Dead Man’s Chest: Funnier than Curse of the Black Pearl

It took us a few weeks since the release of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest to make it to the theatre. I had dragged my feet a little because I heard it wasn’t as good as the first Pirates, but I knew that seeing it on the big screen was a must-do. I was pleasantly surprised to find the rumors incorrect, as far as my own criteria for enjoyment were concerned. It wasn’t the first Pirates and therefore it couldn’t have the element of surprise and delight one experiences upon meeting a “family” of strong characters and their excellent acting for the first time. But the performances were equally strong and the characters just as delightful as in the first movie, and the humor was even better. Several characters whose voice roles were as important as their physical role if not more so were especially notable, including Bill Nighy as Davy Jones and Naomie Harris as Tia Dalma. Pirate Ragetti, played by Mackenzie Crook, was hysterically funny with his unexpected intellectual pronouncements since we had seen him as mostly evil as well as incompetent and illiterate in the first movie.

Mackenzie Crook as Ragetti (photo courtesy of IMDb)

Jack Davenport was memorable as the down-trodden Norrington (and looked so much better without his powdered wig!).

Jack Davenport as Norrington (photo courtesy of IMDb)

He reminded me a great deal of Alan Rickman – must be the voice as well as the demeanor. The fight scenes took on a distinctly Jackie Chan-like flavor with their skill, finesse, great choreography and humor, much more so than in Movie One (where they were nevertheless entirely satisfactory!).

More than this I will not say. Go see it and enjoy.

Green Discount for Select Voiceovers

I read the other day that a researcher at Iowa State University has figured out how to make fuel oil from cow manure. The manure is mixed with corn stalks and dried in large drums; the drying process costs little and produces little odor. The mixture is then thermochemically processed to yield charcoal and vapors that, on condensation, are oil. Manure is said to contain 12 to 18 gigajoules of energy per ton; one gigajoule will illuminate a 60-watt bulb for six months. You can read about this in ScienceDaily . I’ve written the Principal Investigator to ask the efficiency of the process of converting manure to bio-oil, since that key information was left out of the article.

It’s wonderful to see so much time and attention focussed on reducing waste, using waste, and finding alternative (and novel) energy sources. It’s about bloody time, you know? I’ve decided that I will offer a 20% discount on voiceovers to “green” companies. If you think your company qualifies, please let me know.

Voice-over heaven.

I’ve been in the voice-over business for less than two years. Certain aspects of the business take some getting-used-to, particularly the way people don’t return calls and emails. That’s probably true of all of business, but I come from an academic background so I’m used to a world where people communicate (although not always well) rather than diving for cover when the phone rings. One time when a producer did return my call and I marveled at that, he said, “Woody Allen said, ‘it's not a dog eat dog world, it's a dog won't return other dogs' phone calls world’ .” That made me feel slightly better.

But one must persevere or wither on the voice-over vine. I recently got an email from a Boston-area company asking if I would be available for a job. I checked my database and saw that I had first contacted this company by email in March 2005. They had never responded, but I sent them an email every three months telling them what I had been up to. I go back and forth about when it’s time to give up on a company, and there are a few circumstances for that:

• When they go out of business
• When they tell me they don’t ever want to hear from me again (this is quite rare)
• When I realise that they don’t need VO in my areas of specialisation and I’m trying to focus on “warmer” prospects

My point is, protracted lack of response is no reason to give up. Apparently, it can take at least 16 months of steadfast silence before a company is ready to hire.

Once a company has hired me, I always look forward to finding out what kind of a client they will be. Frequently, I do the work, send it off, and hear nothing. I don’t like to send an invoice until I’ve gotten word that the client has what they need, although I’ve learned that certain of my peeps don’t say anything unless they need a retake. This doesn't bother me a bit; it's all in a day's work. For them I just wait a decent interval and send the invoice. Then there are the people who are enthusiastic and appreciative, and they even write to me when they don’t have work, they just like to keep in touch. Of course, I especially like those people. They are friendly, interesting, and a joy to work with. I also really like the people who have never hired me, but who nevertheless respond when they get my quarterly reports, and fill me in on what they’ve been up to. That is greatly appreciated.

And then, there’s Mr. S.

The first reason to love Mr. S. is that he found me, rather than the other way round. Also, he needed a character voice, with an Australian accent. Character voices, and in particular, accents, are my very favorite thing to do. Pat Fraley had mentioned, just a few short weeks before Mr. S. came along, that accents make up about minus 2% of what voice actors are called upon to do, and although I kind of knew that, I hated like anything to hear it articulated in that way. Another reason to love Mr. S. is that he took half an hour to tell me what he needed. He’s in the educational software business and I like the feeling that each character he uses has to be well developed and somebody that he can trust to give children what they need. And after I received the script and sent in the work, he took the time to thank me at length. I was so pleased to learn, when I got home from France, that Australian Map Girl was going to be around for a while, her character would be developed further, and additional lines would be needed. I even got a humorous “press release” announcing that she had a name.

It’s great to have the work, and it’s great to have a new repeat customer. But the best part is knowing that this friendly and generous educator will be in my life for a bit longer. Sometimes it's the person who sends the script that "makes" the job. You know who you are. Thank-you.

Vacation Stories III (conclusion). [scroll down a few meters for the earlier installments]

Our neighborhood


We had time during our first evening for a boat ride on the Seine and a relaxing view of the city

After the boat ride we were ready for a late dinner, and searched for a restaurant that did not have a television or radio blaring – difficult as it was the last night of the World Cup. The streets were crowded with people who needed to watch but who were not content to stay at home to do it.



Again the kids set the agenda for most of the week, and the first stop was the Louvre






We spent 2-3 hours there, concentrating on the French painters of the early 19th century, then walked in the Jardin des Tuilleries and got sucked into a few rides...







The Musée d’Orsay occupied much of the next day. I had actually never seen the paintings in these collections before and was very moved. I had spent a lot of time studying the Impressionists in a wonderful summer school class I attended when I was only slightly older than my kids are now. Finally seeing Monet’s paintings of the Rouen cathedral on this trip gave me chills. A documentary about Van Gogh was being filmed at the museum that day. I wrote down the director & producer's names for future reference!

The evening brought me the dreaded task of taking the kids to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I don’t care for heights, but I had no way out of this one. We took our places in line at the bottom and bought tickets for the privilege of climbing. I felt I should be paid for this but really, nobody was listening. After climbing around 700 of the 1789 steps we couldn’t find any more accessible steps, and joining another queue seemed the only option. We then had the privilege of buying more tickets, and as it turned out the elevator was our only option – you can’t climb the stairs to the very top. After buying tickets we queued again to get on the elevator and I made myself watch our progress as we ascended to the summit. It was a lovely view and I did not feel after all that I was going to have nightmares. As we descended the stairs the lights started to come on, and it was pretty magical. I had not brought the camera, but had gotten some pictures the previous night as we were in that neighborhood:






The kids had not had quite enough art so we spent the next day at the modern art museum at the Pompidou Center. I’ve never been particularly keen on modern art, and by the end of the day the boys decided they weren’t either, but we enjoyed the visit anyway. There were quite a few interesting short films on display, including one expertly edited collection of scenes from Hollywood movies showing leading actresses in identical settings – sleeping, then awakened by a noise, getting up to investigate, opening a door – and so on – beautifully done but don’t ask me what the artist thought he was doing….

The week sped by and our last day was crammed. Notre Dame occupied the first part of the day










and Pére Lachaise cemetery took up the rest of it. It was a hot day, and it took us a while to get the cemetery figured out.



A most unusual place – it almost had me feeling it wouldn’t be so bad to be underground if one could be there. Very peaceful, but with lots of visitors. It was like a town, with quiet tree-lined streets.







We wandered around for a good two to three hours and found a few old friends





and when the cemetery closed at 1800 we cooled off at a neighborhood ice cream parlor before catching the Metro back to Montmartre one last time.

At the time this trip was conceived, I couldn’t imagine spending 2 ½ weeks on vacation. Part of me was kind of against the whole idea, and I had so many responsibilities at home I simply was not able to put my mind to the task of truly preparing for the trip. I had been to Paris twice before, but I was 17 at the time of that 2nd trip, so it was almost like starting over. Not a bad way to go though – poring over guide books is a great thing, but winging it works too. Now, it seems so easy. I feel like I could pack a small bag and jump on a plane tomorrow. I hope the next trip will not be such a long time coming. But in the meantime, I’d like that crash course in French!

Smart Car

I loved these little cars, which were all over the place. They would get crushed in the mob of U.S. SUVs; still I wanted to put a couple in my suitcase, bring them home and convert them to run on vegetable oil...

Vacation Stories II.

There followed a glorious week on the coast of Brittany which was a blur of picturesque villages and churches,

breath-taking shoreline,







extraordinary stone houses



and impossibly beautiful flowers



as well as sad reminders of the past:







The disappointment was that the lovely house where we spent the week did not have internet access as expected so I missed out on some voiceover work and was forced to spend my time relaxing and seeing the sights – like this great big sandcastle at Mont Saint Michel:



A high point for me was visiting the ornithological station at Grand Ile, where the kids and I spent some time on the beach and I had a chance to fraternise (in French!) with other birdwatchers.






Another fond memory is strong-arming the kids and dragging them to a coiffure pour un coup d’un peu centimetres des cheveux. Just a few. Boy did they look better after that. I also shelled out a few euros for hairbrushes for them since they had conveniently forgotten their own.

Visiting bakeries was a favored pastime too



We ate furiously the whole time, but we walked miles and miles so I actually returned home slightly lighter than when I left. We walked even more in Paris – the steps in the Metro alone were a workout.

Les moules (mussels)

In Paris the dynamics changed because whereas in Brittany all 17 of us were under one roof, now we were spread among arondissements in 3 apartments. Ours was near Montmartre (where the movie Amelie was filmed), a tiny charming walk-up that was great to come home to after a long day. Fortunately the walk-up was short:

After what Peter dubbed the Stairs of Doom, which we climbed every evening after emerging from the Metro, we were glad the apartment was only one floor up.





To be continued…

Vacation Stories, Part I.

I’m home. I don’t completely want to be home. My two brothers and sister and their families also went on this trip so it was pretty amazing. My sister told me that when she got home she had an email from another Paris family that wants to do an apartment exchange in October. My sister had been thinking, “well of course I can’t go” but when I told her I had been checking air fares she started having second thoughts. Girls’ week in Paris! She and I went to Vienna together for a week – golly, it was close to 15 years ago, back when we were both still single and childless. It was very cool. No commitments here, but we’re thinking about it. In the meantime I need a crash course in French. I had a year and a half of it in middle school and then dropped out because French was just too trendy at my school and it got on my nerves. The middle school mind is difficult to comprehend. I started taking German instead, which I happily did for many many years, with some intensive Spanish during a summer spent chasing bats in Costa Rica followed by more Spanish conversation and writing classes in graduate school. Now I’m ready for more French. More of all three of those languages actually. My new goal is to be able to do voiceover in four languages.

I will resist the temptation to write a travelogue and just give you the highlights. We spent a couple of days in London before joining the rest of the family on the coast of Brittany. That was a whirlwind with the agenda set by the kids.

The Changing of the Guard was a big wish but that occurs at 11:30 a.m. and we just didn’t make it. After seeing other sights we finally got over to Hyde Park and hung out in front of the palace for a while.






Shortly after 7 pm the security guards in front of one of the gates started clearing the area, even telling cyclists to stay back, and then two posh-looking cars wheeled out of the gates.



I didn’t pay too much attention, but son Edward told me he saw a grey-haired lady in one of the cars and insisted it was the Queen. Later he claimed with a twinkle in his eye that she had looked directly at him, held up her hand like a telephone and mouthed, “call me!”.

The oldest pub in London (I think)


We stayed in a dive – the Regent Palace in Piccadilly Circus, a smoke-drenched columbarium for sleeping only – economical and depressing. On our way out of town to the airport for our flight to France I was able to point out to the kids the hotel where I had stayed on my last trip to London: The Grosvenor House in Hyde Park. I had taken a trip to Egypt during the year I worked at the American Museum of Natural History in New York, paid for by Discovery Tours (now AMNH Expeditions). My job was to “interpret Egyptian ornithology” on a Nile cruise. We stopped in London on the way to Egypt to see the Egyptian collections at the British Museum. I have come down in the world since then….

To be continued...