We'll always bet on black,
That's a fact,
Come on Robin,
Watch my back.

i like motion pictures

Darkest Hour shows us that however incompetent and unpopular Churchill was, if your heart is in the right place, good will prevail. but above all, the film earns Churchill's place - despite the popular notion that Hitler the great orator nearly changed the world with words - as the good orator who defeated the evil orator.

lion dance or decency?

it's common knowledge the general public have a certain impression of lion dance practitioners, but I hadn't encountered overt contempt in my 15 years, until not once but twice this Chinese New Year.

I shall skip one of the incidents, but the other reminds us that sense and logic will always defeat hate and viciousness, however much material success you've amassed to prop up that hate and viciousness.

we were at Burgundy Crescent and like any Chinese New Year at any private estate, cars clogged the roads. we found virtually the only space to park our two lorries.

enter TEEN (not literally because he didn't bother to exit his gate to speak to us). "you're blocking us from leaving," he said, and by "us" he meant their BMW. I ought to state right now our vehicles were not blatantly in front of their gate, but by the opposite units.

first thought: English-speaking twang but addressing us in Mandarin. why? I politely replied in English that we'd only be there for a while and asked when they're leaving, hoping for dialogue and a resolution. in 10 or 20 minutes, he said. perfect, I thought, and asked for 20 minutes. he then became non-committal on time and asked us to move elsewhere, which was when I thought, "damn, this is going downhill."

still on my best behaviour, I pointed out the lack of any other space and kindly suggested they do a three-point turn at just the next unit. or the next. or the next (I have not mentioned here that the road had multiple pockets for them to U-turn their BMW). TEEN was not buying it. this NS-age boy must have had some upbringing to become this piece of work, I thought to myself.

at this point, a troupe mate chimed in, "we're just a few units away, how about you alert us when you want to leave?" TEEN did not take the offer. "actually you cannot park here," he finally arrived at his point, with a clear hint at the possible illegality of the situation. it's never easy when someone meets your handshake with a middle finger. I told him I wished the conversation didn't reach that territory and once again sought some understanding. TEEN disappeared into the house.

a few minutes later, MAN shouts for us. a few of my troupe mates immediately attended to him, who like TEEN did not exit his gate. he shouted in reference to the lorries-BMW situation, "it's Chinese New Year, don't make me scold people." MAN disappeared into the house. we froze, our brains unable to process shock and comedy simultaneously. what normal human utters something like that, we thought aloud.

eventually, MAN and TEEN board their car, successfully manoeuvre out, but headed for us. as previously mentioned, the roads were clogged, and every car had to navigate and give way to each other, like in any private estate. but MAN, in his deepest, lifelong, id-driven fetish to blame the "them", wound down his window and berated us for making him give way to another car. a troupe mate, one I know can be liberal with his fists, approached him. what would happen next was anybody's guess.

but when he opened his mouth, it was as if he had been touched by Midas himself. "there are so many cars parked here, why aren't you blaming them?" MAN panicked and spouted other nonsense, which I won't dignify by describing here, but he never recovered from being defeated by sense and decency, just like TEEN had earlier, after being fed venom by MAN for what I assume to be his entire young life.

while MAN swam in the gutter, other troupe mates proceeded to direct and clear the traffic, including to get their BMW out. they left as fast as they came, softened as fast as they hardened, but I wish I was audience to the postscript in the car. was there awkward silence? did TEEN see through MAN's hypocrisy? did both continue the vitriol, living and breathing hate in a feedback loop?

ha!

一个人要离开2046需要多长的时间?

The Chaser 10th anniversary

10 years ago this month. unlike any Korean film i've seen. this is how thrillers should be done.

"You see, Theo's faith lost out to chance. So, why bother if life's going to make its own choices?"

喂鱼不钓鱼 喝酒不喝醉 打牌不胡牌

kindred spirits

for all of Conte's contempt for Mourinho, they're kindred spirits.

it started when Conte celebrated wildly in Mourinho's face at Stamford Bridge, but Mourinho did the same against Ferguson at Old Trafford.

both shot to prominence leading mediocre squads to overachieve, one with Porto, one with Italy.

Conte won his first major title at the age of 43, young for managers, while Mourinho did it even earlier at 40.

I hated Mourinho but respected his football; I hate Conte but respect his football.

and despite precedence, Conte is now taking a route hauntingly parallel to Mourinho's. he sacked his star striker for no good reason, and sent his Chelsea from champions to pedestrians.

"I knew guys like you in the army. You do any terrifying thing you are asked to do, but you have to do it running. You think you can outrun your fears, your doubts. The only thing that really scares you is stillness. But everyone is overtaken eventually."

i like motion pictures

The Post is like a more dramatic version of Spotlight. It's like letting Spielberg direct Spotlight. Some will appreciate the more mainstream style, some will find a few moments corny. Impeccably acted and powerful statement on female empowerment. The opening scene of the editor standing up to the publisher is enough for your ticket price.