Slobs and the Bobs and Stinking Isabelle
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- The Cyst - Part 1
There were two pieces of advice I received from former inmates when I was getting ready to report to prison. I hadn’t spoken to anybody I knew personally, although my sister knew a guy who had spent a few years at the same facility I was due to surrender to and he’d told her it wasn’t as bad as a lot of other places. Instead, I went to an orientation sponsored by the Pre-Trial Services office, which is the division of the Department of Justice which oversees anybody who has been indicted and not yet seen trial, or who has pled guilty or been convicted but not yet been incarcerated. Some of the people under Pre-Trial’s supervision are flight risks, or violent, or still involved in criminal activities. So not surprisingly, non-violent first-time offenders like myself who don’t appear to be a problem (who have been released under their own recognizance without posting any bail) are pretty much left on our own, reporting in by phone once a week. When my Pre-Trial Officer mentioned a free orientation was offered every few months, I asked that he let me know when the next one was being held. I didn’t know whether to expect Club Fed or something more like Oz or Shawshank Redemption, so I was anxious to hear from people who had been through the system already.
The orientation included a film about the various Bureau of Prisons facilities, as well as an outline of the general rules (there are no conjugal visits, for example). After the government people said what they wanted to, and answered a few questions, it was time for the star attractions: a male and a female who had both served sentences in the Federal system, and who were currently on probation. The female spoke first. She had started out in a very violent Medium Security facility, and eventually worked her way down to less-dangerous locations. From how she described it, the female prisons were worse than the male ones in many ways. She had seen plenty of fights, stabbings, rapes, and other horror stories. She spent a bit too much of her time trying to explain how she’d been screwed by the government on her conviction, but I tuned that out. I figured I’d hear enough of that kind of complaining once I started serving my time (surprisingly, there was less of that in prison than I imagined, but that’s another story).
The man spoke last, and for him prison didn’t sound all that terrible. He gained lots of weight (having been a crystal meth addict before he was arrested) and then lost most of it. He learned to appreciate reading. He tried to live peacefully, kept mainly to himself, and made it through his four years without too much turmoil. He did mention that his wife had left him, as many of them do, and warned that the most dangerous time for the “Dear John” letters to arrive was about six months before an inmate was to be released. That’s when the reality of the person coming back finally hits home, and the wives or girlfriends start to remember what life was like before. Often in included drugs, alcohol, abuse, infidelity, lies, and seedy friends and cohorts. Faced with the choice of moving on with their own lives, or the possibility of falling right back into the old nightmare, at six months to go a lot of them get the courage to finally wash their hands of the whole affair and look to the future.
Anyway, he rambled on about his relationship problems, and about the struggles of seeing his children now as often as he would like to. But then he stopped, and gave the four or five of us in attendance what he said were the two most important pieces if advice for making it through a prison sentence. First: mind your own business. Don’t ask people about what they are doing, what they are involved in, what scams and hustles they are running, and even if you happen to see something or hear something, pretend you didn’t. (He added a corollary to that advice, which was not to get involved in any gambling in prison, because the risks were great and the rewards were both small and unreliable). More important, he said, was his second piece of advice. Speaking from experience, he said this was without question the most crucial piece of advice anybody entering the Federal prison system could hear, learn, and understand. The advice was simply this:
Don’t get sick.
It seemed silly to me at the time, especially since I couldn’t really see a way to avoid getting sick. You could try to eat healthy, exercise, dress warmly in the winter, and keep as far away from other sick people as possible. Besides that, what could you do? And anyway, if you did get sick, the prison system would have to take care of you, free of charge. Wouldn’t they?
As it turned out, he was wrong to suggest “don’t get sick” was a piece of advice. Instead, he should have told us to use it as a mantra, day after day. Or, maybe, as a prayer three times a day: “Please, please, please, don’t let me get sick in here.”
(To be continued...watch for Part 2 in the next few days)
Tue, 17 Jul 2007 03:19:00 GMT - Movie Review - Joshua
Joshua is a sort of hard movie to categorize. It isn't gory, it isn't scary...it's more of a suspense drama, taking the often-used plot of the evil child - think The Omen - and using your familiarity with that storyline against you. It isn't a great film, I'm not even sure it is a very good one, but its enjoyable and the suspense works, so it is a useful diversion if nothing else.
Sam Rockwell plays Brad. He and his wife Abby (Vera Farmiga) have just had their second child, a little girl. Brad is a successful New York City investment banker-type, and his wife stays home with the kids: their new baby and 9-year-old Joshua (Jacob Kogan). With help from Brad's parents, and Abby's brother Ned (Dallas Roberts), we watch as Abby tries to care for this newborn and overcome her fears of post-partum depression, which apparently she suffered from after Joshua was born. As the newborn begins to cry frequently, and Abby can barely get any sleep, her depression turns to occasional hallucination. Yet around every corner, near every problem, lurks Joshua. Jacob Kogan plays Joshua in a wonderfully creepy fashion, not moving his arms when he walks (ala Joe Friday), droning on in a monotone voice both adult and childlike, an unemotional stare, a blank expression...he is completely unsettling, especially to the audience who has grown to expect head-spinning and vomiting (Joshua does throw up in on early scene, stopping in mid-spasm to apologize).
The family starts to disintegrate. Brad's business is suffering, nobody is sleeping well, Brad's mother wants Joshua baptized which Jewish Abby finds offensive, the apartment upstairs in a constant source of construction racket...and as each new crisis is reached we are left to decide if Joshua is somehow involved, or fully responsible...or have we just been trained to believe so? In once scene, the child suddenly stops crying, and immediately Joshua is seen with a full garbage bag which he wants to take outside. His parents are merely curious, but the audience's first question is inevitably "did he stuff the baby in there?" Are Joshua's eccentricities a result of his advanced intelligence for his age, or his talent as a young pianist, or typical sibling rivalry? Or more?
The only problem I had with the movie was self-inflicted: I can't watch Sam Rockwell in a film now without picturing him as Chuck Barris from "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind." If you don't suffer from that problem, I think you might enjoy a break from the multitude of sequels this summer by seeing Joshua. If you miss it now, at least catch it on DVD. The creepy moments make it worth your while. Plus, as one local review put it, if nothing else it might convince you not to have any more kids.
Mon, 16 Jul 2007 02:22:00 GMT - Eternal Sunshine #6 Released
Sorry that I forgot to post this last week. Just a quick announcement, mainly to those of you who only visit the Blog, that the latest issue of my newsletter / subzine "Eternal Sunshine" has been released. In this issue I ramble about the Texas Ranger's current failures, our adventures with the animal rescue group we're working with, and Heather's search for a new job. Plus the usual letters, movie reviews (which you can see here too of course), and random foolishness.
It's available free in both .pdf and html formats. To see this issue (#6) as well as all the older ones, you can go to http:///www.whiningkentpigs.com/DW/ and click on the Eternal Sunshine link to the left. Or, to see this current issue directly, go to http://www.whiningkentpigs.com/DW/es6.pdf for the pdf version, or http://www.whiningkentpigs.com/dw/eshtml6.htm for the html version.
Gotta run, the dogs and cats at the rescue group are expecting us this morning!
Sat, 14 Jul 2007 12:49:00 GMT - Movie Review - Once
Once is in some ways a very simple movie, minimalistic in cinematography, script, scenery, and most of all in plot...all the way down to the unnamed main characters, Boy and Girl (at least that is how they are listed in the credits). But in its own way it is as complicated and intense as real life, which in itself can me minimalistic when you silence the bombardment of noise all around us. Life is also beautiful, and it makes its own bittersweet music in much the same way as the characters in Once.
Billed as a musical, Once is not the kind of movie where you'll see a chorus of dancing Dickensian street urchins doing somersaults through the streets of Dublin, where the film takes place. The music is provided by the characters themselves. Yet like many musicals, the plot can be squeezed down to Boy (Glen Hansard) meets Girl (Marketa Irglova). Hansard plays a street musician who earns a few pounds strumming his guitar and playing songs when he isn't working with his father at the vacuum repair shop. At night, however, he'll stop playing the "established songs" the crowd enjoys, and instead plays heartfelt songs of his own composing. Irglova hears him perform one night, and they strike up a friendship. Soon they find themselves discovering they have mutual musical tastes and talent, while learning that they share some similar scars from prior relationships. Together they begin to rediscover some hope for happiness. The question remains whether that happiness is to be found with each other as friends, or as something more.
The dialog is simple and everyday, but the music that surrounds it is moving and personal. The songs aren't part of a background soundtrack...in this film they're performed within the plot, not as devices but simply as the songs both musicians write and work on. In fact, most of the songs were written by the actors themselves, which may explain why the personal performances seem so appropriate.
Writer and Director John Carney was once a member of a band with Glen Hansard, and in him he has found a brilliant performer who can sing and emote without making it look like the overacting and false emotion of the overused "guitar face" every 80's video (or air guitar rendition of a rock anthem) is engulfed with. Marketa Irglova has a soft and lilting voice which blends perfectly with Hansards, but which can also stand out on its own, with an odd combination of strength and vulnerability. Like many people, her character (and her voice) is a contradiction in terms, multi-faceted and dazzling.
It is hard to review a film like Once, because the movie is more of a compilation of parts which together form the basis for what the characters are learning to accept: that life is beautiful and painful and bitter and delicious and complicated, and simple, all at the same time...the same way music can be. Whether it is a full orchestra or one person with a guitar or piano, honest music can touch a soul like almost nothing else.
Thu, 05 Jul 2007 00:03:45 GMT - Movie Review - Crazy Love
There is a potential problem shared by documentaries and by movies based partly on real events: how do you tell the story when most people know how it is going to end? One of the things which made James Cameron's Titanic so surprising was how he crafted a fine love story around a ship which we ALL knew was going to sink. Or Apollo 13, where most of the audience knew how the story was going to end. Crazy Love is a film which shares that problem, although not necessarily to the same extent. Any personal familiar with the story of Burt Pugach and Linda Riss knows most of the major pieces of the story already. Fortunately, as it turns out, knowledge of the events does not lessen your enjoyment of the film in the slightest. And if you don't know the details, you're in for quite a story.
I'll try not to give too much away, in case you haven't heard about Burt and Linda over the years. Back in the 1950's, Burt Pugach, a married successful lawyer (one of the original New York City ambulance chasers) meets a beautiful young woman named Linda Riss, and becomes at first smitten, then infatuated, and eventually obsessed with her. Their romance stalls when she discovers that he is married, although through lies and subterfuge he talks his way back into her life a few times. Finally, she's had enough, and becomes engaged to a nice-enough young man. At this point, Burt snaps, and decides that if he can't have her, nobody can.
Through interviews with both Burt and Linda, plus many of their friends and relatives, the first-hand accounts of a relationship turned into ugly obsession leave the viewers shaking their heads in disbelief. Even if you know some of the story (as I did from the extensive press coverage of later events as I grew up near New York City), to have them all laid out in front of you piece by piece is a very captivating experience. Even Burt at times comes off as a slightly sympathetic character, finding himself unable to control his emotions when his professional and personal lives were collapsing simultaneously. Who knows where the line between love and obsession, between reality and insanity, is truly drawn?
The combination of modern interviews, old news footage, home movies, photos, newspaper clippings, and period music all work together in a marvelous fashion. Humor, intended and unintended, is everywhere - as it has to be when dealing with a story as manic as this one. I am not sure how widely available this film is right now, but do yourself a favor and search for it. You'll be very glad you did!
Mon, 18 Jun 2007 15:24:00 GMT - Play Review - Caught in the Net
If you're reading this and you live in the Dallas-Ft. Worth area, you only have until June 23rd to see a real gem of a comedy at the Pocket Sandwich Theatre. "Caught in the Net" by Ray Cooney, a sequel to "Run for Your Wife" (which I did not see - and is not required to enjoy this show), is a smart, funny, fast-paced farce in the best British style. Think Fawlty Towers crossed with an adult HBO comedy, perhaps.
The play takes place in the home of John and Mary Smith (who live in Wimbledon) and, simultaneously, in the home of John and Barbara Smith (who live in Streatham). It takes the audience a few minutes to adjust to the fact that action is taking place in both homes in the same set, but that effect is played to perfection as the story moves along. The two John Smiths I mentioned are in fact one and the same; he is a bigamist, with two families. Into this complicated life is inserted the crux of the plot: John's two teenage children (Vicki from one family and Gavin from the other) have met on the internet and now want to meet face to face, fascinated by each other and by all the things their fathers have in common - same age, same name, even the same job. John suddenly has to frantically try to keep his children apart and his two households together, with the help of his best friend and border Stanley Gardner (who lives in the upstairs flat in the Wimbledon home).
The script is tight and the performances are first rate. In particular, the interplay between John (Russell Johnson) and Stanley (David H. M. Lambert) is masterful. Early in the play John is the center of attention, but soon his running from house to house leaves Stanley with quite a bit to handle, and Lambert delivers each line with comedic precision, from his befuddled facial expressions to his red-faced yelling when necessary. Lambert and Johnson put everything they have into their roles, but it is the character of Stanley which makes the play such a delight. Special mention should also go to Mary (Trista Wyly) and Stanley's father (Michael Roe) for adding a lot of energy and hilarity to their roles. All the performances are terrific, but Barbara (Aleisha Force) and the teenagers are generally left to play the straight men and straight women to all the craziness surrounding them.
Lisa Cotie's direction gets the best out of each actor. Aside from a bit of clunkiness in the opening scene as the dialog steps over itself, the simultaneous stage setting is quickly turned from a burden into an asset. It is a shame that more people won't see this production, due to its limited run. I strongly suggest you try not to be one of the people who misses it!
If you haven't attended a production at the Pocket Sandwich Theatre before, you'll find it located on Mockingbird a block from 75, across from the Mockingbird station. Doors open about 90 minutes before show time, and if you don't show up at the last minute you can enjoy a light meal from their menu. The Mandarin Chicken Salad is a favorite of ours. Service supposedly stops 30 minutes before curtain, but if you beg and plead enough you can often order later than that. Many of the shows at PST are "popcorn throwers" - audience-participation "melodramaramas" where you can shout and throw popcorn at the actors - or other members of the audience. This can turn a funny show ("Attack! of the Zombie Moonmaids") into a riot, or a less-pleasing one (the recent "Zorro" production) into a good time. However, please note "Caught in the Net" is NOT a popcorn-thrower...it doesn't need the audience to make it a home run, what happens on stage accomplishes that all on its own.
The show runs Thursday through Sunday until June 23, but reservations are suggested...PST only seats maybe 100 patrons or so, and the last thing you want to do is show up and be turned away at the door! The box office opens at 2pm daily, and can be reached at (214) 821-1860. Don't miss "Caught in the Net"!
Mon, 11 Jun 2007 11:19:00 GMT - Movie Review - Chalk
"Chalk" is the sort of quiet comedy which can be an enjoyable way to kill 90 minutes, but not much more than that. A mockumentary, the film follows the teachers and administration in Harrison High, a suburban high school, as the new year begins. Unlike some more sharp-tongued films such as "Drop Dead Gorgeous" or the Christopher Guest "Waiting for Guffman/Best in Show" genre, "Chalk" has genuine affection and sympathy for the teachers and the difficult tasks they are faced with every day. This isn't surprising, as the film was written by two former teachers, Chris Mass and Mike Akel. In fact, Akel directs the film, Mass is one of the stars, and the student body is comprised of former students of the pair.
As the film opens we are introduced to the cast of characters. Chris Mass plays Mr. Stroope, a 3rd-year teacher who is committed to winning the Teacher of the Year competition and who admittedly doesn't quite know the difference between building a teacher-student relationship and making friends. Troy Schremmer plays Mr. Lowrey, a new teacher who has no authority and no idea how to control his class - I've seen substitutes given more respect. Janelle Schremmer plays Coach Webb, a pushy but positive PE teacher who is looking for a relationship and whose best friend, Mrs. Reddell (Shannon Haragan) has been promoted from choir teacher to Assistant Principal.
I read that most of this film was improvised, which I can believe as most of the dialog seems more authentic and less scripted. There are some laughs throughout, most notably at how awkward and hopeless Mr. Lowrey is and how self-centered Mr. Stroope is (to the point that he privately asks one student not to guffaw when he makes obvious mistakes, as she clearly knows more about history than he does). From my point of view, the affection the cast and crew hold for the characters is the major flaw...anyone who suffered through High School remembers at least one or two teachers who were long past the point of caring or trying. I can only imagine that in today's world of cell phones and students driving cars that cost more than the teacher makes in a year, those cases have only been magnified. Yet in this film there is none of that - the teachers all care, all try (even if it is ineptly), all strive to be good teachers and to connect with their students. I can buy that from most of them, but there should have been the exception, if for no other reason than to build a contrast.
If you're tired of the sequels of sequels this summer, you could do worse than to spend an evening with "Chalk". just don't expect too much. I'll give it a B-, with a comment circled in red pen saying "I know you are capable of better work than this."
Mon, 28 May 2007 15:29:00 GMT - Movie Review - Away From Her
Away From Her is a powerful but understated movie, filled with emotion and very honest, personal performances. The first movie directed by Canadian Sarah Polley, the film follows Fiona and Grant (Julie Christie and Gordon Pinset), married for 44 years and entering the twilight of their lives. They love each other deeply, enjoy their time together, and look forward to spending their rest of their lives together in their cabin on the shore of a lake, once belonging to Fiona's grandparents.
Unfortunately, life intervenes as it often does. Grant begins to notice changes in Fiona - putting a frying pan in the freezer, forgetfulness, general confusion. Immediately Fiona is better able to accept the true consequences of the symptoms than Grant. Despite his protests and justifications, it becomes clear that Fiona needs to move into an assisted- living facility where she can get the sort of care she needs for her Alzheimer's, in a safe and controlled environment.
In Meadowlake, the medical facility, the administration is effective if over-chipper, and the staff is helpful and understanding. After a mandatory 30-day period of no contact with the outside world, Grant returns to visit Fiona and finds she is no longer the same person. Her short-term memory is disappearing quickly, while those spaces are being taken up with thoughts and memories from her long-ago past. That includes the friendship she held with Aubrey (Michael Murphy), who Fiona dated once as a teenager and now rediscovers in Meadowlake. She immediately sets to becoming Aubrey's caretaker, which is met with quiet distaste by his wife (Olympia Dukakis). Does Fiona even remember who her husband is? Or is this new fascination with Aubrey a punishment for his own indiscretions of years past? And how far is Grant willing to go to ensure his wife's happiness as she finds herself lost in her own confused world?
In particular, Julie Christie gives a fabulous performance, complicated and deep. Who is suffering more, Grant who is losing his wife, or Fiona who is losing her mind? The situation causes everyone involved to evaluate the summation of their lives, what matters and what doesn't, what was important and what was trite and meaningless. Sarah Polley gets the most out of her strong cast, and maintains a quiet acceptance to the inevitable end of life. As Olympia Dukakis says in a tender moment, "We never know how anything is going to turn out. But we sort of know." You can plan to spend the rest of your days with someone, but life can easily get in the way and alter those plans in unrepairable ways.
Its a great film, and certainly an emotional one. Bring your handkerchief (Heather had mine sopping wet by the time it was over...fortunately she anticipated the tears and wore no eye makeup).
Sun, 20 May 2007 17:19:00 GMT - Happy Mother's Day
Sorry folks, no movie review this week. Heather and I were considering going to see something this evening, but I was a bit too tired...and her stomach was acting up a bit so we decided to skip it entirely.
I hope you all had a pleasant Mother's Day. I gave Heather a card from me, and one from Tigger. For presents I gave her a new remote-controlled standing fan to keep her cooler in the summer, and an exercise bike I bought on walmart.com. Their site often lets you ship the item to a local store for free, which not only saves money but in our case is actually more convenient since we don't have to try to get to the apartment office when they are open (which seems to be just about never, they're always "out on the property" or at lunch).
I also gave Heather a number of books on dogs, especially strays and rescue dogs. She REALLY wants to get a dog one of these days, but we can't do that with Tigger here. She is simply too old, and too moody. In the meantime, if she can't have a dog, she likes to read about them. She already finished one book, which was about a dog who likes to rescue stray cats (and to make friends with adopted ones, especially those who have problems like being deaf or missing an eye).
For dinner we took Heather's mother to Steak & Ale. That went okay, she likes me and everything, which I assume is because I treat Heather so well (or at least I try to). That's a change from my old in-laws, who hated me from the day they met me. And I'm sure they still do.
Of course, I didn't have any communication with my own mother today. I sent Barbara (my step-mother) a gift and card and ecard, but as for my birth mother, nothing. I haven't spoken to her since 1998, which I think is stupid in some ways. Then when I start feeling guilty about it I realize there isn't anything I want out of that relationship anyway, not that I can think of. I'd like to know she is happy and doing well, but deep down I realize that if I did communicate with her I'd find my buttons being pushed all over again.
At my bother Jon's wedding a couple of years back she did ask about me...actually she asked how Mara and I were doing. They told her we were fine, which was a stretch considering I was locked up at the time, Mara and I had divorced years earlier, and she had committed suicide in 2003. Easier than the truth though.
One day soon maybe I'll write up the story of when we last spoke, but its too late and I'm too tired. So for tonight, Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there!
Mon, 14 May 2007 02:26:11 GMT - Movie Review - Hot Fuzz
At the suggestion of my pal and fellow Diplomacy Grand Poobah Jim Burgess, we finally made the trek back to the movie theater this weekend to see Hot Fuzz, a British send-up of typical American cop movies such as Bad Boys, Lethal Weapon, or the deservedly-maligned Point Break. Jim had raved that it was the funniest film he had seen in quite some time, and I am happy to report that Hot Fuzz did not disappoint. Not even having to suffer through coming attractions featuring such talentless human refuse as Adam Sandler could lessen our enjoyment!
The film stars Simon Pegg (who also co-wrote the film) as Sgt. Angel, the star of the London police force. Unfortunately for him, he does his job far too well, making everybody else on the force look bad. His superiors transfer him to the quaint village in the countryside, where Angel's strict police tactics don't necessarily agree with the rest of the populace. There he is paired with Policeman Butterman (played by Nick Frost), the son of the chief and a general goofball. In typical buddy film fashion, Angel begins to sense something sinister in this idyllic town, while Butterman tries to teach his new partner how to lighten up and have fun.
The movie really gets going once the bodies start to drop, until we're left with tongue-in-cheek ridiculing of just about every American cop movie cliché in the last 25 years. The humor is smart and silly and just tight enough to work in almost every instance, and the performances are first-rate all-around.
Instead of blowing your money on yet another failed romantic comedy or one of the multitude of big-money Hollywood sequels this summer, take an afternoon and search out Hot Fuzz instead. You'll be glad you did.
Incidentally, if you are a fan if the film Shaun of the Dead, this is done by the same people and includes some of the same cast. I hadn't seen that film previously, but on the way home Heather had us rent it. Don't bother, its okay but doesn't stand up well at all after seeing Hot Fuzz.
Mon, 07 May 2007 02:39:00 GMT - Wedding Ring
Sorry folks, no movie review this week. We had planned to go see the new British farce "Hot Fuzz", which my pal Jim Burgess said was terrific. However, as the movie was showing at the mall theater, we decided to get there early and spend some time walking through the various department stores and jewelry stores looking for the perfect wedding ring for Heather. The big problem is she does NOT want what other people want. Heather has very specific tastes, and anything which looks too traditional is simply not going to cut it. She prefers a more antique look, usually with some filigree which you can see from above (rather than just the side which seems to be a new trend). She also needs white gold, and above all she wants it to be onyx, or onyx with diamonds. There was one ring in particular she had settled on months ago from a web site, but just as we got ready to order it they discontinued it! Just our luck!
So, if anybody sees any rings that might fit the bill, on the internet or in person, please let us know immediately! Digital photos would be helpful.
Mon, 30 Apr 2007 17:00:45 GMT - Movie Review - First Snow
I'd heard a couple of good things about this movie, so when Inland Empire left Dallas after only one weekend, this was our fall back choice for a film this weekend.
First Snow tells the tale of Jimmy Starks, a salesman on the verge of what he hopes will be his big break. Stuck for an afternoon on a desert highway because of car trouble, on a whim he has a fortune teller read his future. The reading ends when the fortune teller gives Jimmy his money back and abruptly ends the session.
Returning to his home in Albuquerque, Jimmy notices that the few predictions he did hear have come true, and he begins to fear that the fortune teller saw something perilous in his future. This possibility, and a subsequent confrontation with the fortune teller, leave him shaken. Is his life about to end?
This hypersensitivity to the fragility of human life causes Jimmy's world to begin to crumble, and brings focus on all his personal secrets and internal battles of conscience. The mere knowledge that he could die at any moment causes him to dig the holes of his life deeper. Watching for all the different ways you can die makes you realize how many of them are out there waiting for you.
The question First Snow attempts to answer, whether it is a curse or a blessing to know your death is approaching, is never successfully explored. Guy Pearce is a tremendous actor (see Priscilla Queen of the Desert or Memento as examples) but his character feels either one-dimensional or, more accurately, non-dimensional. I never developed any feelings for him one way or the other. Whether he lived or died was unimportant to me. In fact, I felt nothing for ANY of the characters, except some sympathy for the position of the fortune teller (J.K. Simmons).
I can't say the movie was unenjoyable, but the ride could be compared to one of the long, empty roads Jimmy drives in his travels, and the conclusion was rather obvious and unsatisfying. Still, I would give it a strong C+ or a weak B-.
Mon, 16 Apr 2007 16:02:22 GMT - Movie Review - The Hoax
When I first saw the trailer for this movie, I knew we'd have to go see it, as I have been familiar with the story for years. The Hoax is the true story (well, as true as you can get when the person giving the account lies about everything) of Clifford Irving, a writer who is desperate to get a book published. His first book, about a famous art forger, was well-received but sold poorly. Now his new novel is being dropped by his publisher after Life Magazine gives it a poor review. Out of ideas, out of money, nearly out of hope, Irving devises a bold plan: he tells his publisher that he has been in contact with reclusive billionaire nut Howard Hughes, and he has been chosen to write Hughes' autobiography.
What follows is a complex and farcical tale of lies building on top of each other, of intrigue, and of one man's inability to tell the truth about anything unless it serves his own purpose. With his best friend/researcher and estranged wife as accomplices, he tries to devise a way to finish the book and collect the large advance due both him and Mr. Hughes, all the while hoping to convince the publisher and the public that the indirect denials from Hughes are untrue.
Richard Gere puts on a decent performance as Irving, but I just felt that a different actor could have carried the role much further. I never found the character appealing enough to root for, yet despite his bottomless pit of treachery to those he supposedly cares about I also never really despised him, or even felt sorry for him. The only character I felt much of anything for was his friend (played by Alfred Molina), who is pulled into this web of lies and finds it goes against what he believes in. The deeper things get, the more he struggles to extricate himself from the situation. Alas, nobody can escape once the wheels have been put in motion.
Overall the film is enjoyable, if not completely satisfying. And in the end, one is left wondering how much of the account we've been shown is true, and how much has been altered by time and Irving's silver tongue over the years to fit whatever truth he is now professing (he later wrote a book about the experience, from which most of this movie is adapted). Really, how can you trust an admitted liar to tell you the truth about himself?
Mon, 09 Apr 2007 02:55:00 GMT - Someties it is Necessary to Yell at Me
Heather yelled at me the other day. This was an emotional, heart-felt yell, not one of those everyday “would you please stop singing that song to the cat over and over again, you’re making me want to poke my eardrums out with a screwdriver” yell. It’s easy to tell the difference. I have a built-in measuring device, known as the black hole of my stomach. When it starts to hurt, it means she’s really yelling.
We had gone to the movies, to see this rather good suspense flick called “The Lookout.” In it, the main character crashes his car by doing something stupid, and it winds up killing two of his friends, injuring his girlfriend, and putting himself in a coma. When he wakes up he can’t remember the accident, but that isn’t surprising since all of his short-term memory is pretty much screwed up royally. He gets involved with some bad people, and they plan on robbing the bank he works at as a janitor, with his help. Aside from trying to deal with his brain damage, and how miserable he feels about taking a life people around him envied and turning it into one people pity, he has to deal with the guilt of what he did to his friends. He can’t remember the actual accident, but he remembers right before it, and he knows it was his fault. He also knows he feels like he is, and always will be, a piece of shit for doing something so stupid. Everything he is now, everything he has to do, all the adjustments he has to make to cope with forgetting things, each one reminds him that he did this to himself.; And deep down, part of him believes that he deserves it.
On the way out of the movie, Heather started trying to draw a comparison between the character and me – that he’d learned through the course of the movie to get on with his life, to believe in himself even if it is just a little bit. And he had started to forgive himself. Why couldn’t I do that? After all, his character had killed two people, his friends who he cared about. I hadn’t killed anybody, so why should I be so hard on myself? Why did I have to hate myself so much?
I believe Heather knew my answer before I said it. I shouldn’t have said it at all, I guess, but we try to be honest with each other. Even when we know it’ll upset the other person. I told her that sometimes – not all the time, but sometimes – I still believe I killed Mara. Or at least I somehow could have prevented her death. I know it isn’t true, but I still think it is. Sometimes.
So Heather yelled at me. Not because I said that, not because I was being too hard on myself the way I always am. She yelled at me for all the things I say about myself in my head, things she knows I don’t say out loud. She yelled at me because she can’t stand to have someone say such terrible things about somebody she loves. It hurts her. Just as it would hurt me if someone said those things about her. So I try to control it, and I try not to talk about it.
But it’s still there.
And when Heather asks me why I have to feel so bad about myself, why I won’t do more to work on my problems, why I won’t consider taking medication for my depression – or at least for my anxiety, which seems to be getting worse and worse – I tell her the truth. Half the truth anyway, because there are two halves to the answer. There’s the first half, where I don’t want to take medication because I am afraid it will make me a zombie like last time…make it so I simply don’t care about anything, so instead of trying to do the right thing I’ll do something stupid like last time I was medicated, and go back to prison or hurt someone or worse. I know that’s really an irrational fear, because I’m a different person now than I was then. And I’m in a healthy relationship with someone who sees me every day, who has experience with depression, with mental illness, and with medication. If something isn’t working, if I’m reacting badly, Heather would certainly see it and make sure we did something about it.
Then there’s the second half. I’m afraid to take medication because somehow I am afraid that it WILL work, and that I won’t be the person I am. It might sound backward to other people, but my mind has built a sort of Catch-22 around the whole thing. I hate myself, I have to search to finds things about myself that I like or appreciate…but I am still me, and that’s who I have always been. If I take medication, and I change, and I learn to live with myself and like myself and forgive myself for all the wrongs I have committed in my life – real and imagined – will I still be me? Or will I be someone else? I may hate myself, but I exist. I am. And non-existence is what terrifies me more than anything. I don’t worry about dying. I worry about not being. About nothingness, void. Not an emptiness – a nothingness.
Then again, there’s the third half. Sometimes, when I feel really lousy and I am picking apart all the bad choices and mistakes I’ve made in my life, finding all the minute ways I could have done things differently where everything would have worked out better…on those days, I don’t want to try medication because I am afraid it’ll make me feel better. And I’m afraid that will be letting myself off way too easy. On those days, I don’t think I deserve to feel better.
There’s a line in one of my favorite movies, Defending Your Life. There’s examining Albert Brooks’ life after he dies, and his lawyer points out “There’s one person you were really cheap with, time and time again. I wish you would have spent more on him. You!” I can relate to that better than you might imagine. Doing anything for myself is a real struggle, and over the last few years it has gotten worse. I treat myself like crap. I don’t spend time thinking about what I want, what I might enjoy, what makes me happy. Instead I obsess about meaningless crap.
The smallest act of kindness towards myself is a major victory for me. If I buy myself a book or a CD or a DVD, that’s like a tremendous accomplishment. Today I went to Braums about bought a container of ice cream, and even that simple tribute required a ton of arguing inside my head. Should I go to the trouble of driving the extra block? Then I’ll have to get out of the car, walk through the store, find the ice cream, pay for it – spending money I could save or use for something more important – pull out of the driveway onto a busy street…is it worth all the effort, when I don’t really deserve the ice cream in the first place?
I’m not sure what I would have to do in order to deserve the ice cream though. That’s the catch; there is no particular accomplishment I’ve set out for myself, no goal to reach. So since I never set a goal, I never meet one, and therefore I never reward myself. When I was in prison they used to sell these 10-packs of “Fun Size” Milky Way bars at the commissary, for maybe two dollars; 20 cents for each little Milky Way. I’d but them, and decide I’d only eat one on days when I really deserved it. Four months later I still had half the pack left and I probably gave two of the bars away to other people, which means I ate a grand total of three mini Milky Way bars in four months...because I didn’t think I had done anything to deserve them.
It sound stupid when I read it on the page, but in my brain it makes more sense, believe me.
I have decided I am ready to try medication for my anxiety. It is getting worse then ever. Six years ago when I first went on medication, that’s what it was prescribed for. I hadn’t gone to a psychiatrist or anything though. Instead, my regular doctor who I went to for problems like sinus infections and flu shots had noticed one of my eyes twitching uncontrollably, and asked me what the deal was. I told him I thought it was just nerves, which wasn’t surprising since I hadn’t had a vacation in 15 years, and I worked nine hours a day five days a week with no breaks while people screamed at me whether I did my job well or not. They weren’t screaming *at* me, not usually, but it felt like they were. I was drinking heavily, I had terrible headaches, and I was angry all the time at home (or that’s what I was told – I’m not really sure how true that part was). The doctor decided to prescribe me something for anxiety.
Unfortunately the medication didn’t do much for me – all it did was numb me out completely, and remove all of my sexual urges. When I told the doctor about those results, he chose to add a second medication on top of the first. This helped restore my sexual desires somewhat, but zombied me out even more. By the time I had stopped taking the pills, I had lost my job, has committed what turned out to be a Federal crime (although I didn’t find that out for another year), and didn’t much care about either. Then I came back to reality. Ouch; like waking up from a coma.
I have higher hopes for medication this time. I’m supposed to have a psychiatric evaluation sometime in the next month, and then we’ll discuss the options. I wish I could talk to my father about his anxiety disorder, find out the specifics – maybe I’m suffering from the exact same thing he did. A little late for that conversation now though.
I’ve run out of steam for today, so I’m going to go ahead and post this and move on to something else. I haven’t felt that creative the past week, but I shouldn’t be surprised…even as my 96-hour panic attack is dissipating, I’m left very tired and drained; so drained that I actually don’t feel like beating myself up for not accomplishing anything.
Hmm, I guess that isn’t such a bad sign after all!
Fri, 06 Apr 2007 23:30:00 GMT - So Many Movies, So Little Time
Sometimes Heather and I have to search for a movie to see. We read through the list of all the movies in the Dallas area and try to locate one we're actually interested enough in to give us a reason to get dressed and leave the apartment. In most cases there's maybe one out there, but once in a while we can't even settle for that choice.
Lo and behold, this week we are suddenly swamped with choices! I'm not sure which one we'll wind up seeing this weekend (there's no way we'll see more than one, as Heather has a ton of math homework to do), but here are the contenders:
Grindhouse - The new Tarantino/Rodriguez two-for-the-price-of-one film.
The Hoax - A favorite story of mine I've hoped to see featured in a film for years. Richard Gere stars in the true tale of a man who tried to write and publish a faked autobiography of Howard Hughes...a hoax which indirectly led to Watergate.
First Snow - A Guy Pearce thriller I heard good things about from a New Yorker who saw it in pre-release.
Avenue Montaigne - A French film about a woman who works among famous artists in a Paris cafe. Probably have to wait for DVD on this one.
The Reaping - Supernatural thriller which also will probably wait for a Netflix rental, unless we have an evening to kill a month from now and nothing new has been released.
and the front runner for this weekend:
Inland Empire - David Lynch's 3-hour typical tribute to chaos and confusion. We're both big Lynch fans, and since we can't be sure how long it will be here in Dallas, the odds are we'll fight the crowds and travel to the one Dallas location Saturday or Sunday.
Watch here for the review of whatever the heck we decide to see!
Fri, 06 Apr 2007 22:59:00 GMT
