My Sister and Me

That's me--the little blonde girl--getting whacked by my baby sister, Laurie. Ah yes--the siblings in their natural state! Matching clothes, paired together, me getting smacked around...Okay, so that's not TOTALLY true. I did once tell Laurie that since she was born on MY birthday, that made her MY birthday present and therefore she was MY slave. She bought that for a while--then she turned four. No problem--she didn't make a very good slave anyway!

Then there was the time where I told her, in a fit of anger, that I wasn't going to let her be godmother to my children (We weren't even teenagers yet, childbearing years were a long ways away. Ironically, neither of us has had children...) causing her to run out of the room sobbing.

Good times, good times...

Being born exactly two years apart made us close--but at times too close for comfort. Sharing a birthday--and the attention--irked us both. Adding insult to injury is that it came a mere three weeks after Christmas, at a point in time where everyone is pretty much partied out. period of Laurie dealt with both those issues for a brief period of time by moving her "birthday" to the summer. That way she could have a pool party. It didn't matter that we didn't have a pool. Summer birthdays give you more options...

But in January, we had fondue parties and slumber parties and once we had a dress-up, sit down dinner with London broil and a bouquet of carnations (the official flower of January) on the table. No Chuck E. Cheese for us, man! Maybe this is where Laurie gets her gourmet tastes. God only knows what happened to mine...

Anyway, we've pretty much accepted the midwinter birthday and even sharing it. Laurie sent me a gorgeous gray cashmere wrap, the Walk the Line CD, some delicious chocolate covered peanut butter treats and 3 jars of natural peanut butter. Not surprisingly, there were eerie overlaps in the gifts I sent her. I had to laugh because our tastes are as alike as our birthdays...Not even a card from either of my brothers. Hmmph--boys!

So here's to you Sis! No hard feelings for years of being smacked around. And since kids are pretty much out of the question, if I ever adopt a goldfish I'd be proud for you to be its godmother...

El Cid arrives on DVD January 29th!

When the Weinstein Brothers first formed Miramax, they were the premier name in indie films with releases such as The Thin Blue Line, Sex, Lies and Videotape and--one of my all time favorites--The Crying Game. Miramax got bought out by Disney and Bob and Harvey Weinstein formed their own production company, the aptly named The Weinstein Co. They also formed an alliance with Genius Products to distribute DVDs. Ironically, the debut release in The Miriam Collection (a premiere label named for the Weinstein's mother) from the wonder boys of indie cinema is the big budget sweeping epic El Cid.

Originally shot in 70 mm, the DVD version of the acclaimed 1961 historical adventure has been digitally remastered--both picture and sound--and is available as a Deluxe or Limited Collectors Edition two DVD disc set which includes:

• Reproduction of Original 1961 Souvenir Program (Collector’s Edition Only)
  
• Reproduction of Original 1961 El Cid Comic Book (Collector’s Edition Only)
  
• Six Color Production Stills (Collector’s Edition Only)
  
• Written Introduction by Director Martin Scorsese
  
• Feature Commentary With Bill Bronston, son of producer Sam Bronston, and historian/author Neal M. Rosendorf, Ph.D., assistant professor of US International History at Long Island University
  
• 1961 Promotional Radio Interviews with Charlton Heston and Sophia Loren
  
• Introduction Interview with Charlton Heston
  
• Samuel Bronston: The Epic Journey of a Dreamer
  
• Behind The Camera: Anthony Mann and El Cid
  
• Hollywood Conquers Spain: The Making of An Epic
  
• Maestro of the Movies: Miklos Rozsa and El Cid
  
• The Importance of Film Preservation and Restoration: A Conversation With Gerry Byrne
  
• Trailer Gallery
  
• Filmographies
  
• Still Gallery
  

Now I'm not a big fan of epic movies--didn't like Titanic or Gladiator or even Forrest Gump. And I'm definitely not big on Charlton Heston's other epic roles in Ben Hur or The Ten Commandments. But I have to admit that every cent of the $6 million that was spent (over forty years ago which would equate to approximately $40 million today. A bargain as far as epic film budgets go!) is there on screen--from the gorgeous cinematography, the swelling musical score, the period costumes, the locations, the sets. Every detail is authentically reproduced. Unlike another Heston period piece, The Agony and the Ecstasy, which looked small and cheesy and somewhat pathetic, El Cid looks every bit as lush and elaborate as an intricately woven tapestry.

The film is long. Three hours. You've got 3.5 minutes of overture music and another 2 minutes or so of opening credits. Two hours into the film, you've got an intermission and then finally an hour later, the story of the heroic Spanish knight, Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, who succeeds in driving the Moors from Spain becoming a legend, finally wraps up. It's a lot of movie. But the making of featurette included on the DVD will make you want to re-watch the film with all the details of what was involved in bringing this extravagant epic to the screen.

Especially interesting was the fact that the two co-stars, Heston and Loren, hated each other. Now this was useful in the beginning of the movie when their characters did, in fact, hate each other. But as the commentators noted, it became difficult later on in filming when Heston couldn't even bear to look at the lovely Sophia who played Chimene, the love of El Cid's life. It was theorized that the animosity may have been due to the fact that Loren was paid a million dollars (the second actress to receive that salary after Elizabeth Taylor for Cleopatra) for the film and Heston was not. I also noticed that Loren doesn't age throughout the film, while Heston's character most definitely does. This was also noted in the commentary and was also a bone of contention for Heston.

El Cid will be released on January 29th. According to film critic Leonard Maltin, "'El Cid is high on any film buff's list of most-wanted movies on DVD. It is considered one of the most majestic and intelligent of the epic films of that period, as directed by Anthony Mann, with one of Charlton Heston's best performances."

Passion - part III

This past summer I helped my friend Jon Teboe set up a blog to track the progress of his passion project--a documentary about World War II fighter pilots. It all started with a diary kept by William R. Perkins, a.k.a. "Perk," a young fighter pilot 356th Fighter Squadron. Perk was the younger brother of Gordon Perkins, who was married to Jon's mom. It was Jon's mom who saved the diary, and other assorted memorabilia that belonged to Perk, from the trash. Reading the detailed account of Perk's last six months (he was killed when his plane crashed on June 13, 1944--just days after D-Day and a little over a month before his 24th birthday...), Jon was inspired to make a documentary about his life.

But after researching and interviewing members of the 354th Fighter Group (of which Perk's squadron was a part), Jon expanded the scope of his project to include all the heroes of the 354th Fighter Group. Wearing many hats: producer, director, writer and editor, Jon's been working on this project for several years now. When I worked on setting up the blog with him, he showed me Perk's scrapbook and offered up lots of interesting factoids he had gleaned from his extensive research. The film is slated for completion this summer. Way to go, Jon!

National Treasure: Book of Secrets

Like its predecessor (which was a pleasant surprise for me...), National Treasure: Book of Secrets is a cheesy, guilty pleasure, popcorn flick. There will be no Oscars here--even for the great Helen Mirren who joins the cast as the mother of Benjamin Franklin Gates (Nicolas Cage) and estranged ex-wife of Patrick Gates (Jon Voight). Oh yes, all the usual suspects are back, Jerry Bruckheimer producing, Jon Turteltaub directing, Diane Kruger as Abigail Chase (with much improved American accent), Harvey Keitel as Agent Sadusky and most importantly the snarky yet lovable technogeek Justin Bartha (Riley Poole). God, I love Justin Bartha...

Along with Mirren, the venerable Ed Harris (looking very craggy albeit not too creaky...) appears as the villain du jour. And Bruce Greenwood plays The President. Yes, that's how he's listed in the credits: The President. I'm thinking The Wibberley's (and yes, that's how the writing team of Cormac and Marianne Wibberley are credited. I think it's cute!) may have run out of names for their characters. They were reduced to calling minor players Agent Sledge and Agent Hammer, Agent Stayres and Agent Steppes. Or perhaps they were just indulging themselves in a bit of writer humor...you can get a bit punchy staring at a blank computer screen!

The plot is highly improbable, but who cares? You've got car chases, car crashes (those Mercedes sure take a licking and keep on going, don't they?), great settings and a dash of history. Even if it is stretched to its limits. Yeah, it makes no sense that Gates and Poole would have top of the line high tech computer equipment to hack into security systems but be reduced to photographing clues and artifacts with crummy camera phones. Or that Ed Harris' Mitch Wilkinson would need to coerce Gates into seeking treasure by framing his great great grandfather. Seems to me you'd just need to say, "Hey, I know of a treasure--want to help me find it?" That IS what Benjamin Franklin Gates is after all--a treasure hunter.

After watching a slew of Oscar worthy yet dreary and depressing movies, National Treasure was a welcome respite. With dark and heavy movies like There Will Be Blood, Sweeney Todd, The Orphanage and Atonement crowding the multiplexes, it's no wonder that lighter fare like National Treasure, Juno (and even Alvin and the Chipmunks for goodness sakes!) is doing so well at the box office. This installment of National Treasure looks likely to clear over $200 million domestically--which makes National Treasure 3 a likely bet to be coming to a theater near you in 2010. Perhaps they'll do something about Nic Cage's terrible toupee by then...

50 Things that Make Me Happy

I'm stealing this post from my blogging buddy Elisabeth. I only hope I can come up with 50 things I like. Seems like it would be much easier to blog about 50 things I hate...

1. The Internet
2. Blogs (See sidebar for some of my faves...)
3. Getting packages in the mail
4. Jif Creamy Peanut Butter (this really should be numero uno!)
5. Yoga
6. OPI Nail polish
7. Sleeping while it's raining
8. Sleeping, period!
9. A good stretch upon waking up
10. Massages
11. Palmer's Cocoa Butter Body lotion
12. My sibs (Ooops! I guess THAT really should be number one!)
13. Lost (Coming back on January 31st!)
14. Puppies
15. Clean laundry (As opposed to doing laundry, which kind of sucks...)
16. The ocean
17. Dolphins
18. My iPod
19. My Name is Earl
20. The Office
21. Ugly Betty
22. Desperate Housewives
23. Entourage (It's a shame I don't watch more TV--then it would be easier to fill this list up. Pathetic, huh?)
24. Those little tomatoes
25. Quiet
26. Finding a bargain!
27. Chocolate
28. People who smile at me
29. Movie trailers
30. Carolyn Hax
31. Miss Manners
32. Mechanical pencils
33. Having plans
34. Dilbert
35. Sudoku
36. Bananas
37. Calvin and Hobbes
38. Doonesbury
39. Aztec Camera's song "Oblivious"
40. Christmas songs
41. Drugstores
42. Matinees
43. Hanging out with friends
44. Sushi
45. Fitting into my skinny jeans
46. Stained glass
47. Christmas lights
48. Tweezers
49. My blog/blogging
50. My blog stats

Telling a whopper...

The latest Burger King commercials are a Candid Camera-styled depiction of customer reactions when the famous Whopper is removed from the menu. Burger King terms it the Whopper "Freakout," but in every commercial I've seen, the patrons are fairly calm. There's no teeth gnashing, arms flailing, screaming or wailing. The most accurate term for the reaction is more like "bemused." It's the Great Whopper Bemusement. OK, so that's not quite as dramatic as "freakout."

Dear Ad makers for Burger King, for the true definition of "freakout," see Spears, Britney.

Do I look like a travel agent?

On a break from sightseeing in Liverpool, my brother James calls me again. He wants me to do research and find him a good hotel in Los Angeles for when he's out here on business in two weeks. I made up a list of all the posh or hip hotels I could think of: Chateau Marmont, The Standard, Mondrian, Four Seasons, Hotel Roosevelt, Sofitel, etc. Then today he tells me they have to be under $200 a night. Preferably under $180.

OK, none of the hotels I picked are under $300 a night. Actually it's really tough to find hotels less than $200 a night. There's a handful of one-star dives that can be had for under $200--some even less than $100. But I think this is a case of getting what you pay for. I remember when I drove out to Los Angeles eight years ago. I was trying to save money so for the first couple of nights I stayed in the cheapest rooms I could find.

It was scary. Gritty, grimy, dank and dreary rooms. So by the third night, I decided to go upscale. Howard Johnson in Albuquerque, NM. It was clean, air-conditioned and had the little strip of paper around the toilet seat. Ah, heaven! And it only cost me like $10 more a night than the sleazy dives I had stayed in the two previous nights.

Bad Earl/Beautiful Betty

We got another little respite from the writers strike last night with new episodes of My Name is Earl, 30 Rock and Ugly Betty. When we last saw Earl, he had finally been released from jail--but not for all the good deeds he did while he was inside. Instead he was released while escaping from prison. So Earl figures if all the good things he did for two years while he was doing his list plus the good thing he did by protecting Joy and taking the rap for her, plus helping the warden and having the prison run better didn't make his life better, what was the point? He was out of prison but practically homeless, almost unemployable with nothing to show for all his efforts during the past two years.

Even worse when he finds that Ralph, who recently escaped from prison, is living the good life with an elderly widow with bad eyesight pretending to be her dead husband Stan by wearing his clothes and especially his glasses. So Good Earl throws away the list and goes back to being Bad Earl. He hangs out at the strip club, tips over Joy and Darnell's trailer and, when it comes down to washing up in a birdbath and eating bird seed for breakfast, he steals Stan's glasses from Ralph and starts pretending to be Stan.

This leads his friends and Randy to stage an "invention" as Randy calls it or "interinvention" as Joy corrects him. But even Crabman's poem ("Sadness falls on us all, like food from a sideways refrigerator...") or Randy's eloquent plea won't sway him. He doesn't believe in karma anymore. But as he storms out of the house to get away from them, he spies a piece of yellow paper blowing down the street. Is it the list following him? He picks up the paper but it's just a burger wrapper. As he cries out, "There is no karma!" he gets run over by a car. Which is how the whole karma and list thing started. Coincidentally, the car was driven by Billie, Frank's ex-girlfriend who Earl developed a crush on. Now Earl thinks that this is his reward for all his good deeds. But as he slips into unconsciousness, Billie gets hit by a car as she's running for help.

Best part of the show--Earl's reference to Carson Daly who was the one who used the term "karma" on his show which set Earl off on his new path with the list: "He's a talk show host who comes on after two other talk show hosts, so what does that tell ya?!!" This may be the last original episode for a while (looks like next week NBC is re-airing the very first episode of Earl) which leads me to paraphrase Crabman's poem: "Sadness falls on us all, due to bad faith negotiations from an arrogant AMPTP..."

On Ugly Betty, the theme was beauty--as in a wider, bigger, more inclusive definition of the word. It's Fashion Week and Betty is showing Justin's class around Mode. She is dismayed by their preoccupation with celebrities and their obsession with weight. So she convinces Daniel to do a Fashion Show using healthy models. Daniel is convinced that the PR generated will be massive, so he agrees to the idea. Only to be thwarted by Alexis. So Alexis and Daniel go ahead with the healthy models PR campaign, only they use regular emaciated models but add twenty pounds to the scale at weigh-in.

When Betty realizes this, she is angry. First at Alexis, and later at Daniel when she finds out it was his idea. Daniel is remorseful and comes up with a new plan--an alternative Fashion Show taking place immediately after the Mode show, using real models from off the street. The real models show is a hit with the press, but Justin's class is not impressed. Despite being the catalyst and a model herself in the show, Betty is disappointed that she wasn't able to change the students perception of beauty. But one of the clique breaks away to tell her that the alternative show "didn't suck" and that gives Betty hope.

Also getting hope this episode is Amanda whose search for her daddy leads her to psychic Linda (Annie Potts). When Linda tells her she will rescue a black dog, Amanda thinks she's full of it. But then she assists in helping Betty and rapper Bow Wow (the black dog?) who are trapped in the elevator and her faith in the psychic is restored. She goes back and gets another nebulous clue--a bee will lead to a kiss which will lead to her father. Back at Mode, she notices Betty's necklace which is a "B". She thinks Betty will lead her to her father, but Betty isn't having any of it. But as Betty leaves, she notices one of Amanda's photos has fallen on the floor. She picks it up and hands it to Amanda, who sees it's a picture of Gene Simmons decked out in full makeup. So "B" (Betty) led her to a KISS--meaning Gene Simmons is her daddy?

Christine's hope to get treatment for her dying husband Stuart is dashed when Henry delivers the unpleasant news that the health insurance plan won't cover experimental treatments. And speaking of treatments, Wilhelmina's fertility shots turn her into a hormonal eating machine. But although her doctor is able to extract one viable egg, he tells her she needs a surrogate to carry her child as she has a "hostile womb." Willie sets her sights on her manicurist Brandi, who has five children of her own. But her plans are foiled when Marc, while at the video store with cutie boyfriend Cliff, discovers Brandi has a dominatrix porn star past. Willie nixes Brandi, but still needs a surrogate who is healthy, controllable and desperate for money. Marc tells her that Christina is desperate for $100k for her husband's treatment and the baby scheme is back on.

Looks like we've got two more original Ugly Betty episodes remaining to air.

Metropolis

I got the chance to check out this classic film by Fritz Lang at the Silent Theatre with my friend John--and his friend/neighbor Peter--last night. Metropolis first premiered in Berlin on this very day 81 years ago. My only knowledge of the film was that parts of it were used in the Queen video for Radio Ga Ga.

The original version of the film was believed to be 210 minutes (that's 3 1/2 hours!) long, but about a quarter of the film has been lost. The version I saw was about 2 hours long (that's plenty long enough!) and was restored beautifully. Written by Lang and his wife Thea von Harbou in 1926 with the story set in the year 2026, the film uses concepts of the Socialist Party platform to create a dystopian world where only two classes exist: the privileged leisure class and the exploited worker class. But socialist politics and futuristic sci-fi aside, the movie is really a melodramatic love story.

Take one spoiled rich boy, have him meet up with one idealistic lower class girl and you have--Love Story. Or switch the genders and it's Atonement. Of course neither of those movies had mad scientists, identity thieving robots or a bell ringing scene that rivals The Hunchback of Notre Dame. But whatever statement Metropolis intended to make with its incessant images of machine gears whirring and grinding away, it ends up saying "and they all lived happily ever after..." Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Prior to the feature, we got to see two shorts--A Trip to the Moon (Le Voyage dans la Lune) the famous 1902 film by Georges Méliès which was one of the first films to use special effects and from 1906, Dream of a Rarebit Fiend, which also pushed the boundaries of the technology at the time with its use of stop camera action. My friend John, who works at Digital Domain which does a lot of the big and small specific effects seen in movies today, was impressed at what the films were able to achieve with their relatively low-tech, crude methods of yesteryear. There was a bed-spinning sequence in Dream of a Rarebit Fiend that was just as effective as similar effects in The Exorcist, released almost 70 years later.

The Silent Movie Theatre has a collegial atmosphere in John's opinion. Except for the first two rows of couches and the silver lam´e; curtain covering the screen, I felt it was more like a grade school auditorium. You could just imagine a Christmas pageant or some kiddie play with elves and fairies taking place there. It doesn't have the ornate oriental feel of Grauman's Chinese or even the nouveau art deco of the Majestic Crest. It really isn't much to look at at all. It's best feature: live piano and organ accompaniment by Bob Mitchell.

Mitchell first played the accompaniment to Metropolis in 1928. That's right--80 years ago! He accompanied silent movies at age 12 in 1924 until 1928--the advent of the talkies. He took a 60 some odd year break from accompanying silent films--but not from making music, which he's done for over 90 of his 95 years. Lucky, lucky guy! He returned to his roots in the early 90s when the Silent Movie Theatre opened up. He's a bit hunched over and needed help to sit down at the organ, but once there he played for two hours straight without sheet music or even looking up at the screen.

Amazing.

Rainy London Days

My brother James called me today from England where he is staying while on a business trip. He's having problems adjusting to the driving--on the wrong side of the car and the wrong side of the road (psst, James--the Brits think WE drive on the wrong side of the road!), the food (He said he was STARVING!!!), the weather (foggy and rainy, which made driving on the wrong side of the road that much harder...). He described the little town of London where he was staying--with its old buildings and narrow streets-- as having a "Jack-the-Ripper" feel to it. "I'm sure it's perfectly nice and safe," he said, "but it looks like a place for a mugging to me."

He cracks me up. So for James in dreary old England, here's the Beatles and Rain.

NBC still Sucks and Ben Silverman is an Ass

In addition to their gloating promos, NBC increased its suckitude with Ben Silverman's pissy hissy fit over the cancellation of the Golden Globes. The network co-chief was quoted as saying,

"Sadly, it feels like the nerdiest, ugliest, meanest kids in the high school are trying to cancel the prom. But NBC wants to try to keep that prom alive."

Other than the apt comparison of the awards show to prom (ooohh, we all get to dress up and ride in limos and get pictures taken and some us will be crowned king and queen!), the petulant outburst just reinforces how arrogant the members of AMPTP are. Kind of like those snotty popular kids that we all hated in high school (I still wonder how and why they were popular since we all hated them. Heck, some of them even hated each other...)

Check out United Hollywood's response. The picture is too funny!

I Weep for this World

I was in Ross today--in the wrong checkout line. I always choose the wrong checkout line. It's uncanny. Not only did my checkout line have the world's worst cashier, but the person in front of me had an entire basket filled with a shitload of stuff. That should have been my first clue. I kid you not--it looked like she was buying stuff to open a store of her own. She bought hoodies and underwear and polo shirts--an entire assortment of really ugly clothes. And then there were ceramic knick-knacks (Seriously--those cows that pour milk or gravy? Does anyone really use those things?), baskets, a rack thingy and more clothes. Bags and bags of stuff. (For what it's worth, I bought a pair of track pants, a workout top and some gift bags...)

Now if my house burned down and I lost everything in the fire, I might need to buy a lot of stuff to replace it. But for sure it would be stuff I needed, stuff I would use. Ceramic cows? I think not. It was painful to watch all this crap being rung up and put into bags. And not just because I had been standing in line for what seemed like HOURS. But because most of the stuff she was buying was useless and ugly--and would probably end up in a landfill sooner than later.

And that's why I weep. Because no matter how sexy George Clooney makes "green" seem, no matter how scary Al Gore's truths are, no matter how high gas prices rise, Americans have been raised to be consumers and consume we must! Our entire economy is based on consumption. People stop buying "stuff" and the people who make the stuff and sell the stuff lose their livelihoods. There's a fundamental disconnect here and I haven't a clue how we're gonna resolve it.

EVENT ALERT!!! The Great Hollywood Mixer

I'll be attending a showing of Fritz Lang's Metropolis at the Silent Theatre, but here's the scoop about a cool industry networking event in Beverly Hills this Wednesday.

Who: Sandra Lord and the Hollywood Global Entainment Network in association with:

Scriptwriters Network
Women Helping Women
Film Industry Network
LA Women In Music
The Hollywood Networking Breakfast
Jeff Gund's Info List
etc.

What:

THE GREAT HOLLYWOOD MIXER
~ "SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION…THE ROLODEX EFFECT"(TM) ~

When: WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 9, 2008, 7pm – 10pm

Where: AQUA Lounge
424 N. Beverly Drive
Beverly Hills, CA 90210

RSVP: VIPLIST@hgenonline.com OR call (323) 465-9800

(Please give the exact spelling of your name and the names of those in your party, professions and contact phone numbers.)

Be one of the first to experience the exciting LAUNCH of the INNOVATIVE concept of "Connectworking"™

Join us and come prepared to 'connect forward' to get your project, script, music, talent, idea and resources to the right people!

FREE ADMISSION!

Sponsored by KROL VODKA

FREE APPETIZERS from 7pm – 7:30pm, HAPPY HOUR PRICES ON DRINKS & APPETIZERS UNTIL 10PM!

Featuring a performance by recording artist DONNY B. LORD

Thanks, James!

Received my Christmas present from my east coast brother today. It was sent in a box sealed with duct tape. How appropriate given my family history! My dad (not the handiest of men...) was a big fan of duct tape. He once built a dog house in our garage for our aging Irish Setter, Katy, using duct tape, insulation (the pink kind that looks like cotton candy) and a light bulb (for warmth...I kid you not!). He passed on his love of the silvery, super-sticky stuff to James who once did some unneeded car repairs on my Mom's Cadillac using duct tape and golf tees. Boy was my Mom pissed when the mechanic at the dealership told her!

Anyway, I got a pewter Christmas ornament (awesome!), a Kahlua t-shirt, a Karndean International t-shirt (his employer), a Trafford Sports Club sweatshirt (sense a theme here?), a pair of Pink Panther boxer shorts (don't ask, haven't a clue...) and a Home Depot gift card.

Which will come in handy when I need to stock up on duct tape...

Karen McCluskey's Tribute to Ida Greenberg

I forgot to include the poem Kathryn Joosten's character recited when Felicity Huffman scattered the ashes on Desperate Housewives last night. The poem, Do not Stand at my Grave and Weep, is attributed to Mary Frye:

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

R.I.P., Ida....

Desperate Housewives - After the devastation

Well, I was right about Tom and the kids surviving the collapse of Karen McCluskey's house. Ida did die--but not peacefully in her sleep but rather as a result of her selfless act to get the Scavos safely under the staircase while she stayed in a corner due to being unable to fit. This causes Lynette to feel guilty--especially after she finds out about the amazing past Ida had that she never knew about. Seems Ida was a pro baseball player (as in A League of Their Own) and wanted her ashes spread over her home field.

Her uncaring relatives, however, don't want to go out of their way to accommodate Ida's last wish leading Lynette to tell to them, "For what it's worth, you passed bitchy ten minutes ago..." and to transfer Ida's ashes out of the urn so she and Karen can accomplish what Ida's relatives are unwilling to do for her. They have to break into the field since they can't get permission to spread the ashes but Karen is confused as to whether Ida played third base or shortstop. Lynette says to her, "Dammit Karen, I'm running out of Ida!" while they are sprinkling Ida on the field--and then security shows up. Lynette tries to them asshe dumps Ida's ashes with Karen calling out, "Run Jane Doe, run!" but the two women are captured. Later Karen says, "Glad those cops let us off with a warning--I was this close to my third strike."

Carlos survived the storm, but is hospitalized with injuries--including bandaged eyes. Gabby tries desperately but unsuccessfully to find the information about the Cayman Island accounts, but Carlos' accountant was killed on his way home from the dropping the papers at the Solis house and his widow shredded all documents having to do with offshore accounts. Gabby tells Carlos everything will be fine--she wants to remarry him anyway. But Carlos is worried that she'll change her tune when she finds out he lost his sight.

Bree and Orson crash with Susan and Julie while they have their house repaired. At first Susan dreads having the fussy Bree in her home, but after a few home cooked meals, cleaned house and Bree even doing the laundry, she dreads the thought of Bree leaving even more. So she sabotages Bree's scheme to get her lovelorn gay contractor back on the job which involves Bree's son Andrew. "You're pimping me out for a new roof?" Andrew says accusingly. "And windows!" Bree replies. Andrew agrees to flatter, flirt and charm Walter the contractor in exchange for a new flat screen TV. Bree says she'll throw in surround sound if Walter comes in on time and under budget.

But Susan manages to make Walter think twice about Andrew--especially given the age difference--even if he would like to flaunt the young hottie. Orson in a last ditch effort to get Walter to change his mind tells him, "He's got a mesh tank top that would bring your ex to tears!" but to no avail. Bree confronts Susan who admits that she did it on purpose because she loves Bree pampering her--especially given the fact that she's pregnant and Mike's in rehab. Bree forgives Susan and even brings her chocolate chip cookies and milk.

Other than providing the contractor reference for Bree, not much Bob and Lee going on. Boo! More Tuc Watkins and Kevin Rahm, please! Lee got off a funny line when Bree found out that Walter was gay--"He builds houses AND decorates them. Sometimes God gives with both hands." And the tornado demolished their fountain. Until Marc Cherry and company come back when the strike is settled (fingers crossed!), I'll have to get my Tuc fix on One Life to Live where he is still playing the charming cad, David Vickers.

Another casualty of the storm was crazy Sylvia (who landed in the Scavo's tree)--and Katherine and Adam's marriage. Katherine kicks Adam out, but as he's packing he finds the note Aunt Lily wrote to Dylan before she died underneath the bed in the guest room. He confronts Katherine with it as he leaves saying that she told him that everything was her ex-husband's fault but know he learns that it was all HER fault. He hands her the note and tells her that as far as betrayals go, she wins. He leaves and Katherine throws the note in the fire. But Dylan witnessed the argument and fishes the note out of the fire.

We'll have quite a wait before we find out what it said. Sigh...

Desperately Awaiting Desperate Housewives

While I am in total solidarity with the writers during the WGA Strike, tonight's episode of Desperate Housewives (which will resolve the tornado cliffhanger from a month ago), feels like a belated Christmas present. Unfortunately, this juicy tidbit may be the last morsel of DH for quite a while.

Predictions: Tom and the kids are rescued, Ida died peacefully in her sleep before the tornado hit and Karen McCluskey, whose house was demolished, moves in with the Scavos. It's only fair, right?

Wonder if the storm turned up Katherine's other dirty little secret...

Sweeney Todd

Finally! After being disappointed by movies who don't quite live up to their press, a film that meets and even exceeds critical hype! The gothically macabre story of Sweeney Todd was made for the gifted yet gruesome talents of Tim Burton. Along with co-conspirators Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, Burton puts his indelible stamp on the long-time legend of the Demon Barber of Fleet Street.

Sweeney Todd first appeared in literature in the mid 1800s and had inspired at least 3 movies (1926, 1928, 1936) and a play by Christopher Bond (1973). Stephen Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler adapted Bond's play into a hit musical in 1979. Almost 30 years later, Burton gives us this magnificent interpretation of the musical--which retains the theatricality of the stage version but with the camera's flexibility and ability for intimacy.

The film opens with Benjamin Barker's (now "Sweeney Todd") return to London after a fifteen year long false imprisonment by a pervertedly venal judge (Alan Rickman). But the city Barker returns to is not the one he left. This is a dark, bleak, grim city--so sings Sweeney:

There's a whole in the world like a great black pit
and the vermin of the world inhabit it
and its morals aren't worth what a pin can spit
and it goes by the name of London.

Sooty and gritty, smoky and overcast. Darker than the circles under Mrs. Lovett's (Helena Bonham Carter) eyes. As dark as the murderous rage in the eyes of the tortured and tormented Sweeney Todd. The tragic tale of this man so filled with vengeance that he can't even see straight by turns ghastly and grisly--with a bit of gallows humor thrown in.

And blood. A lot of blood. Too much for my squeamish, squirming tastes. But Burton colors his blood a bright McDonald's rooftop red (so that it looks more like paint than a vital bodily fluid)--ostensibly to preserve the sense of theatrics. Blood depicted as its natural maroon shade would be difficult to stomach in the series of over-the-top throat slittings that occur in the movie. Still, it was plenty realistic for me--I assiduously avoided looking at the screen during the more graphic scenes.

Depp is a marvel and whoever says his singing isn't up to par is dead wrong. He growls and grimaces and yet conveys his deep anguish for the wife and child lost to him. Helena Bonham Carter provides a grounded yet delightfully delusional Mrs. Lovett. Their duet in the ballad "My Friends" is exquisite. And there's a great comic turn by Sacha Baron Cohen who seems to be channeling the cousin of Jean Girard, his snooty French NASCAR driver in Talladega Nights, in his portrayal of competing barber Signor Adolfo Pirelli. Even when it's too gruesome to look at, Sweeney Todd is amazing to watch with gorgeous cinematography, makeup, costumes, sets, etc.

It will be interesting to see what award season holds for Sweeney. To my mind it outdoes the critical competition of Atonement or There Will Be Blood. The only other movie I've seen recently that has lived up to reviewer ravings is No Country for Old Men. And while I was completely mesmerized by the Coen Brothers coming back to form, I can appreciate Tim Burton and Company at their best as well.

300

This is my 300th post! Let's have a moment of silence to honor this auspicious achievement (or lack of anything better to do with my time!)...

...and now back to our regularly scheduled programming!

Critics on Crack

I admit to reading reviews to gauge whether or not I want to see a particular movie. Life is too short to be wasted on drivel like Norbit or Evan Almightly--or even the merely mediocre. Unfortunately the critics aren't always right about what's bad (witness their collective excoriation of Pirates of the Caribbean: At Worlds End...) and sometimes they're not right about what's good.

Reading Ann Hornaday's review of There Will Be Blood in the Washington Post, I was interested by her comments:

"The relationship between Plainview and his son, characterized by devotion as much as by utilitarian practicality and, finally, betrayal, is just one of the fraught dynamics that propel the film. The story also pivots on Plainview's encounter with a young Pentecostal preacher named Eli Sunday (Paul Dano, in a stunning turnaround from his role as a sullen teen in 2006's "Little Miss Sunshine"), whose theatrical pietism may be the only force greater in its ambition than Plainview's adamantly secular avarice. Watching these two master manipulators as they one-up each other is just one of the pleasures of "There Will Be Blood," which despite its vivid period setting bursts with contemporary political relevance (it's not for nothing that Anderson has named Plainview's son H.W.)."

Wow. I wished I'd seen THAT movie! Unfortunately, Ms. Hornaday is imposing her own interpretation of what was actually playing on the screen. I like her interpretation. It would have given depth and intrigue to the film. Made it a haunting and compelling story rather than a fragmented and confusing one. But that's not how the story went. The story was about the brute force of Daniel Day-Lewis steamrolling right over anyone or anything in his path. Not much conflict there.

While There Will Be Blood was an admirable attempt, I'm at a loss as to why critics are hailing it as a brilliant masterpiece. I'm not stupid--I don't need all the dots connected for me. In fact, I hate it when filmmakers assume I don't have the brains to figure things out for myself. I like stories painted in broad strokes, small moments, hints and subtext. But it seemed to me scenes were missing, motivations unknown and story sacrificed in lieu of reproducing the sienna daguerreotype of the 1900s.

There Will Be Blood is not the only movie I've seen that suffers from critical hyperbole. Juno was a good film, but not all THAT. Atonement was achingly gorgeous, but not the epic masterwork reviewers heralded. There was all this hullabaloo about this long tracking shot in the movie. When I saw it I thought, why are they walking around in circles? It made me dizzy.

So what's up? It's like the critics are too afraid they'll be kicked out of the "cool club" and so they collectively participate in the oohing and aahing of the Emperor's New Clothes. A critic hails a movie a masterpiece so they ALL have to. There Will Be Blood tries too hard to be weighty, Juno tries too hard to be witty, Atonement tries to hard to be arty. All succeed on some levels, but none are the god's gift to movie audiences that the critics are making them out to be.