IN MEMORIAM: W. H. Auden

A hundred years ago today, one of my favorite poets was born: a splendid fat bugger who, once he became famous, wore carpet slippers everywhere—even with a tuxedo. He loved words and landscape, gave generously in support of the Catholic Worker, and reconverted to Anglicanism as an adult. His friends ranged from Dorothy Day to Christopher Isherwood to Gypsy Rose Lee. His essays and poems were formative for me, and I still love them.

In his own words in honor of another dead poet,

Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice;

With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress;

In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.

Events for the Auden centenary

Let us lift a glass in honor of W.H. Auden, Christian and queer and poet.

Pleasures

Some things I love, and what to do with/to/about them:

Independent bookstores: Buy some SF from Dream Haven Books, which was recently robbed and trashed by complete idiots.

The Bay Area: Celebrate Valentine’s Day with a pillow fight.

Life: Love things, and people, and places. Animals, too, they’re very important, and also trees, the sun and moon, the smell of good earth, and art in all its manifestations. Love them hard. Love them even when you want to strangle them or pitch them into the bin or set fire to them. Love them anyway.

Science: Badges Badges Badges! I’ve earned these: rejected by the New Yorker (But with an encouraging note from Roger Angell!); gladly will kick sexual harassers’ asses; and experienced with electrical shock, LEVEL II, In which the recipient has had experience with the electrical shocking of a human.

Gorgeous fat women: In Heather's Name - Love your body.

Baseball: Pitchers and catchers, report to spring training!

Alternate History

After almost ten years of marriage, three kids, and a couple of moves, Diane is coming into her own. She and her husband Chris (not to be confused with her sister Chris) have built a good life, and they’re finally buying a house. I still can’t understand how churches can exist without a parsonage, but I’m old-fashioned that way.

The wedding was beautiful, of course, and so was Diane when she announced her first pregnancy only a year later. We were all worried about the medical issues of pregnancy. The newer allergy and asthma meds helped a lot; Diane’s asthma is of the dangerous kind, but she has it pretty well under control most of the time now.

So is her depression. She is still in therapy, but with a decent antidepressant and good emotional support from her family and friends, she’s doing a lot better. She talks with honesty and passion about the importance of getting psychological help for Christians with mental illnesses—“none of this bullshit about how good Christians don’t get depressed.” She had one bad spell of post-partum depression, but Chris (her sister) talked her into getting help fast. That was right after 9/11, which hit Diane hard: she spent the last weeks of her second pregnancy glued to the TV watching the disaster. Several of her church members were in the Pentagon; one was badly injured. And Diane still worries about the effect of the stress hormones and her depression on Elizabeth, a dark, quiet girl who looks a lot like her father.

Once the kids were in school and her younger siblings fairly well launched, Diane started writing seriously. She always wrote—she has a trunkful of old romance manuscripts scribbled while she rode the bus to school or waited in doctors’ offices—but now she has more time to devote to her work. Until her mid-twenties she concentrated on historical romances, but now she is working on grand family sagas: not just brooding men and passionate women, but the ways that families influence each other over the generations. She’s good and getting better. The most recent project is one based on her own family history, since she’s gotten very interested in genealogy. She’s been putting a lot of her faith in her books, but she’s considerably closer to Susan Howatch than to Grace Livingston Hill.

Although she writes under a pseudonym, the people in her church know she’s an author. Luckily, her husband Chris’s congregation is well-educated and liberal. There have been some stresses there—being a minister’s wife is not easy—but Diane’s charm and her musical talent have helped in her ministry. (And I admit it, her dogmatism and stubbornness have sometimes been an issue there.)

Of course she’s still singing. There was some talk a few years ago about her church’s praise band cutting a record, but it would be only for local distribution. I haven’t heard anything about that in a while.

She bought season tickets to the Orioles when she got her first book published. We also gave her a huge party. Every year after the World Series, she and I get on the phone and review the whole baseball season. It takes a few hours, but it’s a great tradition. She and I are planning to meet up this year at Cooperstown for Cal Ripken’s induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame. She bubbles with all the old enthusiasm when she talks about the Orioles.

At 32 she’s still as skinny as a teenager. During her pregnancies she looked like a straw that had swallowed an olive. She started teaching her kids baseball and basketball when they were tiny. Now they play with their cousin Jessica and with all the other cousins. Maybe next year they’ll come to visit me in California.

This is not about grief. This is about loss.

Diane Michelle Thompson
July 10, 1974 – February 8, 1997

Cahiers du Cinema, Eat Your Heart Out

Here's the list of Best Picture nominees from 1970 to 2005. Boldface indicates the the ones I've seen. Italics the ones I'm interested in seeing sometime.

Until the mid-1970s, I saw very few movies in a theatre. Too far (35 miles), too expensive. So most of the early ones I saw years after they were made, usually on TV or in a revival house.

1970
Patton. What can you say about a 60-year-old general who died?

Airport What an you say about Helen Hayes stowing away on an airplane that partly blows up? That it's a remarkably suspenseful popcorn movie. That the parody is even better. And don't call me Shirley.

Five Easy Pieces. I don't ever remember seeing the whole thing, though I have seen the toast scene, I shy away from Jack Nicholson movies because (A) he looks a lot like my father, and (B) he keeps playing my father (particularly in one Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and the Shining)

Love Story When I was 11, I thought this was a great movie. I still like the color of Ryan O'Neal's blue shirt.

MASH Loved the TV show. The movie is superior in some ways -- Robert Duvall's Frank Burns, for example, is a far more complex and powerful figure than the silly Larry Linville ineffectual prick. However, the repeated sexual humiliations of Major Houlihan are genuinely nasty, nasty enough to make me lose sympathy for Hawkeye and Trapper John.

1971
The French Connection The first time I was ever aware of a great chase scene was when I saw this one on TV.

A Clockwork Orange. Have not ever seen it. Having seen Brazil and Closetland, I don't know if I need to.

Fiddler on the Roof. I know all the songs, I've read the original stories, but never saw the movie.

The Last Picture Show. Waiting until after I read the book.

Nicholas and Alexandra. I've read the book -- in fact, a number of books, including Robert Massie's fascinating followup volume, which traces the DNA identification of the bodies. Have never seen the film, but I might put it on my Netflix queue.

1972
The Godfather. I always refused to see this on grounds of violence. Sometime in t997 or 1998, I caught a glimpse of an early scene (Michael Corleone sitting at a desk) while flipping through cable channels. I did not move or breathe until the film was over. A work of genius.

Cabaret. Another work of genius, although I once saw a stage version that was even better at Villanova in the mid-1970s.

Deliverance. They always set these things in the south. But I wouldn't go canoeing with city boys through the Pennsylvania mountains where I grew up.

Sounder.Really lovely, and Cicely Tyson did a tremendous job.

The Emigrants. I never even heard of this one.

1973
The Sting Fabulous: tightly plotted, brilliant ensemble acting, witty dialogue. I watched it again recently on DVD, and it holds up. I first saw it on TV in about 1980.

American Graffiti Nostalgia for a kind of life I never lived and never cared about. I found it unbearably dull. The MAD Magazine parody reveals that the mysterious blonde in the convertible is... Ringo Starr.

The Exorcist. Thanks, but no thanks. The book was just dreadful.

A Touch of Class. I do like Glenda Jackson, but I never saw this.

Cries and Whispers. Extraordinary, subtle, powerful. Watched this in my Bergman class, where we saw two Swedish films a week in the big college auditorium. By the end of the semester I could understand spoken Swedish fairly well, as long as the topic was blood, death, berries, or chess games.

1974
The Godfather, Part II Naturally, I hunted this up as soon as I'd become entranced with the first one. Again, utterly brilliant. Do watch The Freshman when you're on a Godfather bender; Marlon Brando's performance was so good that the Godfather studio wanted to sue him for copyright infringement. It's sweet and funny and tender.

Chinatown Deeply disturbing, cynical, very fine film, I saw this in a late-night series of incredibly freaking depressing movies at a dollar theater when I was living in a rat-infested apartment in West Philly. (Between Mantua and Powelton Village, to be exact.)

The Conversation Gene Hackman could not be more different in this than he was in The French Connection. Exceedingly dark, paranoid film.

Lenny You know, every movie from this year is more depressing than the next. Nevertheless, Lenny is worth watching -- biting wit and the disintegration of a great performer. Dustin Hoffman is a genius.

The Towering Inferno Enjoyable tripe. Not too enjoyable when a real skyscraper went up in flames, and some newspapers showed pictures of people jumping to their deaths. After 9/11, I don't know if I could watch this.

1975
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest Vicious, scary, anti-authoritarian, misogynistic, and not as good as the book. I freaked out completely when I saw it, and I doubt I will ever watch it again. Also, I do get tired of the Woman as Evil Enforcer stereotype. For a much more complex and interesting Kesey book, try Sometimes a Great Notion.

Barry Lyndon Just lovely. A slow, ravishingly pretty film that misses all the satiric humor of Thackeray's work.

Dog Day Afternoon. One of the few Pacino films I haven't seen.

Jaws. I saw this at Ocean City, NJ, when I was there for the annual YFC convention. (YFC is Youth for Christ; somewhere I have a trophy for being a champion Bible quizzer.) My companion took a water pistol and shot random people at the scariest moments. I'm surprised nobody died -- or killed him.

Nashville. Anoher great, complex Robert Altman movie. Lily Tomlin is particularly good.

1976
Rocky. A classic boxing movie: sweet, blue-collar tough, a bit sentimental. I've been known to watch it just for the Philadelphia scenery. (Ditto Trading Places.)

All the President's Men One of the best political thrillers ever made, and it's all true. Again, a sterling ensemble cast, flawless detailing of the newsroom, and the good guys win. That's guilty, guilty, guilty! Going to see this in a movie theater was my high school graduation gift.

Bound for Glory Strong, sad, beautiful. Great double feature with Alice's Restaurant.

Network I recently saw this again on DVD, and my God, it's good. Great performances in one of the most intelligent scripts ever produced: terrifyingly prescient and a great series of rants. However, I suspect Paddy Chayefsky is writhing in Purgatory now, watching Fox use this movie as a fucking business plan.

Taxi Driver Another film I saw in the midnight dollar movie series. A great DeNiro performance. He seems to be channeling my psychotic father. I never want to see this again, thanks.

1977
Annie Hall When I saw this with Walter, the summer it came out. I was under the impression that being into leather meant making purses and wallets. Still a favorite, and a film that speaks to me of a very specific time of my life. Don't miss Christopher Walken as Duane, Annie's brother. "I'm due back on Planet Earth."

The Goodbye Girl Moderately amusing.

Julia So we know now that this was plagiarized. Still a good movie.

Star Wars I went to see this to celebrate my 18th birthday. Fun at the time -- I loved Princess Leia, and I still cherish an affection for Carrie Fisher's acerbic tongue and spectacular breasts. Han Solo definitely did it for me, too. But the film, seen now, is too *directive*. Heavy-handed. But I cannot forget the freshness and delight of seeing it the first time.

The Turning Point Yeah, well, you can't have everything.

1978
The Deer Hunter. Some movies I know are going to be too triggering.

Coming Home. Not bad, really.

Heaven Can Wait This is still a favorite. A sweet, funny movie with sparkling dialogue and a great cast, including James Mason as Mr. Jordan, Buck Henry as the bumbling escort who removes Warren Beatty from his body too early, and Julie Christie luminous despite a dreadful perm. Dyan Cannon and Charles Grodin are perfect as the treacherous wife and secretary seeking to kill off her millionaire husband. I still quote lines from this one: "If he weren't going to be dead soon, he'd need years of psychiatric help."

Midnight Express Oh Christ. Certain scenes from this actually came up in therapy with me just yesterday. In 1978 I doubt that anyone used the word "triggering" to refer to the effects of PTSD. In fact, PTSD was still "shell shock." I was shell-shocked and thrown into very, very serious PTSD mode by this movie. Moreover, I hadn't seen enough movies at that point to know how devastating a violent film would be to me. (Many of the more violent films in this Oscar list I didn't see until later; even if I don't mention it, you can rest assured that movies like Taxi Driver had an overwhelming effect on me.)

An Unmarried Woman Asinine Michael Murphy dumps Jill Clayburgh, who promptly finds a great little apartment, a job at an art gallery, and love with Alan Bates. What's not fun about divorce?

1979
Kramer vs. Kramer I love Dustin Hoffman. He's an unswerving craftsman, an actor's actor, and I also find him hot. But yeesh! I generally refer to this as Kramer versus Whiner.

Apocalypse Now. Yeah, well. Great movie, spectacular nervous breakdown.

All That Jazz Far, far better than Cabaret, IMO. Dark, wry, witty, unsparing. Someday I want to have a New Year's Eve Bob Fosse festival: Cabaret, All That Jazz, Chicago... now that's the way to start the New Year!

Breaking Away. A pleasant bildungsroman, or possibly bicycleroman.

Norma Rae Sally Field does a powerhouse job in his based-on-a-true-story union movie. Unfortunately, the scriptwriters had to make her fall in love (and bed) with the New York labor organizer who radicalizes her. Not everybody thinks with her crotch. Still a wonderful movie.

1980
Ordinary People Brought the Pachelbel Canon back into favor. Based on the book from Doubleday -- the only book they published from the slushpile from 1945 until they said the hell with it and ceased accepting over-the-transom submissions. Oh, and there's a little family guilt and drama there.

Coal Miner's Daughter. I do want to see this one -- so far I've only seen fragments.

The Elephant Man I haven't even seen fragments of this.

Raging Bull So personally painful that I got up in the middle (during one of the arguments with his wife), went out, threw up, and then returned to watch the rest. Once was enough.

Tess Nastassia Kinski is compelling, although I'm not sure why Roman Polanski needed a 15-year-old to play the role. (Wanted? Well, that's different.) Gorgeous, mostly faithful to the book, including the terrifying scene toward the end.

1981
Chariots of Fire Nice popcorn film. The religious young man who wouldn't run on Sunday became a missionary and died in an internment camp in China during WWII.

Atlantic City Louis Malle made gorgeous movies, and I am a sucker for a pretty picture. Atmospheric and astonishing.

On Golden Pond My feelings about it when I first saw it were dismissive, although the stars are always watchable. I'm 25 years older now, and I might see it differently.

Raiders of the Lost Ark Endlessly watchable. This is a great *movie movie* and a real favorite.

Reds This is another kind of great movie. I was annoyed that the witnesses weren't identified -- I wanted to know who they are! I bet this has been remedied on DVD.

1982
Gandhi. Somehow I never managed to see this one.

E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial The beginning of the end for Steven Spielberg. Predictable, manipulative tripe.

Missing. I'd like to see it, although it would be difficult.

Tootsie One of the very best movies ever made. I can quote the whole thing.

The Verdict Good, tense, exciting newspaper movie.

1983
Terms of Endearment. You know, i never saw this. I don't care how often Shirley Maclaine dies. She's just going to come back again.

The Big Chill Oh my. Very good movie, although most people think it's a comedy. I think it's a tragedy. Kevin Costner played the corpse.

The Dresser. Wow -- very powerful, tight little film about a stage actor and his dresser. Albert Finney and Tom Courtenay in a tense, loving, painful professional marriage.

The Right Stuff Fun and exciting, but nowhere near as good as the book.

Tender Mercies This is what they call a "little" picture. No car chases, no naked love scenes, no flash-cut tenth-of-a-second scenes. Just a small story about a man trying to redeem himself. Robert Duvall subtly conveys a huge emotional range. Because of the ending, I may never be able to watch this again. But I loved this movie.

1984
Amadeus I saw this as a play on Broadway with Ian McKellen as Salieri and Simon Callow as Mozart. I would not have thought the film could equal it -- but it does different things, and Tom Hulce (AKA Pinto from Animal House) carries Mozart quite well. Someday I have to write a long review about this film. It is very dear to my heart.

The Killing Fields. By this time, I knew what not to watch, thanks.

A Passage to India Lovely and scenic. Nice costumes. Evokes a world where the mores are quite different, so the plot makes more sense to people who don't understand the cultural shifts between then and now. But I still prefer Forster's prose.

Places in the Heart Billy and I went to see this movie twice when we were engaged. If the material weren't handled so deftly, and by such fine actors, it would be over-the-top sentimental. But somehow it isn't -- or maybe I was seduced by the luminous cinematography or the story of the plucky widow desperate to save her farm. Look for John Malkovitch in a rare sympathetic and non-psychotic role. This may have been Danny Glover's first film role.

A Soldier's Story Race relations in the military -- strong, well-acted.

1985
Out of Africa A very pretty picture. It's more about Karen Blixen, however, than a film of her book. Sigh. The book Out of Africa is tremendously important to me, and it hasn't been filmed.

The Color Purple. I refuse to see this. Dammit, they were dykes, and the manipulative gutless bastard Spielberg censored that. I refuse to go see him turning complex, meaningful stories into Disneyfied puppet shows.

Kiss of the Spider Woman I'd like to see this. During my marriage, I never saw prison movies, as they were triggering to my husband.

Prizzi's Honor Damn, Anjelica Huston is good. Kathleen Turner and Jack Nicholson are suitably professional as hitpeople for the Mob. Now this is romance.

Witness When I saw this movie, I was living in Connecticut. Peter Weir (whom I'd loved since I first saw Picnic at Hanging Rock) saw my state so closely, so tenderly, that I could almost smell it. Great score. Great cast. Great moral lesson. This is a very, very fine movie.

1986
Platoon. Really, war stories are a problem for me.

Children of a Lesser God Not too bad, as I recall.

Hannah and Her Sisters A wonderful Woody Allen movie, one of my favorites of his.

The Mission Robert DeNiro and Jeremy Irons, adventurer and priest, in 18th-century South America. A richly textured tragedy dealing with slavery, religion, murder, and redemption. Powerful film with every word, every shot, every note of music in place.

A Room with a View More exquisitely respectful costume drama.

1987
The Last Emperor Exquisitely respectful costume drama set in China, for a change. It is a good movie, though.

Broadcast News Funny, tough-minded, sometimes painful. Holly Hunter is a news producer, Albert Brooks the acerbic reporter, and William Hurt the handsome, nice, but slow-witted anchorman. Watch for Joan Cusack delivering a tape at the last minute. There's a scene here that actually happened to me.

Fatal Attraction. No thanks. Anyone who fucks up Michael Douglass's life of whiny entitlement and white male het privilege is OK by me.

Hope and Glory "Thank you, Adolf!" London during the Blitz, as seen by schoolboys,

Moonstruck Another huge favorite. At the time, I thought Broadcast News would stick more in my mind, but the joys and woes of the Castorini family are still very close to my heart after all these years. Spectacular cast, with the 46-year-old Cher playing opposite 23-year-old Nicholas Cage. So many wonderful moments I can't tell them all -- from the elderly grandfather urging his dogs to howl at the moon to the miracle of the fiance's mother rising from her deathbed. ("She began to cook for everyone in the house. She ate a meal that could choke a pig.")

1988
Rain Man Not too bad. Dustin Hoffman doing his usual fully inhabited performance. Tom Cruise is an attractive placeholder.

The Accidental Tourist I should put this in my Netflix queue.

Dangerous Liaisons Costume drama, but not precisely respectful. John Malkovitch playing elegant evil. Ditto Glenn Close.

Mississippi Burning Gene Hackman and Willem Dafoe as FBI agents investigating the deaths of civil rights workers. Alan Parker presents the usual buddy cop dynamic between hotheaded Hackman and by-the-book Dafoe. What makes this film great is the imagery of dusty, hopeless towns, churches flaring like torches, defeated women, venomous-eyed killers, and frightened, determined Black families.

Working Girl Melanie Griffith makes me itch. So does the setup here, in which upper-class stereotype Sigourney Weaver shafts her working-class assistant who is trying to climb out of her limited background to become a corporate arbitrageur. (Arbitrageuse?) However, this film passes the Bechdel test. It has Joan Cusack as Melanie's gutsy friend. It has Harrison Ford behaving tenderly and incidentally taking his shirt off. The opening credits present a stirring and beautiful theme song over a swoopy aerial trip from Staten Island to the Financial District (encompassing a heart-breaking view of the Statute of Liberty and the late World Trade Center). So yeah, despite everything I like this movie a lot.

1989
Driving Miss Daisy Morgan Freeman as a magic Negro. The indomitable Jessica Tandy as an indomitable old lady trapped in Southern gentility. Dan Ackroyd as her son. Sentimental but powerful.

Born on the Fourth of July. No need to see it, thanks.

Dead Poets Society. My least favorite Peter Weir film until The Truman Show. I haven't watched it since I saw it in the theater. Gorgeously photographed in elegiac style.

Field of Dreams This is what Kevin Costner is good for. How can you not love this movie? It makes me cry. It has baseball. And last I heard, the cornfield where it was shot was still a shrine and tourist attraction.

My Left Foot I'd like to see this. Daniel Day-Lewis is quite an actor.

1990
Dances With Wolves As they say at Wiscon, there's an entire genre of "what these people need is a honky." Beautifully photographed, at least.

Awakenings Why in the name of God did they have to add a romance to this film? Read the book. Then read The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat.

Ghost Gotta love the 1980s, when corporate raiders were the good guys. Contains possibly the most ridiculous love scene ever shown, assuming you've ever worked with clay. Nevertheless, it has some moving and some memorable moments, and Whoopie Goldberg rocks, as always. For a funnier, more insightful, far more heartrending view of grief, take a look at Anthony Minghella's Truly Madly Deeply, a British movie made the same year. The difference between Patrick Swayze and Alan Rickman is not just cosmetic, folks.

The Godfather, Part III I need a Godfather marathon. That's a DVD set I'd love to own.

Goodfellas Good, violent, honest mob picture.

1991
The Silence of the Lambs Reading the book was enough, although watching Anthony Hopkins do that voice on Inside the Actors Studio really makes me want to see it.

Beauty and the Beast A heroine who reads! A Disneyfication that enhances instead of destroys the story!

Bugsy Need to add this to my list of Las Vegas movies.

JFK My favorite line: "Do you mind if I smoke?" "Why would I mind?" Captures the 1960s in uncanny detail.

The Prince of Tides. Read the book.

1992
Unforgiven Powerful, disturbing, very well made western.

The Crying Game Haven't seen it, but I do know the secret.

A Few Good Men I've seen the trailers--isn't that enough?

Howards End Probably my favorite Merchant-Ivory film. As usual, the book is better, but here the rich visuals and elegiac pace suit the story. Vanessa Redgrave is extraordinary -- but my God, all the Redgraves are.

Scent of a Woman The other Al Pacino film I haven't seen.

1993
Schindler's List. I don't watch Spielberg movies even when they're about the Holocaust. Please note that this is a feel-good story about the Holocaust. The book is powerful and moving. I don't need to see the movie -- not even for Liam Neeson.

The Fugitive Great fun, with two appealing male leads and a suspenseful story.

In the Name of the Father. No prison movies during the marriage.

The Piano Strange, beautiful, painful, beautifully filmed.

The Remains of the Day I've read the book. I'd like to see two of my favorite actors in those claustrophobic roles.

1994
Forrest Gump I freaking hate this movie. When I first saw it, the tone seemed weirdly jumbled and inconsistent, and not because of the clever photoshopping. The events were telling a different story than the dialogue, the acting, and the reviews. Nobody seemed to notice the horror and tragedy and rage and satire. Then I read the book, which was much more consistent, disturbing, satirical, and gloomy. Ah, once again we make a feel-good tragedy.

Four Weddings and a Funeral This may be another feel-good tragedy. It's also a member of two other idiosyncratic groups: movies I like despite detesting one or both of the romantic leads, and movies I like despite the presence of Andie McDowell.

Let's face it, romantic leads are often dull or annoying. When Harry Met Sally has charming moments -- the old people talking about their marriages, for example, and the infamous deli scene -- and a superbly funny and subversive pair of second leads played by Carrie Fisher and Bruno Kirby. But Meg Ryan is one of the most consistently irritating big-screen presences, and Billy Crystal is somehow not at his best. The leads come off as shallow and boring, whereas the second leads are great fun.

Four Weddings and a Funeral has Hugh Grant fumbling through the male lead and Andie McDowell wooden and ladylike as a supposed sex-bomb American journalist. But it also has Simon Callow going over the top, Kristin Scott Thomas chic yet lonely, a secret gay couple, and a Deaf character actually played by a Deaf actor. I can put up with a lot for the sake of some of these attributes. Even Andie McDowell's wind-up doll line readings.

Andie McDowell was good in two movies that showcased her essential chill and weren't damaged by her inability to make her lines sound like natural dialogue. As the uptight gardener in Green Card, her defensive rigidity relaxed only when she was surrounded by plants. (That's a fabulous movie--why wasn't it nominated for Best Picture?) Moreover, her prissiness played beautifully opposite the Gerard Depardieu's sensual, earthy composer. She's pretty without being attractive; he's attractive without being pretty. Great combination.

She also did well in sex, lies, and videotape, where her character's defining characteristic is sexual frigidity. She's also surrounded by much better actors, including James Spader, whose sheer beauty is probably against the law, but who can also act and speak and move with naturalness.

Pulp Fiction Took me years to get around to this one; then I found that the violence was less triggering than I expected, because it was both impersonal and set in an appropriate moral universe. A redemption story of rare power.

Quiz Show I enjoyed this at the time, but I've felt no urge to see it again.

The Shawshank Redemption. Prison.

1995
Braveheart. Nice scenery.

Apollo 13. We watched the nonfiction series, and of course both of us vividly remembered the actual events.

Babe. Dunno why I haven't seen this -- I'd like to.

Il Postino. Ditto.

Sense and Sensibility. Ravishing. Almost (dare I say it?) better than the novel, because the youngest sister Margaret is a fully fleshed-out character. It's also nice to see Alan Rickman, for whom I've had a thing for years, in a sympathetic role.

1996
The English Patient. Need to get this on DVD. A magnificent motion picture. The book seemed unfilmable, but the movie translated it to the screen. Beautiful, painful, triumphant.

Fargo. The Coen Brothers take the archetype of the swag-bellied Southern sheriff and turn it upside down. So we get Marge Gundersen, a Minnesota sheriff in an advanced state of pregnancy, investigating a botched kidnapping. Bloody and bleak, it's still a very fine movie.

Jerry Maguire. I didn't get to see this at the time because I knew the financial themes would be distressing to my then-husband. (Yeah, I could have gone alone, but I didn't.)

Secrets & Lies Dunno why we didn't see this.

Shine. I didn't get to see this at the time because I knew the musical themes would be distressing to my then-husband. (He was a pianist accepted to Juillard; his parents refused to let him attend.) I think he was not in great shape that year, and I was avoiding anything that might be distressing. I spent a great deal of time protecting him.


1997
Titanic. In addition to a nifty computer reconstruction of the sinking, this movie has some spectacular imagery (the old couple lying in their cabin together, waiting for death as the water rises; the dead woman floating through the dining room; the custom dishes sliding off their shelves) and the single most trite, boring, obnoxious love story ever. It's also practically a cigarette ad. Kathy Bates is a lot more believable as Molly Brown than Debbie Reynolds was in The Unsinkable, etc. i was amused to see one image that also occurs in another film: when Kate Winslet is losing her virginity in a parked car below decks, all we see is her hand plastered against the rear window -- an image integral to the very different film Ghost Story.

As Good as It Gets. Jack Nicholson again. Also, he plays a crazy writer. Not giving the ex any fuel to use against me.

The Full Monty A lovely little movie. Subtitles help a lot, since I don't speak fluent Sheffield dialect.

Good Will Hunting. Way the hell oversimplified, but a good movie.

L.A. Confidential. Wow. Fast-paced, twisted, fascinating, and remarkably close to James Ellroy's dense noir book. Great movie.

1998
Shakespeare in Love. This is a favorite. I love William Shakespeare, I love Tom Stoppard, I loved the lively hen-cackling Elizabethan vigor of it, and I loved the gorgeous people and gorgeous costumes. Also, it's finally given Judi Dench her due as a powerful actress. And Shakespeare's hands were always ink-stained! I got all the lit-major jokes (I was the only person in the theater who cracked up when the vicious little kid said his name was John Webster). I would like someone to make a movie about John Donne with Joseph Fiennes playing the poet. There's actually a bit of resemblance, and my God he's good at playing writers. Incidentally, send some pennies to the National Portrait Gallery; they're trying to buy this treasure of a painting.

Elizabeth. Almost as historically inaccurate as Shakespeare in Love. They're both Tudor fanfic, but good movies. Cate Blanchett is amazing.

Life Is Beautiful. Not just prison, Nazi death camp. I think not.

Saving Private Ryan. I refuse to see this. Since it's Spielberg, I was readily able to predict the ending, and I really don't need the kind of extreme triggering I would endure if I watched the battle scenes.

The Thin Red Line. A war movie I might actually want to see, since it's by Terrence Mallick, who directed my favorite movie ever. (Days of Heaven, if you haven't been reading this journal for long.)

1999
American Beauty. I saw the trailers and dismissed this. It looked well-made (love Kevin Spacey) but shallow and silly. But the wise film connoisseur gave me a copy, and I found it ravishing. The surface shallowness gives way to a great deal of meaning, and the film is profoundly moving and beautiful.

The Sixth Sense. I walked out after 20 minutes, but not because the movie was bad. No, it was (A) incredibly powerful, and (B) very clear to me what the issue was. And I could not stand it. Way the hell triggering. I'd like to see it sometime on DVD, where I can control the viewing experience myself.

The Cider House Rules. Never got around to it.

The Green Mile. No, thanks.

The Insider. Never got around to this, either.

2000
Gladiator. Or this.

Chocolat. Lovely, although I prefer Alfred Molina when he's a touch more sympathetic.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Not my kink. I don't do martial arts movies. Yes, I know I'm missing an enormous cultural experience, but there is only so much time in the world.

Erin Brockovich. First movie I went to see by myself after I left my husband. I'm not a big Julia Roberts fan, but I love Albert Finney, and I enjoyed this movie a lot.

Traffic. I understand it's good. But is it worth seeing?

2001
A Beautiful Mind. Do you realize how much of my movie watching is affected by PTSD? There are some things it's just not wise for me to watch.

Gosford Park. Oh, lovely. Lovely. Even though I did work out whodunnit.

In the Bedroom. Somehow I missed this.

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Magnificent. Heartbreaking. There are no words.

Moulin Rouge. An interesting experiment that didn't quite come off for me.


2002
Chicago. Fabulous, fabulous movie, and a good musical, too.

Gangs of New York. Unbearably bloody. Well-made, but yeesh.

The Hours. I started to watch this but it seemed far too self-consciously Lit'ry. Maybe I'll try it again some day. And what is up with the fake nose? Virginia Woolf was a beautiful woman.

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers I think Andy Serkis should have won Best Actor for Gollum in this.

The Pianist. I spent two years researching Poland during World War II. I don't think I need to torture myself with this.

2003
The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. This epic -- not three movies but one nine- or ten- or twelve-hour extravaganza -- is unparalleled. Deserved everything it won, and more. I am totally pissed that Sean Astin wasn't nominated. He carried Frodo -- and the film.

Lost in Translation. Subtle and lovely and strange.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World. I think I want to read the book first.

Mystic River. Read the book -- Dennis Lehane can write. I don't think I could bear the movie.

Seabiscuit. I remember the old movie about this great-hearted horse.

2004
Million Dollar Baby. You have to be kidding me.

The Aviator. Definitely want to see this one.

Finding Neverland. Oh my. Johnny Depp channels Michael Jackson in Edwardian costume. Good movie.

Ray. This was well-made, moving, an astounding performance by Jamie Foxx. But I am still sad and angry that Malcom X -- an even better movie -- wasn't even nominated for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay. It's only OK to be a Black man if you're handicapped, guilt-ridden, and good at entertaining white people.

Sideways. Must see this.

2005
Crash. Should I bother?

Brokeback Mountain I have this movie. I just need the strength to watch it. I read the story when it came out, and it broke my heart.

Capote. I have borrowed this movie and plan to see it this week.

Good Night, and Good Luck. Saw it at the Parkway; what a great film. David Strathairn (another longtime favorite) is finally getting his due.

Munich. Umm, no. I remember the kidnappings and the murders,

2006
I have not seen a single movie that's nominated for *any* Oscar this year.

IN MEMORIAM: Don't Stop to Mourn--Organize!

Molly Ivins, 1944-2007

Damn, we lost another kickass Texas woman.

Some quotations from Molly Ivins:

I believe that ignorance is the root of all evil. And that no one knows the truth.

The Founders were right all along, but the results are a lot funnier than they intended.

Once you realize they're lying to you about race, everything else follows.

What you need is sustained outrage...there's far too much unthinking respect given to authority.

I used to go on college campuses 25 years ago and announce I was a feminist, and people thought it meant I believed in free love and was available for a quick hop in the sack. ... Now I go on college campuses and say I'm a feminist, and half of them think it means I'm a lesbian. How'd we get from there to here without passing "Go"?

It is possible to read the history of this country as one long struggle to extend the liberties established in our Constitution to everyone in America.

What stuns me most about contemporary politics is not even that the system has been so badly corrupted by money. It is that so few people get the connection between their lives and what the bozos do in Washington and our state capitols.

So here are all the liberals going into a giant snit just because George W. Bush appointed a veterinarian to head the women’s health section of the Food and Drug Administration. For Pete’s sake, you whiners, the only reason he chose the vet is because Michael Brown wasn’t available.

To take another notorious Texas law, if you own six or more dildos in this state, you are a felon, presumed to have intent to distribute. Whereas if you have five or fewer, you are merely a hobbyist.

There is no inverse relationship between freedom and security. Less of one does not lead to more of the other. People with no rights are not safe from terrorist attack.

I personally hope the photo of me sitting on [Dubya's] lap at a Christmas party with him dressed as Santa has disappeared for all time.

It is not necessary to hate George W. Bush to think he’s a bad President. Grownups can do that, you know. You can decide someone’s policies are a miserable failure without lying awake at night consumed with hatred.

One function of the income gap is that the people at the top of the heap have a hard time even seeing those at the bottom. They practically need a telescope. The pharaohs of ancient Egypt probably didn't waste a lot of time thinking about the people who built their pyramids, either. OK, so it's not that bad yet -- but it's getting that bad.

I am not anti-gun. I'm pro-knife. Consider the merits of the knife. In the first place, you have to catch up with someone in order to stab him. A general substitution of knives for guns would promote physical fitness. We'd turn into a whole nation of great runners. Plus, knives don't ricochet. And people are seldom killed while cleaning their knives.

So now what we're looking at is one of those underwater struggles among various bureaucratic behemoths involved in some hideous internecine conflict of which we can see nothing except roiled water, as though several Loch Ness monsters were going at it deep out of sight.

The United States of America is still run by its citizens. The government works for us. Rank imperialism and warmongering are not American traditions or values. We do not need to dominate the world. We want and need to work with other nations. We want to find solutions other than killing people. Not in our name, not with our money, not with our children's blood.

The problem with those who choose received Authority over fact and logic is how they choose which part of Authority to obey. The Bible famously contradicts itself at many points (I have never understood why any Christian would choose the Old Testament over the New), and the Koran can be read as a wonderfully compassionate and humanistic document. Which suggests that the problem of fundamentalism lies not with authority, but with ourselves.

Having breast cancer is massive amounts of no fun. First they mutilate you; then they poison you; then they burn you. I have been on blind dates better than that.

I am one of those people who are out of touch with their emotions. I tend to treat my emotions like unpleasant relatives—a long-distance call once or twice or year is more than enough. If I got in touch with them, they might come to stay.

from her final column, January 11, 2007: We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. Raise hell. Think of something to make the ridiculous look ridiculous. Make our troops know we're for them and trying to get them out of there.

An Open Letter

Dear Bunnicat,

You do not live here.

I say this to you every time I see you—usually at least once a day, when you’re inside my kitchen eating Gabriel’s food. The other night when you came strolling into the bedroom was the outside of enough. Gabriel thought so too. At least you took the hint when she started hissing.

You’re a big, soft, furry lump of feline. You don’t seem neglected or hungry. You smell like an intact Tom or a slightly diluted skunk. With your Himalayan markings and deep, plush fur, you’re probably someone’s pampered pet, just out to snag a little extra kibble. Your bobtail looks astonishingly like a rabbit’s tail; I can’t tell if you lost some of it in an accident or were born with a fluffy three-inch stub.

If you insist on using the cat door to visit my apartment, I expect you to follow protocol.

1. Leave Gabriel alone.
2. Do not spray in here or use the litterbox. Do your business outside.
3. Don’t eat more than half the food. Yes, I’m putting out extra. I’m a big old softy.
4. Remember that my lease is restrictive: I am not allowed to have more than one cat.
5. If you show up late for dinner, do not stand in the kitchen and howl in agony. Learn to shake the dry-food dispenser as Gabriel does or show up early enough to get canned food.
6. No fleas. I mean it.
7. Stay in the kitchen. Venturing into the carpeted areas is tacky, especially since (A) you shed like a snowstorm, and (B) you won’t let me touch you.
8. Go home occasionally. As I have said, you do not live here.

Oh, and you might stay still long enough for me to get a picture.

Thank you,
The Management


PS to Humans: Is it possible to have a cat door for my cat and still keep out bold neighborhood felines? How?

REVIEW: "Monday Night in Westerbork"

Sixty-two years ago, on January 27, 1945, Russian troops entered Auschwitz-Birkenau. This year, I commemorated the liberation of the surviving Jewish prisoners by attending S. Bear Bergman’s one-person show, “Monday Night in Westerbork.”

Westerbork was a transit camp where the Nazis gathered Jews, homosexuals, dissidents, and other undesirables; every Tuesday that week’s chosen victims boarded a train for the death camps. For a few years, it was also the site of the finest cabaret in Europe—a sparkling Scheherezade of a cabaret where Jewish actors and performers sang, danced, and joked to keep death away for one more night, one more week.

Now, as Bear ruefully notes, the Holocaust is a downer—not the world’s easiest choice for an evening’s entertainment. Holocaust stories can become syrupy paeans to inhumanly perfect martyrs, shallow mockeries (like Hogan’s Heroes), or bleak and painful sources of nightmares. (At least the last option is truthful.)

Bergman avoids these pitfalls by balancing the tragedy with humor. The storytelling is all the more poignant for being restrained and salted with wry humor. The humor, as much as the tragedy, reinforces the humanity of those who went to their deaths in cattle cars more than sixty years ago. The hilarity—and “Monday night in Westerbork” is astonishingly funny—never trivializes the sufferings of the 11 million who were murdered by the Nazis.

Bear moves easily between the character of Max Ehrlich, one of the founders of the cabaret, and the present, where zie comments on growing up as a queer Jew, listening to stories of the Holocaust from those who had survived it, and on incidents that occurred on zir research trip to Europe. By weaving in the need for queer acceptance, Bergman has limited the market for the work, but made it infinitely more powerful for those willing to listen. Moreover, by speaking up for the queer and transgendered community, Bergman is doing the work of the righteous in reminding everyone of the humanity of those society pushes away, condemns, ignores, despises.

“Monday Night in Westerbork” is an astonishing play and an astonishing performance. It has heart, it has humor, it has genuine power—and it is ultimately an affirmation of life and joy. Go see it. Take your teenagers, and then talk to them about what it means to be different.

Twisting Slowly, Slowly in the Wind

Dubya Says . . .

Before: "My name is Inigo Bushoya. You tried to kill my father. Prepare to die."

After: "Daddy, Daddy! Now you have to love me best!"

The execution of Saddam Hussein occurred on Eid ul-Adha, the culmination of the annual pilgrimage to Mecca, the Hajj. This holy day is
also known as the Feast of the Sacrifice, which commemorates Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac.

Choosing to execute Hussein on this date of all days in the calendar is comparable in foresightedness with the Romans executing that crazy rabble-rouser Yeshua bar Joseph at Passover. Just asking for trouble, and of a very specific kind: creating martyrs to inspire further rebellions and uprisings.[1]

We've done enormous damage in Iraq. The number of civilians killed by direct military action is over 50,000. We've lost just about 3,000 soldiers, with a minimum of seven times as many as that being wounded. (Some estimates of wounded American soldiers give the ration as 33 wounded for every 1 killed.)

There's evidence that the CIA helped the Baathist Party -- Saddam's party -- to reach power in a 1963 coup designed to protect our oil interests. That's an unjustified act of war.

There is no evidence, and I mean none, that the weapons of mass destruction ever existed or that Iraq helped the suicide bombers who wreaked such destruction on 9/11. That's another unjustified act of war.

In the aftermath of the international crimes against humanity of 2001 we have tortured, we have murdered, we have brutalised and killed the innocent - we have even added our shame at Abu Ghraib to Saddam's shame at Abu Ghraib - and yet we are supposed to forget these terrible crimes as we applaud the swinging corpse of the dictator we created.

Who encouraged Saddam to invade Iran in 1980, which was the greatest war crime he has committed for it led to the deaths of a million and a half souls? And who sold him the components for the chemical weapons with which he drenched Iran and the Kurds? We did. No wonder the Americans, who controlled Saddam's weird trial, forbad any mention of this, his most obscene atrocity, in the charges against him. Could he not have been handed over to the Iranians for sentencing for this massive war crime? Of course not. Because that would also expose our culpability.

And the mass killings we perpetrated in 2003 with our depleted uranium shells and our "bunker buster" bombs and our phosphorous, the murderous post-invasion sieges of Fallujah and Najaf, the hell-disaster of anarchy we unleashed on the Iraqi population in the aftermath of our "victory" - our "mission accomplished" - who will be found guilty of this?

[1] Yes, I worship that rabble-rouser as God incarnate. Nevertheless, from a purely political point of view, Herod and Pilate made a poor decision.

Driveby Moments, California Style

I wouldn't say that Northern Californians are blase, but they take certain kinds of geekiness for granted. Nobody looks twice at unusual people.

Like the handsomely dressed lawyer with the $400 briefcase waiting to cross the street to the courthouse who pressed the "Walk" button with a flawless karate kick.

Or the stocky gentleman in the Hayward BART station who was wearing a horned metal Viking helmet. Maybe because he was wearing iPod earphones beneath it.

The Annual Christmas Poem

The Journey of the Magi

"A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The was deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter."
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires gong out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death."

--T. S. Eliot

This Christmas, several friends of mine are mourning recent losses or awaiting the expected passing of friends or family. Christmas can be a cruel time for the grieving. But even in this midwinter gloom, when the journey seems pointless, when pain and despair tarnish the bright tinsel and tears silence the carols in the throat, there is the promise of the Christ Child. Not just a God reaching down from an infinite remove, but the Word embodied, sharing our pain, loving us from inside. The Divine, with us every step of the way.

There's an Episcopalian evening prayer I particularly love, and I pray it for you, my readers, tonight:

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love’s sake. Amen.

May the infinite compassion of Jesus enfold you in love and care this day and all the days of your life.