Not So Much a Hood

Warning: this review contains plot spoilers for the movie Robin Hood.

Nothing in a story should ever be a surprise.

That's not to say a story should lack suspense or tension. One without is no good. That is to say, however, that every piece of a story should fit together, make sense; no one piece should feel out of place.

This is where Russell Crowe's newest film falls down. Robin Hood seems to be out of sync not only with the legend that provides a basis for the movie, but also with its own narration.

In the opening scenes, we get historical context for the movie to come: Richard the Lionheart, Crusades, killing heathens (or an acceptable substitute, the French). We are also told that this is a time of outlaws, which brings us to the introduction of Robin Longstride (Crowe).

Robin returns from killing heathen-substitute on the European Continent and passes himself off as a nobleman from England's north. It's a pretty sweet deal because he gets a pile of land and the inside track on the local beauty, Maid Marian (Cate Blanchett).

As always, though, politics ruins our hero's good time. The newly-crowned King John sends his men to bleed the English nobility of their wealth and Robin looks set to lead a rebellion. Ah, here comes the outlaw part.

Not so fast. The King learns that one of his confidants, Sir Godfrey (Mark Strong), has been plotting with the French to invade England. John recruits Robin and the northmen in the nick of time and sets up a fantastic battle to repel the French just as they're landing troops on the south coast.

Wait, what? Robin Hood fighting for King John? Where did the French come from? And where is Robin the outlaw, the Hood?

I have no problem with changes to the details of a story that make for a better movie, but the French invasion here serves as the main plot and shoves Robin the Hood into a narrow five minutes at the end of the picture - King John, it turns out, doesn't like competition.

The result? Rather a confusing tale where Russell Crowe ends up being more a conventional action hero than the outlaw antihero that his own movie tells us he should be.

Robin was not so much a hood, which was a surprise to me.

Lucy's in the Square with Bennys

The word got out, and quickly: Lucy’s in the Square does a quality brunch. At quarter after 10 on Sunday, minutes after they open, I slip into Fernwood’s new bistro, just ahead of a crowd the starts the waiting list. I grab a table between two elderly couples, order coffee and watch the rush.

A large group sits opposite me. Fresh-squeezed mimosas come out to join them – coffee for the table, too, which is why my waitress comes out to tell me that a fresh pot and a cup for me are on their way. I nod my thanks.

While I’m waiting plates come out for the couple on my left: one plate is scrambled eggs; the other looks to be the breakfast tart. The two dig into their food and then share with each other.

They chew, their eyes get big and round, and they say, “Oh, that’s good,” in a heavy and reverential whisper.

I’m here for the eggs benedict, though, hollandaise on a menu being too much temptation. I’ve had the standard benny, which was lovely, but there’s one with smoked tuna that has me curious.

I order and entertain myself with the mini-blueberry muffins that serve as a precursor to breakfast here. They come in a brown paper bag, which makes me think of my days in school and provides a nice casual touch to the bistro. Munch, munch.

My benny, when it comes, is a simple affair. Eggs covered in a creamy sauce resting on a fresh scone and, to the side, roasted baby potatoes. No heavy garnish, no excess flair. Just good food.

I unroll my cutlery and start in. The hollandaise has a nice hint of lemon, the tuna adds a subtle smokiness to the eggs. The potatoes are light and fluffy on the inside and taste good just on their own. I try to pace myself, but the meal is too good and I’m done very soon.

As I finish up, the couple on my left is leaving too. They say to each other, “This one’s a keeper!”

I couldn’t agree more. I take a white pencil from the table, scribble my thanks on the brown paper tablecloth – customers have been drawing all morning – and sign. The staff know what a great breakfast they do, I think, but it doesn’t hurt to tell them.*

* I should mention here that Lucy’s does lunch and dinner too – this review is only a function of how much I like breakfasts. The restaurant is open Tuesday to Friday from 11am to 5pm for lunch and dinner, Saturday from 10am to 5pm for brunch and dinner, and Sunday from 10am to 2pm for brunch. The lunch and dinner menus include a variety of soups and salads, sandwiches and pizzas, local seafood and organic entrees. Located in Fernwood Square (1296 Gladstone Ave.) you can reach Lucy’s in the Square at 778-430-5829.

Stardust Shimmers for Us All

Neil Gaiman has turned his considerable talents to writing a fairy tale. The author of such fantastic and macabre titles as Neverwhere, he now brings us a marvelously spun bit of story in Stardust.

The book opens on a simple sentence: “There was once a young man who wished to gain his Heart’s Desire.” With effortless strokes like this one, Gaiman introduces the mundane village of Wall and tells the story of Tristran Thorn, a misfit and a boy with a curious past.

Rash and earnest as all young men are, Tristran promises a girl that he’ll go looking for a fallen star. The problem, however, is that the star falls on the other side of the wall that gives the village its name – in Faerie, a land of mystery and danger for citizens of the real world.

It’s a land, too, of characters looking for Tristran’s star. Witches, lords, magic birds, furry little men and trees that talk crowd Gaiman’s imagination and give Stardust a lot of colour, give a reader no reason to put the book down when Tristran is otherwise engaged.

With simple, engaging words, a lot of humour and considerable grace, Gaiman crafts a tale full of magic and wonder that dazzles the mind. Stardust makes me smile all over, makes me sad to find the end.

It also makes me want to start reading again. “There was once a young man who wished to gain his Heart’s Desire…”

The Mission Song Strikes a Sour Note

John Le Carre has spent years writing about characters who enliven the world of political intrigue: the cunning and manipulative Kurtz; the cerebral, broken-hearted Smiley; the world-weary Leamas.

Sometimes charming, sometimes brooding, always clever, these spies lend credibility to their stories. They are practical operators in a cynical world.

It is unfortunate, then, that Le Carre gives us Bruno Salvador (Salvo) in The Mission Song. A half-Congolese British citizen raised in Africa, he is an interpreter and part-time spy whose innocence is at odds with his past and the world around him.

In the opening pages, Salvo describes a childhood in the presence of over-attentive priests, a marriage that is falling apart and a group of his clients who steal money from their investors, yet he later insists on making morally upright heroes of his masters in the secret service.

One wonders at the man’s gullibility and how he became a spy in the first place.

This naïveté soon becomes responsible for an unsatisfying story too. Called in to interpret African tribal languages for the spies, Salvo learns of a plot to preempt local elections and insert a new leader in the eastern Congo.

His employers have an unsavory role in all of this and Salvo resolves to confront them with evidence and stop the forthcoming action – a fatuous decision that has a predictable result.

Salvo’s innocence is unfortunately necessary to create a story. Without him, The Mission Song would have been another book about a Western power interfering in the developing world’s affairs and getting away with it, a playing out of tired events that can be seen far in advance.

In writing this story, however, Le Carre offers up a character almost as implausible as the story he tells. Salvo is a spy who knows less of the world than his readers.

Kurtz and the other spies would have been disappointed in him.

An Introduction to Critique

After travelling and putting out The Scribbler's Blog, I find myself without an excuse to write. I find myself in need of a reason.

Enter The Critic's Pick. Here, I will become an arts and entertainment critic. I will review the books I read, the movies I see, the music I hear. If you, my very important readers, have content suggestions for this blog, I will do my best to include them.

Welcome and happy reading!