Freelance Lifestyle: The First Month

Has it ever occurred to you where a flurry of things unfold over the course of a few weeks that change everything for the better, but still leave you reeling in the aftermath wondering exactly what happened?

As I approach the end of September, my first full month as a paid freelancer, that dizzying sensation is slowly giving way to a strange awed stupor. It has been exciting, of course, starting with the chance to become a publishing intern for Powerful Films & Books/Powerful English—and then moving on to transcribe audio files for National Capitol Contracting among other projects, but I have already learned some valuable lessons from these experiences:

1. Social networking and connections are everything: Having strong skills in whatever field you decide to freelance is important, but knowing people who are already experts or have experience with it helps to get your foot in the door as well. They can advise you, help give you a heads-up on job opportunities, and provide other opportunities to build your reputation as a professional.
2. Patience and Persistence are must-have traits: Being a freelancer means constantly searching for work and assignments from a variety of job sites like Elance, Guru.com, and Freelance Writing Jobs.com. Not every client will write back or agree on the price you suggest (because many ask you to give them a quote), but if you continue sending in requests for information or applications, someone is bound to answer back. Strangely, in this first month, I’ve had more responses from clients and possible clients than I ever did from the tons of applications I submitted to regular businesses or companies for 9-to-5 jobs (they were impersonal in that way).
3. Have an impressive resume: When responding to a freelance job posting, it is wise to send a strong resume along with your initial email to better your chances of the client answering back. The less the person who posted the assignment has to guess at your qualifications, the faster he/she will respond or be able to negotiable a price and tell you more about the position.
4. Have a safe way to bank or retrieve funds from on-line: Sites such as Elance or Guru.com depend on you as a freelancer having a way to retrieve what you make by direct deposit into your bank account, or by Paypal, or by a similar system. You can arrange for Elance to send the funds by money order or check, but that takes much longer than the methods I just mentioned.
5. Surviving on a Freelance Lifestyle Takes Time: Even when you know what to do, it still takes a while to become a freelancer capable of surviving from month to month on what you receive from doing these types of assignments. Thankfully, I have been blessed with a supportive family who understands how difficult it is to find a regular job in this economy with our limited mobility— and who encourages me on whatever career opportunity I decide to embark.

 

These are only a few of the lessons I have discovered so far. I know there are many more, especially related to the types of assignments that are available. Each one helps to give you the confidence needed to try bigger and bigger projects, and it sometimes it feels like making a selection at an all-you-can-eat buffet. I cannot wait to taste all those different flavors, because I definitely have enjoyed the ones I have savored so far.

Emerging From the Hills

The past few months I’ve been neglecting this blog, along with the old movie reviews and memoir pieces. I kind of withdrew into the hills for a while—not due to any personal grudges or laziness, really—but because one project after another has popped up and occupied my attention.

 

It started by getting an internship with the recently founded self-publisher, Powerful Films & Books/Powerful English. Someone decided to give me a chance for the first time since my graduation from college, so I threw myself into it wholeheartedly. I would approach talented writers and ask if they would like to publish their manuscripts for free—gaining many writing friends and reading some interesting pieces as a result.

 

Combing through websites that listed freelance writing positions, I also managed to apply for the opportunity to become a transcriber for the NCC, a government contractor. The work for them has been so informative.

 

Then my supervisor and friend from PFB became something of a freelance writing mentor for me, giving advice on where to look for assignments (such as Elance, etc.). I even took on an editing assignment recently, and that is fun.

 

So my writing career has started to take off, and things are falling into place at last.

 

 

Unfortunately, though, other dreams will take a little longer to complete. San Jose State University, the graduate school through which I would have taken my courses towards a MLIS degree, failed to offer me any of the numerous scholarships or grants I applied for under the pretext of me being a “special-session” student. This essentially means anyone forced to take on-line courses at their school needs to pay their own way, with each unit costing over $400.

 

This will take a while—perhaps I should try another university…

 

 

Anyway, besides the above rambling monologue, I have some new plans for this blog—which will still include posting poetry, memoirs, short stories, or other writing pieces as time allows. But there will now also be a larger number of entries with freelance writing tips, good sites to visit for finding assignments, and even articles on newer movies or perhaps games to check out.

 

 

Tada ima! (I’m back!) ^__^

Forgotten Television: The Last Unicorn

Producer: Rankin & Bass

Based on the story by: Peter S. Beagle

Aired: 1982

Running Time: 93 Minutes

Peter S. Beagle’s tale about a unicorn desperate to find others of her kind was among the last projects Arthur Rankin & Jules Bass took on together, when their production team was at its height. Like several other films they made, such as Flight of Dragons or The Hobbit, The Last Unicorn took place in a mystical landscape where creatures—including harpies or manticores—were true threats to its inhabitants. They brought that fantasy world to life, while themes like conflicts between Faith/Magic & Reason/Science or the loss of innocence flowed beneath the surface.

Story

The Last Unicorn opens in an unnamed forest somewhere far away from human civilization, and with two hunters who comment on their inability to find game. The eldest declares this to be the doing of a unicorn that must live in the woods, while the younger discounts the belief as a superstition or absurd fancy. In either case, they leave for other places after the former warns aloud for the unseen unicorn to remain hidden, since she is probably the last of her species left. Needless to say, the unicorn does hear the hunter’s words, and from then on questions if what the man said was truth—finally resolving to journey and find other unicorns to prove him wrong. She is further spurred on this quest by a wayward butterfly who tells her a horrible fiery beast called “The Red Bull” has driven them into the sea, where he holds them captive.

So the unicorn begins her travels, soon learning from her first encounters with human beings that most cannot see her for what/who she really is—because they expect to see things as ordinary or non-mystical, and so can no longer see magical creatures. An old witch named “Mommy Fortuna,” who takes advantage of this fact to weave illusions around normal animals to make them appear as marvelous beasts to the people visiting her traveling carnival. Mommy Fortuna knows the unicorn for who she is, but she wants to keep anything extraordinary she finds for her own purposes. And the unicorn discovers she has a harpy, thirsty for revenge, caged as well.

It is here she meets the magician Schmendrick, who tells her: “It is a rare man that is taken for who he truly is” (once more emphasizing the identity theme) and uses his magic to release her. Together they escape into the wilderness, traveling towards a distant castle where Schmendrick has heard the Red Bull resides. Along the way, they run into several misadventures and meet Molly, an older woman who longed for a unicorn to come to her since she was a young girl. As they near the castle, though, their path becomes more dangerous, and they encounter the Red Bull. 

The Red Bull attempts to drive the unicorn into the sea as he did the other unicorns, but Schmendrick decides to use his magic and winds up changing her into a human girl. This causes much conflict, since while she is safe from the Red Bull, the former unicorn must cope with emotions she never knew before and the concept of human mortality. But there is no choice except to continue, with the unicorn now taking on the name of the “Lady Amalthea.”

They eventually reach the castle, which belongs to the tyrant King Haggard. And Schmendrick works to become the new court magician, so they can stay long enough to find out how they might free the other unicorns. Yet Lady Amalthea has become lost as a newly born woman, and as time passes her life as a unicorn gradually begins to disappear in her mind. It is a worry that she might soon turn human altogether, and refuse to change back into a unicorn—because she has also attracted the eye of King Haggard’s “adopted” son, Prince Lir.

The prince falls deeply in love with the Lady Amalthea, and proclaims he would gladly give his life for hers.

This becomes all-to-true towards the end, as Schmendrick and Molly learn how they might thwart the Red Bull, and King Haggards begins to suspect the true identity of his guests. Tensions rise and the action escalates as Schmendrick manages to change the Lady Amalthea back into a unicorn, and Prince Lir faces the Red Bull to protect her from him—falling during their battle.

Finding her strength from this show of courage, the unicorn takes on the Red Bull and drives the monster into the sea. In exchange, her fellow unicorns run to freedom and once again flow into the world. The castle in which King Haggard lived falls into the sea, along with the cruel ruler. And the unicorn, the first to ever feel “regret” uses her magic to bring Prince Lir back to life.

So The Last Unicorn ends, with the unicorns freed and Schmedrick and Molly as a couple.        

Analysis

The Last Unicorn can come across as a simple fairy tale, but it bears some very deep themes. For one, you have an immortal creature dealing with an issue upon which anyone can connect: isolation, and the need to find others who are similar to yourself. Even Beagle mentions in his work that unicorns are supposed to be singular entities, who do not often spend time in each other’s company—and this unicorn is like her brothers or sisters in this attitude as well. But she still seeks them out when she learns they may all be gone. So it is more the thought the unicorn was not really lonely because she knew that if she wanted, she might find them easily. When that option disappeared, the unicorn became frantic to find her kind.

That happens with people too, which allows us to identify with a character who at first seems so much different than us as viewers or readers. But it is also because of her innate nature that the unicorn is actually quite an innocent character despite her great age. She has never been beyond her forest, essentially an Eden in terms of his film, and upon leaving she encounters a wide variety of mindsets, beliefs, and people struggling with what constitutes true power or happiness. Mommy Fortuna loves to swindle people out of their money by casting illusions over feeble animals, yet at the same time she also wants to prove her strength by holding onto the harpy and the unicorn. Schmendrick is immortal but worn because he cannot use the magic art he loves properly or change like the people and world around him. Molly bemoans the innocence she had as a young maiden, and she keeps looking back at how she once was. King Haggard uses the Red Bull and the terror he strikes in his subjects’ hearts to capture the unicorn race, because he wants their beauty for his own—but he grows withered and angry because he cannot grasp what makes them beautiful, or feel happy even though he possesses them. Prince Lir loves and wants a young woman he can never wed.

Then you have the unicorn losing her innocence through the course of the story, becoming human at one point and being forever changed by the experience. With her alteration in viewpoint, the unicorn is able to truly love another as she could never have loved in her other form. She gains a multitude of things that seem painful, like feeling regret or loss—but the fact the unicorn can feel these is actually a strength. She now has the ability to understand what it feels like to be another person, and so becomes able to fight against the oppressive Red Bull, free her people, and bring life back to Prince Lir.

The multiple layers The Last Unicorn presents the question of whether it is better to remain innocent of the terrors the exist in the world, or to travel outside that Eden (of sorts) and experience the trials and challenges that await us there. To this the tale suggests the latter as the best method, because there are joys mixed with that pain, and by the end we gain valuable insights and a strength we couldn’t have had otherwise.

This is what Rankin-Bass and Peter S. Beagle have given to us with this tale.

The Film Versus the Book

As with any movies based on books, there were various subtle differences between the film of The Last Unicorn, and Peter S. Beagle’s classic children’s tale. Here are two big ones:

1)      Beagle’s wizard Schmendrick is more philosophical than his Rankin-Bass counterpart, once making the comment how anything is beautiful that cannot last forever. He also has a darker background. Unlike other magicians, his magic works in reverse, and this means he will never age until he becomes a master at using his craft. By the end of the story, he has turned into an accomplished wizard and has started to grow old.

2)      King Haggard details how he came to adopt Prince Lir, which in the book was not so much an adoption as enslavement. He mentions stealing Lir as a baby, after terrorizing the towns throughout the countryside. The pact King Haggard has with the Red Bull is also akin to what similar characters have made with demons. So the crumbling cliff that tore King Haggard’s castle down towards the end was most likely used as retribution.

Other Notes:

·        According to the author’s notes on the 25^th anniversary DVD edition of The Last Unicorn, Beagle’s original story involved a much different group of people—including a dragon bitter over a driving ticket—in a contemporary setting. He had written several hundred pages before the idea of following a unicorn on a simple foot, or “hoof” journey occurred to him. Hundreds of pages later, The Last Unicorn was born.

·        The band that provided most of the music for the film was America, whose song “The Last Unicorn,” gained such popularity a number of other musicians made their own versions. Kenny Loggins, for instance, sang this hit on his CD Return to Pooh Corner, meant for soft/nighttime listening.

 

Forgotten Television: Lilo & Stitch: The Series

When Lilo & Stitch appeared, the film carried along with it the promise of being a fun new animation classic to join the Disney studio archives—a little before Pixar became well known for producing the family-oriented movies that had characterized Walt Disney’s works throughout the 20^th century.

Chris Sanders, also the head writer for the Lilo & Stitch project, voiced a blue fluffy alien named Stitch we got introduced to as he messed with the trailers for other Disney films.

Though breaking the fourth-wall was absent from the actual movie, what we had in Lilo & Stitch was a straightforward tale about people (including the “aliens”) trying to adjust to the loss of loved ones and pulling together into a family. Set in Hawaii (an exotic and refreshing location for Disney), it was easy to become lost in the fairytale wonder of its environments and cultural references. Sure there were also big spaceships and gun-toting aliens, but the full story for this is best watched.

No.

This review is about the series that popped up after Lilo & Stitch came out on video/DVD, along with plans to make a sequel to the first film. And this was an interesting aspect to the whole thing. The idea was accompanied by several film spin-offs (Stitch has a Glitch, etc.) around the same period, without allowing us to digest each component.

It was in this way that Stitch: The Movie premiered less than a year after its predecessor—giving us a movie not nearly as well animated and designed solely to launch the series. The plot had Stitch searching for the capsules containing the 624 other experiments his creator, Evil Scientist Jumba, had apparently made and forgotten to mention (Stitch being Experiment 626). They also had to face Jumba’s past partner, Dr. Hamsterviel (a gerbi), who wanted to seize the experiments and use them to “take over the universe.” During one space battle, the capsules happened to fall from their spaceship and spiraled down (conveniently) upon Hawaii.

Then Lilo and Stitch declared they must take it upon themselves to capture each of the “evil” experiments, and turn them from “bad to good.”

So begins the series that featured one of Stitch’s “cousins” (as they called them) each episode. Although I personally enjoyed this show as a young girl, there were some fundamental problems with it—such as the vague line between what they considered “bad” and “good,” and the “catch ‘em all” concept. At the same time as this series aired on the Disney channel, shows like Pokémon, Digimon, and Yu-gi-oh! were still big fads. They each stressed for children to collect creatures through games or cards, with the companies putting them on profiting from this arrangement.

The animated series for Lilo & Stitch came off as an imitation of the before-mentioned franchises, in other words. Though to its credit, Disney never really pushed for children to physically collect Stitch’s cousins, beyond watching Lilo do it on television. And some of Stitch’s cousins were interesting to see, especially the sandwich-eating 625 (voiced by Rob Paulsen) who stayed with Gantu (employed to capture the experiments for Dr. Hamsterviel). He became the heckler character, and he remained neutral in the struggle for Lilo & Stitch to find the other experiments.

The show ended with yet another movie, called Leroy & Stitch. In this installment, Lilo and Stitch have captured all the experiments (and put them into different occupations across Hawaii), and the characters once again have to stop Dr. Hamsterviel—who has created another experiment he calls “Leroy” (resembling a red Stitch) to seize the experiments. Lilo winds up recruiting 625 to help Stitch against Dr. Hamsterviel, and by the finish everyone is once more happy and at peace.

Thinking back, what is also a little disappointing about the series is it sent a completely different message than the main Lilo & Stitch film—and we did not actually witness much character development despite their progress collecting the experiments. You might have Lilo’s older sister, Nani, hint at their parents (lost tragically in a car accident) but nothing more. Everything is kept upbeat and one-dimensional.

Regardless of the many movies or shows attempting to raise Lilo and Stitch into a commanding position in pop culture, it kind of disappeared when the television series ended.

But then, Stitch tried to lunge into the spotlight yet again.

In 2010, the Disney Company announced the new series Stitch!—a series produced in Japan, and thus an anime.

Would the Japanese writers working at Tokyo Disney be able to create an entertaining show, where Lilo & Stitch: The Series had left us only a small impression?

The answer is yes.

They grabbed this concept and created a well-rounded show. Taking place over twenty years after the other series ended, the show starts with Stitch leaving Hawaii in his space ship because Lilo has long since left for college and he feels abandoned. Jumba follows him, and they both get sucked into a portal into another dimension—where they land somewhere in Japan and become separated. But this is indeed a magical place, filled with nature spirits and other creatures from Japanese legends.

Here Stitch meets Yuna, a young girl who runs the local dojo and eventually takes Stitch as her pupil. Yuna lives with her grandmother, but she secretly longs to see her father, who works overseas. She lost her mother in a huge flood, and as the show goes on, you really do get to see her struggle with not being able to remember her mother’s face—and how distant she feels from her father. She is strong-willed and takes care of Stitch, teaching him about different cultural festivals and the etiquette used in Japan.

Even Stitch’s “cousins” take on a different role. Despite being in another dimension, Jumba is able to make a device for Stitch to call in the other experiments for help in times of need. Unlike their English counterparts, these versions tend to speak fluent Japanese (rather than simply say their name or make a noise, as in the other series). There are also a host of human side characters who are developed and interesting in their own right, making this more about a bunch of friends learning to live healthy lives than anything else—along with introducing kids to the native folklore.

With all this said, the two series are drastically different. I would recommend watching Stitch!, which has been dubbed into English since its release and is great to watch if you enjoyed the first movie (or if you just want to learn about Japanese mythology in a new way).

Forgotten Television: Peter and the Magic Egg

This review got posted a little too late for Easter, but that is exactly what Peter and the Magic Egg revolves around. Coming from the same people who sold the egg-dying kits for children (PAWS; do you remember them?), the half-hour special sought to bring a little personality to the characters featured on their product covers: a rabbit, lamb, duck, and turtle.

As shows went, Peter and the Magic Egg was odd--but it came during the classic Rankin-Bass films that gave mostly secular explanations to major holidays like Christmas or Easter.

The story takes place on a farm in the countryside, with characters embodying a stereotypical view of amish community. This is made only a little more tragic by the fact the writers warped the language of the farmers. But moving on--the wife and husband are in dire traits because a neighboring farmer named Tobias Tinwhiskers received a mechanical tractor with some inheritance money and used his profits to control the valley where he lived. He owns everything, and nothing pleases him more than teasing other people with his wealth.
So these two farmers ask for help, and a fey woman who is either Titania or Artemis leaves her child (Peter Paws) in their chicken coop.

Peter Paws grows one year per month and uses his magical abilities to help the farmers earn enough money to keep their farm--and to make the farm animals talk and walk like people (another strange feature). They even arrange what is known as the "egg contract" to give eggs to the Easter Rabbit (portrayed as a powerful spirit) in exchange for their monthly land payment.

But eventually, Tinwhiskers grows tired of Peter Paws denying him the satisfaction of watching the farmers suffer, so he carries out a plot that results in Peter Paws falling down a long well.

Peter Paws is alive when they get him out, but lost in a deep coma.

The talking animals go to Titania/Artemis and ask what they can do to awaken Peter, and rather than do it herself (she must have the power), she gives them an egg to hatch and tells them that whatever comes out will cure Peter.

So the animals do just that, and when the egg cracks a stand-up comedian parrot appears--and it turns out that laughter was the only thing that could wake up Peter. Somehow, this also makes Tinwhiskers laugh so much,  he reforms and gives back everyone's farms.

That is pretty much it.

Forgotten Television: Timon & Pumbaa

When The Lion King appeared over twenty years ago, the film easily became one of the best-animated classics—and for many it acted as an introduction into the Disney magic people had already come to love. As inspired by Shakespeare’s Hamlet, here was the coming-of-age tale of a prince gaining the courage to face his murderous uncle, to avenge his father and rise to his rightful place as ruler.

Added to this well-told story was a memorable score by Elton John & Tim Rice, as well as the first CGI animation the Disney Studios used for a feature-length movie.

And though the hero Simba achieved much acclaim in his Hamlet role, the characters set as Rosencrantz & Guildenstern fared even better. At points, Timon and Pumbaa literally stole the show, with their jokes and wise cracks. Also, they coined a whole new phase with “Hakuna Matata”—which despite its foreign origins is now known by most people throughout the world.

In fact, their popularity grew so great the Disney Channel dedicated a show to Timon & Pumbaa called simply: Timon & Pumbaa.

I must say that as a kid this held the charm most cartoons on the Disney Channel at the time did: they gave more of the characters we enjoyed from the classic Disney films. The voice actors were usually different but believable, and even if the characters were placed in different circumstances there was still a good flow to the style.

Viewing the show as an adult, though, some interesting features stick out about Timon & Pumbaa. They are not necessarily bad, but they are very noticeable when spotlighted.

For one thing, The Lion King took place in Africa with Timon and Pumbaa simply trying to live, as you would expect from the animals there—gathering food and protecting themselves from predators. That was the range of their knowledge in the film.

In Timon & Pumbaa, these characters are world travelers in the way only cartoon characters can be. An episode might open with them arriving in New York, or skydiving—much different from their capabilities in the movie.

Timon & Pumbaa being cartoons is what gets played around with in this series. They pull random things from behind their backs, they can survive falling from hundreds of feet in the air, they can stretch like taffy, and they are able to speak with the humans in their world without any difficulty.

Their character portrayals are also a little bit different as well. Timon, the self-proclaimed “brains of the outfit,” is quite vain and unceasingly self-absorbed. While the “film Timon” did show some vanity, he had more of a level head and compassionate disposition than the “cartoon Timon.” There is even one episode where Timon attempts to marry himself.

The two versions of Pumbaa are closer together, though in the cartoon the emphasis is on Pumbaa being Timon’s voice of morality.

Despite all this, Timon & Pumbaa is interesting because acting as cartoons was a prevalent theme in the shows on Disney channel in the 90’s. The idea these characters performed in skits like actors and lived in Toon Town held rein. It even turned into a big plot point for shows such as Bonkers and House of Mouse. They did not take themselves as seriously because they were “Toons,” and their biggest goal was to make people laugh—which the film Who Framed Roger Rabbit? exemplified all too well. In other words, Toons and the series they “starred in” became its own subgenera in Disney cartoons.

So beneath its altered exterior, Timon & Pumbaa was a perfect snapshot of how the “Toon” characters during this period acted or worked. The characters acted differently than their movie counterparts, it is true—but then their backgrounds were changed as well. The fourth wall did not matter in the latter case, and Toon Town took on all the qualities attributed to Hollywood.

Forgotten Television: The Goofy Movie

Where have all the Disney icons gone? I cannot say—but Mickey, Donald, and Goofy used to shine during the Golden Era in cartoons. Goofy and Donald, in particular, had shows based around their family life. For Donald this meant his three obnoxious nephews.

For Goofy, it meant his son Max. This created an interesting spin on the character who made us laugh with his carefree air and comedic style of approaching life a little differently than everyone else. Suddenly, Goofy had to take on a parental role in which he needed to care for, discipline, and teach Max about the world. That broke the cartoon tradition of having icon characters take on similar challenges only when needing to care for nephews, or little cousins. Mickey, Donald, and most major cartoon characters followed the same formula, though there was a reason behind it: they have few attachments as possible to allow freedom of movement or situations. Or so I theorize.

But whatever the true reason is behind such pairings, it doesn’t change the fact that “Goof Troop” (the series focusing around Goofy and Max) worked very well. Being a father figure just increased the charm Goofy brought to the show, and Max was loveable too. It also helped that Goofy could bounce off his greedy neighbor Pete, which helped create a fun atmosphere in Spoonerville.

The Goofy Movie takes place years after the series ends, while Max is a high school student. Here is yet another circumstance: Disney showing characters have aged. Most cartoons are ageless—and Goofy remains so—but his son eventually graduates and moves out of their house.

The film begins simply. It is the last day of school before summer vacation, and Max stages an impromptu concert at their final assembly to impress a girl he likes named Roxanne. He gets brought to the principal’s office, and Goofy receives a call from the disgruntled school head to say his son is in deep trouble and needs someone to straighten him out before “he winds up in the electric chair.” Fearing Max has gone down the wrong path, Goofy decides to take his boy on a road trip to a special fishing spot his own father and he used to visit during his childhood.

Unknowing of his father’s plans, Max asks Roxanne on a date to watch the concert of a rock star (Power Line) famous with the other students at school—and so he literally faints on hearing about the trip. He does not want to cancel the date with Roxanne, though, and winds up lying that Goofy and he will be on-stage with Power Line during the concert.

As the film progresses, Max tries to figure out how to steer Goofy towards the concert—while Goofy tries to figure out a way to become closer with his son. Their relationship is the top strength of A Goofy Movie, because this attachment most other characters avoid gives Goofy greater depth. For example, you learn Goofy misses the trips he used to spend with his father, and he wants to give those types of precious  memories to Max as well.

There are some fun songs, and the rich animation style is Disney’s through and through. Even if CGI, beside similar programs, have come to mostly replace traditional hand-drawn work in Disney cartoons—A Goofy Movie presents the former format to us in proud honor of Walt Disney pictures.

I won’t give away anything else, except how An Extremely Goofy Movie follows as a sequel to this movie and takes us to college with Max.

So enjoy some laughs and sink back into Disney tradition with A Goofy Movie.

He-yuck!   

Time Capsule

This page becomes a time capsule,

When injected with bound words,

That rest in graceful hibernation,

Until sight stirs them into life.

Locked in their final states,

With inked deliberation,

Sealed tight despite reproofs,

Or warm exclamations.

Arbitrary though they are,

Vibrancy has no greater ally,

Than the force pressed onto white,

And no greater friend.

What the time capsule contains is mystical clarity

A fine testament to our human ingenuity.  

Forgotten Television: Banjo The Woodpile Cat

Don Bluth never achieved quite the same acclaim for his animation as Walt Disney, but you could recognize his work no matter where it appeared—because the environments and characters he created had a very distinctive style. Among his most famous titles were the Fievel Goes West and Land Before Time series, as well as Balto and Pebble and the Penguin. Certain films exhibited more creativity than others, yet some gained notoriety from spurring long lines of sequels that seemed endless.

Banjo The Woodpile Cat was one of the few shorter pictures produced by Bluth. Distributed through the “Children’s Video Library,” and under a half-hour in length, Banjo needed to be succinct and get its message across quickly.

Thankfully, that is exactly what Don Bluth accomplished with this film.

The story follows Banjo, a young country kitten characterized by insatiable curiosity and a knack for trouble. In fact, almost every time you see his parents they are chastising him for causing a commotion or putting his two younger sisters in danger. I’d almost have expected them to look more harassed than they appear in the first few scenes—but that is a small detail.

Anyway, after being scolded for the umpteenth time, Banjo decides to run away from home and hops on back of a truck headed for the city. There he spends an evening being amazed by all the strange sights, until it starts raining and he gets lonely. That is when he really stops to reflect on how his impulsiveness got him into such a predicament, and nearly spends the whole night sleeping in the cold.

Then a kind streetwise alley cat named Crazy Legs comes along and helps Banjo find his way back home, helped by his fellow city cats.

That is the basic overview, which works well for its target audience. It sticks to a simple plot, without trying to make anything too complicated—and there are no real threats aside from Banjo’s homesickness. And Banjo is a likeable character, who doesn’t constantly complain and just wants to have fun. The fact the street cats are so considerate is also refreshing to see.

Banjo The Woodpile Cat shows off Don Bluth’s style well, and I am tempted to say it is one of his better pictures exactly because of its brevity and conciseness. When forced to create a shorter movie, the elements he brings together shine brighter than those projects stretched across several installments.

So for those who would like to watch a fun family film, or who simply want to enjoy Don Bluth’s animation—please check out Banjo The Woodpile Cat.  

Forgotten Television: The Stupids

Acclaimed by New Line Cinema as the “world’s simplest family,” the Stupids could turn the smallest incident into an epic battle between good and evil—while getting lost inside metaphorical paper bags each step of the way. This film appeared during the 90’s and gave us a comedy beyond the norm in the biggest sense, but it is best to explain it through a basic overview of the plot.

This movie begins when Stanley Stupid (Tom Arnold) notices that every week a truck stops before his house and steals away the garage his family puts out. Determined to track down these trash thieves, he hitches a ride on the back of the truck early one morning. Of course, he has not told the rest of his family about this. His wife, Jean Stupid (Jessica Lundy), immediately goes looking for her husband when she realizes he is gone—without telling the children about it.

When Buster and Petunia Stupid discover their father missing, they conclude he must have been kidnapped and decide to inform the police—assuming their mother is doing some grocery shopping. Of course, they decide to leave a note for her, which states the barest facts and seems to turn into a note saying the “police have kidnapped your children.”

After Jean Stupid returns home, she sees the note and fears the police have become hostile towards her family.

General mayhem ensues, which includes a perceived conspiracy for a guy named “Mr. Sender” (Stanley Stupid used to work as a postal worker) to ransom the garage of everyone in America—to a real conspiracy about a military colonel trying to illegally sell arms to foreign countries.

I really don’t want to spoil too much else about the story, because this is a film that is truly “so stupid it’s funny.” You have got to admire, in a slightly twisted way, the manner in which these people can make everything into an adventure. They are like overgrown children who will never mature.

Their discoveries are awe-inspiring as sliced bread. We might take such things for granted, but the Stupids would take one look at the sliced bread and think, “that’s not natural—someone is chopping the bread of honest people. We must put a stop to it!” Every revelation is miraculous, and it is possible to see their exaggeration of the mundane as a hint to appreciate what we can enjoy in our daily lives.  

Note: The best song from the film is entitled, “I’m My Own Grandpa.”

  

Charlie and the Chocolate Exclamation

My family used to visit the movie theater on special occasions before prices rose and 3-D came along—with Tim Burton’s adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory being the second-to-last we saw all together. Our curiosity had been piqued over this movie in particular since the Gene Wilder version of Braum’s novel was such a classic we watched it each year around Easter. By the time we were able to get into a showing of the film, though, the crowd in the theater for it had thinned out considerably.

This was fine. Crowds have always made us nervous, and we could choose where to sit in the showing room.

I have to say that the Tim Burton version was much darker than I had expected (nothing could beat the first), but it had a cynical edge we had come to appreciate in our media. It was as if the new socially awkward Willy Wonka and duplicated assistants were laughing at pop culture.

But interestingly enough, the best part of this whole experience was something no one could record.

A scene came where the hopeful Charlie, a picture of sainthood, rips the wrapper off a Wonka bar hoping to find a “lucky golden ticket” beneath. We watched in silence as the tension built up and Charlie gripped the wrapper edge.

He tore the wrapper aside.

There was nothing there.

“Loser!” Someone shouted from the front row. Laughter erupted around the showing room, and my family joined in—because that cry felt so appropriate and shattered the tension.

It is strange how just one word can hold that much power.

The film has long since come out on DVD (and re-released on Blue-Ray), but I’ll always hear that unknown guy shouting “Loser” each time I watch the Tim Burton’s version. It added, more than took away, from my enjoyment of the movie.

And now I have shared that moment with you too. 

Forgotten Television: The Pagemaster

Some admirable films appeared during the 90’s encouraging children to read, and among them The Pagemaster shone brightly for how it introduced the exciting worlds books or libraries could open—combined with a cast of well-known actors and actresses.

The tale focuses around Richard Parker, a safety-conscious boy whose fear to take risks has made him a social outcast among his school classmates. That is, until he winds up in the public library to escape a storm. The librarian, played by Christopher Lloyd, signs Richard up for a library card and tells him that in order to leave he must use the exit door just past the fiction section.

This is where the magic begins, for as Richard wanders through the library admiring the elaborate murals overhead—signifying different literary genres—they melt he gets thrown into an animated adventure. The “keeper of the books” or Pagemaster, tells Richard he must face Horror, Adventure, and Fantasy before he can return to the real world. Along the way, he meets characters in the shape of books from each of these genres to guide him through classics like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Treasure Island. Patrick Stewart lends his voice to the swash-buckling pirate book, while Whoopi Goldberg plays Fantasy. And Frank Welker, a master of cartoon sound effects, voices the Frankenstein-like Horror novel. In exchange for their help, Richard agrees to check all three out of the library, which, as they each explain, is what all books in the library long to do.

Always fast-paced, bolstered by clever writing and imaginative characters, The Pagemaster delivers on its promise to make reading fun. Here is a film that should tickle the curiosity of any children learning to read, or who haven’t yet discovered what doors reading can open.

But this story is not only for kids. The Pagemaster is fit for all ages, and a delight to watch. 

Forgotten Television: Animalympics

About this time, athletes across the world are competing to decide who will represent their countries in the upcoming Olympic games, which are to take place in London. This is an honored tradition meant to bring people of various cultures, beliefs, and languages together in sportsmanship and fair play. As the torch lighted to begin these games signifies, it is one sign we can stand side-by-side in games and one human race.

Moralizing aside, it makes sense there would be a show based on the Olympics.

So enters the hour-and-a-half television special known as “Animalympics.”

Animalympics is as it sounds—a cartoon version of the Olympic games with animal athletes for the characters. Here you see all the ceremonies and competitions carried out by different creatures, from weasels to whales, who each have personal trials or challenges to overcome during the competition. This you witness through a variety of brief story arches focused on certain participants for each event. Through these you not only are able to enjoy some interesting tales, but you also get glimpses of the world the writers or producers for this film have created.

The documentary feel is appropriate, as the hosts for the games interview the athletes or give information about each competition. And because Animalympics does spend time with each event, it becomes a fun little introduction into what you would find at the regular Olympics. Heartfelt and filled with gags, this really is a movie you could enjoy no matter your age.

Unfortunately, Animalympics happened to be one of those specials that aired on regular television once or twice—and then never again. A similar film made by another company, known as “Animal Wars” appeared close to a year afterwards, but this one could get raw and did not have the same enthusiasm or spark as its predecessor.

If you are looking for an unconventional watch guaranteed to make you smile, even if you are not into athletics—Animalympics is worth a view.

Secret Places (Part 2)

As I wrote earlier, there were various experiences to enjoy while my brother and I attended Palomar Community College. Time changes things, it is true, and since we transferred in 2009 the observatory I visited closed (a new larger one will open this coming March). There are also more classrooms towards the center of campus, and construction is in progress on the theater. But the Concert Hour still happens in the same building each Thursday, and the Arboretum has remained mostly unchanged—though the people who work there are in the middle of labeling all the plants/trees in the area.

The transfer to Cal State San Marcos meant moving just a few blocks to what seemed—to me, at least—an even grander campus where my brother and I could jumpstart our chosen career paths. Having taken care of our general education requirements at the community college level, we could focus on our majors. That made the classes we took all the more enjoyable, even if we had to contend with tuition hikes and the poor economy.

Cal State San Marcos

Being a university campus, activities and events abounded at Cal State. Almost every week on the library plaza, the Student Association or another organization (from study-abroad programs to clubs) would set out stands. Sometimes they also offered free food, and then it was common to find long lines of people stretching from the plaza along the walkway towards the art building.

At the beginning of each semester, the main food court and eating area (called “The Dome” for its shape) and the five-story Kellogg Library tended to have big crowds of people either finding their way around or studying for their courses.

It was possible to get a little claustrophobic when caught amid these crowds, so I remember feeling refreshed when I had the opportunity to break away and explore the rest of the campus.

Down the hill, and across the street, from the library plaza stood the Clark Field House—a gym free for students to use throughout the year (so long as they took courses each semester, including the summer). Seeing this for the first time was good news to me, since I enjoy working out, and it had cost money at Palomar to use the gym every month. My first move was to apply for a card to enter the gym, but along the outside there was also a lounge. At first, the cougar logo placed on the front glass door made me think it must be a room for conferences or faculty members, yet on venturing in I found it clearly made for resting after exercise or studying for classes.

Visiting the lounge the first few times was a pleasant shock, since it was so vacant compared to the rest of the campus. It had couches, televisions with channels galore, a miniature fountain, and a coffee/hot chocolate machine. When things became too noisy elsewhere, I could retreat to the Clark Field House and enjoy some relaxation with warm drinks.

That is, until I found the cubbyhole.

Anyone who depended solely on taking the elevator to his or her classes in the Academic Hall would have missed this, but above the fourth floor where (if you took the stairwell to the top) you would find a cubbyhole. Although it had no chairs, the ground stayed clean of cigarette butts or other trash—and from there one could get a nice view of the library plaza and everything beyond. It reminded me of the topmost spot in the Arboretum in that way, and this was a great place to have lunch, especially on rainy days (if there wasn’t a wind).

The first two locations I mentioned were a bit out of the way, but there were good-to-know places reached by just wandering around inside the academic buildings as well. There were times when the computer labs at the library lacked open computers for students to use, but the lab found on the second floor of University Hall tended to always have ones available. I do not know if this was because not so many students know about this lab, or if reaching computers in the library was just easier—in any case, it was a good place to go if you needed to use a school computer and had trouble finding one. It also stayed unlocked past six o’clock in the evenings and opened around 7:30. So that helped, too.

I should also talk about the student lounges near the Dome, which house different groups of people on campus. It probably sounds strange, but even with my explorations, it was only recently I really took advantage of this area. More specifically, of the Women’s Center.

I happened to visit that lounge because I needed a band-aid.

Funny what can draw you somewhere, isn’t it?

Anyway, I had gotten the queen of paper cuts along my thumb—and it was only then I thought how nice it would have been to pack some bandages in my purse in case something like this occurred again in the future.

These thoughts brought me to the convenience-like store in the Dome.

They didn’t sell band-aids, but one of the assistants advised me to visit the student lounges:

“They always have a lot of band-aids there.” He said.

That took me to the Multi-Cultural room, which was a little intimidating at first because there were so many students sitting around tables or doing projects here and there. It felt like I was walking in on a meeting or a club, which wasn’t far from the truth—and several people turned and greeted me in unison. I asked about the band-aids, but they were out of the larger ones and advised me to go next door to the Women’s Center.

I did exactly that, and discovered the Women’s Center was different than I had imagined. During my classes, my professors and friends sometimes mentioned the Women’s Center. What I found there was an even cozier version of the lounge at the Clark Field House. Here the hot chocolate mixes were free, and the couches were soft. They had cards to play solitaire with, and dominos to stack. There were also shelves crammed with books. The people who gathered there moved about with ease, and the atmosphere was welcoming.

It was amazing.

These are only some of the many things available at Cal State San Marcos, and if asked to describe my experience on-campus in more detail—it would take many more pages to cover all the events you could discover.

So until then, this is the best advice I can give:

Keep exploring, and keep asking questions. You never know where they will take you.

Secret Places (Part 1)

One great joy I had while attending Palomar Community College, and then Cal State San Marcos, was discovering areas or events on those campuses that few students either visited or knew existed:

Palomar Community College

For a young woman who had come from a high school campus small enough to see across, Palomar College was enormous. In its center stood a Student Union mostly composed of glass walls, from which one could look out at the tall clock tower near the courtyard and administrative buildings. When my brother and I first started at the school in fall of 2007, the Union used to have a DDR machine in the far corner, opposite a coffee stand known as the “Java Shack.” On this note, I should also mention the group of students, many of whom were anime or video game enthusiasts, my brother liked to hang around with between classes—because they were one aspect of my experience there I will always remember.

In fact, the student union group deserves to have a story dedicated them.

But that is something for another time.

I spent little time in the union, and more wandering around the campus.

During my first semester at Palomar, I decided to investigate what lay in the maze of classrooms behind the administrative buildings. And they did become a maze, in the most literal sense, with overhangs that connected so it felt like you walked through tunnels. At the entrance to this, I passed the classrooms in which art courses clearly took place—and the small courtyard where I saw students relaxing near an obscure statute.

Following the tunnel for a ways, I came upon another open area with what can only be described as an abandoned café. There were tables outside, and one window looked the type to have opened at one time for someone to pick up an order. Inside, there were booths, vending machines, and even a microwave. That was to become an interesting place to have lunch, since the main people who came there also took the music courses in the classrooms lining that section of the maze. I would come and hear students practicing guitars, flutes—any number of instruments for their classes.

And it was here that I learned about the Concert Hour from a flyer posted on the café door, which took place each Thursday afternoon in a room just a little further along the tunnels. Someone had even posted signs with arrows on them showing which way to go for the performance room.

So whenever I had spare time over the semesters on Thursdays, I would pop in and see a variety of musical performances from current or past Palomar music students. Once, I even got to watch a group dressed in traditional Chinese attire do the Flower Dance. At another time, I listened as a chorus sung “Johnny I hardly knee yee” and “Red River Valley.” Each was beautiful.

Of course, it was as I went searching for the performance room I happened upon the observatory. I remember well feeling lucky because the sign in front noted this would be the last exhibition before it closed down (until the new observatory was built). I will also always remember I saw the show the week before Halloween, because after the host in the observatory pointed out constellations on the domed ceiling over our heads—they finished by giving us something very special. The stars on the ceiling disappeared, replaced by a short animation of going through a haunted house and graveyard. Outlined ghosts and monsters jumped out at every turn.

That was amazing.

As I have said, there were several incredible places to visit in the classroom maze—though I haven’t even mentioned the theater just beyond all this on the other side. But, I do not think I missed out too much by not being able to attend one of the productions. There were a lot of other things to see. 

It didn’t feel as if many students took advantage of these activities or places, or perhaps this was because I had no choice but to stay on campus from early in the morning until around six in the evenings (because of my transportation).

Whew. I have said quite a bit about the “maze,” but that is nothing compared to what stood at the other end of the campus.

Behind the Natural Sciences building and library stood the arboretum. It was a large enclosure filled with trees and plants from all over the world. A sign towards the front warned visitors about bobcats or snakes, but in all the time I attended Palomar, I fortunately never saw one. In the afternoons, it was difficult to find places near the Student Union or gym to sit and enjoy a meal in the sunshine.

In the arboretum, there was never a lack of room. You entered a human-made forest, and walked along vacant dirt paths to wherever picnic site you chose. Later, I would learn most of my classmates had no idea the arboretum was there—which was a shame since that scenic place could relax you at once. Birds would sing in the trees. The flowers smelled sweet. And if you climbed to the top of the highest hill there, you would come upon a bench and trashcan to lounge upon. From here it was possible to see the whole campus, and the form of Cal State San Marcos in the distance.

I remember sitting there while eating my lunch beneath the shade of a tree, and wondering what it would be like to attend CSUSM when my brother and I transferred after earning our AA degrees.

To be continued in Part 2…   

Forgotten Television: The Elm-Chanted Forest

Okay. There are certain films that have made some very important contributions to animation history.

“The Elm-Chanted Forest” is such a film.

Imagine a vast forest ruled over by various fairy courts, whose kings/queens are responsible for specific aspects of the nature in their environment. For instance, there is King Nepton (who controls the lakes or rivers), Firebug (who controls fire), and Emperor Spine (ruler over the deserts), among others. But all these courts have to show great reverence for a magical elm tree towards the center of the woods, from whom it is likely their powers originated—and which is also something of a sovereign over the other courts.

Everything is peaceful until one day the desert king Emperor Spine hears a prophecy that the Sacred Elm (what they call the tree) will soon select a human being destined to “cut short the cactus reign,” and feeling threatened, he becomes an enemy towards the forest and his fellow kings. 

So seals the beginnings of a forest-wide war, and one involving magic paintbrushes, wizards, dancing mushrooms, etc.

Story Outline

The human being spoken of in the prophecy comes to Fantasy Forest, a painter who seems to be there seeking inspiration for his artwork. After sleeping under the Sacred Elm, Peter Palette becomes “elm-chanted” and can not only speak to all the creatures in the forest, but also do magic with his paintbrush. The first animal and friend he makes is J. Edgar Beaver, the last of his kind (the others having been destroyed or chased away by Emperor Spine), who helps him build a house in which to stay and do his work.

There the forest animals vie for him to paint their portraits, though the only ones you know he does this for are the French fox Fifi (who can cut to the head of any line with ease from her looks alone, apparently) and three shy hedgehog brothers.

Meanwhile, Emperor Spine learns of the arrival and decides to send a message to Peter inviting him to his palace—with the intention of executing him if he keeps his “appointment.”

Peter ignores Emperor Spine’s message and goes to have a meal with the hedgehog brothers instead.

Angered by Peter’s absence, Emperor Spine sends his nervous court magician Thistle to bring in the painter—and this his faithful servant tries to do with the help of a bear named Bud E. Bear who Thistle befriends in the forest. However, Bud E. Bear almost drops the pursuit two minutes later when Edgar Beaver (the manager at the local forest pub) declares if he touches the painter “there will be no more light-bear on the house.”

When Thistle pleads with Bud E. to renew the chase, the bear breaks into a song cue about how friends can make you feel happy.

This said, the bear actually does go with Thistle to find Peter afterwards, and even starts to charge—but when he trips and crashes feet away, Bud E. becomes quick friends with the painter and Thistle has to wander off in frustration.

There are several attempts made by Emperor Spine to have the other kings send their forces to destroy the forest in his search for the painter, which he succeeds in by tricking them with insults. Each time, Peter Palette manages to save the day using his magic paintbrush.

After the second or third case of destruction, Peter begins to ask questions about Emperor Spine, of whom he comments to his friends: “There must be something making him so angry.”

Around this time the magic in his paintbrush begins to fade, and the wind sprite and soothsayer Baron Von Burr tells Peter he must fulfill “his destiny” by the following dawn because his elm-chantment only lasts for a short period. The sprite advises Peter to find Thistle because his magician’s powers could help against Emperor Spine’s assaults on the forest.

Peter finds Thistle in the pub with Bud E. Bear and Fifi, having given up trying to catch Peter himself and unable to go back to the palace because Emperor Spine would execute him for his failure. After hearing the exact words of the prophecy from the wizard:

“No man may rule of castle taint,

until the forest runs with paint,

but when it comes,

that dreaded hour,

the hopes of Cactus King will flower.”

Peter Palette comes to the revelation the Cactus King must be bitter because he never fulfilled his nature by “sprouting flowers” as some cactuses do—getting this from the last line of Burr’s prophecy. Certain he has found the real cause behind Emperor Spine’s rampage, Peter asks Thistle how they can accomplish this, and the wizard says it would be possible to him make a potion for the king using herbs from across the forest.

All the animals pitch in to help, but when the potion is nearly done Emperor Spine sends his guards and captures Thistle—and Peter falls down a hole into the realm of the Mushroom King (who doesn’t care one way or the other about the situation happening high over his head and wants Peter to become his newest mushroom servant). 

At the castle, Thistle tells Emperor Spine how Peter and the animals are actually trying to help him—yet the cactus king refuses to listen and says he has had a machine made to tear through the forest first thing in the morning, before having Thistle thrown into the dungeon to await his execution.

Edgar Beaver and Bud E. Bear receive a cryptic warning from Baron Von Burr about their captured friends, and they run off immediately to rescue them.

While Edgar Beaver saves poor Thistle from being "axexcuted," Bud E. Bear rescues Peter from turning into a mushroom. Soon, both are safe and Thistle finishes the potion.

The group invades Emperor Spine’s castle, easily getting past the not-so-clever guards and creeping up to the cactus king’s bedside (he sleeps on his throne). Peter Palette pours the concoction down Spine’s throat, and the nasty thorn turns into a pink king covered in flowers and filled with happiness.

Emperor Spine comes out of his castle and declares peace to all the animals.

His apology is readily accepted and everyone starts celebrating. Even Edgar happens upon a female beaver—who is probably his wife (judging by her appearance alongside what could be their children during Baron Von Burr’s explanation of the Cactus king’s prejudice against beavers).

Peter Palette leaves, promising to tell the children in his village the forest animals are their friends.

Production and Historical Notes:

The ideas behind “The Elm-Chanted Forest” came from a Yugoslavian/Croatian fairy tale by Suncana Skrinjaric, whose title in Croatian reportedly meant “A Riot in the Forest.” Celebrity Home Entertainment’s Just-For-Kids label released this film in America in 1989.

As with all English dubs, there are probably several differences in dialogue or content. This is to say there is a good chance the original Croatian version did not have too many puns, but the voice actors we get in the English dub do perform their parts well and convincingly.

“The Elm-Chanted Forest” made a valuable contribution to animation history, by being the first full-length animated feature to come from Yugoslavia (now Croatia) in 1986. So you have to keep in mind the producers behind this film were testing their abilities, and using the project as a launching point for others they could improve upon—it is similar to how Disney used his “Merrie Melodies” series to stretch his own creative skills.

The general reception for “The Elm-Chanted Forest” was great enough in Yugoslavia to inspire a sequel entitled: “The Magician’s Hat”—focused around Thistle and his quest to save the forest from an ice king (I am not entirely sure of the plot). Familiar faces from the first film, such as Bud E. Bear and Fifi Fox appeared—except for the transformed Cactus King. The second movie never made it to the United States, but the full length Croatian version (no subtitles) has been posted on-line (Youtube).

There are foreign cartoons deserving of the spotlight for their place in animation history, and “The Elm-Chanted Forest” warrants a lasting place near the top.