Riley's blog

Ridiculous, one could say Big Trouble in Little China is ridiculous. The 1986 film is littered with problems that threaten to take away from it’s message. The biggest problem is not the editing, writing, directing, or acting. These things all seem sub-par, or maybe they are best parts from every genre. However, in this particular film, the mixture of all these elements creates confusion.

The scenes are too long for the dialogue within them. It is almost as if the production team tried too desperately to keep the film under 100 minutes. In fact, coming in at 99 minutes, the film seems to go too fast. The dialogue is delivered well by the actors; however, the speed seems as if each line is delivered on top of the next. It’s as if every intimate scene is delivered with the speed of an adrenaline filled fight.

Moreover, the editing feels like a dream. The most notable way to know that one is in a dream is the realization that you have no idea how you got from one point to another. Establishing shots are the benchmark of film. They establish the scene and what is to precede the action that follows. There are none of these in Big Trouble in Little China. The lack of these shots can create a speed that is confusing for the audience. By the time anyone realizes what exactly is happening, or the point of the scene itself, it is nearly over.

Beginning with an investigation into previous events, the opening scene sets up the situation for the action that follows. Back tracking to an earlier day, Jack Burton, played by Kurt Russell, is a truck driver: successful or not, drunk or not, general slacker or not. None of this is explored. The film cuts to Burton in a card game against an old friend, Wang Chi, played by Dennis Dun. Burton wins’ thousands of dollars from Dun, but is untrusting of his old friend’s intentions. He begrudgingly accompanies Wang to the airport, where the latter is to meet with the girl of his dreams. There the duo encounters a fast talking lawyer, Gracie Law, played by Kim Catrall, who is at times too fast-talking and too naïve for the character she portrays. As Wang’s dream girl is kidnapped by a Chinese gang, the two heroes follow the violent criminals into the center of Little China, San Francisco. It is here that Burton encounters rival gang members, and an evil Sorcerer, who is such because we are told so. The story soon progresses to Burton finding out that his friends know more than they let on, and he may be in way over his head.

While none of the secondary characters are explored, the audience must come to the realization that Russell’s Jack Burton is one of them. He is the comedy delivering straight man, who is unwilling to believe the ridiculousness he has been thrust in to. Russell knows, as the audience does, that the film, and its plot, is over the top, yet he buys into it, and plays the role perfectly.

Loosely, held together by the antagonist’s affinity for green eyed girls, the purpose for the film itself is not revealed until the seconds following the climatic fight. Although satisfying for the audience, one must question why the film’s director, John Carpenter, would wait so long to reveal crucial reasons as to why the audience must hate the main villain.

The film campy. It is ridiculous, and it knows exactly what it is. It intends to break all the normal tropes and characteristics of action and comedies films. The combination of them both is like Indiana Jones on steroids. At times, the film portrays the fight of Rambowith the slapstick ridiculousness of Airplane.

At all times, fantasy, action, adventure, and comedy, the central message, to challenge conventional tropes, is nearly lost. The loosely held together plot could be well extended to include deeper exposition, more elaborate fight sequences, and a variety of humor. And for God’s sake, establish what is happening or where we are in Little China! Although, to be different was the goal, Carpenter would have been well advised to keep the well beaten path in sight, even if he refused to walk along it.

If you wish to find this film, you may have to look hard. You’ll rarely find it on cable or network television, and the film is also a no show on Netflix. The best place to find a quick viewing is on Amazon, which is very fitting. The online marketplace is filled with everything, as is this movie, jammed packed with a little bit of everything.

Despite flawed production elements, this is a film worth exploring. In fact, after a close initial viewing, it may fit well as background noise during the average rainy day. It is a film worth viewing more than once, however, one must actually watch the events depicted to actually get what the artists are intending; a campy action film, with one of the best “one-liner” delivering actors of the time.

Conquering a fear is one thing. Admitting your good at something, is another element entirely. History’s “great people” may have found a way to persevere alone, but maybe, like the rest of us, they relied on the people closest to them.

Mildly upset. My stomach was only mildly upset. However, I was going to the dark place in my mind. It’s that place that we all have, where we focus too hard on a particular aspect, and all the things that could go wrong suddenly go through your head. All the insecurities that once whispered, now seem to run screaming through your brain. As, I have learned to do over the years, I locked them in a place inside, one sure to burst one day, several years down the line, but I digress. I opened my eyes, and lifted my head, and reentered the safety of my friends.

I wouldn’t have guessed it three weeks earlier, but these strangers were now my friends. It’s funny how that can happen after seeing each other every night for an entire month.

The walls around me were completely white and unappealing, a stark cry from the paintings that lay against them. I only believed this to be true. For three weeks we stared at their frames because we were told not to touch them. I suppose that is a small price to pay for college students to be allowed to stage an entire play in an art gallery. Our adviser Taylor Clemens would tell us that the total worth was somewhere in the “millions.” Though I didn’t believe him.

That being the belief however, the art was untouchable. It was stacked neatly against the wall, and all we had were metal folding chairs. As I began to hear the people filling in the seats outside, my mildly upset stomach became more uneasy. I seemed to be the only one. Everyone else was to busy with their own chaos.

“Five minutes to places,” Grady would say, relaying the message from Jason, the stage manager, on the other end of the headset. “Thank you, places,” we would all respond. At least once a night, one of us would respond, “Fuck you, places!” This of course led to laughter – under our breath, as the audience was not allowed to know about the turmoil backstage.

Eric and Khiana, two of my fellow cast mates, would sit silently on their phones. Every once, in a while Eric would hold in his own loud laughter, and Khiana would give a sarcastic smile toward the current jokester. In the corner, Madison was shoving a beard on to Grant, cursing about how the hair refused to stay on his perfectly clean cut face.

In itself, this was its own comic relief. Behind their chaos was a leather chair, one coveted by each of the cast members. Grady would say, it’s “the comfiest chair he had ever sat in.” He even contemplated taking it for himself, and I think he was only half joking. All this happened before we learned that the comfy leather chair was actually a piece of art, valued at $6,000! Now, Madison and Grant stood with makeup, fake hair, and glue, not two feet away from the “art.”

Though, I now counted them all as my friends, Madison had been my friend long before I was cast in Two Rooms.She, herself, had felt a lot of stress over the past month, having to pick the costumes for each character, as well as memorizing her own role. But there was no doubt that she was our leader. “You’re doing great, Sweetie,” she would say to the cast. Although, sometimes as a sarcastic way to lighten the mood, she would also say it to keep our spirits up.

I remembered this vote of confidence as the lights went down. She then admired her work on Grant before pulling her hair back into a pony tail and walking to the curtain. She was the first character to emerge. And, through all the immense stress that she once had. I found myself comparing her nervousness from a week earlier, to the stone cold focus on her face at this moment, and wished I could have the same.

As she left, the role of leader turned to Grady, who had removed his headset and got on his phone, though he always kept an ear on the stage, so as not to miss his cue. He always had an ability to lighten the mood, maybe it’s because his role was the smallest. His reactions to the comic banter backstage could make a joke ten times as funny, while the tension would drop by half.

It was at this moment that I began to realize the funny reactions that soothed me were from jokes that I had made. In fact, most everyone laughed at my jokes, or general clumsiness, which was not always purposeful. The jokes arrived at their best when I noticed others to be under an intense amount of nervousness or stress. For the entire month of August, stress mounted on nearly all of them as their other extra-curriculars began, along with the school year. My own stress had been minimal, I went to work, then showed up at night and did what I do best, act. As their friend, I knowingly, or unknowingly, was helping them ease themselves into this night from the moment tension rose on the first day of rehearsal. However, it was now I who needed calming.

Checking on my props for my first scene, I felt as though an ocean was throwing my innards up and down throughout my stomach. However, I could not focus on this, as I was to distracted by my own heartbeat. I must have been breathing hard as well because Khiana, the quiet one, was now looking at me. “You’re gonna do fine,” she said, smiling. I was not aware of my obviously loud nervous habits, but before I could ask her how she knew I was systematically falling apart, I heard the lines leading up to my entrance.

As I headed for the curtain, I took one final look in the mirror. I didn’t want to move. I realized that I had never actually acted in front of an audience, no one that mattered anyway.

I had surrounded myself with film and acting for 21 years. I believed I was good at acting, but I started to wonder whether or not I was just good at reciting movie lines.

As I heard my cue, I was then overcome by a sense of duty, to finish what I started. This carried me through the curtain.

It was somewhere in the the middle of my entrance that I remembered that I was the only one without acting experience. This had been a source of worry from the beginning of rehearsals, but now, it was assuring. We had helped each other along for so long that I realized, those with experience would help me along if I got on that stage and fell, figuratively… or literally. At the moment I had that realization, the lights were on me.

I couldn’t have known then that the fear would quell each night to a conquerable nervousness. I also couldn’t have guessed that I would be nominated for an Irene Ryan Acting Award. I would eventually realize that this was, in fact, something I was good at. What I did know then, however, was that it was the people surrounding me that helped me get up on the stage, as I hope I helped them through rehearsals. So, hold to what you’re good at. If you find yourself unsure of your abilities, ask the people around you for help. They should point you in the right direction. And, if you find yourself in the dark, and in need of focus, remember, “you’re doing great Sweetie.”

To be courageous is to do something, even though you are afraid of it. When I was working with the Service Advisor at Rick Collins Toyota on a Saturday, I had to exhibit this trait. The Service Advisor was a girl, and I am not a large man, to say the least. However, we found ourselves dealing with a person that was not supposed to be in the Service Department. He was older and unkempt. We could not tell, as he had his back to us, but he seemed predatory as he paced back and forth through the department. Arriving at the realization that he was not the owner of any car that we were looking at today, we decided that someone must go and see what this gentlemen needed. We did the right thing, we called a man. However, the man in the Parts Department did not answer. So, the Service Advisor and I stood wearily at door. It was here that I came to an unfortunate realization, I am a man.

It became my job to muster up the courage to make sure this gentlemen got the attention he needed. I could have let her go talk to him, as it could be her job, but if he were crazy I couldn’t very well let her deal with him. So, I buffed out my chest and threw the door open and marched out to the Service Department, and gently said, “Can I help you today, Sir?”

He turned and had a friendly face. He said he was watching the cars and waiting for his van to finish. As it turns out, he was with one of the car owners. He had ridden with him and went to the Service Department while his companion spoke to us. In hindsight, it’s not the greatest showing of bravery or courage, but I didn’t know that.

A woman, middle aged, sat on the cold floor. She was struggling to remain alert while every breath she took came back shorter than the last.

She could barely comprehend her surroundings, though nothing more than the typical commercial bathroom with cliché tile, a sink, and a toilet. The latter would of course be an obvious choice to sit, however she sat on the floor with sweat quickly and heavily making its way through her very carefully planned business suit. She then laid down, with her last conscious sight being loved ones poorly silhouetted by a dim ceiling light. She used every ounce of her strength finally admit that she needed help.

Two and a half years later, a young girl lies in tears on her fiancé’s lap. Three days of increasing pain has left her nearly immobilized in the middle of the night. Her pain is coming from her head, but it is not your normal pain. It does not come from the neck where a nerve may be pinched. Nor is it from the brain, where recent back to school stress could build up into a migraine. The pain comes from her ear, and feels as if something is ripping her eardrum from the inner ear itself. She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s exactly what happened.

These two women have no relation. They were born in different areas of the country, over a quarter of a century apart. They have no inkling the other person exists, nor are their illnesses similar in any way, shape or form. However, their pain comes from the same source. Not the brain, or the heart, or the central nervous system, but genetics; evolution to be exact. Humanity is an evolved species. Science has proven that women reach maturity sooner than men. However, it is also becoming known that women are tougher than men. And while this may seem cause for celebration, it is actually to their detriment.

“I just went to the doctor today, after four days,” the girl says, “and I feel terrible.” As it happens, the young girl did in fact have a perforated ear drum. It is hard to sympathize with a perforated ear drum, as less than 1% of people in the U.S are plagued by it every year. This is much less common, and much more painful than the common cold, however, males are likely to visit the nurse or the physician within a couple days of their initial symptoms of the flu or the common cold.

Women are built for such pain. They are built to bare children, therefore, their bodies have evolved to handle the pain. Although it could be argued that men ignore the issues women face, the need for medical assistance is a problem they must personally realize. Men are not more susceptible to illness, however, they are not built to handle sickness or injury as women are.

“Women know their bodies more,” says Morningside Nurse Practitioner Lexi Kohn, “they are more proactive with their illnesses.” Morningside sub-nurse Paula Guntren adds, “men are more unsure of their symptoms, so they come to get checked.” Both nurses add that while they see an equal balance of men and women, their visits from women are different. Their illnesses may be more severe or they have injuries that need to be tended to.

A perforated ear drum usually follows and ear infection. This is a time where people experience both pain and sickness. Here, most men would find their way to the doctor to be treated. The college girl did not do this. Her perseverance through the illness led to an even worse diagnosis. According to Kohn and Guntren, most Morningsiders tend to receive treatment in the first days of their illnesses. She waited twice as long, and dealt with a much larger issue in return.

Looking at the woman who would eventually die of a heart attack, she had all the normal issues; trouble breathing, perspiration, and arm pain, yet she ignored them as run of the mill ailments. Pain was often related to her lifelong battle with arthritis. Her shortness of breath could be attributed to yet another bout of Pneumonia, which she had battled several times. She had seen these issues before, and conquered them. She had no reason to believe that she was having a heart attack, and her fate would be the opposite of her own brother.

These same symptoms that plagued her brother led him to the hospital, where it was confirmed that he was having a heart attack. Here he was treated, and released to Cardio Rehab. This is where he would come to amazing realization. Upon seeing that the majority of patients were men, he asked the nurse why there were no women. Surely they must have heart attacks as well. The answer was simple, “women ignore their symptoms” the nurse said. “When women have heart attacks, they usually die.”

A woman, middle aged, sat on the cold floor. She was struggling to remain alert while her every breath she took came back shorter than the last.

She could barely comprehend her surroundings, though nothing more than the typical commercial bathroom with cliché tile, a sink, and a toilet. The latter would of course be an obvious choice to sit, however she sat on the floor with sweat quickly and heavily making its way through her very carefully planned business suit.  She used every ounce of her strength to open the door and finally admit that she needed help. She then laid down, with her last conscious sight being loved ones poorly silhouetted by a dim ceiling light.

Two and a half years later, a young girl lies in tears on her fiancé’s lap. Three days of increasing pain has left her nearly immobilized in the middle of the night. Her pain is coming from her head, but it is not your normal pain. It does not come from the neck where a nerve may be pinched. Nor is it from the brain, where recent back to school stress could build up a migraine. The pain comes from her ear, and feels as if something is ripping her eardrum from the inner ear itself. She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s exactly what happened.

These two women have no relation. They were born in different areas of the country, over a quarter of a century apart. They have no inkling the other person exists, nor are their illnesses similar in any way, shape or form. However, their pain comes from the same source. Not the brain, or the heart, or the central nervous system, but genetics; evolution to be exact. Humanity is an evolved species. Science has proven that women reach maturity sooner than men. However, it is also becoming known that women are tougher than men. And while this may seem cause for celebration, it is actually to their detriment.

“I just went to the doctor today, after four days,” the girl says, “and I feel terrible.” As it happens, the young girl did in fact have a perforated ear drum. It is hard to sympathize with a perforated ear drum, as less than 1% of people in the U.S are plagued by it every year. This is much less common, and much more painful than the common cold, however, males are likely to visit the nurse or the physician within a couple days of their initial symptoms of the flu or the common cold.

Women are built for such pain. They are built to bare children, therefore, their bodies have evolved to handle the pain. Although it could be argued that men ignore the issues women face, the need for medical assistance is a problem they must personally realize. Men are not more susceptible to illness, however, they are not built to handle sickness or injury as women are.

Looking at the woman who would eventually die of a heart attack, she had all the normal issues; trouble breathing, perspiration, and arm pain, yet she ignored them as run of the mill ailments. Her fate would not match that of her brother, who survived his heart attack nearly ten years prior. It is he that first told me that women ignore their medical issues.

As he walked into rehabilitation after his heart attack, he would notice a staggering amount of men, and few women. He knew that women must have heart attacks as well, but he couldn’t figure out why there were known there. The answer is simple. The nurse told him, “when women have heart attacks, they usually die.”

My name is interesting, as there are relatively few Liljenquist’s. There have to be even fewer Riley Liljenquists. In fact, in the United States, I am the only one. That is one of the funny things about my name. My middle name is McCloud, named after the character Duncan Macleod from the television show, obviously spelled different. In that show, the idea is that there can only be one Highlander, which is funny because I believe there can only be one Riley.

I feel sort of vindicated, knowing that there is only one Riley Liljenquist. I’ve pretended that I could be the only one. In fact, from time to time, when I sarcastically announce my presence, I use third person to say “make room for Riley.” I say it as if I were the only one. But, it’s true, I am the only one. In fact, I have only met a handful of other Riley’s in my life, only one of which had the same spelling. That’s how I’ve lived my life, as Robin Williams says, “you ain’t never had a friend like me.”

The name Riley has stood the test of time. Over the course of human history, the Irish and Western European name Riley is one that our culture has marked as one that goes back hundreds of years in our history. To have such a name, is to join the long line of those that have come before us. My name is Riley Liljenquist. My Swedish surname and my Irish first name ensure that I am the only one in these United States. So, I must take it upon myself to make the name as memorable as possible, as I am the representative of my name in this nation.

To be the only Riley Liljenquist, is to take on the responsibility given to me by my parents. I have kept my ancestral roots with me, as I have never lived the life of an Irishman, but I have never strayed away from the original birth place of that name.

A woman, middle aged, sat on the cold floor. She was struggling to remain alert while her every breath she took came back shorter than the last.

She could barely comprehend her surroundings, though nothing more than the typical commercial bathroom with cliché tile, a sink, and a toilet. The latter would of course be an obvious choice to sit, however she sat on the floor with sweat quickly and heavily making its way through her very carefully planned business suit.  She used every ounce of her strength to open the door and finally admit that she needed help. She then laid down, with her last conscious sight being loved ones poorly silhouetted by a dim ceiling light.

Two and a half years later, a young girl lies in tears on her fiancé’s lap. Three days of increasing pain has left her nearly immobilized in the middle of the night. Her pain is coming from her head, but it is not your normal pain. It does not come from the neck where a nerve may be pinched. Nor is it from the brain, where recent back to school stress could build up a migraine. The pain comes from her ear, and feels as if something is ripping her eardrum from the inner ear itself. She doesn’t know it yet, but that’s exactly what happened.

These two women have no relation. They were born in different areas of the country, over a quarter of a century apart. They have no inkling the other person exists, nor are their illnesses similar in any way, shape or form. However, their pain comes from the same source. Not the brain, or the heart, or the central nervous system, but genetics; evolution to be exact. Humanity is an evolved species. Science has proven that women reach maturity sooner than men. However, it is also becoming known that women are tougher than men. And while this may seem cause for celebration, it is actually to their detriment.

People don’t have a problem with free stuff. Even apprehension is put backseat to acceptance. Over the course of ten days, I have been going around offering free Scooby Snacks to people, and I did not run in to one person that turned away from free snacks.

“Sure?” One student responded when I offered him a Snack. He was unsure if this was something that he wanted. But I assured him that it was safe. Once he saw that is was, in fact, a boxed good his uncertainty disappeared.

“Thanks,” said Luis, a Morningside international student. Under stubble, what I took to be a permanent look, he seemed unsure, almost like he didn’t know what was happening. He had a thick accent, so there was struggle to keep the conversation going, but I did notice that he was in fact appreciative of the food. His appreciation was not that of necessity, but it was surprise that someone may offer him something.

Girls I found to be apprehensive, especially those that I didn’t know. Many of them couldn’t grasp why a random male student would give them candy. To them, I would explain that it was an assignment for class, in which case they gladly accepted free treats. It seemed by the same unassured look that I got from each girl, that in this new era it is a bit strange for a male to offer something free. But when nothing is demanded in return, it is seen as a sweet gesture. It makes me wonder if there is something to be said about gender politics, when a simple snack can is questioned.

Off campus, at work, I noticed much less apprehension, which I what I assumed from the beginning.  I had scene reactions from people who had taken free food before, and I wondered if the same would be true for me.

“What is it?” Ray asked. He was a tall guy in his mid thirties with shaggy hair and some scruff on his face. I explained that they work in fact Scooby snacks. “Yes!” he said, and hurriedly took one. The same could not be said for my other coworkers, who gladly took one, and only asked what they took after they began eating. I’m glad that this happened because it proved that my experiment of offering food was a success.

It seems college students live in a bubble. We are unsure about the outside world, therefore we are apprehensive when offered free things, food especially. However, once we realize that it comes from a box, a little trigger goes off in our brain, telling us that this must be safe. My coworkers have been out of school for some time, three years, at least, for the youngest of them. They have more experience, therefore they are less fearful of what people have to offer. Maybe they care a little less about there health, but it may be something a little more optimistic. It may be that they know kindness and generosity don’t always need to be questioned.

“Did you know you have a purple-haired driver?” one rider asks the Old Capitol cab company. Driving a big yellow taxi in Iowa City is raven-haired Kris Evans. She loves navigating the streets and meeting new people, often working until the early morning hours, finishing a twelve hour shift.

Standing taller than most women, and some men, purple-haired Kris Evans has no fear of burning the midnight oil. The taxi driver loves her job, spending 12 hours a day navigating the streets of Iowa City.

The Longreads article “An Inquiry Into Abuse” focused on the possible abuse of Pat Nixon, from her husband Richard Nixon. In the first half, the article focuses on three separate accounts of possible abuse, which were all discounted because of the difficulty to verify any of the claims. This difficulty of verification is taken with great respect in this article, however, in the second half, the article focuses on the people within the Nixon campaigns that have their own stories of abuse. These allegations, along with commentary from former Nixon staffer Roger Morris, paint the picture that the abuse of Pat Nixon and others in the life of Richard Nixon was real.

The story itself is good, however, the lead could use rewriting that would capture the readers attention, had the headline not been enough. The original lead reads: Allegations that Richard Nixon beat his wife, Pat Nixon, have circulated for decades without serious examination by the journalists who covered his presidency. It’s time to look more closely at what’s been hiding in plain view.

My possibilities for the lead are as follows:

Richard Nixon abused many things in his life, his power included. However, longstanding allegations that he abused his wife may be true.

The Nixon story is dampened by lies and secrets. However, there may be truth in the stories that the former President beat his wife.

Former President Richard Nixon stepped on everyone to ever challenge him. Years of consideration have led to the belief that one of those victims was his own wife.

An Inquiry Into Abuse