I’ve fallen in love again. Maybe I’m particularly susceptible and lord knows I’ve made some bad choices in the past, but this time I think it’s the real thing.
I’ve fallen in love with Paul Child. If you’ve seen the movie version of Julie & Julia (not, for heaven’s sake the dumb and self serving book) or read My Life in France by (somewhat) Julia Child and (mostly) Alex Prud’homme, well, you can’t help but know what I mean.
A dear and now deceased friend of mine used to say, when looking at potential dates or other women’s husbands, “Where are the new men for the new women?” Well, Paul Child was that new man, and Julia was that new woman. Here was a guy who could fall madly, passionately in love with a gawky, quirky, strident woman at least a head taller and not be threatened. Nay, it appears that he felt himself among the happiest of mortals, and so was she. I wish she were still around, there’s a lot I’d like to learn and I don’t mean French cooking.
What strikes me particularly is how their marriage seemed to blend an impish sense of fun with the ability to endure, persevere, and make the best of some not-so-good situations. So little ego involved—she supported his career through a lot of ups and downs, and he plunged into assisting hers when, after many years, she actually had one and it became the better of the two. And which of us cannot cheer on a woman whose best career years were after fifty (and she didn’t even have the excuse of raising kids)?
Meryl Streep chews on the scenery a bit, and Julia wasn’t really that weird. I know; I learned to cook by watching her every day when I got home from college classes. She and I share a birthday (along with Napolean, hmmm) so I’m sure we share a connection. I hope some of that fairy dust will sift my way. Think I’ll go watch it again.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Avatar—Second Coming?
I figured I had to like it—if it’s got the Fox News guys’ shorts in knots, well, generally it’s my kind of movie. Plus, if it’s supposedly quality science fiction, the Nikipedia is all aflutter, so I agreed to pop for the tickets.
We haven’t been serious movie goers since acquiring the big screen tube and Netflix, but the availability of 3-D got us into those new reclining seats. All the while we were waiting, I kept feeling like I was going to slide off the pseudo leather, and spent my time grumbling about the $30 for the movie, for which we could have had 2 months and 24 movies from Netflix, which is why we’re not big customers any more. But if I needed any further nudge in the direction of my own comfortable couch, it was the rest of the audience. Now, I’ve complained about bad behavior before, but, jeez, EVERY TIME? The elderly couple next to us got up 4 times during the movie--why don’t these people sit on the END of the row if they need that many bathroom breaks? Or maybe consider not drinking the super humongous size? The little lady behind me hung her feet, with drippy boots, over the empty seat next to me. I wonder what her house looks like. Actually, no I don’t.
If my fellow audience members aren’t bad enough, well, the theater had more in store for us. Now I admit that I haven’t been to the movies since seeing Star Trek this summer, but the previews before Avatar made my fillings ring from the volume, steady stream of gorey mayhem, and the actual shaking of the seats from explosions and car crashes. The Nikipedia was ready to post a picket sign for the very lengthy National Guard recruiting ad. Apparently, the only people worth marketing to are adolescents so dumb that they can be induced to be cannon fodder by a good ad campaign. Anyone thrilled by this “preview” ought to take another preview. Say, sit in the lobby of the new Marine Corps museum and watch all the injured 18 year olds with missing limbs wheel around the lobby for the day. Find out what the price really is, how glamorous it really is, and, I guess, go watch a movie instead if you need a quick pumping of adrenalin.
Apparently Fox News thinks that the tough, virile, technologically savvy guys should not be beating up on the skinny, primitive natives. At least, that’s what I hope, and I’m glad to hear it. However, not so glad about the movie.
It’s some kind of mishmash of pseudo earth goddess worship, cowboys and Indians, sweet sassy chick transforms tough dope, and bad guys who keep on coming finally get creamed after the good guys’ world is flattened. Yadda, yadda, I mean couldn’t we have the tiniest shred of a decent plot? How about a hero that’s not a complete meathead? Plus, everything in history tells us that superior technology usually wins—just ask any group of native peoples. By the middle of the movie I could barely suppress the, “OOOHH PUUHLEEZ”
Okay, it is gorgeous. The world is one almost anyone with a shred of nature-loving would adore. I haven’t seen such a visually gorgeous “world” since What Dreams May Come, and you have to die to get to that one.
If you can see Avatar in 3-D, bring ear plugs and enjoy the light show. Otherwise, believe me, you can wait for the DVD.
We haven’t been serious movie goers since acquiring the big screen tube and Netflix, but the availability of 3-D got us into those new reclining seats. All the while we were waiting, I kept feeling like I was going to slide off the pseudo leather, and spent my time grumbling about the $30 for the movie, for which we could have had 2 months and 24 movies from Netflix, which is why we’re not big customers any more. But if I needed any further nudge in the direction of my own comfortable couch, it was the rest of the audience. Now, I’ve complained about bad behavior before, but, jeez, EVERY TIME? The elderly couple next to us got up 4 times during the movie--why don’t these people sit on the END of the row if they need that many bathroom breaks? Or maybe consider not drinking the super humongous size? The little lady behind me hung her feet, with drippy boots, over the empty seat next to me. I wonder what her house looks like. Actually, no I don’t.
If my fellow audience members aren’t bad enough, well, the theater had more in store for us. Now I admit that I haven’t been to the movies since seeing Star Trek this summer, but the previews before Avatar made my fillings ring from the volume, steady stream of gorey mayhem, and the actual shaking of the seats from explosions and car crashes. The Nikipedia was ready to post a picket sign for the very lengthy National Guard recruiting ad. Apparently, the only people worth marketing to are adolescents so dumb that they can be induced to be cannon fodder by a good ad campaign. Anyone thrilled by this “preview” ought to take another preview. Say, sit in the lobby of the new Marine Corps museum and watch all the injured 18 year olds with missing limbs wheel around the lobby for the day. Find out what the price really is, how glamorous it really is, and, I guess, go watch a movie instead if you need a quick pumping of adrenalin.
Apparently Fox News thinks that the tough, virile, technologically savvy guys should not be beating up on the skinny, primitive natives. At least, that’s what I hope, and I’m glad to hear it. However, not so glad about the movie.
It’s some kind of mishmash of pseudo earth goddess worship, cowboys and Indians, sweet sassy chick transforms tough dope, and bad guys who keep on coming finally get creamed after the good guys’ world is flattened. Yadda, yadda, I mean couldn’t we have the tiniest shred of a decent plot? How about a hero that’s not a complete meathead? Plus, everything in history tells us that superior technology usually wins—just ask any group of native peoples. By the middle of the movie I could barely suppress the, “OOOHH PUUHLEEZ”
Okay, it is gorgeous. The world is one almost anyone with a shred of nature-loving would adore. I haven’t seen such a visually gorgeous “world” since What Dreams May Come, and you have to die to get to that one.
If you can see Avatar in 3-D, bring ear plugs and enjoy the light show. Otherwise, believe me, you can wait for the DVD.
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