The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice
ISBN: 0-394-53443-3
Blurb:
As the novel opens, Lestat, having risen from the earth after a fifty-five years' sleep, and infatuated with the modern world, presents himself in all his vampire brilliance as a rock star, a superstar, a seducer of millions. And, in this blaze of adulation, daring to break the vampire oath of silence, he determines to tell his story, to rouse the generations of the living dead from their slumbers and to penetrate the riddle of his own existence.
***
My Thoughts:
Okay, so the actual blurb goes on for three more paragraphs outlining the whole novel - too long and sort of boring, if you ask me. The bit I used says enough and who doesn't know about the vampire Lestat?
I can't rightly tell you what motivated me to read this book after my
lukewarm feelings for
Interview with the Vampire. It was likely a combination, of "Hey my sister lent this to me
ages ago" and the nagging feeling that I really do need to make an effort to read every vampire novel, no matter how dreadful. Oh, and it's famous, so that's gotta count for something, right? At least I can now return this to its rightful owner and clear up some shelf-space.
Now, it wasn't utterly horrible, but alas, alack and well-a-day, there sure was a ton of whining, especially in the first 200 or so pages. I liked Lestat the ruthless killer. I don't like Lestat the whiner. Listening to him go on about how "Oh, no one ever loved me," and "Life never gave me anything that it didn't immediately take away," and "Oh woe is me, I'm going to break all the rules and piss everyone off and then whine and moan about how alone I am" got really old, really fast. Even when he embraced what he was it was as an act of defiance, not because he truly was coming to term with being a vampire. Gone was the cold-hearted Lestat of
Interview and here was a more impulsive, active version of Louis. But hey, at least he calls Louis a filthy liar for the things he said in the previous book. Way to state the obvious, the obvious being that first person narrators are unreliable.
Qualms about Lestat's metaphorical "de-fanging" aside, I really enjoyed the setting - Paris in the 1800s was beautiful and romantic. I loved the focus on art and artists. The atmosphere kept me reading when all I really wanted to do was throttle Lestat - "oh everything is meaningless, but at least we have beauty." Also, I suspect his philosophical moaning would have appealed to a younger, less jaded Doomwench, one that still believed in the power of art and thought that being surrounded by other passionate artists could make a difference. Current Doomwench is fully aware that she will never have a coterie of crazy artist friends, so at least she won't have to listen to a lot of angsty raving (being a hermit has its advantages).
Umm, where was I? Right, the setting. Lestat's time in the theater and living in near poverty as an actor with his crazy violinist Nicolas was definitely one of the better parts (even if it included a fair bit of whining). A highlight of the Paris years was going into the crypt in les Innocents to meet the vampire coven (I won't go into detail to keep from spoiling it, but it was
good). The histories of Armand and Marius each add some perspective to Lestat's
worldview and make for decent foils to his impulsive character.
I guess the story overall was interesting enough, and the explanation of the origins of the vampires was not the usual one. And origin stories really are pivotal to our understanding, so the importance of this myth to Lestat and some of the other vampires made them very human. While I was trudging through this novel I was also reading a non-fiction book about vampires, specifically the evolution of the vampire with a close focus on some of Anne Rice's work. The author of that book made a good point about the change in Lestat's character from being an evil rogue in
Interview with the Vampire to being a whiny, deeply emotional fellow in his own book: it's hard to keep vampires evil when they have become so human. They aren't the monstrous Other anymore, instead they are the point of identification (this is a really crude paraphrase of Milly Williamson's thoughts in
The Lure of the Vampire: Gender, Fiction and Fandom from Bram Stoker to Buffy). I personally find this problematic, but that's why I'm writing a thesis. Let's get back to reviewing a book, shall we?
Ultimately, I think I missed the proverbial boat when it comes to reading these novels. When I was 18 I probably would have fallen in love with the florid prose and the continuous angst, but now I hover between bored and annoyed. Lestat is just too perfect - he's a golden boy who gets everything he wants and if things look like they might get too tough there's a new source of greater power for him. No matter how badly damaged he is in battle, he doesn't die and he continues on, whining about rules and how things never go his way (when things always go his way). I'm left disappointed, because he doesn't grow as a character, not really, and neither do the other vampires, regardless of how much time Rice spends describing how they have to adjust to each new age or perish. I believe it's best for everyone involved if I halt my perusal of
The Vampire Chronicles here, at a point where most people will say the books are still good, rather than forcing myself to go on to the "lesser" novels. Now, I'm off to find a palate cleanser.
I don’t really think there is much more I can say about
this novel and the impact it has had on my life and my imagination. I’ll likely continue to re-read it at least
once a year for the foreseeable future. It would take a herculean effort to supplant this book's deep-rooted hold on my heart and the only real contender is Kiernan's next novel, The Drowning Girl: A Memoir. The review is admittedly not one of my best, but you really should just read the book and see for yourself how amazing it is.
3. The Habitation of the Blessed by Catherynne M. Valente
5. Rosemary and Rue by Seanan McGuire
4. The Virgin's Lover by Philippa Gregory
5. The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice
The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe. Directed by Andrew Adamson & Written by Ann Peacock, Andrew Adamson, Christopher Markus & Stephen McFeely (gasp). 
The sets and locations were tedious. The vast arctic tundras looked like my street after a few days of snow (alright, with slightly less vomit and urine). The springtime wonderland might as well have been the cardboard cut-outs in a pre-school play about food groups. I don't know how this lot: Adamson (director), Ford (production design), Gracie (Art Director) and Brown (Set Decoration) managed to turn all that cash into this boring and faux looking dreck, but it must have been a team effort (which is why I wanted to call each and every one out by name). Sure, I can see Narnia coming off as a bit stuffy, as the book was published in the 50s. But it wasn't the subject matter (fairly well behaved English children) that made the movie dull, it was the directing. We were in a barren, unimaginative landscape populated by barely animated finger-puppets. I might have mixed feelings towards the series, but it deserved a better artistic handling than this. 
I'm not sure why this has enjoyed the success it has. There just wasn't much to it. A modern remake of the Narnia books has an opportunity to do something gorgeous and sweeping. This was hemmed in and can't even be called standard. All seeing this has done is made me want to re-watch the BBC series and see how well it holds up. I doubt I'll be bothering with the rest of these and I highly suggest you don't bother with this, even as a fan. 
The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice
The set and make-up were great. I was expecting another movie like Ink , where they used heavy CG to make the setting and characters otherworldly. I was completely off base, Lo was done almost entirely with practical effects. The demons were guys in (excellent) make-up and the set was an empty black void, with Justin sitting in a magic circle. We occasionally watch re-enactments of parts of Justin and April's relationship as a deliberately low-end stage play. Despite the minimalist set, I never felt bored or trapped. Part of this is probably due to the impressive pacing. Lo is only about 80 minutes and it gets in, makes its point, and gets out again. None of the time is wasted or padded. My only complaint, visually, was the demonic book. I'm more than willing to suspend disbelief and play along that Justin can understand it, but it simply didn't look good. The cover, with its vein-y eye was cheesy and the drawings inside of the Ikea "summon your own demon" ritual wasn't much better. Going for the standard antique novel with unreadable (to the audience) writing would have been less distracting and more effective.
Despite my complaints, I think it's a fairly sure bet you'll enjoy Lo. While its flaws might keep it from being the best thing I've seen in the last couple of months, they don't keep it from being a fun watch. It manages to mix quite a few genre elements together successfully and not alienate my unsophisticated palate. I'm actually surprised I haven't heard more about this in horror nerd circles, because it is so good. So you may be hearing it here first, but who else's opinion do you really need, shoo-shoo, go rent it. 
Sucker Punch. Directed by Zack Snyder & Written by Steve Shibuya & Zak Snyder.
han the last. A movie peppered with attempted and off-screen rape and abuse. To understand my feelings on this, I'm now going to share a terrible secret with you: I have a deep abiding fondness for Heavy Metal. I love the magazine, the movies and the concepts. Yes, yes, I know it's exploitative, violent and occasionally even misogynistic, but I guess there is just a part of me that will always be a twelve year old boy. I love chicks with swords, chicks with ray guns and epic fantasy and sci-fi adventures. I love the droolingly lovely art of Simon Bisley and Luis Royo, despite the occasional tastelessness of it.
art with the acting (what there was of it). I can't believe that an entire, multi-million dollar movie could be populated by actors as untalented as these ones seemed to be. Every person in this from Emily Browning right through to Jon Hamm, was wooden, awkward and unconvincing. I'm not sure if they were all having bad acting months, whether they were directed to act stiltedly or whether they were just uncomfortable with all the green screen work, but truly, the entire lot was terrible. There wasn't one actor in this who I'm going to give a pass. Even the Offspring (one of the worst movies I've reviewed) had Pollyanna McIntosh's reasonably good performance. This had no one. Scott Glenn appeared to be doing a rather bad John Carradine impression, Jon Hamm looked like he was reading off of cue cards and Emily Browning seems to have forgotten how to close her lips over her teeth, ala Megan Fox. Yes, my dear, we realize that you're capable of fellatio, even if the movie isn't allowed to mention it.
cript. Sucker Punch took place in three layers of reality, like Inception (another great meh of this year), each more pointless than the last. In order to deal with the horrors of her life, our heroine imagines herself...in a whorehouse? At nearly two hours, Sucker Punch is far too long for such a simple, cliche escape story. It even lacked the questionable enjoyment to be found in the classic Red Sonja rape and revenge type of story. The dialogue trails along clumsily, rather reminiscent of porn talk scenes, leading from one fight scene to the next.
The costuming (as I'm sure you've guessed by now) was just as nondescript. We had pigtailed school girls, pseudo-armor and WWI chic, yawn. And oh the fighting in short, slitted skirts...while Ripley proved to us that a hero can be tough while fighting in her underoos, nobody can keep up even a facade of dignity when we're slow panning over their be-pantied crotch. That was a lot more Streetfighter than it was Alien.
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