Watch for my upcoming review of Australian director Geoffrey Wright's Macbeth in Yerp Magazine!
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Macbeth - 2007 - Film
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Watch for my upcoming review of Australian director Geoffrey Wright's Macbeth in Yerp Magazine!
Watch for my upcoming review of Australian director Geoffrey Wright's Macbeth in Yerp Magazine!
Ocean's Twelve - 2004 - DVD
Sunday, June 24, 2007
In preparation for Ocean's Thirteen and in utter tardiness to stay up to date on Steven Soderbergh's men-gone-glam trilogy, I was indulgently overjoyed to watch Ocean's Twelve recently. A reiteration of the first Ocean's film, George Clooney remains sexy, Brad Pitt continues to swallow gulps of food between cool sentences--eating has never been so cool--and though this list could continue to describe the rest of the characters, including Matt Damon's freshman gangster tendencies, his eager yearning to talk tough like his un-emasculated compatriots, it will stop here, because you already know these guys. And that is what makes Twelve endlessly entertaining: Clever, debonair men looking great and succeeding because of it.
These next few posts will be a short few sentences in order to catch up quickly on my film notebook. Time is also scarce these days since I began a project as a research assistant to a visiting documentary filmmaker. Her name is Judith Helfand, and you can read all about her here. More on this in the coming days…
In preparation for Ocean's Thirteen and in utter tardiness to stay up to date on Steven Soderbergh's men-gone-glam trilogy, I was indulgently overjoyed to watch Ocean's Twelve recently. A reiteration of the first Ocean's film, George Clooney remains sexy, Brad Pitt continues to swallow gulps of food between cool sentences--eating has never been so cool--and though this list could continue to describe the rest of the characters, including Matt Damon's freshman gangster tendencies, his eager yearning to talk tough like his un-emasculated compatriots, it will stop here, because you already know these guys. And that is what makes Twelve endlessly entertaining: Clever, debonair men looking great and succeeding because of it.These next few posts will be a short few sentences in order to catch up quickly on my film notebook. Time is also scarce these days since I began a project as a research assistant to a visiting documentary filmmaker. Her name is Judith Helfand, and you can read all about her here. More on this in the coming days…
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Pierrepoint: The Last Hangman - 2007 - DVD
Friday, June 22, 2007
Everyone gets caught in a droning routine, even British War era executioners who hang convicted criminals for a living. And you thought your cubicle job was punishing...
Read the whole review in Yerp Magazine!
Everyone gets caught in a droning routine, even British War era executioners who hang convicted criminals for a living. And you thought your cubicle job was punishing...Read the whole review in Yerp Magazine!
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Out 1: Spectre - 1972 - Film
Saturday, June 9, 2007
"I don't get it" is the tip of the iceberg, though I'm not beating myself up for it. Apparently, for the folks who had seen the full 750 minute version of Jacque Rivette's Out 1, the measly 4 1/4 hours of his 1972 Out 1: Spectre was "just blowing by." At least that's what I overheard at the Gene Siskel Film Center during the intermission. Not having seen the former version of the film (and indeed its own separate masterpiece, I am sure) I watched Spectre with bouts of awe, unavoidable weariness, and indulgence.
Mostly I am fascinated by a filmmaker who has the audacity to create a film that's originally 12-and-a-half hours in length, then, not yet giving it up, reforming it into a new piece of art—that is, the 4+ hours I witnessed a few weeks ago. Then, and with just as much pride, the movie nearly filled the theater, making me question what kind of person it takes to willingly subject oneself to hour after hour of images in the dark—passing up meals, sunshine, and necessary bathroom breaks—to watch this filmmaker's 12 or 4-hour creation?
Well, I am one of those spectators, though I don’t have an answer. To describe it best (like any film that, in my opinion, runs over 3 hours) Out 1: Spectre is an experience. It is all at once baffling, beautiful, philosophical, and yes, cathartic. The first couple hours of the film bounce among different sets of characters abruptly; the transitions are raw, making the various groups' connections indecipherable; it's a puzzle. Intermission comes and goes, and according to Rosenbaum a few minutes ahead of schedule, as per the original screening in Paris thirty-five years ago. Though, renewed with caffeine and a good stretch, the latter half of the movie read differently, more relaxed. The characters intermingle, some semblance of a narrative emerges, and you've otherwise become comfortable with the fact that you're not quite sure what's going on, so you just watch.
And therein lies the indulgence. In retrospect the movie is a colorful barrage of movement, acting, speaking; with no defined form it is life emerging from long and short intervals of time. I can't think of anything more delightful that escapes my understanding.
"I don't get it" is the tip of the iceberg, though I'm not beating myself up for it. Apparently, for the folks who had seen the full 750 minute version of Jacque Rivette's Out 1, the measly 4 1/4 hours of his 1972 Out 1: Spectre was "just blowing by." At least that's what I overheard at the Gene Siskel Film Center during the intermission. Not having seen the former version of the film (and indeed its own separate masterpiece, I am sure) I watched Spectre with bouts of awe, unavoidable weariness, and indulgence. Mostly I am fascinated by a filmmaker who has the audacity to create a film that's originally 12-and-a-half hours in length, then, not yet giving it up, reforming it into a new piece of art—that is, the 4+ hours I witnessed a few weeks ago. Then, and with just as much pride, the movie nearly filled the theater, making me question what kind of person it takes to willingly subject oneself to hour after hour of images in the dark—passing up meals, sunshine, and necessary bathroom breaks—to watch this filmmaker's 12 or 4-hour creation?
Well, I am one of those spectators, though I don’t have an answer. To describe it best (like any film that, in my opinion, runs over 3 hours) Out 1: Spectre is an experience. It is all at once baffling, beautiful, philosophical, and yes, cathartic. The first couple hours of the film bounce among different sets of characters abruptly; the transitions are raw, making the various groups' connections indecipherable; it's a puzzle. Intermission comes and goes, and according to Rosenbaum a few minutes ahead of schedule, as per the original screening in Paris thirty-five years ago. Though, renewed with caffeine and a good stretch, the latter half of the movie read differently, more relaxed. The characters intermingle, some semblance of a narrative emerges, and you've otherwise become comfortable with the fact that you're not quite sure what's going on, so you just watch.
And therein lies the indulgence. In retrospect the movie is a colorful barrage of movement, acting, speaking; with no defined form it is life emerging from long and short intervals of time. I can't think of anything more delightful that escapes my understanding.
Knocked Up - 2007 - Film
Friday, June 8, 2007
My 62 year-old dad says he wants to see Knocked Up, so despite its raunchy humor it must be getting some loveable word of mouth. I say this because The Old Man ain't up on the film criticism scene, making himself scarce enough to not even read this very blog! Like the Bundy kids used to say to Al, "Thanks, dad!"
And though I delight in taking loving jabs at my father on a public forum, my point is clear, Knocked Up has even the most unlikely audiences excited to get to the theater. I would expect nothing less from director Judd Apatow and his usual crew of comics. The notoriously nice Steve Carell, who starred in 2005's The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Apatow's first big directorial hit, makes a cameo in Knocked Up starring Seth Rogen. Rogen also had a secondary part in 40-Year-Old, so Apatow's got his own repertoire of actors to rely on. The best thing about the actors (and indeed the characters they play) is their down-to-earth sensibility; these guys really are regular Joes, the fun (not mean) kind who get their kicks poking fun at one another.
Whether or not the film can be termed Pro-Life or not, to me, is irrelevant. It's an issue buzzing about in reviews of Knocked Up, and for good reason: a beautiful young TV personality named Alison (Katherine Heigl) has too many beers with a stoner stranger named Ben (Seth Rogen), they go home together, and a few weeks later (after she has purposely fallen out of touch with him), and as the title bluntly states, Alison realizes she's been "knocked up." Most importantly, she decides not to get an abortion. Her sister Debbie (gleefully played by Leslie Mann) thinks she's crazy for keeping it, and Ben is even more shocked. Neither of them is at the place in their lives where they want a child, or even feel responsible enough. Surely, that's to be said for Ben who doesn't even have a job.
What's interesting about the movie is that it never pleads a case for or against abortion; instead the situation is looked at from a personal perspective. Alison decides that the best thing for her is to keep the baby, never implying judgment on anyone who might make the opposite decision. And very sweetly (and comically), we see two polar opposite characters learn to like one another.
Some of the best moments include comedy regular Paul Rudd, who is looking wonderfully dreamy --just like he did in the slender, clean cut days of Clueless. Take that with a grain of salt, I guess, but his blue eyes are enough to make one swoon (men included; I think he qualifies as a "man crush.") Ryan Seacrest makes a cameo appearance ranting on celeb culture (one brilliantly ironic performance), and the host of roommates Ben stores at home might make you snort with laughter. A personal favorite of the bunch is Martin (Martin Starr), who accepts a challenge not to shave his beard for a year; his friends mock his appearance; hilarity ensues.
Knocked Up is head and shoulders above the rest of the summer movies out now, and will probably a remain a favorite on my top ten for 2007. It's so funny, and so kind that even a conservative sixty-something will like it--right, Dad?
My 62 year-old dad says he wants to see Knocked Up, so despite its raunchy humor it must be getting some loveable word of mouth. I say this because The Old Man ain't up on the film criticism scene, making himself scarce enough to not even read this very blog! Like the Bundy kids used to say to Al, "Thanks, dad!" And though I delight in taking loving jabs at my father on a public forum, my point is clear, Knocked Up has even the most unlikely audiences excited to get to the theater. I would expect nothing less from director Judd Apatow and his usual crew of comics. The notoriously nice Steve Carell, who starred in 2005's The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Apatow's first big directorial hit, makes a cameo in Knocked Up starring Seth Rogen. Rogen also had a secondary part in 40-Year-Old, so Apatow's got his own repertoire of actors to rely on. The best thing about the actors (and indeed the characters they play) is their down-to-earth sensibility; these guys really are regular Joes, the fun (not mean) kind who get their kicks poking fun at one another.
Whether or not the film can be termed Pro-Life or not, to me, is irrelevant. It's an issue buzzing about in reviews of Knocked Up, and for good reason: a beautiful young TV personality named Alison (Katherine Heigl) has too many beers with a stoner stranger named Ben (Seth Rogen), they go home together, and a few weeks later (after she has purposely fallen out of touch with him), and as the title bluntly states, Alison realizes she's been "knocked up." Most importantly, she decides not to get an abortion. Her sister Debbie (gleefully played by Leslie Mann) thinks she's crazy for keeping it, and Ben is even more shocked. Neither of them is at the place in their lives where they want a child, or even feel responsible enough. Surely, that's to be said for Ben who doesn't even have a job.
What's interesting about the movie is that it never pleads a case for or against abortion; instead the situation is looked at from a personal perspective. Alison decides that the best thing for her is to keep the baby, never implying judgment on anyone who might make the opposite decision. And very sweetly (and comically), we see two polar opposite characters learn to like one another.
Some of the best moments include comedy regular Paul Rudd, who is looking wonderfully dreamy --just like he did in the slender, clean cut days of Clueless. Take that with a grain of salt, I guess, but his blue eyes are enough to make one swoon (men included; I think he qualifies as a "man crush.") Ryan Seacrest makes a cameo appearance ranting on celeb culture (one brilliantly ironic performance), and the host of roommates Ben stores at home might make you snort with laughter. A personal favorite of the bunch is Martin (Martin Starr), who accepts a challenge not to shave his beard for a year; his friends mock his appearance; hilarity ensues.
Knocked Up is head and shoulders above the rest of the summer movies out now, and will probably a remain a favorite on my top ten for 2007. It's so funny, and so kind that even a conservative sixty-something will like it--right, Dad?
Mean Girls - 2004 - TV Broadcast
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Tina Fey's Mean Girls really hits home, and not only because it takes place in Chicago--nor because of Tim Meadows' shout-out to the Chi-Town 'hood, when as the principal of a posh North-side school he openly declares in a rioting hallway full of teenagers, "Hell no, I did not leave the South Side for this!" Though all of that helps.
I have both substantial and superficial reasons for loving this film, and in the latter category falls Lindsay Lohan in her sweeter and more full-figured years--the ones before the embarrassing splashes across Us Weekly and sad stints in rehab. Lohan is a lovely actor, and without qualifying that statement further, it's visible in her performance here. Sadly, she's more associated these days with the starlets who aren't famous for much more than sporting Marc Jacobs and Martinis at midnight. But I've got my fingers crossed for a change in that. She's barely twenty-one, so there's plenty of time to pick herself up.
I was also excited about Tim Meadows, the perma-face around the SNL studios for a lot of years. He plays the high school principal, as I mentioned before, and is his usual self, which I think is usually funny. He's single, emasculated, and in love with Tina Fey's character. That's enough for me.
On the more substantive end, Mean Girls is a just a really smart teen movie. Tina Fey wrote the female characters in particular with a lot of heart, and even more snark. The girls' sense of humor keeps them real, like a reality check against the melodramatic inclinations to which they are inevitably prone. A good example is when Cady (Lindsay Lohan), the new girl who's been betrayed by her plasticky pal Regina (Rachel McAdams), imagines Regina's been struck and killed by the school bus. At the moment the two bicker in the middle of a crosswalk the bus hits Regina; cut to Cady, "and that's how Regina died," she says, only to have that dramatic fantasy broken by her comic voice of reality that she is not.
And because Regina doesn't die it means she's got to stick around to resolve her bitchiness with Cady (and the rest of the school.) It proves that the girls are reasonable beings, and that they have the capacity to direct their lives in a progressive manner. I think of Mean Girls as a salute to Clueless, only with far fewer cultural references, and a whole lot more intellect.
Tina Fey's Mean Girls really hits home, and not only because it takes place in Chicago--nor because of Tim Meadows' shout-out to the Chi-Town 'hood, when as the principal of a posh North-side school he openly declares in a rioting hallway full of teenagers, "Hell no, I did not leave the South Side for this!" Though all of that helps.I have both substantial and superficial reasons for loving this film, and in the latter category falls Lindsay Lohan in her sweeter and more full-figured years--the ones before the embarrassing splashes across Us Weekly and sad stints in rehab. Lohan is a lovely actor, and without qualifying that statement further, it's visible in her performance here. Sadly, she's more associated these days with the starlets who aren't famous for much more than sporting Marc Jacobs and Martinis at midnight. But I've got my fingers crossed for a change in that. She's barely twenty-one, so there's plenty of time to pick herself up.
I was also excited about Tim Meadows, the perma-face around the SNL studios for a lot of years. He plays the high school principal, as I mentioned before, and is his usual self, which I think is usually funny. He's single, emasculated, and in love with Tina Fey's character. That's enough for me.
On the more substantive end, Mean Girls is a just a really smart teen movie. Tina Fey wrote the female characters in particular with a lot of heart, and even more snark. The girls' sense of humor keeps them real, like a reality check against the melodramatic inclinations to which they are inevitably prone. A good example is when Cady (Lindsay Lohan), the new girl who's been betrayed by her plasticky pal Regina (Rachel McAdams), imagines Regina's been struck and killed by the school bus. At the moment the two bicker in the middle of a crosswalk the bus hits Regina; cut to Cady, "and that's how Regina died," she says, only to have that dramatic fantasy broken by her comic voice of reality that she is not.
And because Regina doesn't die it means she's got to stick around to resolve her bitchiness with Cady (and the rest of the school.) It proves that the girls are reasonable beings, and that they have the capacity to direct their lives in a progressive manner. I think of Mean Girls as a salute to Clueless, only with far fewer cultural references, and a whole lot more intellect.
The Godfather - 1972 - DVD
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Watching The Godfather again for the first time in ages, the performances stood out the most, and headed by the inimitable Marlon Brando the quality of acting is undoubtedly one of the film's greatest assets.
Before this, the moments I remembered most are the most popular ones: the severed horse head in Jack Woltz's (John Marley) bed sheets; the scattered, jubilant pedestrians in the opening wedding sequence--a scene of sun-bleached color, a dingy happiness that transitions us effortlessly into the shadowy enclave of Don Corleone; and the wide, shiny whites of Michael Corleone's (Al Pacino) preying eyes. These were moments taken out of time that don't convey that certain emotional intensity The Godfather embodies.
This time I was enraptured by the out-right fearlessness of the newly-weds Connie (Talia Shire) and Carlo (Gianni Russo) in their veritable crime scene of abuse; she, beaten emotionally by his vindictive neglect, tears through the apartment smashing china and glass in a stream of hysterical tears. The scene continues, and we watch them matter-of-factly like a fly on the wall, through the circular path of long shots around the room. Suddenly in a state of disquietude we're alone in the room, on the other side of the door where Connie is beat by her husband's belt. The sound of her shrieks made me physically shake.
Yet none of this holds a light to Brando. Labeled box office poison by the 1970s, I heard a rumor that Brando's lines in the garden sequence were written in big block letters across a billboard. The story goes that he refused to learn his part and insisted on cue cards, apparently of a larger sort in this instance. So I had that in mind, and admittedly looked for his wandering eyes as I watched the scene, but I didn't know the difference. I couldn't be bothered as he sat in conversation with Michael and his grandson, for with so little self-consciousness, and so steeped in obliviousness, Marlon simply was Vito; an ephemeral moment of a man.
The Godfather just doesn't get old. My sister gave me the 3-disk DVD set for Christmas last year, and it's only now that I took time out to rewatch the series. It had been years since I last watched, and though I hadn't forgotten the story, the alternately serene and gory images, the warm, gristly hum of Brando's voice--despite all of that, it was like watching it for the first time. I've always said in casual debates that The Godfather: Part II is my favorite and the best of the series, due in prime to the frightening effect of anti-hero Michael Corleone's downfall. The intensity of his cruelty and unwieldy power always seemed more intriguing than his tiptoe to the top in Part I. But after seeing Brando, especially in that final garden scene, the quiet last moments before his death, I can hardly make an argument for Part II.
(Stay tuned: I anticipate contradicting myself in my notes on Part II after I see it this week!)
Watching The Godfather again for the first time in ages, the performances stood out the most, and headed by the inimitable Marlon Brando the quality of acting is undoubtedly one of the film's greatest assets.Before this, the moments I remembered most are the most popular ones: the severed horse head in Jack Woltz's (John Marley) bed sheets; the scattered, jubilant pedestrians in the opening wedding sequence--a scene of sun-bleached color, a dingy happiness that transitions us effortlessly into the shadowy enclave of Don Corleone; and the wide, shiny whites of Michael Corleone's (Al Pacino) preying eyes. These were moments taken out of time that don't convey that certain emotional intensity The Godfather embodies.
This time I was enraptured by the out-right fearlessness of the newly-weds Connie (Talia Shire) and Carlo (Gianni Russo) in their veritable crime scene of abuse; she, beaten emotionally by his vindictive neglect, tears through the apartment smashing china and glass in a stream of hysterical tears. The scene continues, and we watch them matter-of-factly like a fly on the wall, through the circular path of long shots around the room. Suddenly in a state of disquietude we're alone in the room, on the other side of the door where Connie is beat by her husband's belt. The sound of her shrieks made me physically shake.
Yet none of this holds a light to Brando. Labeled box office poison by the 1970s, I heard a rumor that Brando's lines in the garden sequence were written in big block letters across a billboard. The story goes that he refused to learn his part and insisted on cue cards, apparently of a larger sort in this instance. So I had that in mind, and admittedly looked for his wandering eyes as I watched the scene, but I didn't know the difference. I couldn't be bothered as he sat in conversation with Michael and his grandson, for with so little self-consciousness, and so steeped in obliviousness, Marlon simply was Vito; an ephemeral moment of a man.
The Godfather just doesn't get old. My sister gave me the 3-disk DVD set for Christmas last year, and it's only now that I took time out to rewatch the series. It had been years since I last watched, and though I hadn't forgotten the story, the alternately serene and gory images, the warm, gristly hum of Brando's voice--despite all of that, it was like watching it for the first time. I've always said in casual debates that The Godfather: Part II is my favorite and the best of the series, due in prime to the frightening effect of anti-hero Michael Corleone's downfall. The intensity of his cruelty and unwieldy power always seemed more intriguing than his tiptoe to the top in Part I. But after seeing Brando, especially in that final garden scene, the quiet last moments before his death, I can hardly make an argument for Part II.
(Stay tuned: I anticipate contradicting myself in my notes on Part II after I see it this week!)
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Space Cowboys - 2000 - DVD
Sunday, June 3, 2007
I'm a huge Clint Eastwood fan, but this movie was a ghastly rehash of screenwriting 101 rules, making it impossible to take seriously. Besides a few notes on the film's form technically (one lighting sequence in the garage is particularly eerie near the beginning), the playing out of the story's events and dialogue became laughable, and much to my dismay.
A friend told me earlier that he admires Space Cowboys as "autobiographical cinema" of Eastwood entering the late years of his life. This I agree with, mostly because that fact is hammered over our head from the film's opening flashback scene. The sentiment is awkward enough to swallow, but by the time Eastwood and his three buddies get rocket launched into space I'm ready to seal up the Netflix envelope. For me, the story was a long string of implausibilities that with a lot more subtlety (e.g. Million Dollar Baby) could have been an endearing and profound story about a man coming to terms with his own mortality.
I'm a huge Clint Eastwood fan, but this movie was a ghastly rehash of screenwriting 101 rules, making it impossible to take seriously. Besides a few notes on the film's form technically (one lighting sequence in the garage is particularly eerie near the beginning), the playing out of the story's events and dialogue became laughable, and much to my dismay. A friend told me earlier that he admires Space Cowboys as "autobiographical cinema" of Eastwood entering the late years of his life. This I agree with, mostly because that fact is hammered over our head from the film's opening flashback scene. The sentiment is awkward enough to swallow, but by the time Eastwood and his three buddies get rocket launched into space I'm ready to seal up the Netflix envelope. For me, the story was a long string of implausibilities that with a lot more subtlety (e.g. Million Dollar Baby) could have been an endearing and profound story about a man coming to terms with his own mortality.
Friday, June 1, 2007
naturally a museum
well my new... strangely... normal life goes on...
considering ALL the trials and tribulations i've gone through since my being fired at the tyrrell up till my meeting the governments immigration criteria it's hard to get used to this stable existence i'm enjoying at moment...
i'm almost getting paranoid to be honest that something dramatic will happen, but fortunately there's enough going on to keep my mind off things...
giant albatrosses...
then the biggest shock of all... a display on modern extinctions at the end...
now i ranted about typical museum extinction exhibits when i explored the first half of this hall a month ago... but that was about prehistoric extinctions, and to be specific their almost always about us dinosaurs...
this was a display about the plights of current species in new zealand, and how many of the amazing local animals are endangered. most of it due to humans bringing critters they weren't supposed to over here and letting them run loose...
considering ALL the trials and tribulations i've gone through since my being fired at the tyrrell up till my meeting the governments immigration criteria it's hard to get used to this stable existence i'm enjoying at moment...
i'm almost getting paranoid to be honest that something dramatic will happen, but fortunately there's enough going on to keep my mind off things...
the main distraction is of course work... and as security guard of the otago museum i've always got securing to do.
having been on the job nearly three whole months i've totally got my technique and procedure for guarding down to a science. standing in the very open lobby (as you can see here in the pic above) i have an outstanding view of all the entrances to the museum itself and its galleries too.
of course last month you'll recall that my boss ms. rhonwyn told me i had to shake up this guarding strategy by taking sometime each shift to explore the insides and displays of the museum.
however to be a little frank people of the innerweb i haven't been as diligent in this task as i should be...
you see ms. rhonwyn has been out of the country for the last month touring other museums for... well come to think of it she never told me why... uh some reason or another...
however while on duty here tonight i got a call from her that made me realize that i'd forgotten this explore the otago museum assignment...
from her current stop over at the museum of tasmania, in australia, while looking at the impressive specimen of muttaburrasaurus ms. rhonwyn was reminded of me, and so decided to check up on me...
she was a little disappointed to find out i hadn't been wandering the museum... in my defense i just wanted to make sure i was doing a REALLY good job of guarding while she was gone so that i wouldn't let anyone down.
however having made ms. rhonwyn unhappy with me i headed right off to finish off the natural history gallery...
its got some cool stuff i must say
giants crabs...
giant albatrosses...
all kinds of other cool birds and animals
uh "surprisingly" for a natural history gallery even MORE animals and plants...
then the biggest shock of all... a display on modern extinctions at the end... now i ranted about typical museum extinction exhibits when i explored the first half of this hall a month ago... but that was about prehistoric extinctions, and to be specific their almost always about us dinosaurs...
this was a display about the plights of current species in new zealand, and how many of the amazing local animals are endangered. most of it due to humans bringing critters they weren't supposed to over here and letting them run loose...
having read the signs on here about these invading species i now can understand why bio-security and the department of conservation were SO difficult on my immigrating here to new zealand... in theory i could do a lot of damage here... just like these other visiting animals...
that's a scary thought. i'm going to have to go and reexamine my lifestyle and REALLY make sure it follows my conservation directives
okay well that's one gallery of 6 down... only 5 more to go before ms. rhonwyn returns in a... WEEK!!!... oh man... got go people of the innerweb... keep you posted though!
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