“It is a controversial issue. It shouldn’t be. We should be just naturally wanting to save our children but again there’s those out there that want to exploit them….Can we love God’s children more than we fear evil? That’s the challenge here and Americans are up to it and I love it. They hear the sound of freedom because God’s children are no longer for sale.”
— Jim Caviezel, 7/6/23
Archive for the ‘Movies’ Category
Monday, July 10th, 2023
March Ex(clusion) — nineteenth day
Saturday, March 19th, 2022“He and I hold some different views, which can be painfully stark these days; at the same time, I will always be a person shaped by his art, and by our love for one another.”
– B C Adkins
I stumbled upon Brendan’s gesture of sharing a link to my process video. His “rollover aside” both melts and pierces my heart. (Perhaps that’s as accurate a description of real love as I will ever come up with.)
Today’s sight bite— Searching through my little movie, frame by frame, —c-l-i-c-k— until I finally discover an image of me working outside that is probably better than all the other photos from the past five years.
March Ex(clusion) — eleventh day
Friday, March 11th, 2022“In theory, ‘first principles thinking’ requires you to dig deeper and deeper until you are left with only the foundational truths of a situation.”
– James Clear
There are some significant things getting done, like the work bench improvements, Town House yard tasks, the indoor planting of seeds for the 2022 garden, and my hand-tool experiment of early spring greens at Blue Bank. A sense of satisfaction is undermined by the recognition that the overall enterprise is out of balance, with my progress on art projects taking a backseat. Plus, I’ve hit a lull in my fitness line-items, despite a major physical effort at the farm today. I’m probably overthinking, as usual, but it just doesn’t feel right. I have to examine more deeply what I’m really trying to accomplish this month.
Today’s sight bites— Way too many Wes Anderson images, —c-l-i-c-k—
—c-l-i-c-k— —c-l-i-c-k— —c-l-i-c-k— each frame of his delightfully bizarre movie like a miniature painting on the flatscreen.
March Ex(clusion) — second day
Thursday, March 3rd, 2022“After witnessing the extreme bias of mainstream media in covering the Canadian convoy over the past month, Children’s Health Defense decided to step in to offer people a truthful accounting of the progress of The People’s Convoy here in the United States.”
– Mary Holland
This entire annual winter project started as a time-oriented experiment, and I mustn’t forget that, nor the importance of the clock in boosting diligence. Circumstances cannot be the only driver. I made more progress on the backyard path. Not sure why that effort has taken an early front seat, but the mild weather is an undeniable catalyst. It’s good to have a daily reminder of concrete accomplishment, like last year’s miniature-each-day ritual. The evening closed with the Wayne White profile, Beauty is Embarrassing. His story makes me feel a bit lazy and unimaginative. Just the prompt I need to pick up the pace tomorrow!
Today’s sight bite— An obstreperous crow on the library window ledge, —c-l-i-c-k— validating or rebuking my belief in the augury of birds.
Friday, March 6th, 2020
“When we kill women in our stories, we aren’t just annihilating female gendered bodies. We are annihilating the feminine as a force wherever it resides — in women, in men, of the natural world. Because what we really mean when we say we want strong female leads is: ‘Give me a man but in the body of a woman I still want to see naked.’ … I don’t believe the feminine is sublime and the masculine is horrifying. I believe both are valuable, essential, powerful. But we have maligned one, venerated the other, and fallen into exaggerated performances of both that cause harm to all. How do we restore balance?”
— Brit Marling 2/7/20
A Day in My Life
Wednesday, September 21st, 2016“Woke up. Got out of bed.
Dragged a comb across my head.”
Dana was up early and walked over to Centre’s track before I woke up and found the coffee hot. I needed to finish the digital file retouching of the RFs color composite illustration. I wanted to be ready to send it to the printer by the time she returned from her Architectural Review Board meeting. We were able to do just that, and I hand-cut a prototype mat so that I could show James my idea for a standard 14 x 11 framable print. The water was still warm in Dana’s tub, so I took a quick bath and dressed for the day. She suggested we get some lunch after showing James the test print. On the way to pick it up, the Avalon sedan’s brakes went out right before we got to Danny the mechanic’s garage on South Fourth, so we rolled right in. Wayne D happened to be there and we talked to him about his scheduled lower leg amputation (not a decision anyone would make casually). Clearly it was his only option, and he was down to choosing the surgeon. While Dana arranged for the repairs, I started to walk home to get the Toyota pickup (Joben). Turns out I would get a walk under my belt, too. When I bent to pick up what looked like litter, I discovered it was a 20-dollar bill in poor condition. Well, that was the second bit of luck. When I got back to the garage, we headed to Minuteman Press to get back on schedule. The test print was terribly dark, but when they re-ran it at the lightest setting, it looked fine. We decided to go have a Mexican lunch nearby, and followed that with a stop at the ‘Bean’ coffee shop. When I inquired about the senior discount with the lady there, she didn’t even know it was mentioned on the menu, and we joked around for few minutes before finding out that she knew Susan and James. Her name was Tammy Bernard, and James had actually been her ‘bundle boy’ decades before at Liberty Sportwear (1980?). She looked quite fit, and sure enough she was a fellow Boot Camp devotee with Susan. Her husband, Bill Devine, is a physician at UK Health. She ended up enjoying our chat so much that she gave us our Americano cups on the house. On to the 10th Planet to see James. 
He liked the final artwork and test print, so Dana called in the quantity for the order. James handed me $50 and persuaded me to see if I could get all the mats cut at the Frame Cellar by the close of business. We picked up the prints and headed back downtown to John C’s shop. Dana told me that she had seen him unlocking his place after 6 am, and I was worried that he might not have stayed open all day, but he was there working. I was astonished to find out that he hadn’t been in his storefront since the first of the month and that he was “playing catch-up.” Not a good time to ask him to drop what he was doing, but my luck held. He was willing to cut the mats for James right then and there. He told me that he had been in Florida visiting his son Paden (named after the Kevin Kline character in Silverado), and when he got back to Kentucky, he had to turn around and go right back after learning Paden had crashed his motorcycle when a woman pulled out in front of him (she never even saw what she had done). For some reason, Paden had returned to the hospital after they released him, and it was discovered that he was bleeding internally from a small rupture in a renal artery. (The surgeon reportedly said, “If you had gone to bed, you probably wouldn’t have awoken the next day.”) So, I managed to pick the first day he was back in the frame shop after this family ordeal, and to top it off, he gave me a discount on the whole rush job. I told him he had to think up a reason to ask me for a big favor. Back in the studio, I put all the new prints into the mats while Dana did the paperwork for James. I dropped her off at Danny’s garage before I went back to see James at the Planet. He was very satisfied with everything he needed for his RF gathering in Ohio. He and Susan were planning on leaving the next morning, and he was “trying to squeeze five days of work into three.” Even though he still had a late night ahead of him, he was in a relaxed mood and we talked about the extraordinary event on Blue Bank Road when the missing todder was found on the Sweeney Knob after a ten-hour search involving local first responders, hundreds of volunteers, and multiple law enforcement entities. This week will always be remembered for the miraculous rescue of the little Chumbley boy in the Clan Valley “forcefield.” Thousands of people must have been praying, but nobody’s pleas could have been more pure than Mombo’s. When I returned, Dana had brought home some organic wine, so I opened a bottle and we made fruit-&-nut plates for supper and watched three episodes of The Affair. I liked them enormously, except for one part that can only be described as pornographic. It was obvious why Maura T (Helen) had been nominated for an Emmy. I could not believe that Sebastian Junger did a cameo (was it meant to be tongue-in-cheek?), but I got a major kick out of his appearance. What a day! Very intense on many levels, but without the characteristic “fears and doubts.” It was time for bed, in preparation for an early start to prepare for my multi-day care-giving stay with Mombo (when I hope to finally complete the oak-trim details above the stone flue). There won’t be many more quite like today…
An Ideal Day
Monday, September 8th, 2014There are different types of ideal days.
For me, surely today was one of them.
After what may have been the best night’s sleep that I have had in two or three months, I woke up with a cool breeze above my pillow and came downstairs to discover a nutritious breakfast smoothie and a pot of hot coffee to go with it. Thank you, Dana, for getting my day off to such a positive start. TSLA, YHOO, TJX, and FEYE took over from there, when the market opened, and I spent a productive morning managing my active trades for four separate accounts, including the Trust investment. I may have gotten a suitable entry price for a long position in VMW, but only time will tell with that. When the office intercom beeped, I was the beneficiary of a delicious roast turkey sandwich with a bowl of fresh gazpacho. It has been a fine season for tomatoes, and I am still working on getting my fill. Dana said that aging Walie was having one of her most lively days in a long time. After lunch, I noticed a new Ommatidia story by Brendan (which always makes my day), checked email, and worked a bit on my Spotify playlists, now that Marty has me successfully making the transition from Pandora. Some time ago I figured that eventually one would be able to watch any movie or TV show on demand, but I had not expected so soon to see the same be true of music. Yes, I have to listen to commercials now and then, but they are not as obnoxious as those on the Pandora site, since most of the Spotify ads are about the musical offerings themselves. Then it was into the painting studio for another session on the GAB portrait (with a few Danny Darst tunes for good company). I can say that I finally overcame the wall of fear (compliments of an old pal named perfectionism) that became attached to this commission, but now the pressing need is to find a route to the summit by the end of the month. I have pledged to myself to complete the artwork for Greg’s and Lynne’s return from their trip to France. At 4 o’clock, I crossed the street to play chess with the library group: one win, one loss (strangely enough, it usually works out that I beat the people I am capable of defeating and lose to those I am not capable of defeating). Although I rediscovered chess through vision therapy a while back, I am getting more serious about it this year, now that I can regularly match wits with local players right next door. Before I left, I checked out Is He Dead? (I admit that I wanted the Mark Twain comedy primarily to study the engravings by Barry Moser). When I got home I crossed paths with Dana, leaving to meet her spiritual group at the library, and then I jumped back into my yew-trimming topiary project in the front yard. With each passing growing season, it is easier and faster for me to keep them in shape, but more difficult to make significant changes or refinements. Nature will provide an occasional opportunity for a new direction or interesting detour, but it is mostly about keeping the whole effect under control. When the “skeeters” decided it was time to bite my ankles, it was off to Centre for some weight lifting before dinner. Being settled into the gym groove has always been a confidence-booster for me, and that goes back nearly 45 years. Peter Lupus emphasized that 100 twists a day kept his waistline small, although I have not been able to achieve the daily habit yet. In the workout room, I combine strenuous twists with the “ab chair” to manage my own belly, plus a circuit of machines and dumbbell exercises, in addition to the trusty bench press (where is that best buddy to spot me?). As I entered our back door after a brisk walk home, a blend of magnificent odors told me that Dana had been baking up a storm — sourdough bread, chocolate cake, and apple pie! We are preparing to celebrate Marty’s promotion to full-time employment at Hitachi in Harrodsburg. I am not the only member of the household on a roll. Well done, Grandson (and he got an A in his first course at the Technical College). Marty happened to be catching up on sleep (I cannot imagine handling a night-shift + school schedule the way he does), so Dana and I split a Red Hook and enjoyed a bowl of Swiss-chard-lentil soup with raw-tomato-basil-cheese salad. All that was left for me to do was to record my ideal day at this blogsite, and now I am ready to hit the sack. Tomorrow we shall begin again!
A lifetime of laughs
Tuesday, April 29th, 2014For some reason, I have always thought of Mickey Rooney as a contemporary of my mother, perhaps due to his association with Judy Garland. When he died on April 6th, my sadness was out of proportion to how much I admired him as an entertainer, because I thought that he had been the last living cast member from It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. I was wrong. Carl Reiner (Tower Controller), Marvin Kaplan (Irwin), and Barrie Chase (Sylvester’s Girlfriend) are still with us. Although Rooney reportedly changed his view later in life, he was known to have disliked the movie. Like Gleason, he was under-appreciated as a dramatic actor, and recognition for his talent could never fully rise above the criticism directed at this private life. I felt more genuine sorrow when other favored participants passed away in recent years — Peter Falk (Third Cab Driver), Sid Caesar (Melville Crump), and, of course, Jonathan Winters (Lennie Pike), the character that cracks me up the most.
Why is this motion picture my favorite comedy from childhood? Well, I can watch it anytime, anywhere, never tire of its pure humor, and know that particular scenes will always make me laugh, no matter how many times I have seen them. I viewed excerpts again today, because it is my birthday, and I realized that it has been 50 years since “Memoms,” my grandmother Dixon, took me to the Dabel Theater to enjoy the curved, widescreen version during its initial release to Cinerama venues. (actually it was shot in single-film 70mm Ultra Panavision). It was a transporting experience for a twelve-year-old boy (the ideal target viewer for the Stanley Kramer slapstick classic). Because I must have been sitting on or near the optical “sweet spot,” it was my first full-immersion sensory experience in life. Those Rooney-Hackett airplane sequences were a helluva ride, but I guess “you had to be there.”
Some people have their comfort foods. I have my comfort film. If I ever have to take the Norman Cousins prescription, “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” surely will be my laughter therapy of choice.
March Exercise IX ~ day two
Sunday, March 2nd, 2014Before settling in with Dana for yet another disappointing Oscars telecast, I finished my first concepts for the Ian/Robin duogram and sent it off by email. A severe winter storm is on the way, but I cannot help but think that it may be over-hyped for our area. Nevertheless, somebody out there is going to get smacked upside the head. My daily posting of collage is under way, but I still have not given enough attention to the overall checklist. Must not think, being this accustomed to the March ritual, that I can just “wing it.”
Mar/X Nine
Saturday, March 9th, 2013Tomorrow is a milestone event for Dana and me, so we celebrated with an enjoyable Mexican dinner (saw Larry B there and promised to pay a visit, as he mourns the loss of Shirley). The bartender told me to remember to ask for a “Caballero Margarita” the next time I’m there, since I can’t stand the typical sweet recipe. Then we made it on time to our matinee showing of “Silver Linings Playbook,” a perfect love story about another young guy who found the right gal at a pivotal moment in his life. Yes, I like to say that I check-marked Bradley Cooper as a winner back when he was on “Alias,” but who cares? This motion picture will hold up, just like “Working Girl,” “Indian Summer,” and “The Fabulous Baker Boys.” My kind of movie romance doesn’t pop up that often.
“Ain’t you afeard?”
Tuesday, July 24th, 2012What was the world coming to and what hearty pleasures folks today missed out of life! One bag of meal her pap said, used to make a whole family rejoice. Now folks came ungrateful from the store, grumbling they had to carry such a heavy market basket. Was that the way this great new country of hers was going to go? The easier they made life, the weaker and sicker the race had to get? Once a majority of the men got weak and soft, what weak, harmful ways would they vote the country into then? Well, her pap’s generation could get down on their knees and thank the Almighty they lived and died when they did. How would they ever have come and settled this wild country if they said to each other, “Ain’t you afeard?” How would her pappy have fetched them the long way out here on foot if he’d kept asking all the time, “Are ye all right? How do ye feel? Do ye reckon ye kin make it?” No, those old time folks she knew were scared of nothing, or if they were, they didn’t say so. They knew they ran bad risks moving into Indian country, but they had to die some time. They might as well live as they pleased and let others bury them when the time came.
—from The Town by Conrad Richter
This past weekend couldn’t dovetail more aptly with my previous musings on the parallel lines of sweetness and sorrow: the joy of hugging and laughing with Seitz Family loved ones mixed with the ache of seeing Kelly off to his final rest. I’ve never had a big brother. Wayne came the closest. If we had lived in proximity, Kelly might have filled that void in many ways, but now he’s gone, too. Susan’s choice of a strong set of funeral readings moved my spirit. The sadness was balanced with the opportunity for Mombo to see former friends from Tipp City: Jane, Flo, and Mary Jo, and I was able to kiss the cheeks of Angela, Lynnette, and Jenny, while meeting the eyes of Karen for the first time in 35 years. The bitter with the delicious—this seems to be the taste of things for me. Thus it probably always has been, but now I recognize and accept it.
Alyx joyfully announced her engagement, while grieving families in Colorado sorted out the tragic aftermath of a rancid nut-job’s evil handiwork. It’s hard not to wonder what our society is coming to when things like this happen, but how do such dangers compare to the daily risks our ancestors faced with no loss of determination? And if the frontier rangers had caught a murderer, rapist, or horse thief, the misfit would have swung from a noose in short order, without a thought wasted on his psychological deficit or woeful childhood. Perhaps we shall eventually see a would-be exponent of such premeditation swiftly and lawfully cut down by a “citizen sheepdog” who just happened to be carrying his weapon in circumstances one would think it unnecessary to do so.
Dana and I watched The Iron Lady last night, and we found too many flaws in the motion picture to recommend it, but I must say it caused me to remember Thatcher’s firm resolve in crisis. There are many kinds of fear. They must all be cast out—whether by righteous indignation or by perfect love. Throughout a life now cut short, I’m certain that Kelly was afraid at times, but I have always thought of him as one of the most fearless men I have known. Whether it was having the courage to marry young and to bear whatever stigma the world would throw upon his path, or to take on the high-pressure world of corporate sales, or live his convictions as an example to his family … or to bravely face a diagnosis that would suck the hope from someone who didn’t know what he believed. It never seemed written for the two of us to go beyond a periodic big smile and strong handshake. Nevertheless, he always set a fine example from a distance. And, for me, I expect that will continue to be the case.
On her day . . .
Wednesday, April 11th, 2012This is the image I’m connecting with today. A picture of the beauty to whom I proposed. After the British rifle match, I collapsed and missed Easter, battling a virus in near delirium. I managed to recover enough to be rather functional by today, in order to help Dana observe her important milestone. She initially wanted to attend the Keeneland races, but changed her mind when the day never warmed up. “Birthday weather” did not arrive. We almost went to see The Descendants until we realized it was at the top of our Netflix queue. So we joined David and Lee for a nice Italian dinner in Lexington. Now I’ll be in “my 50s” for 18 more days and we’ll pretend as if there are two decades between us.
March-Ex VI: fueled my imagination on day ten
Saturday, March 10th, 2012“A Princess of Mars may not have exerted the same colossal pull that Tarzan had on the global imagination, but its influence on generations of readers cannot be underestimated. The novel became a seminal text in the early science fiction canon, inspiring a slew of imitators.”
—Junot Diaz
As hard as I’ve pushed the past week and as much as I’ve accomplished, I still feel as though the March regimen has gone out of focus. Deadline drives have their own kind of relentless logic not in keeping with the drill. So, instead of taking the scruff of one’s own neck and redirecting it to the month’s structure, I went soft on myself and reset the sights for Monday. I hit a much-anticipated John Carter matinee. Most critics are hating this movie, and it may only make a profit offshore, but I was not at all disappointed. Taylor’s ability to command the screen and carry the story, plus a realized Frazetta vision, more than held my interest. Later in the afternoon, I took a long walk with my mate, and then we made pizza together to celebrate the thirty-fourth anniversary of our first date. John Carter said, “Good God…I’m on Mars.”
Disney Sauce
March-Ex VI: faced anxiety on day nine
Friday, March 9th, 2012“I think I grew in different ways—just that it didn’t break me, I didn’t really just quit. There were moments when I was definitely close.”
—Taylor Kitsch
Dana told me, “Just remember, these are your friends, and they want you to do well.” With that helpful suggestion, I finalized my PowerPoint presentation and headed out to address the club that I’d quit nearly three years ago. It’s funny how nagging insecurities and self-doubt can get in the way of achieving a straightforward goal. I decided to do this. I knew I was fully knowledgeable and capable of pulling it off. And yet, somehow, the lead-up was all about overcoming the fear of failure. The ability to perform is in my bones, I guess, but speaking in public has never come easy for me. I thought to myself, whatever you’re dealing with, there is nobody more on pins and needles today than young Taylor Kitsch. So I picked up the microphone, smiled, said, “Thank you, Danville Rotary!” and shared my passion for bicycling. John Carter ordered, “Get on!”
A Cult of One
Favorite haunt
Saturday, April 30th, 2011We scrubbed our original agenda to visit a museum and adopted a more relaxed plan to hang out in Evanston, see a movie, shop a little, and to gradually work our way north toward the base. We saw a matinee screening of “The Conspirator,” which apparently is not burning up the box office this weekend. I thought the opening depiction of the assassination night was interesting, but the courtroom scenes were uninspired. Admittedly, they are very difficult to pull off. When not scripted with the typically unrealistic dynamics, they usually play out with a certain monotony or stereotypical dialogue. Lumet’s “The Verdict” ruined me for life, I suppose. Overall, I enjoyed the production design and art direction, but the picture lacked the story-telling power of Redford’s early projects. I had a similar feeling when I recently watched Clint’s “Hereafter.” Afterward, Marty bought himself some sketching materials at Blick’s and surprised me with a set of colored fine-points for card making. He gave Dana a gift of Hawaiian coffee beans. When I got online, I discovered that Joan had emailed a wonderful account of goings-on with our mother at the Gels funeral. It sounds like she was in rare form and provided everyone a taste of the true “Jinny Spirit.” I hope Joan compiles her notes as a nice blog entry. Wish I could have been present, but we were exactly where we were supposed to be, and I pray for more such “Mombo Moments” to experience firsthand.
Ambushed By Sorrow
Sunday, March 13th, 2011
March Exercise —day thirteen— It turned out to be a rough day for both of us, but especially for Dana. It had little to do with externals. It was just one of those days that keep rising to the surface in a long process of managing grief. We spent the bulk of our time at David and Lee’s cabin, helping them prepare for the rifle competition next Saturday. Dana and Lee worked on separate tasks. David and I took on a big two-man job and also fit in a little practice on the range. We left in time to get to Blue Bank for what was to be the first Mission: Madness, a ritualized screening of the entire seven-year run of Mission: Impossible. Because of my scheduling error, we arrived at an “empty” valley. Seeing the grave site, untouched since January, was enough to induce a fresh wave of sadness. We were unable to cope by plunging into the distraction of our planned episode-viewing shindig. The evening wound down from there, although I was able to complete my driveway hedge clipping and commence the spring pruning of the front-yard bushes. Even if I go about my own business, I believe we can still sense one another’s emotion. We ended up streaming an enjoyable movie, but, to be honest, we don’t really salvage these occurrences. We just ride them out and set our sights on the following day.
Today’s sight bite— Small steel targets in sun-dappled woodlands, —c-l-i-c-k— surprisingly crisp to the eye above my familiar sites.
Tomorrow— Back to the studio grind . . .
The Human Condition
Saturday, March 12th, 2011
March Exercise —day twelve— Thematically, the best motion pictures often can be summed up in one word: Determination. Togetherness. Manipulation. Fortitude. Delusion. And, with the film that took the Oscar— Friendship. At least, that’s what I took away from The King’s Speech last night. Both men, in entirely different ways, put everything on the line in loyalty to their deepening friendship. Is it the highest form of love? I don’t know. Perhaps. There can be true love without friendship, but never true friendship without love. For some reason, it calls to mind the story of the split that took place between my Dad and a man that was his neighbor when I was a child. When we moved away and my Dad’s life became even more complicated, this man gave him an ultimatum. He’d had enough of making the trip to visit my Dad if the effort was not reciprocated. An impasse. My Dad was raising seven kids that he expected to be college bound. He was married. He was fighting the Cold War at work. His friend was retired, divorced, with a grown daughter. Nobody knows the actual words exchanged, but it resulted in my Dad’s decision. Something like, “If that’s the way you feel, then don’t come back.” He never did. I’ve always seen it as a clash of incompatible viewpoints. “If you were a true friend, you would make time for me. You would want to be fair, and to preserve the bond we have.” “If you were a true friend, you would appreciate my life and not make demands. You would not keep score.” Naturally, I saw it Dadbo’s way. He had other friends who went the extra mile. In turn, he was generous and loyal to them until each went to his grave. For me, the two most fascinating questions in the human condition: What is unconditional love? What is true friendship?
Today’s sight bite— The huge crow, sitting on the street lamp bulb —c-l-i-c-k— and scolding me with his imperious “Haw! Haw!”
Tomorrow— Rifle match preparation, topped off with pure escapism . . .
First Date Day
Friday, March 11th, 2011
March Exercise —day eleven— Something had me out of bed and down the street to the soccer field before daybreak, and it felt different than the prevailing energy of the regimen so far. Perhaps it was watching that “Wilderness” guy on KET last night, building by hand his cabin of spruce logs above an Alaskan lake. The brisk air actually felt pleasant, which is a good sign that my exasperation with winter cold has turned a corner. Later, I was glad I’d shifted my swim time from yesterday, otherwise I’d probably not have run into Mike N on campus. Another thing postponed to tonight was the dinner-and-a-movie to celebrate 33 years since our first date. We couldn’t think of anything more enjoyable than having a Japanese meal and seeing The King’s Speech.
Today’s sight bite— An amazing facial chord of sadness, fear, and determination on the big screen —c-l-i-c-k— in one of the past year’s great acting performances.
Tomorrow— The joy of pruning . . .
Sir Ben . . .
Wednesday, September 29th, 2010I highly recommend this Kingsley “trifecta” for your viewing pleasure:
1) House of Sand and Fog with Jennifer Connelly
2) Elegy with Penélope Cruz
3) You Kill Me with Téa Leoni
Then you know it’s Pure Hollywood ~
Sunday, June 27th, 2010• Bullets that penetrate human bodies never shatter bones, cause severe shock, or sever a major blood vessel, except if fired from small-caliber weapons toward bad guys at a great distance, in which case the result is sudden and certain death.
• When the protagonist notices any tool or object in the vicinity (at times it’s only necessary for the audience to see it), surely he or she will use it within minutes to survive a near-death crisis.
• At the moment of climax, a villain never fails to indulge the need for a soliloquy or dramatic pause, giving our hero enough time to avert what could have been a curt, straightforward confirmation of inevitable death.
Saturday, March 13th, 2010
Puttered around with loose ends in the studio and watched the “Basterds” disc that Marty got from the library for me, but otherwise I spent the day looking for some base of support off which to bounce.
Gifted performances
Sunday, March 7th, 2010March Exercise V —day seven— I completed most of the items on my checklist, including treating the lawn with about a hundred pounds of pulverized limestone that I got from the library construction site when they drilled bedrock for the geothermal system. After that, I spread a bag of grass seed, counting on it to rain before the birds get to picking away at the yard. As usual, the day went by too fast, and I found myself settling down to watch the Academy Awards show. I hadn’t found it watchable since John Stewart played host a few years back. I was disappointed when Plummer lost, but I liked it when UP got the Oscar for best original score—that theme had me emotionally hooked within the first five minutes. I also dug the dance number used to exhibit the soundtrack nominees. Clearly the best outcome of the night was the statuette for Jeff Bridges, one of my favorite guys since The Last Picture Show. I was a big fan of his dad, and it was so cool when he mentioned the Sea Hunt series, which probably influenced my lifelong desire to spend time in the water. His remarks giving credit to his parents were an uncanny parallel to Mombo’s sentiments of Friday evening. Indeed, personal achievements are an extension of our mother’s and father’s character, but especially if they have admirably performed their roles.
Today’s sight bite— A craftsman holds high his token of recognition —c-l-i-c-k— and demonstates true sincerity in a shrine to false humility.
Previously on M-Ex— I balance real progress with out-of-reach ambitions. (3/7/07)
Tomorrow— Back to the weekday regimen…
