945.

Robert Edsel and contributor Bret Witter have put together a monumental (no pun intended) book entitled The Monuments Men: Allied Heroes, Nazi Thieves, and the Greatest Treasure Hunt in History that paints a vastly different picture of the war than has been seen before. While much of the attention paid to the soldiers involved with the fighting, Edsel presents a mission that had far larger connotations: while the fighting forces were preoccupied with saving Europe and containing Nazi aggression, a small, relatively unknown group of soldiers were tasked with the almost insurmountable task of saving something far greater: the elements upon which European culture rests. The Monuments Men were the ones who would locate, preserve and document the artwork that the Nazi military stole from the countries that it conquered during the course of the Second World War.

Over the course of this book, Edsel tells the story of a small, dedicated group of individuals who, with very little support and even less authority, set out as the Allies invaded the European mainland and worked accomplish their impossible task. In doing so, he not only talks about the people who are involved with this venture, but also examines some of the crimes that the Nazis perpetrated during the war: the theft and destruction of art, using artwork as evidence of Nazi superiority (and of other races inferiority), but also the blatant disregard for the care and well being of artwork. Moreover, the lesson that is never quite forgotten over the course of the book is the casualties of war, especially amidst the destruction in Europe.

Thinking back to when I was in England in 2006, I remember hearing about some of the efforts that went into preserving some of the cultural artifacts around the country: ancient cathedrals were reinforced, stained glass windows were taken down and put away and artwork was stashed far from where they could be harmed. Other places weren't as lucky, and as Nazi Germany rolled into the rest of Europe, artwork was captured or destroyed. Edsel starts off his book quickly, looking at some of the concerns that museum officials and art professionals had as the war started, and looks at the highly public effects of the destruction of history had upon the Allies and Axis powers. A particular case in point was the Allied destruction of Monte Cassino, which helped to prompt a greater awareness of the sheer impact that heavy-handed militaries might have, and how wonton destruction of targets could be harmful in the long run, something that would impact the conduct of war later on.

While Edsel doesn't dwell for too long on anything but the Allied conquest of Europe and followup actions after the war, or just a small number of characters out of the 345 or so men involved with this unit, what he does is highly effective by bringing both the larger themes of this struggle, but also enough human faces to the table to allow any reader to relate to what was going on after the front lines passed. Most notable is George Stout, of the US Naval Reserve, who was involved early on in the Monuments, Fine Arts and Archives project. One of the first Monuments Men to travel into Europe, Edsel notes that he took only one or two days off during his entire time in the theater of operations, working tirelessly to document thousands of sites and items. Harry Ettlinger had fled from Germany and joined the US Army shortly after high school, becoming an important member during the operations in Europe. Captain Walker Hancock, Lieutenant James Rorimer, Captain Robert Posey, and more from the US Army make up a fascinating cast of characters, all of whom are not only written about, but do some of the writing themselves, as Edsel has included a number of their letters in the book. Beyond US Army personnel, Edsel also talks much about Rose Valland, a French woman who works tirelessly, as a volunteer at the Jeu de Paume museum and spied against the Nazi occupation to preserve the art in the museum, as well as Jacques Jaujard, the director of the French National Museums. Edsel takes only a small number of interesting figures that were involved, but just enough to ensure that the book isn't bogged down with an endless number of figures. Those who are represented are facinating, with a diverse number of backgrounds, all brought together by this extrordinary task.

These characters, while most never interact with one another, save for occasional mission, are intertwined with the Nazi plans for artwork as the war turned in the Allies favor, and Edsel pieces together the actions of this diverse group to show just what happened in Europe during the war. As the fighting passed over Europe, the Monuments Men were never very far behind, working to examine and to guide restoration and continuing preservation. At times, they helped to redirect Allied war efforts to better preserve sites, created lists of buildings that should be avoided and worked hard to locate missing works of art. Other times, they would document the damage, or rush in to try and locate a valuable statue that watched the fighting move past. Edsel traces their path through Europe, starting with Operation Overlord, and pushing through France to Paris, to Germany and Berlin between 1944 and 1945. In doing so, the reader is shown a different view of World War II than what has been largely popular: the aftermath of the fighting, when the Monuments Men largely went to work. They would task local villagers to help fix damaged structures, helped with logistical operations, would survey and document hundreds of sites, all with very little support, often with just one soldier in hundreds of square miles.

What has astounded me more, however, was not just the task that these men faced, but that their story has never fully been explored or told, as the ending of the book states. Their story was one that sat in the background, largely taken for granted and lost to the larger picture. It is a shame, because their story is possibly one of the more important, for this was what was at stake when Hitler invaded Poland in 1939. The Nazi government had sought to supplant all creativity by replacing it with their own, hording everything deemed important to the state, with everything that was seen as subversive destroyed by fire. Much was lost forever, and undoubtedly, much is still unknown and lost, waiting in dark shadows to be found once again. The efforts of the Allied forces demonstrates a broadening of thinking beyond just the next objective and enemy soldiers to be killed, and that there was a recognition of the importance of culture and buildings beyond their immediate impact on the battlefield. The battlefield, in a sense, was Europe, and those in danger were those made of paint and bronze, who look back and show us a glimpse into the past, into the minds of the artists who helped to make Europe what it was.

The Forever War and Military Science Fiction

Amongst one of the many books that has come highly recommended to me, especially from my fellow graduate students, was Joe Haldeman's The Forever War. Published in 1974, Haldeman's book is an interesting one, tying together a stiff criticism for the Vietnam War, in which he was a participant and recipient of the Army's Purple Heart, a look at the future of humanity and a romp through futuristic military battlefields. The book is scattered, to say the least, through these three larger themes, and while the book as a whole is a pretty strong one, reading it brought up some larger issues that I have with the whole of the military science fiction subgenre.

Branching off from the 1980s, humanity has taken to the stars fairly early in its history, travelling the galaxy via collapstars, which fires off a ship around the galaxy. During the course of humanity's exploration, they come into contact with a race of aliens known as the Taurans, and inevitably, war breaks out. The story's protagonist, William Mandella, is conscripted into the military, where he's trained and sent off to the distant front lines to fight, eventually becoming part of the first engagement against the Taurans. With that battle completed, he is shipped home, along with his lover, Marygay Potter, to an Earth that they hardly recognize. After a short period of time, they leave again, rejoin the military and rejoin the fight. Over the next several hundred years (only a couple for them, subjectively), they are retrained, and eventually separated, before one last battle brings Mandella back home, where he is eventually reunited with Marygay.

The book is ultimately lackluster as a military science fiction novel: the action scenes are nothing new, and anyone reading Robert Heinlein's Starship Troopers or John Scalzi's Old Man's War will recognize the basics when it comes to this sort of novel - there are powered suits, the requisite training portion and rise of the protagonist, not to mention the action. Taken at face value, it's a bit of a miss for me. The biggest saving grace is Haldeman's conceptualization of space warfare, where tactics take days, weeks, even months to carry out, over hundreds of millions of kilometers. This gives the book a bit of a realistic edge that does make it stand apart from other military Science Fiction novels, something that I greatly appreciated.

However, where the book succeeds the most is in Haldeman's look to the future. As Mandela lives out his life through the military actions that he takes, long stretches of his life are relatively slowed down while travelling through space, allowing for jumps in time as he comes back into contact with Earth and sees just how society has changed over time. Upon his first return, humanity has united on Earth, under a largely repressive, Children of Men style world where human civilization has faced enormous hardship under the interstellar war. Leaving the world as it has changed too much for his liking, William and Marygay return to space, to find several major changes as they continue to jump around space. Eventually, the world as they know it has changed completely - humanity has gone from a recognizable society to one where homosexuality is the norm (as a form of population control) to a world where humanity has essentially merged into one asexual entity, with each generation cloned from the last. Elements of this remind me heavily of another book that I've been recently reading, Olaf Stapledon's The First and Last Men, published in the 1930s, and dealing with much the same thing: looking at how humanity as a species and culture will change in the future. Mandela's vantage point in the military is an interesting story element that allows Haldeman to not only tell an interesting story, but present a compelling future for humanity. Another book that I read last year, George Friedman's The Next 100 Years, noted that society and cultural norms can change vastly over even the period of just one hundred years, and to an extent, that lends Haldeman's and Stapleton's ideas some reality: what will happen to humanity over the next thousand years, with technological and societal advances altering what is normal? It is here that The Forever War is especially interesting.

Another major element of The Forever War is Haldeman's pointed look at the Vietnam War, no doubt inspired by his own experiences with the US Army. The book is considered a reaction to Starship Troopers, in that it takes a largely anti-military stance throughout most of the book. Mandella is a reluctant soldier, at best, often delegating his responsibilities away to subordinates and avoiding killing when he can help it. But throughout the book, there are examples of Vietnam, as humanity faces an enemy that is largely unknown, never knowing exactly what they are fighting for. More so, it is alluded to in the book that the war was fought simply because it was desired, something that was the main focus of a documentary, Why We Fight, that looked to that central theme in regards to American foreign policy. However, the core focus of this book isn't the Vietnam War itself, but the soldiers who fight there. Soldiers returning from Vietnam found themselves back home in a strange place, not as heroes of the war, but as murderers and criminals, something horribly unjust, considering that many were conscripted. This is a prime example of how science fiction should function: acting as allegory for current events, pulled out of context. Mandella returns home after hundreds and hundreds of years away from Earth; vast changes occurred while he was away.

The Vietnam comparison, however, is something that bothers me, and helps to underscore a larger issue that I have with military science fiction as a whole, something that I brought up with my review for Old Man's War: while there is a lot of discussion about the nature of war, there's very little discussion towards the institution of warfare. Tactics are almost always something out of the Second World War, with plenty of hand to hand combat scenes and all that, but there is very little on the overall impact of warfare. Sometimes, it's on the soldiers, other times, on society, but there's very little to bridge the gap. The Forever War does this in part.

Part of my issue comes from my training as a historian, and particularly, in military history. Amongst all of the theorists out there, a number of historians have come up with a number of theories on how warfare works - Clausewitz, Jomini, among others, who have both conflicting and interesting views on the nature of war. I particularly like Clausewitz's analogy that warfare is simply a duel on a larger scale, and that war is an extension of foreign policy. It makes little sense to me that humanity would simply go to war against an alien race, something fairly common in science fiction. Humanity seems to drop everything and take to the stars with lasers and rockets, but the goals of warfare are never clearly stated? Is it, as Clausewitz suggests, an effort to completely bend an enemy to one's will, something incredibly difficult when attacking someone profoundly alien and unknown to humanity, or is it something deeper, such as perceived competition for living space, ensuring that humanity will have space to grow? To date, I've never found a good military science fiction book that's really covered that territory, and at times, the genre makes me want to throw things, simply because warfare doesn't work like that.

Similarly, while powered robotic suits are very cool, the other problem that I have is tactical. Robotic powered armor laden down with guns simply doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, especially when the authors talk much about dropping soldiers onto the planet from orbit in a glorified Omaha Beach scenario, where these soldiers are not only placed into hostile territory, but usually without support: it reminds me very much of airborne doctrine during the Second World War, where highly mobile forces were used to secure areas and wait for heavier things, such as artillery and armor to arrive. It's a good concept, to be sure, but it's deeply flawed in that these soldiers are usually out matched by the occupying force. Science Fiction takes many similar themes, but fails to follow up these sort of tactical options in any way that makes sense. Thus far, the best thing that I've seen was here, The Physics of Space Battles, which talks much about orbits and how that aspect would work, on a tactical level. Haldeman gets some points for interesting scenes and more science to the battles than most, but still misses part of the mark.

Part of that reason might be that The Forever War isn't really a military science fiction book, despite some of the content. In that instance, the book works wonderfully, hitting all of the marks of a fantastic science fiction novel. Still, I enjoy a good romp with powered armor and shooting, so it works fairly well when it comes to that, but not as much as I'd like.

Laura Veirs and the July Flame

Late last year, I wrote about the Decemberists and noted that I wasn't terribly impressed with their opening act, Laura Veirs and the Hall of Flames. I'm prepared to eat my words, especially after doing a little more research on the group as I've listened to Veir's latest album: July Flame.

Here I said she sounded like a newer musician, I couldn't have been more wrong - July Flame is her seventh album, with a music career beginning back in 1999, and also has worked closely with the Decemberists, contributing to their fantastic album The Crane Wife, on the track Yankee Bayonett (I Will Be Home Soon). It comes as no surprise then, that Colin Meloy has come out to announce that this is the best album of 2010.

July Flame is an interesting, but solid album all around. It took a couple of listens to get adjusted to Veirs, but this album soars with excellent lyrics and some very rich background work by the instruments supporting her. What we get is a wispy, elegant effort from a singer/songwriter. Some songs, such as the opening song I Can See Your Tracks, are essentially just a girl and her guitar, along with some Bon Iveresque background lyrics. The title track, July Flame, brings a deeper sound - rather than the girl and her guitar, it feels like Veirs is surrounded by the bass, drunks and electric guitar here, with her lyrics just punching out through the sound.

The rest of the album shifts between these two mentalities somewhat, giving the album a sound that is not necessarily predictable, but shifting. It's far from boring, and provides for quite a few listens to fully take in all the small facets of her sound. In particular, I I've grown to absolutely love Life Is Good Blues, particularly because the sound is so mixed, from singer/songwriter guitar to some chilling background vocals. There are points, such as in the song Make Something Good, where Veirs lets the instruments take over, for a really beautiful piece.

While the album is overall very strong, there's a number of points where I felt that Veirs just needs to be supported by something stronger - her voice is fairly high, elegant, but there are a couple songs, such as When You Give Your Heart, where the addition of bass and background vocals could have been used. For the most part, Veirs is able to avoid any larger trouble by putting these sorts of things in, but in a larger sense, it's hard to think of this album as a solo album, simply because the background work is so essential here. With that in mind, however, July Flame is a superior album - it's well organized, with an incredible sound and feel.

Bernard Schriever and the Ultimate Weapon

In the years following the Second World War, the world changed, with the balance of power fundamentally changing to polarize the world between the United States and the Soviet Union. The United States was virtually untouched by the war, with its infrastructure and industrial base, already booming from supplying the military with hardware, and allowed the United States to establish its power as one of the dominant forces in the world. The Soviet Union, while devastated by the attacks from Germany, with tens of millions of people killed, maintained a large conventional military with the desire to expand its influence. The roots of this conflict had begun much earlier, and throughout the Second World War, this began to rise between the two nations.

It is within this context that we see the dramatic and important rise of Maj. General Bernard Schriever, who helped to implement one of the greatest instruments that the United States could field against the Russians: a deterrent to their nuclear arms, the Intercontinental Ballistic Missile (ICBM), and an organization that could deploy and support this weapons system. Neil Sheehan outlines his story in his recent book A Fiery Peace in a Cold War: Bernard Schriever and the Ultimate Weapon.While Schriever wasn't directly involved in the creation of missiles and the advances that brought them further into the sky, he was an early proponent of the technology, and correctly saw that this had the ability to change warfare by eliminating it. A missile deterrent system allowed for both the rapid delivery of nuclear warheads to any point in the globe, but also allowed for a smaller conventional force, a key element to cutting costs under the Eisenhower administration.

The key in this instance was to take the bombs that had been brought the Second World War to an end, and to expand and plan out their use. With the end of the war, the United States enjoyed an unprecedented control of the skies through the Air Force, a major step forward over the Soviets, who were mired with a massive conventional military. Under General Curtis LeMay, bombers were in the skies at all times, even over Russia, where they were untouchable, in a show of power. What Schriever, proposed, after learning of the technology, was a new style of warfare that was drastically different from what had been implemented before: the threat of warfare and mutually assured destruction.

Schriever's story is interwoven with numerous other Air Force officers and specialists who came together during the 1950s and 1960s to develop a viable delivery system and supporting organization, against all odds. Schreiver and his colleagues had to convince not only their superiors, but members of Congress and ultimately, the President of the United States. Sheehan captures a number of these scenes in vivid and exciting detail, keeping an eye towards history, but also towards keeping the reader riveted to the story that he was telling, from both the laboratories, launch fields and the White House. Numerous notable figures make their appearances throughout: General LeMay, President Eisenhower, Robert McNamara and President Kennedy, demonstrating the vast influence that Schreiver would gain over the course of his career.

For a biography, there is a lot left to be desired: Sheehan steers clear of Schriever's personal life, with few notes until the very end, focusing on his professional achievements. Instead, it's better to look at this book as a look at Schriever and his team, and how they changed the world. Johnny von Neumann, the brilliant physicist who helped create the first atomic bomb, and nuclear strategy, Lt. Col. Edward Hall, the difficult rocket engineer who helped to build some of the most critical systems and solve some of the daunting problems, and numerous others who contributed to the success of the program.

Rather than a biography of Schriever, this is a biography of the ICBM, from the Thor and Atlas IRBMs, eventually to the Titan and the Minuteman Missile. With the story of the development of these weapons, there is the story of the incredible struggle to put them into place, but also how the project grew in momentum to overtake Air Power as the dominant defensive doctrine. Sheehan weaves this story seamlessly over the course of ten years. The book is very well written, capturing numerous small details that ultimately flesh out all of the central figures and how they went about their work, but there are some small problems - Sheehan doesn't footnote (although there is an extensive bibliography) anywhere, and at times, the small details are dropped in favor of the overall story and big picture.

Where many military history books are about something that went wrong, this book tells the story of where almost everything went right. The style of warfare that Schriever and his team introduced predicated on the threat of war, rather than outright hostilities. The mere fact that this book was written is a testament to its success, as the United States and the Soviet Union, both rational international players, never would have gone to nuclear war with one another, despite several close calls. Indeed, Schiever was the right person for the job, and took the right risks and directions in which to take the program, while putting together a team of experts, rather than political and commercial appointees.

A Fiery Peace in a Cold War does more than just tell the story of the ICBM; it provides a detailed insight into the workings of the Cold War, one of the most significant times in United States history. As Sheehan points out at the end of his book, the missiles did more than just expand and hold U.S. power in the world; they prevented war, and brought about incredible advances, such as spaceflight. What Sheehan has put together is an incredible story that captures the people central to it and some of the major events that shaped the middle of the 20th century.

Grace Potter and the New Year

Where the rest of the world has New York City's epic ball drop in Times Square, Vermont has Grace Potter to ring in the new year. It's rapidly becoming an annual event, with several lead-up concerts at the Higher Ground to meet demand, and the overall event has become a highly anticipated run of concerts. I wasn't able to attend the New Year's Eve show, but I was able to attend the second concert on the 27th, with Alberta Cross opening up for the Nocturnals. All in all, I came away from the show pretty disappointed. The Nocturnals sounded great, played a number of newer songs, several covers and re-arranged songs and a bunch of old classics.

The group has been a popular one here on Carry You Away, and I've followed their rather extraordinary rise from small, local group to major-record-label one, and it's been a fun ride to watch. Their last album, This Is Somewhere, was absolutely fantastic, blending modern and classic rock, fantastic songwriting and with an incredible energy throughout their album and their live shows.

This show wasn't bad, it just wasn't what I expected, and it wasn't as good as other shows that I've seen from them. Part of this, I think, is because it was the lead-up to the really good show: New Year's Eve. With additional concerts added on, I have to imagine that the show was a bit toned down (even then, the energy was high), and that some of the really good material was saved for later.

The show that I saw, while good, was scattered. With a new album coming out later this year (from what I know, it's called Medicine), and with a new lineup, changes are to be expected, and some of the results were here - the band is certainly straying into more directions musically, which is very good, but with this concert, the group felt all over the map, from Classic Rock to Jam Band Raegge to Soul and regular rock. I'm interested to hear where they go, but the overall concert felt incoherent, poorly planned out and overall, that affected the entire evening for me. Music such as this is far more than just the musicians - it's their presentation, the quality of their music, how they play it, and how well thought out each concert is.

This leads me to two of Grace's opening acts, Alberta Cross and Josh Ritter, whom I've seen both open for the Nocturnals, and a good example of presentation. Alberta Cross, opening for Grace became a band that I'd rather not see again. I have their latest album, The Thief and the Heartbreaker, and I've liked a couple of the songs, but live, in person, the band seemed lax, sloppy at points and just not all that exciting to watch. On the other hand, when I was Josh Ritter in 2007, and recently again in 2009, they presented a far different appearance - they coordinated dress (and actually didn't go for the grungy rock star look), played a great set of music and clearly looked like they enjoyed themselves and put a bit of thought into what they were doing. This wasn't something that I got a good sense of with Alberta Cross, I'm sorry to say.

Similarly, I have to wonder if this was sort of the same deal with the Nocturnals, coupled with their rapid rise to local and national fame, and leaves me a bit worried for the future of the group. In 2009, the band's bassist Bryan Dondero left the group over creativity issues, leading the band to add on a new bass player Catherine Popper, as well as rhythm guitarist Benny Yurco- with new directions in mind. This sparked some worries that the group is going to be departing far more from what they've done before as they've become a major label band. Fortunately, the concert on the 27th, despite some of the issues that I had with it, seem to show that the group is still churning out good music, abit with a much larger variety of sound.

To be very fair, after listening to the NYE show, there were some improvements over the Saturday show - they were still a bit scattered, but sounded better, with much more energy and with a lot of good material to play. Here's to hoping that they will continue that trend in 2010.

The Game's Afoot: Sherlock Holmes

Guy Ritchie's latest take on the Sherlock Holmes is an incredibly fun ride, but one that takes far more from Ritchie's visual style and storytelling than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's. The end result is around seventy percent Guy Ritchie, ten percent Johnny Depp's Captain Jack, ten percent Hugh Laurie's Gregory House and the remaining 10 percent Conan Doyle. Despite that, Sherlock Holmes is an entertaining, exciting and over the top adventure that fits well within Ritchie's canon of British gangster films.

I've been a fan of the Sherlock Holmes stories for a couple of years now, after coming across Baker Street in London, and shortly thereafter picking up a collection of Holmes short stories at a Tottenham Court Road bookstore. I blew through the stories, both for the mysteries that Holmes picked apart with impeccable logic, as well as the character of Holmes, who's interested me since those first readings. I've never gotten into the other films or other adaptations before, so this new film was a little worrisome until I heard that a) Guy Ritchie was at the director's chair, and b) that Robert Downey Jr. was playing the titular character.

I absolutely loved Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch, as well as Layer Cake (which falls well within the same genre) for their highly entertaining characters, grimy English underworld and fun plots. Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes easily falls within the same sort of world, and could easily be a precursor to the films set in the modern day, and indeed, has a story that both mixes fantasy and reality, but takes a dated story and places a modern-day take on how it's conducted.

In this story, Holmes and Watson are pulled into a mystery that starts rather abruptly with a chase to St. Paul's Cathedral, and continues with the supposed resurrection of a murderer, Lord Blackwood, that sets London into a panic. Holmes and Watson together follow his trail through the city, gathering clues and finding themselves at odds with the government, and at times, each other. Their journey through the city is an entertaining one, with Holmes picking up on small clues, which lead to somewhat larger ones. I have a couple specific issues with the plot, which builds and builds to a largely anti-climatic end that leads neatly to a likely sequel (and sure enough, looking at IMDB, there is a sequel listed), which brings me to my biggest complaint for the film: the entire movie feels built by committee. At points, there's too much action, too many leaps of faith in Holmes's logic, but mainly that the film feels caught between stories. The beginning picks up at the end of a chase, while the end drops off with a number of tantalizing hints of Dr. Moriarty. Even the Irene Adler, supposedly one of Holmes’s greater opponents, is largely reduced to a placement character who almost never demonstrates her wit and intelligence during the story, instead becoming a very dull lead for Holmes to follow along to other aspects of the story. In this regard, there was much to be desired.

Where the film ultimately succeeds, however, is with the characters Holmes and Watson. In this regard, I have a feeling that the film's writers watched quite a bit of the TV show House, MD - a show that bears many similarities in story style and characters - because at points, there were enormous similarities in how the two interacted, one impulsively intelligent, the other, exasperated, following in tow, much like the House/Wilson relationship. I can't help but wonder if Hugh Laurie was vetted for the film, and I can't help but think that it would be an awesome experiment for the show to film a Sherlock Holmes episode. Downey and Law are fantastic as Holmes and Watson, and really sell the film as a pair.

Even then, the real credit goes to Downey Jr.'s Holmes, who was expertly crafted and executed in a very interesting fashion. If memory serves, an idea for the character was that he was somewhat autistic, and with Holmes’s brilliance comes his anti-social personality. This Holmes feels very much at points like the one in Conan Doyle's stories, in the way that he interacts with people and solves his crimes.

Looking at this film in a conceptual manner, it becomes clear that Holmes is the perfect type of character for this sort of story, one where reason comes into conflict with belief, along with science comes into conflict with religion. At the center of this story is a supernatural figure, one who supposedly returns from the dead, intent on taking over Britain through the efforts of a secret society that wields black magic, which in turn throws London into panic, and through several demonstrations, has this society believing that he really can wield an awesome power. On the other side of the equation is Holmes, who uses his impecable logic and reasoning to problems to follow them to their end, dispelling much of the carefully constructed mythos that surrounds Blackwood has put together and saves the day.

In a way, despite the period that the film is set in, this film is a product of the modern era, not only in its production, but in its story as well. A look at any newspaper today will show this sort of conflict of faith vs. reason is commonplace, in US communities and in the global jihadist conflict that puts the Middle East and western styles of civilization into conflict. This film isn't necessarily a commentary on the war on terror by any stretch of the imagination, but it does highlight an interesting point, and one that I think is highly relevant, that matters of faith aren't necessarily what they seem at first glance. This is the case in Blackwood's attempted rise to power with his own devices and manipulations, and it's the same for any campaign that involves faith. In a sense, the film is about thinking over belief, a cause that I can heartily promote and believe in, no pun intended.

The bottom line for Sherlock Holmes is that it's pure fun - there's certainly plenty of action, a number of cool fight scenes, humor and some fantastic visuals, but it has a bit of intelligences lurking below the surface for anyone who knows where to look.