The Dark Knight

It's nearly 4 a.m. and I've just returned home from seeing what well may be on of the most prolific pieces of film that my generation can hope to witness. The Dark Knight, or "the new Batman flick" as many of you may refer to it, is not a movie; rather, it's a departure into the depths of a dichotomous world we'll never know, seen through the eyes of a hero and a villain — neither of which is as simply described as those words imply.

It's a film that cannot be adequately explained, only witnessed with fresh eyes. And considering the events that took place following the wrap, no other story can hope to tell a tale as real, yet fantastic, as Dark Knight.

From the first shot of the Joker, as portrayed by actor Heath Ledger, there is evidence of greater powers at play than mere talent. Ledger does not play a part here; he is the Joker, down to the lint in his pockets. This character, for lack of a better word, embodies chaos. And though such a man could not exist off the screen, watching Ledger wrap himself in the psyche of a mad man explains his untimely demise, regardless of what truly happened. The man seen on screen is no more human than the drawings that have portrayed him in countless comic books, in cartoons or even by Jack Nicholson's attempt at the same. The Joker is, simply put, perfectly insane.

The question that rests in my mind, more than any other, is whether the movie would have been as prolific without Ledger's death. A horrible thought to consider, but one that when extrapolated, leads me to believe that no, it would not. And as cold as that may seem, it is only because his death made the Joker, in some tiny way, real. He actually did kill someone — himself.

But beyond that, the character ran the show. This was a movie within a movie, that when looked at from afar is a masterpiece. And it doesn't stop with Ledger, although his impact is most broadly felt.

Overall, each character's participation is vital. None, even the most minute, could be considered unimportant. As in real life, we are all players in the drama, and each had his or her own lasting affect on the bigger picture. It's rare to see such a well planned storyline — or to leave a theater in complete and utter awe of the experience.

Of course, DK had a few movie moments. But in the world where Gotham City really exists, all of what I saw was possible. From cell phones with sonar to the Bat Bike, it all added up to one clear point. Dark Knight is as real as any viewer could hope — were it more so, we'd lay awake in fear each night of what would happen should he fall at the hand of a villain.

The Joker seems to be the last true enemy he'll face. No man (or woman)has more to offer by way of purely evil motivation. The devil himself could not create such a person. He or she would fail long before becoming that powerful.

I refuse to spoil any of the film for you. Seeing it in a theatre is a must. Get in line early and find good seats. Don't drink, smoke or imbibe of any substance that will cloud your mind. Be prepared to lose yourself in the layers, and remember why we love hero flicks in the first place — because the hero reflects the best and worst in each of us, and makes us glad we're one of the good guys.

College Love, Post-graduation

When I sat down for the all-freshman orientation that first day way back when, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that more than 60 percent of the students with whom I'd be spending the next four years (And only four, you're welcome, parents!) were female. Day one of college was going swimmingly.

I'm not sure if things were planned this way, but later, during the College of Communications orientation, the speaker told us to look around the theatre we were sitting in, because there was an 80 percent chance that we'd marry one of the people in that room. Talk about a downer. Marriage? I remember thinking, "Bro, I'm here for youthful abandon and a side of education, not marriage."

Nevertheless, the stats would prove true in one way or another. Read on to see how.

I had almost escaped college. And although by the time the following event came upon me, I had long forgotten what the speaker said.

What was the event, you ask? I met a girl, literally two weeks before graduation. Fast forward a bunch of years, and today I'm still with her. I contend it's because she's the only lady that's ever made me laugh so hard that I got stomach cramps. And because of that, today I'm just another statistic.

And I'm not the only guy to be so lucky. Two buddies from my core group are with women (and have been for a few years) that they met at MU. We have a support group online.

I know many schools that have equally high internal relationship success rates (read: marriage). So watch out, because the math study buddy you just had coffee with could be the one. Like me, you may even find yourself half way across the country hoping she'll marry you, and wondering what the hell you're going to do if she says yes. I mean, I'll be in the alumni bulletin and all that, and I'll have to admit that my college has given me pretty much everything I hold dear. And then they'll ask me to donate money, and what am I going to say, "Hey, thanks for the job, family and great friends, but I just can't rationalize sending you a check for $50."

Right - like my conscience will let me get away with that one.

On that note, my lady and I are not engaged or anything, but being together a few years after college still counts for something. For now, at least, I feel OK about withholding the $50.

College Buddies and Escaping the Real World

I spent the last week in Wisconsin, where I went camping and caught up with my former roomies. So much has changed since we all lived together in a tiny place off campus, just the four of us and the sludge monster that grew in the shower. We named him Alabaster.

From the moment I landed in Milwaukee, it felt like I hadn't left. The years since school had been good for all of us, except Alabaster, who was no more. The cityscape had improved, and the town's many breweries seemed to bellow, "Welcome home, son." They don't actually bellow, but I like to think my presence was noticed.

The purpose of the trip was multi-faceted. Like the film Stand By Me, each of us had a reason for stuffing our crap into packs and heading into the wilderness alone, but together; reasons that had nothing to do with a love for camping. Nick, the brightest of us, is entering his last year of dental school and was recently got engaged; Jared had ended a strenuous relationship and is also pursuing a career in dentistry. He's traditionally been the most artistic of us, but lately he's been all business; Ryan was getting ready to leave for Mexico and medical school (yeah, counter-intuitive, I know), and as the most popular among us, had to say goodbye to no less than a hundred close friends and family members and a loving girlfriend. I had my own reasons as well, most of which had to do with the challenges of being an ethical journalist living in New York City - which makes Ryan's Mexican-med-school plan seem more logical than peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches.

Whatever our intentions, we all needed the escape. South-western Wisconsin's wooded acres paired with our unbreakable bond were the perfect cocktail - as were the gin and tonics we sipped my first night in town.

The details of the camping are moot for this story, save to say, "Mission Accomplished." I returned relaxed, clear-headed and ready to take on New York yet again. This time, I wouldn't let it get to me (I had decided).

We're already planning the next trip, which will double as the annual camping get-together and a bachelor party for Nick. The plan is to meet Ryan in Guadalajara where we'll rent dirt bikes and skirt down the coast to wherever. It'll be our last trip together, before life really starts pulling at us - each in a different direction. Pretty soon, it'll be kids and mortgages; lawnmowers and minivans. God help us all.

But we've decided to keep the annual trip annual. And though it may not be easy, the memory of previous outings will continue to motivate us to make sure it happens. It's our way of keeping Alabaster's memory alive - since camping is the only scenario in which avoiding the shower for four days is allowed...unless of course, you lived in our apartment.

Where The Hell Have You Been?

Man it's been awhile. I was scolded, yet again, recently for not updating the blog called Funyon. So here I am, flush with a 4th of July tan (and accompanying marks from my sunglasses) and loads to tell.
I guess the latest on goings have all been Mediabistro based. Working with that company has been fantastic - and to think, I got in by making fun of the guy who is now my managing editor, Chris Ariens. In reality, he's probably the best boss I've had the pleasure of working under.

I spent the last week in Wisconsin. I got to see my good buddy Ryan off before he moves to Mexico to attend med school. Yeah it sounds counterintuitive, but the school he's attending is, eh hem, internationally recognized. And he'll learn to be a doc in both Spanish and Engligh. Suck on that other med students.

Oh and I grew this stache in honor of a friend that's getting married next year. Like his freedom, the stache was shaved off following the trip. I'm back to my normal, baby's behindish self.

Young Hilary Clinton

In light of recent political ongoings, I thought this video (courtesy Buttermouth).

Avon Relay Against Battered Women

This weekend some friends and I are heading to Bear Mountain State Park in New Rochelle, New York. There, we'll be running in a relay race in hopes of raising money for victims of domestic violence.

Our team consists of a handful of ladies and gents, a few of whom have racing experience and others that have jogging experience. I count myself among the joggers, as friend and former subleter Joe Steele has run an Ironman. Yarg.

Anywho, Avon is hosting the run and has asked each participant to collect $75 in donations. If you care to be the first, visit this link and click the "Donate to a Participant" button. Then type in, exactly like this,

first name: Matt
last name: Vanhoven

Click my name, then "Make a Gift."

Moral support is always welcome, as well. Thanks guys.

And I was Censored

So I was sent a story about an ad agency in LA that attempted to get it's message out by using a skywriting plane. Well, 22 letters is a lot for any breezy sky to hold up and before long the sky read "HO."

A friend of mine reported the story, and sent me a link. So I picked up the story too, and basically ripped the agency responsible a new one for being such dumb-asses. I mean, how do you expect 22 letters to be legible when a plane is used to write them?

Come on man!

Anyway earlier today I was emailed by the friend that tipped me off. She said I had put people at risk of losing their jobs by being so harsh.

She asked me to go back and edit the story, which I did. It feels lame, because I'm not sure if I should have gone back to change it. I feel as though I broke some unwritten rule of blogging.

Arg.

Van Hoven, Out