Please… Chest burn.  Need ice cold beer on the burn.  Thursday I had my chest painted with a substance that smelled like fried rubber, you know, the way trucks smell as they descend from Tahoe or Berthoud Pass.  Cripes!  Sunbathe at your own risk, ladies – and I’m dark-skinned.  This itch is hellacious!  I’m tempted to attack my skin with a rusty saw.  Remember the good old days when we slathered on the baby oil and baked?  All gone.

Um-kay – the ‘Niners won.  Watching this football game between New Orleans and the Forty-Niners was like watching The Terminator.  The ‘Niners just kept… coming… back.  Unbelievable game.  At long last I can say with all sincerity, Alex Smith is a damn good quarterback.

So, not to change the subject, but we watched Midnight In Paris, Woody Allen’s latest, starring Owen Wilson and Rachel McAdams.  It’s not my favorite Woody Allen movie, but it is classic Woody Allen.  Existential angst.  Fear of death.  Neuroses.  Characters who talk at each other.  Annoying pedantic know-it-all professors.  Mismatched lovers, too passive to search for real love until they have no other choice…

Rachel McAdams (Inez) is outstanding as a spoiled, shallow, self-absorbed, Californicated, materialistic bee-yotch engaged to:

Owen Wilson (Gil), who channels a forty-ish Woody Allen, an all around nebish and wannabe writer visiting Paris.  Befuddled.  Passive.  Depressed. A romantic dreamer trying to write a novel about a nostalgia shop, who doesn’t have the self-confidence to be anything other than a successful hack.  That kinda bugged me because I don’t think of good screenwriters as hacks.  In this movie, Gil was a very successful hack.  He’s a wealthy, award-winning screenwriter who thinks all his screenplays are shit and hates Hollywood.  He longs for the golden age of Paris, when a community of creative ex-pats resided there, artists, writers, young filmmakers.  Gertrude Stein, Alice B. Toklas, Cole Porter, Ernest Hemingway, Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Pablo Picasso… Like casual name-dropping, Woody manages to magically fit them, and many more characters, into the film, in addition to Toulouse Lautrec and Paul Gauguin – but that’s another story (earlier time – L’ belle epoch).

My favorite was Hemingway – he was so pugnacious.  Reminded me of my dog.  ”Anybody wanna fight?”

Here’s what I think… The first third of the movie bored me.  Why?  It was like watching Woody Allen try to recapture an earlier period in his long and glorious career via Owen Wilson’s character.  I found myself irritated.  Half-way through the movie, I realized that was the point.  The larger theme is this – everybody wants to live in the past – somehow the past was better than the now.  And the truth is, maybe it was.  But like Gil, ala Allen, says… There aren’t any antibiotics and there’s no Novacaine.

Here’s a good comparison – Woodstock.  And Woodstock was actually the swan song.  Can you remember a time when rock and roll (and Motown) was better than, say, between the years 1965-1967?  A confluence of greats.  Maybe you could stretch it to 1969, but my husband says no.  I’ll defer to him because he’s older than me and with age comes wisdom.  Just kidding honey… about the wisdom part, I mean.

That was Paris in the Twenties.  A confluence of greats.

Our kids will look back fondly upon their own golden age.  At least I hope so.  Probably Lady Gaga and Steve Jobs.  You know what I think my son will view as the golden age?  Saturday Night Live reruns – the original, and The Simpsons.  And maybe Dawn of the Dead.

The one sad truth is this, Woody dates himself with this movie.  Writers no longer have to go to Paris to write a novel.  They just hit the keyboard running and click upload.  But then Midnight In Paris is a fantasy from start to finish so I should be more understanding and expect magic, not miracles.

In the end, the movie was fun.  My husband liked it more than I did.  But I must admit, I do love Paris.

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Robert Redford – actor, director, producer, musician.  He’s starred in some of the most memorable movies of any actor in my lifetime – two words – Sundance Kid.

So the other day, my husband was getting his hair cut.  The stylist’s 35 year old sister walked into the salon and the three of them began chatting, mostly about Robin Williams’ upcoming nuptials at a local resort.  For some reason, Mr. Redford’s name came up and the stylist’s sister asked, “Who’s that?”  Seriously, she was clueless.

When my husband told me this story, I began hyperventilating.  “Who’s that?  Who’s that? She actually asked ‘who’s that’?  No way.  No way.  She doesn’t know who Robert Redford is?  No fuckin’ way.  Was she born in a barn?  Does she live in a cave?  Is she deaf, dumb and blind?  Everybody in the whole fuckin’ world knows who Robert Redford is.”  (When I travel to the dark side, I use the word fuck a lot.)

How can a thirty-five year old woman be unaware of Robert Redford and his movies?  Good grief.

I decided to plan a series of posts on the twenty-five most influential movies in my lifetime – just my opinion, you understand.  You’ll see my list.  I’ve asked my dad for his list, my husband for his list and my son, a filmophile, for his list.  There may be some overlap.  I’m talking about movies that changed your life, impacted society, scared the ever-lovin’ shit out of you.  These are the movies I want to hear about.

So…you with me?  Should you decide to post your own list on your own site, please let me know so I can link ASAP.  Or feel free to send me your list and I’ll give you a day to talk about movies that influenced you.

Doesn’t know who Robert Redford is my ass…

I’m a guest poster today at Secrets of 7 Scribes.  Stop by!

***Super amazing thanks to MTNickerson who gave me a great shout out on his blog yesterday.  He never fails to make me think.  But man, I ain’t all that.  Ask my mom.

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It never came to a theater near me, but I got to see it on cable tonight. Here’s what I think, keep in mind that I’m a little bit sick from food poisoning. Perfect casting. Perfect scenery and settings. Great acting. Lacking story.
I suppose Jane Eyre is so giantly epic (is giantly a word?), that they just couldn’t include it all or follow the timeline in any strict sense, but the movie makers left out some of the very best parts, unfortunately changed a few, and skimmed over the rest. Plus I thought, were I a character in the movie, I might have to kill St. John Rivers as he was so incredibly weasely. Is weasely a word? I mean, yeah, he’s a bit of a serpent in the book, but he’s a gorgeous, charismatic serpent. In the movie he’s just verminous. Apparently verminous is a word.
I loved Rochester and wanted more. Jane could not have been better – wanted more more more. More on-screen time together, a bigger build up. And I wanted the book ending. Yes, the real end of the book, Jane Eyre, Mr. Rochester’s disfigurement and all.
Still, it was worth seeing my favorite characters come to life.

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“I’m beginning to think women don’t know what they want.”

“Amen!”

Brendan Fraser knocks this comedy out of the park as the nebish, Elliot Richards, who sells his soul to Satan, played by the seductive and devilishly charming Elizabeth Hurley, in order to win the heart of his four-year crush, Alison, a woman who doesn’t even know he exists.

Elliot tries out almost every romance hero in his quest for love. His first wish is to be rich and powerful (and married to Alison).  The devil turns him into a Colombian drug lord whose wife, Alison, is cheating on him in plain sight.

His second wish is to be the most sensitive (oops, most emotionally sensitive) man in the world, and he wants Alison to love him.  Elliot becomes a man of many talents, but all Alison wants is a neanderthal who’ll quit blabbing and get into her pants.

On his third try, Elliot goes for the jock – that most quintessential of all chick magnets, the professional basketball player.  Elliot may be the best player of all time, but the devil turns him into an idiot – which wouldn’t matter – if he didn’t have an eensy weensy winkie.

By the time he’s ready to make his fourth wish, Elliot has thought things through.  He asks to become an urbane, sophisticated, intelligent, articulate, well-endowed, man about town.  He’s every inch a rico suave…and he’s gay.

God, I love this movie!  And as a good romance should, it has an HEA.

Bedazzled came out in 2000.

Many thanks to all who visited the NOR chat last night! It was a blast! Hi! Can you see me waving?

I’m visiting two other virtual sites today: Falyn Donaldson’s site (talking about pretty bows) and I’ve posted my usual outdoorsy post at Night Writers. Drop by if you have the time!

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As you can see, I’ve been watching movies!  Last night, hubby and I watched a movie I’ve been looking forward to for months, The Kids Are All Right.

Why have I been looking forward to the movie?  Several reasons, first and foremost, I adore Julianne Moore and Anette Benning.  Great actresses, both of them.  Major girl-crush.  Second, the promos have looked intriguing, heartwarming and yes, funny.  The movie, directed by indie film maker, Lisa Cholodenko, is billed as a comedy.

The bare bones of The Kids Are all Right…Nic and Jules are the matriarchs of an atypical family, not that any family is exactly typical, but Nic and Jules are a married lesbian couple.  Each has born a child using the donated sperm of the same man (Mark Ruffalo, who my husband insists upon calling Mark Buffalo).

Warning:  MUCHO SPOILERS AHEAD.  STOP RIGHT HERE IF YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THIS MOVIE.

You know that saying, too many cooks spoil the broth?  Well I felt like I was watching theme stew.  Themes were dropped right and left, like a hodgepodge of mismatched seasonings dumped into a stew.  The movie/stew became muddy, and the end result was a very off taste which really bothered me because the potential existed for a fantastic story/exceptionally rich meal.

Plot:  A middle-aged lesbian couple struggles with a mid-life crisis in their own relationship while attempting to deal with teenage angst.  Into that crisis, as a part of that teen angst, is thrust the sperm donor, a man Nic calls an interloper and views as a threat to the harmony of her inharmonious family.

Coulda/woulda/shoulda.  This coulda been a contender!  Oh yeah, it was, but I don’t know why.

The movie opens with the family at dinner.  I grasped the family dynamics in a heartbeat.  And here is where theme dumping began…

Nic – a physician, is distant, impatient, a control freak, critical of those around her, especially her partner, Jules.  Nic is a nag, a borderline alcoholic and IMO, she comes very close to being emotionally abusive of her more passive partner.

Jules is, well, she’s inept.  While she is a loving person and tries to soften Nic’s harsh criticism of the kids, she’s pretty much depicted as a loser – at least it seemed to me she believes her partner, Nic, views her as a loser.  And so she acts the part.  She cringes, she whispers, she hunches her body over, reminding me of a whipped dog.  She does her best to please everyone and in doing so, pleases no one, especially herself.

While both these women are moms to the eighteen year old girl and the fifteen year old boy, it’s apparent from the get-go that there is favoritism going on.  While Jules seems to love both children, you know that Nic sees her biological daughter, the bright high-achieving, straight A student, as the good one, while she views Jules’ more laid-back, nonchalant jock biological son as the not-so-good one.  You know it, I mean you just know it.  It’s as plain as the nose on your face.

More theme dumping…

The eighteen year old daughter is physically, socially and sexually immature.  She has a boyfriend, yet she’s never kissed him, or any boy.  Her insecurity is not only obvious in her body language, it’s obvious in her speech and in the curtain of long hair that constantly hides her face.

The fifteen year old boy is hanging out with a bad kid,  yet neither mom seems to know how to handle it or even manages to make much of an attempt to intervene.  It’s obvious the young man feels out of control and confused and when he asks his eighteen year old sister to find their sperm donor because he wants to meet the man (if he’s not a total loser), I was cheering for him.  It seemed like a reasonable thing to do under the circumstances.  The kid doesn’t confide in either of his moms, the house is filled with tension so thick you can cut it with a knife, and he’s flat out curious.

The theme dumping continues…

Enter the sperm donor, Mark Ruffalo, aka Paul.  He’s cool – which is a word used way too often in this movie.  He’s a kickback, scruffy-sexy, somewhat serially monogamous, successful restaurant owner.  When the two teens contact him out of the blue, he’s open to meeting them.

Paul becomes involved in the lives of all of the above.  After spending some significant time with her biological father, the daughter – Joni – actually smiles.  Her face lights up and she seems happy and engaged for the first time in the movie.  After spending time with his biological father, the son – Laser – dumps the bad seed he’s running with and straightens himself out.  It’s not as if Paul is making an effort to intervene, it just happens.  You know how when you were a teenager the last person you wanted to confide in or talk to was your mom or your dad?  You needed that other – a grandparent, a cousin, an aunt or uncle or friend you could relate to, someone you felt would not judge you.  That’s the role Paul assumes.  He doesn’t set about to interfere, he’s just…there.  No pressure.  No criticism.  He’s fun.  The kids can relax around him and sort things out for themselves – use him as a mirror for reflection.

The big problem?  Jules feels the same way.  Paul doesn’t judge her, he likes her.  She can relax around him.  In fact, she relaxes so much she jumps his bones, repeatedly and vigorously.  So much so that Paul finds himself falling in love with her and with the family she represents, and he imagines making a future with her.

So much angst…so many problems – and none of them are addressed by the director, or they are addressed in the sense that they aren’t addressed.  Twenty-four hours later, that fact is still driving me fucking nuts!

For instance, why does Jules, who professes to be a lesbian with a capital ‘L’, act as if all she needs is a big cock to make things right?  I can understand a one-time encounter with Paul because she’s so needy, he’s so kind, and she’s desperate for affection.  When we are desperate, we tend to behave out of character.  But in the graphic sex scenes I watched, it seemed like she couldn’t get enough of the guy.  Huh?  Is she bisexual?  I can only compare this to the viscerally uncomfortable, yet stunning and evocative sexual encounter between Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Blomkvist in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  Now that encounter, while not explained in words, spoke deeply about Lisbeth’s fears and insecurities, her horrible past, and showed us the depth of trust she had in Mikael.  It was a powerful scene.  It made sense, despite Lisbeth’s sexual preference for women.  Jules and Paul in bed repeatedly did not make any sense to me whatsoever.

When Nic learns the truth about the affair and asks Jules, “So are you straight now?”  Jules says no.  Nic doesn’t ask her if she’s bisexual, she asks her if she’s straight.  Bisexuality is never addressed, nor is there ever any discussion of the issues in their relationship aside from one very brief and sort of dippy speech Jules makes about love – in front of Nic and the kids.  It’s kind of along the lines of ‘love is hard’.  K…..

Themes left hanging…all of them.

1.  The problems in the marriage are never addressed.  They are swept under the rug for a de rigour, and very unsatisfying semi-HEA.  I actually would have preferred to see the couple deal with their issues, even separate – do the work necessary to become a loving couple or at least, loving co-parents.  Or end up hating each other!  There was no work done.  So in other words – the movie did not deliver on its promise.  The director sets up a marriage on the brink, yet she never has her characters deal with the issues she puts before her audience.

2.  Paul, who didn’t ask for any of this, did not seek out these children, who was invited into their lives, who did not deliberately set about to seduce Jules and was a good influence on the two teens, is left standing on the doorstep at the end of the movie, reviled by one and all, forced to peek through the window, desperate to share the warmth of their fire and a crust of bread, like The Little Match Girl.  WTF?  Paul becomes the designated villain of the piece for no good reason.

I wish I could say Paul played the role of catalyst, the one who forced Nic and Jules to take a good hard look at themselves and their relationship, but he didn’t.  Their relationship didn’t change.  In the end, it returned to what it was in the beginning.  Jules was still a doormat and Nic was still a nag.  So what was Paul?  A big cock thrown in for the sake of the viewers?  GMAFB.

3.  Are the kids all right?  I have no answer for that.  I can only make the following statements:  (This is what I took away?)

Jules should have apologized to the Mexican gardener she fired, and she should re-hire him ASAP.  (unpleasant thread left hanging)

This movie is not a comedy.  Neither hubby nor I cracked a single smile.

In my version of the movie, I would lose Joni’s obnoxious and unnecessary girlfriend – someone a girl like Joni would never be friends with, and likewise Laser’s boyfriend who was nothing more than an extremely unpleasant plot device.  Teens have angst for so many reasons, this kid wasn’t necessary, and just like Jules’ affair with Paul, Laser’s friendship with this kid seemed out of character and gratuitous.

Oh oh oh!  The biggest question of all…why does neither mom ever ask this – Why now?  Why does Laser suddenly want to meet his sperm donor?  That’s the first question I would ask.  What is going on with my son?  That question remains unasked and unanswered.  And thus the movie missed the entire point of the movie.

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