The Hunger Games: A Cinematic Literary Nerdgasm? (A.K.A. How I Never Saw the Last Harry Potter Film)

Don't worry. There are no spoilers here so feel free to browse this post at ease.

Chances are that if you are reading this post in the first place, then you are probably familiar with the novel's plot, but I'm not cruel enough to ruin a great reading experience for someone else.

If you haven't read Suzanne Collins's The Hunger Games, well, then, what are you waiting for???

After having consumed every word of this novel, I kid you not, my literature-major self wanted to sit down and write a 12-page historical-perspective essay on why this book rocks (that's a sure-fire indication that what I read had a positive effect on me). I'm very stoked about its movie premiere this week and plan to see it with some friends of mine.

I don't like going to the movies alone. Going to the movies with other people is the way nature intended things to be. How else will you relish discussing with others whether or not the film you saw was a cinematic masterpiece or a total way for conning you out of your cash unless they, too, were also a witness to the event?

(If a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound?)

I also like attending with others to movies that have been specifically based on books. You may not think it but such a determining event can be a fragile experience for a bibliophile. In the hours we spend reading about the wonderful descriptions, adventures and daring feats of our favorite characters, we develop an attachment to what they look like and, ultimately, who we believe they are. What if in the movie, the persona who we conjured as being strong, intelligent and independent is reduced to a silly, walking stereotype that is the complete opposite of who they are supposed to be? This is no longer about watching a movie. This is about having an image shatter and leave us with crushed spirits. It becomes personal.

In case I end up being devastated that yet another movie adaptation didn't do justice to a great book and its characters, I want to have someone be there to hold my hand, stroke my hair and assure me that everything is gonna be all right.

The fear of an awful letdown is probably why I haven't even considered seeing the latest movie version of Jane Eyre. It's my favorite novel of all time, and based on various movie reviews from friends, it is an instance in which ignorance is bliss.

In all reality, I shouldn't be too worried because The Hunger Games trailer looks promisingly spectacular in the sense of staying true to the book.



March 23rd, come faster!

That being said, not every movie outing has resulted in me watching a film. I never saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2.

Not because I couldn't find a friend to go with. I went to the movies with a French friend, a guy who came to visit me from Lyon and who towers a foot above me (that's 30 cm for you metric-system users). We had a good three hours to kill in Dijon before his evening train departed and since neither of us had seen the last installment of the series, we decided to watch it at one of the cinemas.

The showing that we could feasibly make it to had already commenced by ten minutes, but we figured that the trailers would allow us to catch the beginning and therefore not let us miss any vital scenes . We paid our tickets and were let into the theater.

At this point, you may be wondering how, then, was I unable to see Harry Potter if my friend and I paid for tickets?

To our surprise, we were the only ones who had the intention of wanting to see the movie at that hour. Not that we were complaining. In that desolate sea of plush, burgundy armchairs, we had the finest pickings for optimal movie enjoyment.

What was curious to us was that nothing had been turned on, not even the trailers for upcoming movies.

A few minutes passed and the French-dubbed Harry Potter never flickered on the blank screen.

We inquired at the ticket booth what was going on.

Ticket Booth Lady: "Oh, since no one was in the theater when it began, we decided not to run the reel."

Me: "Huh? But...we paid to see Harry Potter..." *waves torn stub*

Ticket Booth Lady: "Here's a refund." *hands cash*

My Friend: "Wait, so, you can't find someone to turn on the reel for us to watch it?"

Ticket Booth Lady: "No."

Me: "Um...thanks."

And that's how I never saw the last Harry Potter film. My friend and I instead went to a café and chatted about life and I accompanied him to the train station when he needed to head back to Lyon to bid him good-bye.

I'm hoping that the local movie theaters will be a little more generous when I go see The Hunger Games.

Also:



Katniss makes archery look so cool.

Barb the French Bean

Jobs I Wish I Could Do

I have spent the past four months achieving nothing of great importance. The idle hiatus of not having a proper job has caused me to seriously re-evaluate what I want to do with my life and has confronted me with the reality of my situation.

As it is, I am a college graduate who possesses a B.A. in Literature with a minor in French; this makes me twice as likely to remain unemployed. Should I go back to college to take out a Masters, I would need to aim for a career that will at least provide me with a stable source of sufficient income.

I won't sugarcoat it: I've felt completely useless at times. Despite having previous work experience, despite having an admirable level of intelligence, despite being fluent in three languages, I just fear that I will never find a job which will fully grant me a much needed financial peace.

Then again, I suspect that my failure is also tied to my unrealistic expectations of life. I've always considered myself to be a dreamer whose head spends far too much time cruising the vast skies and studying the composition of masses of fluffy suspended things. It's this imagination that will unfortunately create an impediment for me to secure a respectable career.

I'm at a crossroads in my life. I am young but I but I don't know what to do with my youth. I wander aimlessly. I occasionally stumble on a notion of what appears to be a brilliant idea only to divert once again. I linger at the threshold of adulthood while still clinging to my past puerile expectations of following my heart. Perhaps in a few years, I will find some balance to this. This might include finding a husband who, with my help, will have enough money to support the French brats we might hypothetically spawn.

Still, a girl can dream about what she would like to do...


1. Singer

Why not? I had a pleasant melodious voice when I was a kid.

Oh. There is a reason why I use the past tense. The melodious quality is gone. I now sound like a creature of what would result from a frog if it mated with a cat, and that creature possesses a relentless sore throat. Yet somehow the manner in which my voice resonates as I sing in the shower makes me believe that I could still do this job.

(You have my permission to mock my cartoon's lack of boobs.)

I picture myself of being a mixture of Shakira, Lady Gaga and Carly Simon. I've even thought of my stage name: BAB$! The Dollar sign and the exclamation mark will be necessary when magazine journalists clamour for the interviews they want to publish. I would have tons of adoring fans who fund my hot-ticket sold-out shows. My face and name would be glued on every printable surface available.

And I mean every surface...

Yet in these days, a mega-star singer has to be a multi-faceted entrepreneur. A singer has to not only belt out songs on command but also design and sell their own clothing line, make guest appearances on T.V. shows, endorse soft drinks, sign their hair to a contract, write autobiographical books, start a perfume line and sell their own brand of computers.

I just want to be a singer, not remove the jobs that other people could do more efficiently. Besides, I'm far too lazy to do all of that.

2. Paleontologist

When I was young, I dreamed of going out in the desert and digging up dinosaur bones. Perhaps I would even find a new species and name it after myself!


Except, growing up, I hit a couple of hitches that stopped my paleontologist goal in its tracks: I hate the heat, and I tan easily.

3. Reality T.V. Show Host

Screw being a contestant who willing humiliates himself in front of millions of captive viewers. I'll be the host so I can at least give the impression that I am the sane one among the crowd of 20-something contestants who are fighting to not be kicked off the show.

4. Astronomer

Not to be confused with astrologer (Aries: You will find the true love of your life, and he will be too stupid to keep you. You'll marry someone else).

If it weren't for all the math involved, I would happily sit behind a telescope at NASA and gaze up at the sea of stars dotting across the celestial universe.

5. Politician

Ha, ha. Yeah, right.

6. Ice Cream Taster

Sure, I'd gain 2,500 pounds a couple of pounds but, COME ON. The job title is self-explanatory!

7. Novelist

Hey, if Stephanie Meyers can achieve fame buy milking people's hard-earned money with her human/vampire/werewolf love triangle, how hard could it be?

Lately, however, I've noticed that my English skillz (yes, with a Z) have diminished under my eyes. I look at the old essays I crafted during my high school years and I'm thoroughly shocked that I was even capable of composing something of that verbose caliber. I admit it: ever since I crossed my high school doors for the last time, the once-avid reader has disintegrated into an uncultured being I hardly recognize.

With much alarm, I've noticed that my level of vocabulary has lowered as I constantly reach the dictionary to verify the definition of a word I used to know only a few years ago. Hours of mindless gazing at the flickering T.V. screen have undeniably proven to be detrimental to my educational well-being. I'm afraid that one morning I shall awake to discover that I no longer possess mastery of my native tongue and can no longer effectively communicate to convey messages to other native speakers.



What the hell happened? Am I dumbing down? Or has my poetic ability merely hidden itself in the cavernous areas of my mind? Is it just lurking, waiting for a moment where it will pounce upon its next hapless victim?


Meh. Who knows? Rather than sulking, I'll spend the next few days engulfing myself in the world of Jane Eyre. At least that will be more productive to my I.Q. points than worrying about a job.


Barb the French Bean