On Sunshine (Cinemas)

Here in New York, we had about 3 weeks of rain (or so it felt) followed immediately by a heavy haze of humidity.  My hair has never looked worse!  Please send help (in the form of anti-frizz styling products).

Both types of weather - the non-stop rain and the lingering humidity - preclude outdoor activities and seem to call for seeking refuge in the climate-controlled environs of a local movie theater.

In that spirit, my friend Abs and I recently tripped down to the Lower East Side to see Salmon Fishing in Yemen.  It was ok - for a romantic comedy (not my favorite genre).  But the overall movie-going experience was just what Dr. Overcast ordered.

What is it about this particular movie theater down on Houston?  I don't know, but it's one of my favorites in the city.  I can't recall ever having a bad experience here.  I've seen a lot of good films here.  I've never gotten bed-bugs here (an unfortunately real concern with NYC theaters).  It feels a little like a throw-back, not like a cookie-cutter carbon-copy of every other theater.  Plus, once I saw Chris Noth leaning in the doorway.  Also, they have fancy popcorn toppings in the lobby.

So I guess I do have my reasons for favoring this theater.  Some more legitimate than others.

Also, I appreciate any theater that makes going to the movies feel like an experience - a la the "Let's Go to the Movies" scene from Annie.  (You know, the influence of that musical on my life cannot be overstated.)

Another wonderful thing about the trip down to Sunshine?  Spending time in a neighborhood I don't usually frequent.  So good to get out of the rut!  More on that later...

Alice



This upcoming documentary about the world's oldest Holocaust survivor looks amazing. 

Actually, the documentary looks just fine - it's the lady, this Alice, who seems amazing.  She's 106 (turning 107 this month), still quite lucid and present and peppy.  Still playing the piano, still maintaining an active social life.  And despite all the hardship and horror she's experienced, still finding joy in life.

The Holocaust has been on my mind a lot during the past few weeks - an unavoidable and ever-present piece of history to contend with when preparing for and taking a trip to Eastern Europe. 

I visited Holocaust memorials in Budapest, Vienna, and Krakow.  I visited the former Jewish neighborhoods of each city.  I went to the Krakow ghetto, to Schindler's factory, to Auschwitz.

In each place I saw videos, looked at pictures, read about living conditions, filled my brain with deportation dates and numbers.  And I felt like the more facts I gathered, the more I learned about the Holocaust, the less I was able to actually comprehend.

I can't comprehend it.  Maybe it's too much, too big, too terrible. Maybe I just don't want to.

What I would like to comprehend, though, is Alice.  I would like to learn her secrets, I would like to share in this joy she maintains.  I would like to know how she strikes a balance between testifying to the ugliness in the world while also celebrating the beauty yet to be found in it.

Looking forward to this movie...

Will-fully

Pier I near 70th Street, Hudson River

This week I saw Will Ferrell's latest movie The Other Guys.¹  The verdict?  Not perfect, but parts of it were pretty funny.  Michael Keaton's character was hilarious. Marky Mark was enjoyable ("You learned to dance sarcastically?")  And Will does that dead-pan voodoo that he do so well.

Then, after class on Wednesday, I walked down to Pier I to catch part of Stranger Than Fiction (a personal fave) which was being shown on a giant screen there.

On the walk down to the pier, I passed a West Highland White Terrier (breed of my beloved former pet, Grimsies).  I sat down on the pier and noticed a couple sitting directly in front of me had a Westie.  On my way home, I passed another Westie.  What could it mean!?  Perhaps an omen of good things to come?

Good things like more Will Ferrell movies.


¹I used to have a landlord² called "The Other Guy."  But that is a story for another time.

²Will Ferrell was in a funny, if perhaps mildly offensive, sketch called The Landlord. Full-circle-wholeness!

Round & Round

The Wonder Wheel at Coney Island

I can't quite handle paragraphs on a Monday.  So instead of a well-crafted post, here's just a list of things I've been mulling over lately (which may or may not get fuller treatment on a future day that is not a Monday):

1) Anger – when/how to appropriately express it. And also - why this "expressing anger" thing is so hard for me.

2) Fear. And failure. And fear of failure.

3) Autumn. My seasonal crush. Once last week - as I was walking up Broadway - I thought I smelled it. Kind of like the way you sometimes smell an ex-boyfriend in a stranger’s cologne – but different, because when Autumn arrives back in my life, it will be welcome.

4) Improv:

a) How to be me (and not someone else).

b) Learning what I need to learn, re: pop culture references, historical facts, and…Star Wars? (ick).

5) Time Management. (Always.) Doing stuff v. Not doing stuff.

6) Health. Taking care of a semi-broken foot and a headache-prone head, and everything in between.

7) Inception. Because – did you see that movie? DID YOU!? There’s a lot to mull.

Much More

Liliana Porter's mosaic in the 50th Street subway station

Question: Have you seen the latest “Alice In Wonderland” movie?

If ‘yes,’ good. Because I’m going to make a few references to it.

If ‘no,’ feel free to keep reading anyways. I won’t give anything important away.

But if you’d rather not hear about the movie before you've seen it, please stop reading and watch Zach Galifianakis’ recent SNL monologue instead.

Now for the rest of you's, let's continue...

84 Charing Cross Road

(source)

I just watched 84 Charing Cross Road. Have you seen it? I really think you should see it.

The premise of the movie is familiar - Helene (played with exuberance by the late Anne Bancroft) and Frank (an oh-so-deliciously Britishly reserved Sir Anthony Hopkins) develop a fond & lasting friendship through their letter-writing, having never met in person.

I went in expecting something akin to The Shop Around the Corner, In the Good Old Summertime, or their modern-day iteration - You've Got Mail. These are great movies, right? I watch "In the Good Old Summertime" every Christmas (despite the movie's name, most of the action takes place during the winter). And I watch "You've Got Mail" every time I fall out of love with NYC and need to be talked back into the relationship. Works like a charm.

Yup, I do adore these movies. They're safety blankets, and I like to get wrapped up in their cozy, sweet goodness. But I gotta tell you - "84 Charing Cross Road" has something even more to offer.

This is a tale of a trans-Atlantic friendship played out on stationary. It was beautiful to hear excerpts of their letters throughout the movie - how they moved from discussing matters of business (he was a London bookseller; she, starved by the paucity of English literature to be found in New York) to sharing familial updates and vignettes from their daily lives.

I wonder if letter-writing like that exists anymore? I know I certainly don't practice it. How simply, how charmingly they shared quotidian experiences and allowed each other to sneak a glimpse into life across the pond.

Their letters brought joy into each other's lives. But more than that, their correspondence drew in a whole community. Helene corresponded with the other employees of Frank's book shop as well, and she sent them food items that were otherwise near-impossible to come by in rationed, post-war England. They were cheered by this mysterious, benevolent woman from America and responded in-kind with thank-you notes and Christmas gifts and friendship. Helene's New Yorker friends were charmed by her interactions with the London set, helping her translate dollars to pounds and bake Yorkshire puddings, and sharing in her excitement to hear their first-hand accounts of Queen Elizabeth's coronation.

So maybe I cried a little during this here movie, watching worlds be bridged by letters - connections made and friendships forged and true kindness practiced. I just found it so beautiful and human.

The movie was made in 1986, based on events that began in 1949. And here we are - in the year 2009 - with so many more, faster, better means of communication available to us. Yet do we use them as effectively, or for such good purpose, as the characters in "84 Charing Cross Road" used their snail-mail international post? I won't speak for you, but I know that I often feel too busy, too rushed to give correspondence much time or thought. It's a back-burner enterprise for me, definitely.

But oh - I was so inspired by the story of Helene and Frank. I want to slow down and be open to knowing the people who God brings across my path. Truly knowing them - not as a means to an end, but as a world unto themselves that is worth my time to explore. I want to make that time - to be so human - to reach out, to correspond, and to make a connection. What else is there, really?

God Bless a Man with a Banjo

I kind of have a thing for the banjo. It ranks right up there on my musical instrument crush list with the tamborine, harmonica, and Spanish guitar.

So I'm here to tell you today that you need to stop limiting the banjo to your Mark Twain memories of those days of yore. And I beg you to stop connecting it to the movie "Deliverance." Open your eyes to reality, my friends: The banjo is happening. It's hip, it's hep, it's now. It's beautiful.

My banjo'nesing began back when I was living in Boston. There was an older man who used to play at the Park Street T-station: a kindly Santa Claus figure sitting on an overturned milk crate on the Red Line platform. His banjo music sweetened my wait for the train ride home.

When I moved to Brooklyn last year, I took an early morning walk on my first Sunday in the new neighborhood. The streets were mostly quiet and empty - the stroller patrols weren't up and about yet. As I strolled down a few blocks to get some coffee, I passed The Gate and noticed a hipster guy in a hat, smiling and holding a banjo. (Bonus crush points for a fella possessing both a hat AND a banjo!) He settled onto the bench outside of the bar and started strumming the 5-string, and I thought "Hey, maybe me and Brooklyn are going to get along just fine."¹

But lest you think the banjo's popularity is limited only to public transportation and the early morning street corner scene, let me set you straight - the banjo is fast becoming a modern-day media darling as well.

Case in point: You may not know this about my boyfriend², but Mr. Ed Helms plays a mean banjo. For realsies. And this banjo player is now starring in a hit movie! The Hangover topped the box-office this weekend and it's playing in a theater near you. While I can't exactly endorse a movie that I have not yet seen myself (don't tell Ed!), I can certainly endorse a banjo player (God love 'em).

While we're speaking of banjos and theaters near you, a movie I can endorse is the latest from my mentor³, the irreverent and ribald Will Ferrell. Without giving too much away, let me just toss out this teaser: there is a scene in "Land of the Lost" (just go in with low expectations, you'll be fine) where Will sings a campfire song while accompanying himself on a banjo. Delightful. Unfortunately, this big-screen banjo moment is followed immediately by one of the grossest scenes in the movie. (Just close your eyes, you'll be fine.)

If I have not quite convinced you of the banjo's "it" factor thus far, let me name-drop a little further. Steve Martin. Yeah, that's right, you heard me - this wild and crazy guy, respected comedian and published author has just released a banjo cd. If Steve is on board with the banjo, who can be against it?

The banjo is here, it has arrived. So let's all pause and drink in a little banjo'y, care of Steve, Bela Fleck, et al:




¹Postscript: Brooklyn and I did not, in fact, get along just fine, hence our hasty break-up eight months later. But early Sunday morning forays for coffee did remain my favorite times in the 'hood, banjo encounter or no.

²In the same way that he may not definitely does not know that he is my boyfriend.

³You betcha he doesn't know that he's my mentor. Yet.

On the Seventeenth Day of Christmas

Daily Photo: The grand-daddy of NYC trees -Rockefeller Center

I do love me some Christmas movies. Don't you? With the exception of "It's a Wonderful Life" (for which I have an inexplicable aversion), I could sit and watch holiday flicks over & over during this time of year.

Some of my favorites include:

"Christmas Eve on Sesame Street" (Old school style - before the untimely passing of Mr. Hooper and long before Elmo started mucking things up.)

"John Denver and the Muppets: Christmas Together" (That Ms. Piggy! What a ham!)

"White Christmas" (I never get tired of this one. It's even better than buttermilk and liverwurst!)

"A Charlie Brown Christmas" (So sweet, and whaddya know - keeps Christ in Christmas!)

"Elf" ("I just like to smile, smiling's my favorite!")

Of course, the perennial favorite is "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation." The opening scene, as you may remember, involves the Griswold family trekking out to the middle-of-nowhere to find a tree (nearly as large as that one pictured above) to kick-off their good old-fashioned family Christmas celebration. With the bar set absurdly high, expectations aren't met, wacky hijinks ensue, and the threshold of lunacy is crossed one fateful Christmas Eve.

I typically watch N.L.C.V. each Christmas morning. And though I have the dialogue pretty well memorized, the jokes and gags no longer new, you better believe I still find this movie to be gosh-darn down-right *hilarious.* In fact, as I was reading through some movie quotes online just now, I was having trouble supressing my laughter. Laughter-to-the-point-of-tears is a rarity here amongst my beige cubicle walls (normally I just skip right to the tears). So I'm recognizing N.L.C.V. as my 'good thing' for today. Here are some quotes for you to laugh-til-you-cry at:

Ellen Griswold: “I don't know what to say, except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.”

Clark Griswold: “Can I refill your eggnog for you? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to the middle of nowhere and leave you for dead?”

Cousin Eddie: "Yeah, I got the daughter in the clinic, getting cured off the Wild Turkey. And, the older boy, bless his soul, is preparing for his career."
Clark: "College?"
Eddie: "Carnival."
Clark: "You got to be proud."
Eddie: "Oh, yeah. Yeah, last season he was a pixie-dust spreader on the Tilt-O-Whirl. He thinks that maybe next year, he'll be guessing people's weight or barking for the Yak woman. You ever see her?"
Clark: "No."
Eddie: "She's got these big horns growing right out above her ears. Yeah, she's ugly as sin, but a sweet gal. And, a hell of a good cook."

KristyWes to Netflix: You Don't Know Me at All!

For those of you who have not yet had the joy of cheery red envelopes bearing DVDs directly to your mailbox, let me 'splain something to you: Netflix provides movie recommendations to its customers, presumably based on each customer's preferred genres as well as their ratings (per a 5-star scale) given for previously-viewed movies. Occassionally their recomendations peak my interest and make some sense, given my taste in movies. Often, though, they're way off. What exactly made them think I would enjoy watching a documentary about a dirt bike competition? Sometimes I suspect Netflix has an algorithm loose or something.

Today I logged on to the site to see what movie was next in my queue (Eagle vs. Shark - hooray!) and quickly glanced at their latest recommendations for me. Apparently, based on the fact that I enjoyed Waiting for Guffman and The Office: Series 2, Netflix recommends that I check out the Royal Opera's production of Verdi's Rigoletta.

Hmmm. Ok....?

I am perplexed as to what similarities Netflix drew between Verdi's dramatic masterpiece and these mockumentaries. Can any opera buffs enlighten me?

Ssshhhhh!

This weekend I went to see a documentary called "Into Great Silence," about Carthusian monks living in a monastery in France. Since the monks rarely speak, the movie is mostly without dialogue (hence the title). What you hear throughout most of the almost-3 hours of the movie are the sounds of the monks’ everyday life: chanting during Mass, the peals of the chapel bells marking time, water running, scissors snipping, food carts rattling down long stone hallways, wind blowing snow drifts and rustling leaves.

It’s a mini-retreat, really, letting you escape city noise and messiness for a brief respite into vicarious simplicity and solitude. Plus it’s visually appealing – the cinematography is a mix of grainy shots (that seem to want to tell you something with their imperfection), up-close-and-personal shots of the individual monks as they pray, eat, garden, and pray again, and pristine views of the surrounding mountain ranges and sunrises. It made me want to sit somewhere with nothing to do but watch snow melt and think about the God who made it.

The filmmaker had wanted to make the movie back in the late 1980’s, but the monastery told him that the timing wasn’t right; “maybe in 10 or 13 years.” Sixteen years later he received the call letting him know it was ok to come and film. I guess that’s monastery time for you – a bit different from how I operate, getting annoyed if someone makes me wait 10 or 13 minutes. It’s also a picture of God’s timing, too; we cry out for things n-o-w, and often He makes us wait. But He’s always right – the wait is worth it, and we’re all the more beautiful for it.

Retreating to the mountains of France to spend time with God is nice work if you can get it, but sometimes we just need to learn to see His beauty in the midst of our current noisiness. I learned this lesson, too, from the movie, as the guy sitting next to me was eating popcorn. Noisily. Very noisily. And constantly, for at least the first 30-45 minutes of the movie. Sometimes he varied his snacking patterns by loudly slurping his soda. I mean, really – who brings loud food into a movie called “Into Great Silence”? Nonetheless, it provided a spiritual exercise for me to try to put aside the inclination to choke him, to ask God for patience, and to try to appreciate the beauty of the scenes unfolding before me despite the racket coming from my neighbor’s mouth. :)

To sum up, go see the movie if it sounds appealing to you. I definitely enjoyed it. But if it doesn’t sound like your cup of tea – take heart! Only 24 days until Blades of Glory.

For the Love of Will & NYC

Sunday morning, after churching with my artsy Presbyterian set in the West Village, I headed over to the Lower East Side to visit my favorite Hasidic merchants, and there on Delancey Street I was passed by a man on a unicycle, riding fast as though on a mission (late for a dim sum date? heading for the Williamsburg Bridge to complete his bi-borough ride? who knows the plans of a unicyclist?) As he pedaled swiftly by, his unexpected presence reminded me that I love New York for all its unexpected weirdness. And I began to worry about leaving it; Vancouver, darling, I'm sure you have your charms - but can you compete with this island that seemingly has it all?

*******************************************

I found out this morning (how could I not have known sooner!?) that Will Ferrell has a new movie coming out next month. This alone would be reason enough to celebrate, but wait, there's more: this new movie is going to be about.....FIGURE SKATING! Two of my great loves - Will Ferrell and figure skating - teaming up at last for a full-length feature film. March 30th cannot come soon enough. Blades of Glory seems like it will be a stellar addition to the already sterling Ferrell ouevre of low-brow comedy. Can't wait!

(Traffmeister Jenneral - is this, or is this not, a good excuse to fly your little self home from SE Asia to see this movie with me?)