Review: He's the Dark Knight, not the Batman

He’s the Dark Knight, not the Batman

     Christopher Nolan’s “The Dark Knight” is one of the most spectacular movies that I’ve ever seen. As one of the Batman series, starting from The Batman Begins, I thought this moview would be just so similar to the typical 'super-hero-action' films. All of the comic-based hero movies I've seen were way to simple to be called as good films. First of all, most of them rely on special effects; explosions, lasers and so ever. Also, the hero is literally the "good" guy, one distinct villian the "bad" guy and the rest are ordinary, innocent citizens so naive and ought to be protected. Typical hero films completely fit to the "hero's journey," which makes the plot banal. However, The Dark Knight is different.

      I have five critieras to evaluate and discuss on this movie, which are how the movie is creative, dynamic, well-developed, funny/heart-warming and engaging.

Reading Journal #2 - The Body

    

        “This business of being ignored: I could never really pin it down until I did a book report in high school on this novel called The Invisible Man … [N]obody notices him at all … like a black ghost”

Gordon Lachance, the protagonist of Stephen King’s novella The Body, is a twelve-year-old boy, brought up in a rather average family. He has three friends named Chris, Vern and Teddy. The four play together in their own secret meeting room, the tree house. This novella is basically a story about their adventure to find a dead body. But before the actual journey begins, King introduces the characters by inviting the readers for a journey to the suburbs of Maine during the ‘60s.

First of all, Chris Chambers is from a poor family and his father has alcohol issues. His brothers, “Eyeball” Chambers and others, are recognized as problematic students in school and in the whole town. It says that Chirs’s dad was “always on a ‘mean streak,’ more or less.” And Chris also “hated him like poison,” since he was beaten by his drunken dad occasionally.   

     The other two friends also come from inferior family backgrounds. Teddy Duchamp has a father sent to the “section eight” in hospital because of his mental illness. When Teddy was eight years old, the father shoved Teddy’s head to the stove, burning up and leaving a irrevocable scar. Vern Tessio’s family isn’t that much explained but his brother Billy Tessio is a member of the town gang, led by Ace Merill. Also Vern’s still in fifth grade, despite the fact that he is twelve.

     Last but not least, Gordie also has some issues within his family. He is constantly neglected by his parents. They only seem to care about Gordie’s older brother Dennis, and as he died in a jeep accident, they lost interest at all. And when Gordie asks his father if he could play with his friends, his father responds, “A thief and two feebles. Fine company for my son.” Gordie is upset towards his father who doesn’t try to understand at all.

Mr.Moon -- Three words that explain myself

Three words describing myself

     When asked to describe myself, three words pop in my head – curious, patterns and freshness. Ever since I started reading books, I carried sack of questions. I wanted to know more about people, the world and myself. My mother often recalls me asking too many questions at a shopping mall that while answering them she forgot what she had to buy. When young I asked anything. But as growing up, I started pondering more deeply by myself before talking about my doubts and interests. I also love to follow, find and understand patterns. Sequence, order, cause and effect describes very much of my thoughts. Maybe this made me to have interest in topic of science. Last but not least, I pursue ‘freshness’. Besides the fact that I love fresh fruit or the aroma of fresh flowers, I always desire fresh ideas that lead to inspiration. The three words curious, patterns and freshness explains why I hope to become a inspirational researcher, endeavoring on the field I feel curious about.

Metafiction- really a fiction

     

      “Good afternoon, Mr. Harrison.”

Peter Simons, the forty-five-year-old, young, passionate attorney, greeted his client as he stepped out of the defense bench. Kyle Harrison, the alleged serial killer, sat on the witness seat as if he was stunned. The black wave, the immense flow of fear … Harrison was feeling the grotesque ambiance again. 

“Mr. Harrison, I will help you out of this misunderstanding that brought you to this court today. Would you mind if I asked a few questions about that particular night of November 5^th, 1991?”

The room became absolutely quite. Not a single sound was heard. Every single string of attention headed towards the convict.

“Mr. Harrison?”

"Err... yes, sir?"

"Would you please state what you can remember?"

“It was a stormy night. James William and I were drinking buckets of beer at Jimmie's house. I recognize that we had a tough chat about the rock concert that we attended yesterday. It was about five minutes before midnight. Yes, that's exactly when 'he' came and knocked the door. Shivering for somewhat reason, Jimmie went to the door and twisted his palm to open the door. Just when the door was opened about half, that's when we saw his silhouette, we all fell to the ground.       That's exactly what happened. Magically, we all fell to the ground. I think it's too much of a coincidence for all of us to just fall asleep because of drinking. It was some eerie force that knocked all three of us."

Judge Carrick suddenly frowned when Harrison mentioned the last few lines. The audience became noisy in astonishment. The District Attorney stared at the witness as if he cannot believe a single word. Simons quickly managed to continue the direct examination.

“Mr. Harrison, could you move on please?”

       "Consciousness came back with headache, but I thought I was still dreaming because I couldn't believe my sight. Willy was hanged above the desk and Jimmie was lying on the floor with blood all over his back.      Damn! The house was full of Jimmie's blood and the nasty smell of his corpse. I was definitely frightened for a moment. I looked around myself, finding for some weapons for protection. I found a Benelli M1 Super 90, the type of shot gun I used when hunting for animals. However, it was such a surprise because Jimmie has never kept those kinds of arms at home. With the shotgun, I decided to look for "him". Half angered, half curious, I really wanted to find who he was.      Then the door knocked again. So, I went to the door, and shot my shotgun toward door. After I used all bullets, I found that I killed Jimmie. Jimmie's blood was everywhere and I carried him inside the house. William was the only person who saw my crime.      I wasn't myself after I saw blood gushing out of Jimmie's wounds. The shotgun pellets ripped his limbs apart and left huge holes on his body. Not knowing what I was doing, I blankly aimed of William and pulled the trigger.”

     Scream was heard from back of the court. People were now literally shivering in fear. Little kids were crying, women terrified and the judge ruled order in court. Simons, feeling the need to finish the direct examination, asked judge the permission to enter an exhibit. It was the shotgun, Benelli M1 Super 90.

     “Mr. Harrison, do you recognize this gun?”

       “Sure. It seems like the one I used that night. Shotgun is a monstrous weapon. It never shoots; It busts. So that's what Benelli M1 Super 90 exactly did. It busted William. It tore him and pulled him all the way to the porch stairs. I maybe wanted to make things clearer. I took the shot gun, ran down the porch steps and stepped on William. William was breathing with a great difficulty. So I sent him close to God. Nice fella. He belongs there. That's where I'll never go in. I'll never reach heaven, but he won't as well if I don't finish him up. I shoved the muzzle in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
    And a sharp clicking sound was heard. Boom!”

     A hysterical laugh, a bit of coughing.

     And then, another “boom”

     It wasn’t Simons holding the exhibit any more. It was ‘him’ waiting to take Harrison to hell.

    

Experimental medication-hope or threat?

A father was crying over the death of his daughter. She was only twenty-one years old when she found out that she had a unique illness called squamos cell carcinoma. The father and daughter sought for every type of medication, but none of those available at hospital could heal her deadly illness. Her last resort was using experimental medical treatment, cetuximab and gefitinib to name a few. However, unfortunately, these medicines were undergoing clinical trials at the moment and she didn’t meet the inclusion criteria to take part in the trial. A few months later, the daughter died in vein. Her name was Abigail Burroughs, whose father sued the FDA for her daughter’s death. And this incident aroused the voice arguing that terminally ill patients should be given the right to demand experimental medical treatment.

Like the example of Burroughs indicates, there are problems in the current system of medical treatment. Today, many people are diagnosed as ‘terminally ill’ patients, who are defined as patients that their diseases cannot be cured with current methods of treatment. What can these patients do? They don’t have much choice, but waiting for death. On this issue, Cary Gross, MD, says, “terminally ill cancer patients are often willing to try unproven treatments when standard therapies are either unavailable or have failed to work. However, many are ineligible for clinical trials, and drug access through compassionate-use programs can be procedurally difficult to secure. Thus, access to experimental compounds is extremely limited for many patients.” Change is urgent and important.

     Of course, there are some reasons why many people believe experimental medical treatment shouldn’t be given to patients. One of their biggest points is that experimental treatment, by its very definition of something being unproven to be safe, has a great possibility to be harmful to patients. They view experimental treatment as injecting an unidentified substance into any patient. However, such argument doesn’t stand. Clearly, introducing new drugs and medication isn’t simple even in the status quo. In the case of the U.S., the FDA strictly regulates researchers to undergo numerous times of animal experimentation before proceeding to further clinical trials. After thorough beforehand research, doctors will be providing treatments to patients. In other words, no mad scientist will be playing with the innocent patients.

     Also, this policy benefits medical science and technology as a whole. Once patients are allowed to access experimental treatments, there would be more cases of testing new medications, which will foster medical research. The current system of clinical trial is tedious and slow compared to this. Also, testing would be more productive and accurate since researchers get to test on actual patients like Abigail Burroughs, thus able to prove whether the medicine really attains the desired effects or not. Advance in medical science also leads to more benefits to the society. More medicine available means more lives saved. Therefore, experimental medication is beneficial for sure.

     The society doesn’t want any more unfortunate cases like Abigail Burroughs’s. Moreover, the government has responsibility to provide the best chance to live and the freedom of choice to its citizens. The new voice for experimental medication is upholding these values: saving lives and granting liberty. For the patients and for the society, terminally ill patients should be given the right to demand experimental treatment.

Response to "Spring" in Kim Ki Duk's Film

      Even today, fear exists between me and my parents. Since very young, I remember that my parents have been strict and firm when they came to child education. When I did wrong, and especially when I intentionally did so, I was scolded a lot. Probably I cannot firmly declare that such punishments were so severe, since I don’t know how other parents taught their children. However, as far as I conceived as a young boy, I was afraid, frightened whenever I found out that I were to be punished.
     At this moment, I can remember the fact of being scolded a lot, but there are few anecdotes that flashed inside my head once I saw the video clip. In the short video, a little boy was punished by his master for being cruel to animals. It was rather drastic, since most teachers or parents probably would have simply told him not to do so. Instead, the monk does what the boy did to the animals, but this time, to the boy—tying up with a big stone. The boy cries in vain that he is sorry, both discovering the corpse of the snake and climbing up the mountain with the stone on his back. Through this punishment, the monk made the lesson clear,
     Similarly, I once acted really wrongfully and my parents gave severe punishments. I lied about my whereabouts after school. Trying to cover my fault going to the PC rooms without permission and wandering the streets until late, I told that I had group studies. What made my parents angrier was that I lied for three days in a row. On the third day, my mother called one of the boys that I “alleged” to study with. She was totally shocked. And I came home late.
     Literally, I was kicked out of home. My father said that he will never have a liar as a son. In the middle of the night, I shivered in cold, sitting on the stairs, and thought about what I did. At first thought, I felt my parents were being too harsh. Other kids were doing the same thing, but why only me? Though, looking back, I feel such disciplines guided me the right way, just as the monk taught the little boy in the film. Harsh yet effective education must be a bitter medicine that helps children in the future.

Chain writing: a bit absurd

A Colorful world
I never thought like that before. I always thought that my life is going to be boring. Still I am a student and I cannot deny that. Thinking of tomorrow, I can only imagine more tests and homework. Dreadful days continuously depressed me. And that is when I met him.
“David,” he introduced himself.
I didn’t reply, because he seemed so different from me. He had his hair dyed with bloody red color. He wore earrings and showed his pink chewing gum as he kept saying. He seemed rude and violent. I hoped he wouldn’t come any closer.
But as if my teacher was trying to torture me, his seat was right beside me. She was expecting David to be more like me, I guess. During math class, he asked me thousands of questions and I hated it. Mid-term was only a few days to go so I had to concentrate. But I didn’t want to be rude to him, so I answered very shortly. As I told him that I don’t play any sports, I don’t play any games except facebook Tetris and I don’t have any hobbies, he started to tell his stories.
“Dude, wanna know something ‘bout me? I used to have this real crazy, yet hot girlfriend. When I told her to break up, she was driven mad and almost killed me with the fork she was holding. Anyway, that’s my story, dude. Now tell me about yours, if you even have one.”
I didn’t know what to say. I’ve never had any girlfriends, not even a ‘girl’ friend. But I couldn’t tell him that, especially when he seemed to be searching for every reason to mock me. So I decided to tell him the most dramatic, sentimental love story.
“Sure, I guess it was last year that I had a crush with this girl…”
Like that I told him my story, of course, a fabricated one. As more I came up with details, David’s face seemed to be filled with awe. He tried to hide his facial expression, but I could rather read that he was astonished. And at last he said, “Oh wow, you’re a real man.” So this is how I became colorful, a bit too much.

--> I guess this story really is 'ridiculous' ...