Film

In another life and time I would have loved to have majored in film study. I have been in love with films since I was 6 years old and taken to my first at the Savoy Cinema in Cork to see Cinderella. The night enchanted me. Thehuge organ at intermission coming out of the floor with the words of the songs printed on the screen, the extra B films, the newsreels,  the icecream brought around in those little tubs with the wooden spoon, the upper balcony, the lower balcony. The magnificence of it all. Spellbound didn't cover it.

One of the huge bonuses of my childhood was spending a chunk of the summer with my favourite aunt in the small town where I was born. Her husband owned the town cinema. I remember the serials on Saturday and the rapid turnover of various films during the couple of weeks I stayed there. I feasted on the likes of Roy Rogers and other films which were sanitized  censored by the RCs who influenced the government and their righteous puritan hypocritcal hellhole  Office of the Censor. I only got to see complete films when I moved to Canada including, if you can believe it, Hamlet with Lawrence Olivier and the unintelligible Gigi (huge swathes of film-ribbon on the floor in that one) so the plot hadn't made sense and finally did.

I've been in love with film for ever. I would mitch off school on a Wednesday afternoon and scrape enough money to go to the foreign film cinema and feast on German, Italian and French films (all cut by said Office). And of course the American blockbusters, short on nuance but loud on effects and Big Screen theatrics.

I had a collection of thousands upon thousands of films, many taped by me especially from TVO, an Ontario station that featured fabulous films on Saturday Night at the Movies along with serious interviews with the cast and directors. Downsizing, I had to let go of this massive collection (indexed and documented to boot - ADD much?)

I saved some of my favourites. But not many.

I recently discovered Criterion which has about 1000 old films in stock for streaming and am positively thrilled to bits. It continuously changes what's available and for me, this is a gift out of the blue. Around $8 a month to subscribe. Many are the foreign films from my teenage life at that tiny foreign film cinema in Cork which opened up so much of the world to me.

I try and see all the Oscar winners every year. Still. And I post irregularly on IMDB and have since 1999(ye gads, 24 years!)

Here's the link to that: Wisewebwoman - Movies

My favourite film of all time? The Dead

But there are so many close that I can't possibly list them all.

But a recent one comes to mind (pardon my Irish bias)

The Quiet Girl

But there are so very many incredible films. Many of them made in the forties and sixties but so many made today also.

Bless you, Criterion.

And your favourite film?

30 Days - Day 15

A friend lent me the DVD of "Unbroken" to watch. That's the movie Angelina Jolie directed. I was full of high expectations as Friend had loved it and movies directed by women are far too rare on the ground.

I was disappointed. Flat as a pancake is about the kindest thing I can say about it. Three men spending 48 days at sea on a raft (looking quite Chippendaleish - unfortunately for truism)and multiple instances of savagery inflicted at a Japanese POW camp do not make for riveting watching.

The cinematography, however was fabulous. A true story rendered with no character development and cut short when the most interesting part of Zamporini's life was just beginning.

Along with this, I was reading JK Rowling's "The Cuckoo's Calling" (written under a pseudonym) - this was no Harry Potter, 456 page of absolutely cardboard characters, sprinkled with BIG adjectives and a plot that had more holes than the biggest colander I've seen. I should have dropped it but you know that train wreck thing? I kept staring in disbelief that a billionaire author could write something so appalling.

I prefer my life when I can weigh a good book against a rotten movie and vice versa.

Not two fails in each genre in the same swathe of time.

But oh, the knitting is going well. And so is the mystery dinner theatre I'm writing. And the writers' workshop series.

Into each life a few duds fall along with the roses.

Reflections

Back to the blogworld after quite a sabbatical for this screen sucker. I temporarily suspended most of my cyber activities and it wasn't the delirium tremens experience I had anticipated. I missed reading others' blogs the most. I thought quitting Lexulous would be a cause of the shakes and the jitters but it wasn't at all. FaceBook posting I kept to a minimum and refused to open links from others. AND why does aforesaid FB involve so much WORK on my part?

I took the two steps back from this and came to the conclusion I only like it when the posts are personal: don't send me recipes you haven't made and photographed, don't send me links without a comment as to how it has affected you, don't post décor pics unless it's your own house you're talking about or books you've read or movies you've seen. But most of all don't post pics and movies of animals and babies and weddings unless they, erm, are those that are part of YOUR family. I mean why should I care about strangers' dogs and babies? Why should you?

I'm not saying I'm immaculate in that area either. There was a time when Lolzcatz or whatevers had me frothing and posting. But not anymore.

Point is: Distance is required to have a good look at ourselves and our activities, cyber and otherwise.

I wrote, I read. I walked. I spent time with Daughter who is now (I'm still trying to process this delightful life's surprise) actually living here. We went to a concert on Saturday afternoon and then she said: "I know you want to see "Philomena", Mum - let's pack the day up tight - do dinner and then see it!"

And we did. And it was all good. Very good.

And "Philomena"? - run to this movie. It is brilliant.

Here's my review of Philomena

Books and Movies

I just finished reading "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel". A story about a bunch of older Britishers who move to India to spend their declining years in affordable gentility. I was glad to have seen the movie first. A movie I was fairly disappointed in I should add, though other elders have raved about it. I found it simplistic and, well, Hollywoodized, though it had a great cast. The cast just couldn't override the pathetic script, in spite of Maggie's crispness, Judi's jolliness and Bill Nighy's wonderful nighyness.

The book, though I did not rate it a 5 star, was so far removed from the movie as to be a completely different tale. There was more complexity to the characters, a couple of love stories that were more believably human and also character redemptions that weren't based primarily on sex. India was depicted in its new persona of industrialized silicon valley contrasted with extreme ragged poverty. The failed capitalistic model wrought in a new century of technological advancement, but alas, for all, less enlightenment.

The big flaw I found in the book was that of too many characters and their offspring. I just hate having to flip backwards through pages to take a refresher course in characters as in: who was (s)he again now? Readers shouldn't have to do physical work along with the mental.

But the discrepancy between the book and the movie is one of the worst I've ever seen, one bears no relation to the other.

Call me a grumbling geezer.

Best Movies of 2011

I don't have television so there are no Oscars for me tonight apart from on the web. Maybe it is my age, maybe it is a deterioration in the overall quality of most movies but I view Oscar night now as a long drawn out yawn with too many commercials, a sycophantic host and self-congratulatory side bits which border on extreme narcissism.

I have a lifelong passion for the movies, going way back to when my uncle owned a cinema in a small town in East Cork and I got to see !!free!! every movie he showed. The A movie, the B movie, the newsreels, the cartoons and the serials on Saturday afternoons. I also have quite an enormous collection of movies. Some I never tire of watching.

One of my biggest disappointments of this past movie season was The Artist. I just don't get what all the fuss and hype was about. I found it melodramatic and cliched. And if that was the point, so what. Not a good point pour moi. A close runner up to FAIL would be Midnight in Paris, with an appalling Owen Wilson (attempting to channel a jaded Woody Allen) in the lead and featuring cardboard caricatures of the greatest literary figures in Paris as a supporting cast. Please. I was seriously offended.

On the other hand, I loved Monsieur Lazhar an amazing story of a Grade 6 class in Quebec whose teacher commits suicide. The child actors in it were brilliant. I also loved Beginners which starred Christopher Plummer as a widower coming out of the closet after 45 years of marriage. Hugo was a delight, loved loved loved Martin Scorsese's homage to movies through the ages and even caught his own (a la Alfred Hitchcock) cameo in it. The 3 D effects were incredible.

Tree of Life and Bridesmaids were also in the enjoyable lineup of movie pleasure for me this past year.

But overall a disappointing season but some of that can be blamed on the unavailability of good foreign film showings here in Newfoundland. To my mind, there is nothing like the big screen of a movie theatre for showing such treasures.

Blog Jam

I'm one of those boring people that can watch a movie twenty times over a period of, oh, a long time, and still find something new in it. Mind you, it has to be a good movie.

Hence watching The Red Shoes again last week. I don't know how many times I've watched it and am still mesmerized by the ballet in the middle. And yeah, the ending is weak, but who cares. It sure puts Black Swan to shame.

One of my frustrations in living in Newfoundland is that we never get so-called art house, foreign films and good documentaries here. As in shown on the big screen. It's never the same on the little screen.

I usually go on a movie rampage when I hit Toronto, my hunger is so keen for real films in a reel (sorry) theatre.

And on another note I'm rather ticked off in that I can't seem to stay up late and have a fairly normal day of it the following day. Not at all. I was with some friends last night, great talkers - you should hear all our monologues going off at the same time, over and over - and we cracked the clock around 3.30 a.m., very normal for us. But oh today! I don't drink, neither do they, so there are no hangovers. Just this: OMG: my legs, where are they, OMG: what time did I get up, why is the sun looking sideways at me? OMG: why am I reading things twice for the meaning to penetrate. And on. Some useless day for this cranky old lady today.

But: no regrets. I so love the chat. And there are so few in my world who love it like I do.

As a result I figured I could watch a film without overly taxing the few braincells left to me so I am halfway through Mr. Roberts as I write this, another old hairy one. But what's not to like about Henry Fonda, Jack Lemmon and a demented old James Cagney chewing the glue out of the scenery?

Did I ever mention I have a breath-taking collection of old movies?

No?

You see this obsession all started with an uncle who owned a cinema back in the day. Hooked like heroin. At the age of 6.

Goodbye Elwy Yost!

Elwy Yost was an icon for movie lovers. In Ontario, for decades, he hosted "Saturday Night at the Movies" available on the Ontario public TV network.

It was always a double bill and in between the films he would interview the directors and stars of those films - mostly films from the forties (my favourite era) but often moving into the fifties, sixties and seventies. They provided so much insight into how the films were made, written, shot and cast. His enthusiasm for the films he presented was infectious. This was always part of the charm.

Many of the directors, producers, stars and cinematographers have passed on now but I would imagine the archives of these incredible interviews have been preserved and to my knowledge he was the only film aficionado accumulating such an incredible body of cinematic behind-the-scenes work.

I salute you Elwy, us film buffs will sorely miss you.

You were truly one of a kind and always part of Saturday nights in our house. I am so glad I taped so, so much of all you presented including those priceless interviews!

RIP, my friend.

Purpose & Meaning

Picture taken a few minutes ago from my front deck of some of the many walkers on the beach today in this glorious weather.

It is nearing the end of the year as I write this. I am struck by how many friends out there are looking or searching for a purpose as the new year approaches.

Now, I am of the belief that the purpose will find us, often unexpectedly and it will always be a surprise.

Years ago, I was told by an old shaman to always look for the surprise, the gift, in every day. It will always be there. And how true her advice was.

Yesterday, there were a few. One was the movie "The King's Speech", a brilliant film, I highly recommend it. I had the thought when it was all over and I was left wanting more, that a defect in one's life, like a speech impediment, can be transformed into such a powerful metaphor: overcoming whatever obstacle - whether real of imagined - there is to one's maximizing one's life.

Over dinner, I was challenged, in the nicest possible way, by my two dear friends as to why I haven't moved on to another publisher with my inedita - my unpublished work. And I had to admit it was fear. Fear of another editor slashing and trashing. Fear of myself, really. I need to open that window wide and trust. Not so much that everything will be rosy with a new publisher, but that I am living my life to the fullest extent possible, come what may.

In other words, we will never know until we put it out there, will we?

Great Distractions

I was talking to my daughter the other day. We were both in one of those downturns in life, not exactly depressed but oh-so-blah and flat. Teetering on the edge so to speak. But books were saving us both. Reading books to be precise. She had just had a great haul from Goodwill, 25 books for a few dollars and she was knee deep in them. I had browsed the shelves at Sally Anne and bought 7 for a few pennies. Marvellous finds. We gloat over such bargains. Trade them off to each other when we get together. Rate them. We know what each other likes, and often like the same. As my granddaughter does.

Our family members are voracious readers. Mainly novels but not adverse to biographies or explorations into pysche or history. A huge escape into another world. I don't understand people who don't read. I honestly think they don't know what they're missing.

Currently I'm reading a Minette Walters, "The Chameleon's Shadow". She explores the dark side of the human spirit and some of her books have been made into films or television series. This novel explores the return of a severely injured and damaged UK Iraq vet.

The other book I'm reading is "Fruit" by Brian Francis, (review here) an account of a young gay boy's growing up in small town Ontario. Beautifully written and funny. A counter balance to the darkness of the Walters'. I try to balance my reading as I always have at least two books on the go.

I plunged into Blockbuster the other day and hauled out 8 movies from the bargain bin. They just about paid me to take them away. I've watched 2 during the pre-dawn small hours the last couple of nights:

Changeling
Frost/Nixon

Both brilliant films and with enough extras on both DVDs to satisfy the hungriest of trivia appetites.

Yes. All Distractions. From Thinking: of Death, of Sleeplessness, of Work, of Aging, of Loss, of Falling into the Abyss.

Casablanca

Who doesn't love this movie? I just never get tired of it. I don't know how many times I've seen it and say the dialogue: "You played it for her, you can play it for me" and "this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship" along with the stars, sing: "You must remember this" as Dooley plays that piano and whisper: "We'll always have Paris" to myself.

This picture says it all, doesn't it? Romantic love sacrificed to a great cause. The noble fine gesture. Country before self and all that.

Was Humphrey ever so tough and manly, Ingrid ever so fragile?



The thing is, in real life Ingrid Bergman towered over the diminutive Humphrey Bogart.

So much so that he had to wear strapped on platform shoes. Here is a shot taken of his feet, relaxing between takes of the unforgettable movie, Casablanca:



Things are not always what they appear, n'est pas? Humphrey tottering around on these kinda spoils the image of the tough, shoot from the hip guy with the heart of gold.

And I truly wonder how they both kept straight faces during the filming.

Love Without a Blaring Bonk.

In an effort to remove my mind from all that is happening in this big scary new world of ours, I pondered on the many movies I have seen over the years and reflected on what makes a truly marvellous love scene.

I am writing, of course, from the female point of view but I take comfort in the fact that some men of my acquaintance find these love scenes erotic and sensual also. I’m also far more taken in what is left to the imagination. I find graphic grinding a complete turn-off.

And, as an aside, I am amazed at the dearth of other-than-hetero sensuous love scenes out there in movieland. And mixed race. And First Nations peoples. And ?

Also, please bear in mind I’ve only made a partial list and in no particular order, there are many, many more. I would be interested in comments suggesting others.

The Big Easy (1987) - On the bed as he kisses her back.
Ryan’s Daughter (1970) - Off the horses, in the grass.
Pride and prejudice (1995) – Oh, that long, long look from Darcy as Elizabeth sits at the piano.
Hill Street Blues (1981) - She’s in the bath, with Frank shaving her legs.
Dad (1989) - They dance.
The Ghost & Mrs Muir (1947) - The ending.
Holiday (1938) - He realizes he’s going to marry the wrong sister.
Coming Home (1978) - In the wheelchair.
I know where I’m going (1945) - She dances with him at the ceilidh to “Nut Brown Maiden” – and he sings ‘she’s the one for me’.
It happened one night (1934) - Where else? In the motel room with the blanket divider.
The King and I (1956) - Shall we dance?
Lifeboat (1944) - Tallulah and her smouldering looks at John Hodiak in front of everyone on the boat.
Lost in Translation (2003) - Unstated, but oh so palpable.
Love again (2003) – Philip Larkin and understanding why he attracted so many women.
Million dollar Baby (2004) – Love surpassed the limitations of the human spirit.
Moonstruck (1987) – Cher at her best, loving the unlovable.
Now Voyager (1942) – Why wish for the stars when we can have the moon?
The Painted Veil (2006) – When they realize they are in love.
The English Patient (1996) – Candles in the courtyard.
Persuasion (1995) – Finally. In the busy square.
Prince of tides (1991) – Love as healer.
Impromptu (1991) - George Sand, Frederic Chopin. An unweathered Hugh Grant.
Carrington (1995) – Love and desire, uniquely explored.

Movies

God, I love movies, I always have. And write reviews on line and even published articles. And in the past couple of weeks I see clearly what some movies have become. Tripe masquerading as greatness, never more in evidence than in that gob-smacking win by Martin Scorcese for best picture for the regrettable and forgettable "The Departed". Awful bilge.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0407887/usercomments-1447

And then I watch The Diary of Anne Frank for the umpteenth time and it still holds true, nearly fifty years later and the effects of the viewing linger on for a few days. Like all good movies.

Why doesn't Martin aspire, yet again, to something as good as Goodfellas?