I. Am. Beowulf.

I didn’t think I’d like it, but I did.

I don’t usually go for testosterone-laden flicks. Too much bellowing of proclaimations, like “TONIGHT, WE DINE IN HELL!!!!” (Leonidas, 300), too much macho posturing, too much blood and gore. I may be a special effects and animation junkie, but I usually stop short of these types of movies. The macho overdrive is just too overwhelming to stomach in a few short hours.

We weren’t really planning to watch Beowulf. It just happened that it was Date Night, there was a new movie out and I had read rave reviews about the high-tech animation, based on actors’ real performance, used for this film. It was just a pleasant aside that the South China Morning Post ran a relatively positive review of the movie that morning.

The movie is loosely based on the epic poem of the same name. Beowulf the poem is one of the oldest, if not THE oldest, Old English poem on written record today. It is a story of a hero and his battles with three great antagonists. From what I understand, Beowulf is the prototype Superman. The Hero of heroes. Brave, gallant, skilled, virtually indestructable. Co-screenplay writers Neil Gaiman and Roger Avary took this poem and turned it into a story about a man, brave, strong and skilled, but also arrogant, boastful and ambitious. Beowulf is after glory and when he is tempted with a kingship unparallaled through all time, he takes the bite and falls unceremoniously. Of course, his people are unaware and continue to sing songs of his wonderous deeds through most of his life, while he alone is tortured by the knowledge of exactly how imperfect and unheroic he is. He, a privately broken man, ultimately redeems himself and dies a hero’s death worthy of the songs sung about him.

The characters of this story are compelling, the pace of the movie is well maintained. There are no heroes, no villains. Everyone has their flaws, everyone has their redeeming qualities. I am least partial to the Queen Wealthow, probably because her character develops the least, long suffering and pained through the entire movie. The animation proves to be superb, with much conveyed through subtle facial expression. And of course, thanks to computer graphics, Ray Winstone is a young, vital two-metre tall beefcake (when in real life, he’s closer to fifty, much shorter and fatter), and Angelina Jolie is more the siren than we remember her in Tomb Raider.

Ultimately, this isn’t just another animated cartoon. This is an interesting story about the human condition, and that’s what makes it a great film.

Saraism #2417

My helper and I are discussing the weather. How it was so cold last week and how, just as Sara is now required to wear her winter uniform this week, temperatures have gone back up.

Sara, all-knowing and all-seeing, quips in that offhand manner of hers.

“You know, Mommy, God can’t decide.”

Spot on, girl, spot on.

Portrait of me

You can tell how excited I am that Sara’s drawings have started to take a recognizable form. This is me, apparently while pregnant with Sara.

Portrait of a little brother

Sara draws a picture of Nathan for the letter N in her letter book. Not too far off, if you ask me.