DVD 11: Michael Clayton

Number of frogs: 0

"I am Shiva, the God of Death."

Michael Clayton receives:

Book 12: The Tenant by Roland Topor

Number of frogs: 0

He strolled through the streets unhurriedly, observing the passing crowds. The ranks of faces filed steadily, almost rhythmically, before him, as if their owners were standing on some kind of endless, moving sidewalk. Faces with the great bulging eyes of toads; pinched and wary faces of disillusioned men; round, soft faces of abnormal children; bull necks, fishlike noses, ferret teeth. Half closing his eyes, he imagined that they were really all one face, shifting and changing like the patterns on a kaleidoscope. He was astonished by the peculiarity of all these faces. Martians - they were all Martians. But they were ashamed of it, and so they tried to conceal it. They had determined, once and for all, that their monstrous disproportions were, in reality, true proportion, and their inconceivable ugliness was beauty. They were strangers on this planet, but they refused to admit it. They played at being perfectly at home. He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a shop window. He was no different. Identical, exactly the same likeness as that of the monsters. He belonged to their species, but for some unknown reason he had been banished from their company. They had no confidence in him. All they wanted from his was obedience to their incongruous rules and their ridiculous laws. Ridiculous only to him, because he could never fathom their intricacy and their subtlety.

The Tenant receives:

Book 11: The Deadly Percheron by John Franklin Bardin

Number of frogs: 0

[A] frightening thing was happening to me. I was remembering...something. Something that had to do with a girl's face close to mine, her eyes watching me, something that was horrible to remember...that had to do with pain...my own pain or someone else's? I did not know.
I might be wrong. I might be remembering, even now, despite the assertions I had made, going to her apartment that day in October. Perhaps, I had gone there, perhaps, I had done other things I could not remember...both before and after that day.
I shut my eyes, but found I could not shut out the image of that beautiful face, those wide-open, staring eyes. It would not down. And there was something else... something terrible that was coming that I could not prevent, that was coming again and again. And something else again, the sound of a violin...a sweet sound, yet horrible.

The Deadly Percheron receives:

DVD 10: Joshua

Number of frogs: 0 (but it does have a really cool giraffe "binky")

Take Vitus, mix with The Good Son, and you get Joshua.
Slowly paced, but the last twenty minutes or so are very effective.

DVD 9: Gone Baby Gone

Number of frogs: 0

Fantastic adaptation of the equally good Dennis Lehane novel.

Gone Baby Gone receives:

Book 10: Last Night at the Lobster by Stewart O'Nan

Number of frogs: 0 (thank goodness they don't serve frogs at Red Lobster.)

The stockroom isn't a room at all but a hallway behind the grill with shelves on each side rising to the ceiling. As he waits, surrounded by identical drumlike cans of Sysco pickles and sliced mushrooms, plastic five-gallon jars of ketchup and honey mustard and cocktail sauce, Manny hears Ty riding Fredo ("That's not where that goes. Move out of the way"), the transformerlike hum of the ice maker and the cyclic rinsing of the dishwasher. She kissed him here a dozen different times, mashed into him against his half-joking protests that they'd get caught. Some of the dustier cans probably witnessed them -- the maraschino cherries and baby corn, maybe. It seems wrong that even these perishables have outlasted what he thought was eternal -- still thinks, really -- but there they are, solid evidence. The glasses too, even though they were supposed to be a limited offer. What isn't? He needs to remember that with Deena.

Last Night at the Lobster receives:

Book 9: Duma Key by Stephen King

Number of frogs... well, there's one in the cover art, so... <jigsaw>Oh yes, there will be frogs.</jigsaw>

I slipped back to some sort of consciousness in the middle of the night with my right arm itching and my right hand tingling and no idea where I was, only that from below me something vast was grinding and grinding and grinding. At first I thought it was machinery, but it was too uneven to be machinery. And too organic somehow. Then I thought of teeth, but nothing had teeth that vast. Nothing in the known world, at least.
Breathing, I thought, and that seemed right, but what kind of animal made such a vast grinding sound when it drew in breath? And God, that itch was driving me crazy, all the way up my forearm to the crease of the elbow. I went to scratch it, reaching across my chest with my left hand, and of course there was no elbow, no forearm, and I scratched nothing but the bedsheet.
That brought me fully awake and I sat up....I was in the house I was already thinking of as Big Pink, and that grinding sound--
"It's shells," I murmured, lying back down. "Shells under the house. The tide's in."
I loved that sound from the first, when I woke up and heard it in the dark of night, when I didn't know where I was, who I was, or what parts were still attached. It was mine.
It had me from hello.

For Duma Key,

DVD 8: Rocket Science

Number of frogs: 0 (although one could say Hal's stuttering problem is due to a frog in his throat.)

"It's one of those two, love or revenge, I'm not really sure which one. But it's one of those two that made me throw a cello through somebody's window, so you figure it out."

High school introvert and horrible stutterer Hal Hefner gets recruited to the debate team by the star - does she like him, or is it a scheme?

The cliched mix of odd characters, but still quite charming. Bonus scene: a cello and piano duet of the Violent Femmes "Blister in the Sun."

Rocket Science gets:

Book 8: The Maine Woods by Henry David Thoreau

Number of frogs: 6 groups including 3 times having "heard the hylodes", once the "tree-toads", and twice "bull-frogs."

There was the usual long-handled axe of the primitive woods by the door, three and a half feet long, -- for my new black-ash rule was in constant use, -- and a large shaggy dog, whose nose, report said, was full of porcupine quills. I can testify that he looked very sober. This is the usual fortune of pioneer dogs, for they have to face the brunt of the battle for their race, and act the part of Arnold Winkelreid without intending it. if he should invite one of his town friends up this way, suggesting moose meat and unlimited freedom, the latter might pertinently inquire, "What is that sticking in your nose?" When a generation or two have used up all the enemies' darts, their successors lead a comparatively easy life. We owe to our fathers analogous blessings. Many old people receive pensions for no other reason, it seems to me, but as a compensation for having lived a long time ago. No doubt our town dogs still talk, in a snuffling way, about the days that tried dogs' noses.

The Maine Woods receives:

DVD 7: The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters

Number of (computer) frogs: 2 or 3 shots of one of my tadpolehood idols, The Frog from Frogger.

A reviewer on Amazon.com had it exactly right: "You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll wonder why you are laughing and crying about Donkey Kong." I became completely invested in the story of family man, anti-establishment "Good" Steve Wiebe vs "Evil" Billy Mitchell. Great stuff.
The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters: