February 2, 2015

This pic is from my front door yesterday, late afternoon. I think I’ve posted a picture almost exactly like this one before. But I can’t get over the light here (Illinois, just north of Chicago.) It mesmerizes me. And yesterday, as night encroached and everything white turned blue - ah!

Joy and Rapture.

We started “Serial” yesterday. The “This American Life” true-mystery podcast. We’ve only listened to the first episode out of 12, so there’s much ahead. I can’t wait to listen to episode #2 today. When we all (husband, daughter, me) listened, last night, with the fire going and the snow dropping (we got 18 inches yesterday) I thought - okay - this is truly a perfect day. Mostly trapped inside, yet still getting good exercise by shoveling. A ghostly mid-day drive. Making soups and salads, reading and watching (we watched the Katy Perry half-time Super Bowl show - it must’ve been fun to fly above that stadium - and the dancing dolphins, OMG) and I watched Guy Maddin’s film, “My Winnepeg,” (on my own, and I think it’s quite lovely) a movie that features a lot of dreamy surreal snow, and well - I ask you - can it seriously get any better than that? Although we’re loosely planning on moving back to L.A. after Mulan graduates from high school, I’m not sure I can live in a place with no snow. I like snow. I like a lot of snow. Right now, Wilmette feels like the promised land.

Oh! And reading in the living room, when it’s snowing outside? A thrill. Right now I’m reading Anne Sayre’s book about the scientist Rosalind Franklin. I’m completely absorbed. I’m beguiled by both Rosalind and Anne. Anne’s her biographer, friend, defender.

I want to do nothing but have days like yesterday, every day. (Even though we all know abundance is the enemy of appreciation - so that if days like yesterday are perfect, their perfection comes from their rarity.) I’m hoarding my experience of yesterday like it’s treasure I can use later. For example, if I’m ever in a situation where, say, I’m about to get my head cut off by terrorists, I’m going to think about days like yesterday to calm me. I will also hope they sharpened the blade very, very keenly.

Is it inappropriate to stockpile joyous memory in the face of unspeakably brutal violence? How is one supposed to respond to hearing about such horrible publicity-stunt(ed) events like the beheading yesterday of Kenji Goto? I can’t stop reading about him, thinking about him. Goto went to Syria to help get the release of the other Japanese hostage, Haruna Yukawa. And now both are dead. Meanwhile, I sit at home and love that it’s snowing. I am too afraid, too occupied with self-preservation (that’d be a good name for a jam: self-preserves!) to do anything as brave and heroic as Goto did. And now what are the Japanese to do? People are talking about how they cannot make a military response, but I don’t think those responses work anyway (I’m not sure what does, but military action seems to exacerbate everything) so I hope they (the Japanese) find other ways to get justice (legally and emotionally) and not resort to violence themselves. Uh. What a mess.

Whew. That was one fast change of tone, eh?

Okay - I will list the movies I watched last month:

Movies watched by me in January 2015:

1.) Inherent Vice, 2014, directed by Paul Thomas Anderson

2.) Birdman, 2014, directed by Alejandro Inarritu

3.) Early Spring, 1956, directed by Yasojiro Ozu

4.) Early Summer, 1951, directed by Yasojiro Ozu

5.) Sunrise, 1927, directed by F.W. Murnau

6.) Finding Vivian Maier, 2014, directed by John Maloof & Charlie Siskel

7.) Boyhood, 2014, directed by Richard Linklater

8.) Double Indemnity, 1944, directed by Billy Wilder

9.) Body Heat, 1981, directed by Lawrence Kasdan

10.) Into the Woods, 2014, directed by Rob Marshall

11.) A Story of Floating Weeds, 1934, directed by Yasojiro Ozu

12.) Still Alice, 2014, directed by Richard Glatzer & Wash Westmoreland

 

Okay, I couldn’t bear Inherent Vice. I watched the whole thing. That was an exercise in patience. I like Paul Thomas Anderson most of the time. I just… And you know what? I don’t care anymore. I don’t care anymore for explaining why I didn’t like something that many of the critics I admire admired. There are too many movies I love, that influence me, that inspire me, that get into my dreams (day and night ones!) and I have spent too much of my time trying to figure out why some people like something I don’t. Well goddamnit, I’m 55 and I’m throwing in the towel. I’m not articulate enough (or maybe thoughtful enough) to explain why I didn’t like a movie or book. I just didn’t. Nuff said.

Yes, I’m being petulant. But it does feel like a shift. I want to gravitate towards the things I like. I want to dwell there, and understand why they make me so happy, or move me so deeply, or thrill me to my bones. But I don’t care about movies I don’t care for. So there - I said it, I didn’t care for Inherent Vice.

Same with Birdman. Yes, the photography was astonishing. The performances exhilarating. But I didn’t get emotionally involved with the story. Keaton’s character was opaque and unlikable and without wit or insight and…. eh. Edward Norton - hilarious. Fantastic. I think he deserves an acting award. Keaton too - yes, him too. But eh…

Of course I needed my Ozu fix for the month and that meant three of his: Early Summer, Early Spring, and The Story of Floating Weeds. I want to write a book of short stories inspired by each of the Ozu movies I have in my collection. Wouldn’t that be fun? I feel I’ve committed to Ozu. Like I married him. He’s it. He’s the guy. He’s who I wish I was, want to be, my favorite, the top, the tower of Pisa. The humanism Ozu exudes in his films - that’s what I admire more than anything else. He loves his characters. He loves them all. This is what I think is the hardest thing to do, something that Ozu was able to do more reliably and consistently than any writer-director or even any writer that I know of: he makes you love and understand everybody. You are sympathetic to everyone. And their actions are all the right ones. And yet, disaster ensues. Well intentioned people who cause harm and survive it. That’s where it’s at, for me, baby.

I could see Sunrise about a thousand more times. I think this was my tenth time to see it.

Boyhood is my favorite movie that was made in 2014. I’ve watched the film twice and I’ll watch it more times. I got so much more out of Boyhood the second time. I was puddled by the film. It’s my favorite Linklater of all. (Second place tie: Waking Life and School of Rock - I’m not crazy about the Sunset, Sunrise, Midnight trilogy - but I still like them.)

I went into a crazed week of all Double Indemnity. The Blu Ray I bought has two different commentaries - and I listened to each while watching the film. What a great film. I couldnt’ stop with Double Indemnity (DI.) I think I watched the film - on its own, without commentary - three times. Then with the commentaries, and then - oh! On the Blu Ray, they added in a 1973 TV movie remake of DI, did you know that was made? I sure didn’t. If I were teaching a film class right now, the first thing I would do is show Wilder’s DI and then Jack Smight’s TV version. The dialogue/story/everything is mostly the same, it’s just… one is a great film and one is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad film.

Fred MacMurray is so good in DI, it’s such a great performance - the performance of his career. And Barbara Stanwyck. Well, she’s Barbara Stanwyck. No one can touch her, she’s so good.

For shits & giggles, while I was in my DI leisurely bath, we (me and Michael) watched Body Heat - not a remake exactly, but clearly inspired by DI.

I remember being so captivated by Body Heat (BH) when I saw it the first time, in 1981 (which was also the last time I’d seen it.) Kathleen Turner is wondrous. It was just as steamy-sexual as I’d remembered. If there’s anything missing from DI, that’s it - the sexual heat doesn’t read between MacMurray and Stanwyck like I want it to. So we’ve got oodles of sexual heat in BH - Kathleen Turner - jeezhus! Did it even matter who co-starred with her? She was/is just so friggin sexy. Sticky hot.

But. But. But. The movie? It didn’t benefit from me having watched DI obsessively right before. BH is no DI. BH gets way too convoluted (and unbelievable) plot-wise. It doesn’t have the tragic, sad emotional core of the story (MacMurray’s character & Robinson’s character: Walter Neff and Barton Keyes, the greatest tragic love story…) In the end, BH just doesn’t hold up like I hoped it would.

I was enthralled with Finding Vivian Maier. I watched it twice, and watched all the extras on the DVD, which include some of the Super 8 film she shot on the streets of Chicago in the 60s. It’s lovely. What a story! I’m so glad this happened (her artistic discovery) after she died. It doesn’t seem like Vivian would ever have been able to handle the attention. She is truly a beautiful tragedy.

Into the Woods - I have never seen any Sondheim before. I know! I’m not sure why. I just never have. I really thought I would like Into the Woods. From what I’ve read I think I may have liked the stage play. But the film? I never got involved emotionally in any way. Left me cold. I lerve Emily Blunt, though. The actors seemed like they were having a good time.

That’s not always a good thing.

I also really admired Still Alice. I would say - without stopping to formally review all the movies released in 2014, that Still Alice is #3 for me (behind Boyhood #1, and Selma #2.) Yes, Still Alice is a little movie-of-the-week-ish, and yes - it could have benefited from some deeper ideas about memory and who we are - maybe. I don’t know. I just thought the film was terrific. The scene where Alice films herself, talking to herself, was chilling. I weeped. I weeped copiously.

All righty. Onto books.

Books read in January 2015:

1.) The Hummingbird’s Daughter, written by Luis Alberto Urrea. (finished it!)

2.) Why Do I Do That?: Psychological Defense Mechanisms and the Hidden Ways They Shape Our Lives, written by Joseph Burgo (again!)

3.) Ayiti, written by Roxane Gay

4.) The Invisible History of the Human Race: How DNA and History Shape our Identities and our Futures, written by Christine Kenneally

5.) Kick the Thinking Habit, written by Richard Paterson

6.) The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing, written by Marie Kondo

Ooooooookay.

Oh, how I loved “The Hummingbird’s Daughter.” I didn’t want it to end. I feel so close to Teresita. I can’t wait to read “Queen of America” which is the continuation of the story. Urrea’s writing is so dense and beautiful and filled with images, smells, sounds and ideas all mixing up to a perfect pitch.

Okay, I read “Why Do I Do That?” again - this time I underlined everything that applied to me - which was pretty much the whole book. Okay, I do read a fairly large number of self-help books. I will admit that. Most don’t stick. This one does. I just love this book! I had so many insights into myself, my family, my characters. Then, for reasons I cannot explain, I lost the book. It’s somewhere in the house and I can’t find it. Do I secretly not want to hold onto the insights I’ve gained? Is my defense mechanism to lose things that are difficult to hold onto? Ha.

Well, maybe.

Reading “Why Do I Do That?” brought me to “Kick The Thinking Habit.” One of the defense mechanisms that Burgo describes is “Thinking.” He writes about how over-thinking and analyzing: Situations, people, and events, is actually one way to distance yourself and insulate yourself from the experience.

Okay, I know, duh. Yes, I know that. But as a person for whom thinking is very important, the way Burgo articulated how it can be a defense mechanism (which is not bad - we all need defense mechanisms) and how it can be hurtful or helpful really made sense to me. That led me to downloading “Kick the Thinking Habit.” It’s not available except through this British author’s website. I have to say, it’s pretty good. It helped. It’s helping. Reading it helped me undesrstand better what I’m trying to get out of meditating. What I’m trying to learn - one of the main things I’m trying to learn - from meditation is the skill of turning down the volume on the thoughts. The thoughts don’t go away, but you can learn to adjust the dial.

I’m not going to over think it.

(Ha, again.)

“The Invisible History of the Human Race” was terrific. I listened to it - an audible download. But I liked it so much, now I want to get a hard copy and read it again, but this time making notes in the margins of the book.

The Japanese Tidying up book is good too. I’m sort of obsessed with minimalism and organizing and tidying types of books. (Although it didn’t help me to be tidy enough to keep track of “Why Do I Do That?” To which my reply is Why Did I Write That?)

This Kondo book is a big best seller. Marie Kondo describes her KonMari method - which is basically to see if objects bring you joy and if not, get rid of them. She also advocates for going through all your stuff by category, not by room. That’s helpful too.

Oh, and Roxane Gay. I thought “Ayiti” was so beautiful. It’s a collection of short stories - some very, very short. Most of the stories are about Haiti or about Haitian immigrants in the U.S.

I can’t wait to read her other books.

Okay. I’ve run out of steam. I pushing Publish.

Ha, ha. Yes, I’m leaving it that way: I pushing Publish.