I had a thought that I might head down to Disneyland early on Easter morning, and enjoy breakfast and a few rides with very light crowds. Waking up at 10 a.m. altered that plan, however, and I arrived for a 2:30 lunch, instead. The park wasn't too crowded; the two levels of Southern California passports were blocked, and I would think many people were spending the day with family. I watched the Soundsational parade, which had plenty of good seating, due to the light attendance; got on Big Thunder in less than five minutes; and practically walked onto Winnie the Pooh, though that attraction rarely has much of a line. The biggest crowds seemed to be waiting for the train, which I took on a Grand Circle Tour when I arrived. I did see Brer Fox today, which is rare. I tried to have a man take my photo, but as I walked away, I discovered that no photo had been shot. I didn't want to wait in line a second time to try again. I somehow came home with three new t-shirts.
The real point of this post: I renewed my passport today! I'm starting on year four of being a Disneyland Resort Annual Passholder.
Next week, I'll be taking my sister to Disneyland. It quite possibly has been twenty years since she last visited. It should be interesting. I have a friend who seems to enjoy all the facts, rumors, and news I spew out as we walk around the Park; I wonder how my sister will take it.
Reviews, Museum Visits, and My Greatest Obsession:
Giving All My Money to Disney
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick
This book is subtitled "A Novel in Words and Pictures," and was the first novel to win the prestigious Caldecott Medal for children's illustration. It was published by Scholastic in 2007. It also holds the distinction as the book that piqued my interest in automata. There was renewed interest in Selznick's novel in the last year, as it was made into a wonderful movie by Martin Scorsese, simply titled Hugo. I reread the book last year, after enjoying the movie. Selznick is primarily an illustrator, not a writer, but he has created a brilliant story. His writing is not as elegant as some other authors', but it is more than sufficient to tell his story. The magic of his storytelling lies in the illustrations, which are inserted into the text as single, full-page images or blocks of storyboard-like sequences of pages, wordlessly revealing action and emotions or providing close-ups of objects or scenes. The book is a whopping 532 pages, but is so full of illustration, that it can easily be read within a day or two.
Hugo Cabret was published several years ago, and the movie was quite popular last year, so I won't describe the plot. I want to explore why I am so fascinated with this book.
First of all, I appreciate Brian Selznick's attention to detail. He must be a man who is fascinated by details himself. His illustrations either show crowded scenes, full of people and/or architecture, or they are close-ups of faces, hands, or complex objects. His illustrated scenes draw the viewer in; I can hear the bustle of the train station and feel Hugo's loneliness. Selznick also shows characters' emotions so beautifully; close-ups of faces reveal joy, surprise, loneliness, and fear. I cannot help but study each picture. I love comic books, which also tell a story through their pictures, but comics rarely pull me into the illustrations like those in this book. The subject matter--a highly complex mechanical figure and the history of a filmmaker who painstakingly created magical worlds with hand-cut film and no CGI--are perfect for such a detailed package.
The other thing I love about this book, of course, is the story itself. I enjoy learning history, and here is a historical novel that weaves actual events and people into its narrative. I was unfamiliar with the early filmmaker Georges Melies, though like many people, I had seen the famous image of a rocket hitting the moon in the eye, from his film A Trip to the Moon. I am happy that Brian Selznick introduced me to Melies, and the inclusion of some of Melies' work in the book appeals to the fantasy-lover in me. It was the picture-drawing automaton at the center of the story, however, that fascinated me even more than Melies. I was vaguely aware of automata before. I'm very familiar with theme park animatronics, of course, and everyone has encountered wind-up toys that work without electricity; I knew that toy makers used to make much more complex wind-up toys than the simple walking animals one encounters in bins at check-out lines. But the automaton in Hugo Cabret is so complex, I couldn't imagine that such a thing could really have existed. It amazed me to do a bit of research and find out that automata could really be so complex. Most were not as intricate as that in the book, but there are famous examples from the last couple of centuries of automata that could draw pictures or play instruments. (There's a featurette on the Hugo blu-ray that even shows some of them!)
I read The Invention of Hugo Cabret around the time I was becoming obsessed with Disneyland. The mechanical man in the book seemed to work its way into my subconscious, along with animatronics, carousels, and band organ music--all forms of entertainment implemented by the melding of technology and artistry. The simple shifting of gears together, to create movement or music, is somehow magical. Brian Selznick's story, based on history and showcasing real technology and real human relations, is absolutely magical, too.
Hugo Cabret was published several years ago, and the movie was quite popular last year, so I won't describe the plot. I want to explore why I am so fascinated with this book.
First of all, I appreciate Brian Selznick's attention to detail. He must be a man who is fascinated by details himself. His illustrations either show crowded scenes, full of people and/or architecture, or they are close-ups of faces, hands, or complex objects. His illustrated scenes draw the viewer in; I can hear the bustle of the train station and feel Hugo's loneliness. Selznick also shows characters' emotions so beautifully; close-ups of faces reveal joy, surprise, loneliness, and fear. I cannot help but study each picture. I love comic books, which also tell a story through their pictures, but comics rarely pull me into the illustrations like those in this book. The subject matter--a highly complex mechanical figure and the history of a filmmaker who painstakingly created magical worlds with hand-cut film and no CGI--are perfect for such a detailed package.
The other thing I love about this book, of course, is the story itself. I enjoy learning history, and here is a historical novel that weaves actual events and people into its narrative. I was unfamiliar with the early filmmaker Georges Melies, though like many people, I had seen the famous image of a rocket hitting the moon in the eye, from his film A Trip to the Moon. I am happy that Brian Selznick introduced me to Melies, and the inclusion of some of Melies' work in the book appeals to the fantasy-lover in me. It was the picture-drawing automaton at the center of the story, however, that fascinated me even more than Melies. I was vaguely aware of automata before. I'm very familiar with theme park animatronics, of course, and everyone has encountered wind-up toys that work without electricity; I knew that toy makers used to make much more complex wind-up toys than the simple walking animals one encounters in bins at check-out lines. But the automaton in Hugo Cabret is so complex, I couldn't imagine that such a thing could really have existed. It amazed me to do a bit of research and find out that automata could really be so complex. Most were not as intricate as that in the book, but there are famous examples from the last couple of centuries of automata that could draw pictures or play instruments. (There's a featurette on the Hugo blu-ray that even shows some of them!)
I read The Invention of Hugo Cabret around the time I was becoming obsessed with Disneyland. The mechanical man in the book seemed to work its way into my subconscious, along with animatronics, carousels, and band organ music--all forms of entertainment implemented by the melding of technology and artistry. The simple shifting of gears together, to create movement or music, is somehow magical. Brian Selznick's story, based on history and showcasing real technology and real human relations, is absolutely magical, too.
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