One of my all-time favorite movies is on TCM tonight: The Winslow Boy. Written by Terrence Rattigan, it stars Robert Donat as the defense attorney, at his articulate handsome bemused and intense best. The always wonderful Cedric Hardwicke (after whom I named a small stuffed whale when I was a girl, for a reason I no longer recall) and the huskiest-voiced-wide-eyed-woman-in-movies Margaret Leighton are the boy's parents. It's thoroughly engrossing, attractive and engaging to watch, and it poses compelling questions which are interesting to ponder and fun to discuss.

Labels: movies, questions, today's movie, tv

What is a British network thinking, signing octomom to a contract for a reality show? (Details here.) They say it's a really just a quasi-reality show because filming won't be non-stop; is that better? And anyway, who knew there was a distinction to be had between "quasi" and "real" reality shows? And mostly: why give her even a tiny bit of attention?

It can't be much longer until a man and a lion are put into an arena and told to fight to the death, on live television. (Everything old is new again, eh what?)

Labels: absurdities, the times, tv

No idea why he's doing this nor why he's doing it now, but Prince Harry is in New York City where he paid a visit to Ground Zero (the World Trade Center) and laid a wreath. The piece on the visit in the Daily Mail has more pictures and is just as quietly pleasant about the whole excursion as anyone else's so here is that link. Given his monied and privileged upbringing coupled with the shocking and sudden death of his mother and all the celebrinonsense surrounding her and his father and his stepmother, it's impressive that he comports himself like a guy with his heart in the right place and a fair amount of respect for people.

Labels: events, people of note

I love doing the New York Times crossword puzzles and have done since I was in high school, having had the virus enthusiasm passed on to me by mother who did them every day as regularly and necessarily as getting dressed. It's always annoyed one of my siblings that she and I did and enjoyed the Times puzzles while he not only did not particularly enjoy them but also could not do them after Tuesday - patently smarter though he is than we (which I say somewhat, although only somewhat, in jest). My father preferred the (clearly inferior) puzzles in the Daily News and the New York Post - though patently smarter, too, than my mother and me. (Please note that I sincerely hope any rare readers recognize sarcasm and flippancy here, and do not take anything I have said as offensive.)

Of late, my excitement and enthusiasm has increased many times - a hundred fold, Jane A. might say - because two compatriots and I have found each other. They enjoy the puzzles at least as much as I do and do them as furiously and thoroughly. It's so much fun to complete each puzzle and then compare times and specific reactions to words and themes with each other. I haven't enjoyed doing the puzzles this much in years. And, not surprisingly, we share lots of other enthusiasms, too, so our conversations range all over the place and are great fun.

Also, from them I learned about a daily NYT puzzle blog, Rex Parker Does the NYT Crossword Puzzle. This is such an amazing go-to site in that Rex is apparently unable not to finish every single puzzle and then write wittily about it, disrespectful-though-adoring fan that he is. And yesterday I met one of the proprietors of Ryan and Brian Do Crosswords, another fun puzzle site and a terrific resource that's a lot of fun. Both blogs have all manner of great links to other puzzle sites, too. What a wondrous world....

Labels: blogs (others'), fun, puzzles, writing

There was an article in yesterday's NY Times about Greta Van Susteren and Sarah Palin and their husbands. Its point is that the two families have had personal and business interactions while Van Susteren was reporting on the Palins. It poses the question as to whether, when news reporters and news subjects become entwined, in whatever way(s), there may be a huge, dangerous and ominous cavern that sucks down reliable and objective news reporting.

It does seem self-evident that objective reporting is impossible when investigator and investigatee are friends or associates. Of course, 24-hours-around-the-clock coverage demands constant verbiage, which doesn't help.

My personal favorite is Alan Greenspan and his wife (i.e., the woman with whom he presumably shares a bed as well as breakfast and dinner and all manner of casual conversation and intimacy). Andrea Mitchell, premiere NBC news reporter, was his close friend and then his wife for years, all the while he held the country's chief financial post. She wrote hundreds of pieces on politics and the economy and one wonders how any of them could possibly have been neutral or objective. Even more, one wonders why it was never a cause for alarm and the subject of loudly-voiced concerns.

Labels: news, people of note, questions

Watched "The Jane Austen Book Club" since I was in an Austen frame of mind. It's an odd little story and I'm not sure it doesn't strain one's credibility a bit too much but it's kind of charming. It brings an Austen-esque touch to the lives of six people who decide to discuss and (re)read one Austen book each month for six months. It's interesting to see and hear their interpretations of the various characters. Furthermore, it's an astonishing 198 years since the first book was printed and it's almost impossible to believe that the books are so much a part of our social fabric. the plot twists and tie-ups are a bit too tidy but they are faithful to Austen and they're done without too much melodrama.

It's a nice touch to have the characters develop as the characters in the books. To some extent this works because the film is fairly well written. To another it works because the actors are all terrific. The coup de grace is that each actor had to read entirely whichever book his/her character was leading in each month's meeting of the club. Given the literary plot this definittely gave substance to the layers.

The Northanger Abbey play scene is priceless, I have to say, and the subtle references are nice. As in "Clueless," there are verbal and physical references that will become apparent upon subsequent viewings, I feel sure. If I have a discernible quibble, it's mostly that it didn't seem substantial enough. I don't know if the fault likes it too many television actors whose gravitas is thin or if the writing simply lacked depth. It's pleasant and has some pleasant turns but it never quite picks up enough steam for my taste.

Among the main actors, Emily Blunt the most interesting to watch. At the beginning, she is so uptight your eyes hurt. I'm not entirely sure how she shows the transition so effectively. She reminds me of Amanda Root's transformation in my favorite film version of "Persuasion" when she morphs from plain to lovely without a film cut and without any change other than the light in her eyes. Some actresses have remarkable abilities.

Madeleine Peyroux sings "Getting some fun out of life" over the credits at the end of the movie and is a dead ringer for Billie Holliday though a lot less loopy. I can't wait to hear more.

Labels: actors, movies, singing, today's movie, writing

In the last week I've seen two movies whose message about equality between men and women is astonishing the same even though their stories are nearly seventy years apart. It's pretty depressing, actually.

The earlier, released in 1931 and starring Norma Shearer and Robert Montgomery is "Strangers May Kiss" (the title meaning something to the effect that it's all right for men to behave badly - kiss, drink, carouse, keep wives in the dark - but that women may not). Shearer plays Lisbeth, as snappy and independently modern as any women in current films. She believes marriage is outmoded, something women strive for only to be disappointed as their husbands wander or leave and she vows she will not get caught up in such dishonest nonsense. She has two men in her life: Steve (Montgomery), a charming, frivolous, rich playboy who is mad about her and continually asks her to marry him; and Alan (Neil Hamilton), a handsome world-traveling reporter who thrills and woos her while sharing her disdain for marriage and passion for freedom. Smitten with Alan, Lisbeth spends several weeks in Mexico with Alan (and we all know what that means) but when he's called to an assignment, although he declares his undying love for her, he reveals that he is married, albeit unhappily (surprise). She banishes him because of her principles and her unwillingness to throw herself at a married man, then spends three years cavorting around Europe and living wildly (and we are meant to know what that means, too). Eventually, of course, both men re-appear, both wanting to marry her (Alan has divorced his wife) but when Alan learns of her wild behavior he drops her faster than a hot potato, as if a red "A" were emblazoned on her head, his own adultery evidently being beside the point. Steve, ever noble and good (a/k/a not the one any self-respecting heroine could choose) wants to marry her simply because he loves her. In fact, when she explains that Alan has refused to marry her because of her dissolute behavior, Steve even says something to the effect of "why is it all right for us to behave like that if it's not all right for you?" Indeed.

The other film is "Lost in Austen" which stars Jemima Rooper and Eliot Cowan, two comely Brits, and a bevy of familiar faces. It's the story of a 21st century Londoner who enjoys reading "Pride and Prejudice" more than living her own life, partly informed by the luscious Colin Firth (Darcy) and Jennifer Ehle (Elizabeth) version. Elizabeth Bennett slips through a bathroom wall into a modern apartment (okay, there's an element of science fiction but it's just a tiny one, more a suspension of disbelief) and convinces Amanda Price (Jemima Rooper) to switch with her. Amanda goes back through the wall and joins the Bennett household at the beginning of the familiar story. (As an aside, Hugh Bonneville is terrific as Mr. Bennett, perhaps the best characterization in the film, close to Lindsay Duncan's Lady Catherine and in great contrast to Alex Kingston' excessively shrill Mrs. Bennett. The most amusing change/twist is handsome Mr. Wickham turning out to have been completely misrepresented by Jane Austen.) Anyway, this 2008 film has it that Elizabeth becomes captivated by the modern world and Amanda by the 19th century or, more accurately, by Darcy, who in turn falls head over heels for Amanda . . . until he learns that she has had an active social life (we know what that means) at which point he abandons her for Bingley's twirpy sister.

Both films work things out in the end, of course, because happy endings trump social conventions in most romantic films. And it's almost the same message in both films - Shearer convinces Hamilton that she has never stopped loving him and that her "misbehavior" was only a way of surviving without him and that she will never stray again (no such promise from him, needless to say). Amanada convinces Darcy that she has thought and dreamed only of him and wanted only him even when she was with other men - and if he fails to realize that she read about him at 12 and therefore it was truly him she dreamt of, well, so be it.

But I find it astonishing that there is still such a powerful assumption that it's all right to disapprove when women are wild but perfectly reasonable for men. It's sad that dismay makes sense in a 2008 movie when a woman has led an active social life - that she is still seen as ruined and untouchable in some way although a man can have spent as much familiar time with many women. How can there have been so little change from 1811 to 1931 to 2008? Since movies vividly show the social mores of a time, I look forward to movies (soon, I hope) showing we have stopped labeling and judging men and women differently or even at all.

Labels: mores, movies, today's movie

If Dial Idol is right - and it has been correct this season every time I've checked - the voting difference between Kris Allen and Adam Lambert was 61.14 for Allen and 60.04 for Lambert. On the other hand, Idol Blog's 6000+ voters have it 51% for Lambert and 49% for Allen. The logical conclusion is that it's really really really really really close.

Which means that - as they will do anyway - the producers have the ultimate vote. As anyone who's watched the show for very long knows, it all depends on who they think will be the more reliable money-winner. I suppose Carrie Underwood is the ideal, if record sales and revenue are the measure, but whether that means calm and pleasant Allen or wild and pleasant Lambert, who knows. The producers seemed to annoint Lambert early and thoroughly, leading me to think they want to edge up their image, in which case it will be Lambert. But I may be wrong.

For a different take on the match-up, read Stephen Holden's article in the NYT this week. His points seem utterly ridiculous to me because, for one thing, they smack of academic English classes penchant for finding wildly symbolic meanings where none really exist. And they also reek of judgmentalism and assumed homophoia as well as disdain. I truly think we're all way beyond caring about a singer's sexual preference, for heaven's sake, don't you? And might not someone dislike someone's singing simply because they don't like it, not because they're homophobic and dislike eyeliner on men? And might not someone dislike someone's singing simply because they don't like it, not because they dislike whatever they think young white guys from Arkansas are like? Holden's piece is a nasty piece of journalism run wildly amok and deliberately and bogusly (is that a word?) stirring up controversy where none exists.

Labels: A.I.2009, tv

I Tivo'd a bunch of Dr. Kildare movies recently, the ones with Lew Ayres and Lionel Barrymore as the young idealistic Kildare and his grumpy brilliant advisor Gillespie. Both men are intelligent and instinctively wise diagnosticians who steer themselves with a stern moral compass, motivated by decency and compassion. They make an almost perfect two sides of a proverbial coin, visually and textually, one smooth and gentle, the other gruff and sarcastic. And they're both quintessential type-A workaholics who live in the hospital because going back and forth to other residences would waste so much time.

The Kildare films hold up surprisingly well to our oh-so-sophisticated modern standards, needing only a dash of suspended disbelief for outdated morals and social expectations. The language is not at all archaic although some of the stock characters are different than current ones. But when Gillespie burst out with a short speech about knowing a time will come when health care will be as basic to people's rights as are food and shelter (sound familiar?!), I realized they are mainly dated by literal timing, not by sensitivities.

Kildare's parents are fonts of extraordinarily modern wisdom. They are also gracious and far less concerned about their son's prestige and financial success than that he determine and do the right thing. Their advice generally is that he rely on his inner instincts because he will know what the right thing is to do.

I especially enjoy his mother's self-assurance and her cheerfully-given advice to her son. She always knows what's going on with him and always has something forthright to say to him. When he is smitten by a young and adorable Lana Turner - a bad-girl-with-heart-of-gold love interest before the Larraine Day character took front and center in Kildare' heart for the duration of the series - his unusual mother advises him to plunge in and marry her right away because "if it isn't going to work then you find out quickly and haven't wasted much time but if it is going to work then you have that much more time together." How about that?

Ayres' eyes always twinkled and he often seemed faintly bemused. He easily and comfortably inhabited every character he played and seemed totally involved with the people and circumstances around him, as did Lionel Barrymore. Both Barrymore and he were such good actors that it was hard to realize at times that they weren't actually the people we see on film. And Ayres is awfully nice from an eye candy point of view, to boot, and so at ease with himself.

My mother introduced me to Ayres' Dr. Kildare when I was young and impressionable. We would swoon together as he smiled and cajoled his way through things. As a result, in some ways it is he I check gorgeous and sexy against. Could be worse frames of reference, right?

The Dr. Kildare series began in 1938 and continued for about five years and ten films. In addition to them, Ayres made over 150 films including All Quiet on the Western Front which won the 1930 Best Oscar, Donovan's Brain which is one of my favorite campy fun scifis, Johnny Belinda which won the 1948 Golden Globe best film and co-starred Jane Wyman who won the Best Actress Oscar and Holiday which is one of my favorite of the risqué and wild late-thirties films as Ayres plays Kate Hepburn's ne'er-do-well brother and Gary Grant's ultimate benefactor to Hepburn's Philadelphia-Story-esque lead.

In Johnny Belinda, by the way, Aryes was nominated as Best Actor (losing to Lawrence Olivier for Hamlet - the same year that Barbara Bel Geddes lost Best Supporting Actress to Claire Trevor for Key Largo, which is another subject for another day). Hollywood lore has it that Wyman fell madly in love with Ayres during the filming of Johnny Belinda and left her husband (some fellow named Ronald Reagan) to be with Ayres, but they never married.

Ayres appeared and starred in films and television during the fifties and sixties and a bit in the seventies but never earned the fame and adulation one would think he deserved - although he does have two stars on the Walk of Fame. He was a matinee idol who was determined to do some good. He refused to fight in WWII and eventually garnering conscientious objector status and performed medical relief work. Today he wouldn't be at particularly unusual to combine good looks with fame with social action, but fifty-plus years ago his concerns and his determination to do something about them were ridiculed and hurt his career.

I've often heard/read that he was invited to play Dr. Kildare on television, not surprisingly, but he said he wouldn't do it unless there was no cigarette sponsorship and the network refused, so he declined to play the good doctor (lucky for Richard Chamberlain). He was an active follower of Eastern spirituality and wrote, directed and produced Altars of the World in the late seventies; it won several awards including a Golden Globe but got little viewership because distributors thought it was too odd for a movie star to proselytize spirituality. Considering Tim Robbins, Sean Penn, Vanessa Redgrave, Gwyneth Paltrow, etc., as well as the ban on cigarette advertising on tv, it's safe to say that individuality, social awareness and tolerance have improved a lot in the last half-century.

Anyway, this is my tribute. Brought on by, and thanks to, Tivo and memory. I hope at least one person who never saw any of his films will now watch and enjoy.

Labels: actors, people of note

Not surprising that Starbucks has an interactive site, I suppose, but it is more interesting and fun that I expected. Here.

Labels: food, websites

One of my favorite possessions at home is my magnet poetry. I don't use it all that often but random word juxtapositions are almost always surprisingly interesting.

So it turns out there's a Twitter version of magnet poetry called twitter magnets and it's a lot of fun. You get the requisite 140 characters to play with - move around, change, reassemble, etc. - and you can post the result to their twitter page anonymously or with your i.d. I'm afraid it's more addictive than using the physical magnets (sorry, fridge) perhaps because of the keyboard immediacy, and the results are a blast.

Labels: poetry, twitter

I've been checking out Twitter the last couple of days and I have to say that I like it. I don't know why exactly and I'm not sure what it's really all about but I like it. Regular websites seem a bit stodgy and sluggish now. Must partly be the immediacy and quickness, precisely what I thought would put me off. It functions well though there are some glitches, like you don't see all the icons of the people/things you're following if you log in one way whereas you do see them all if you log in differently, and while search works efficiently it's dependent on using search words that are in the tweets you want to find (like all searches). With a mere 140 characters available, it's easier to see whether you want to read something or not, of course. And there's a certain level of you're on your own. And there's lots of garbage and silliness. But it's pretty useful and cool, at least at first glances.

Labels: twitter

Billy Joel, John Ashcroft and Dante . . . all celebrating birthdays today. I suppose we don't know if they celebrate such pedestrian things as birthdays where Dante is, but I kind of hope they do since he's 744-years-old. He and John Brown could toast each other and their intense passion for convincing others of things. John's a baby, though, only barely 200 years old (209 to be exact). And they could invite James Barrie, creator of Nana and Captain Hook and all the little Darlings, to join them even though he's a mere 160 today. I rather like it that Barbara Wodehouse who conveyed her passions about good dogs shares the day with them all. And the passionate Daniel Berrigan who maybe was not as charming as the others but surely believed as wholeheartedly and with all the force of his convictions (no pun intended, well maybe it was). And the wonderful British actors Joan Sims and Albert Finney both of whom convey passion magnificently. Oh, and Ralph Boston who won a bazillion Olympic medals in the long jump; watching him jump kind of ruined it for me for anyone else because of his unique combination of grace and intensity thus embodying the hallmark of today's birthday people. Quite a day.

Labels: anniversaries, people of note

Love this from Will Durant: To say nothing, especially when speaking, is half the art of diplomacy. I will admit that I loathe it when people say nothing when they're talking to me, but I like the concept at least if it's used judiciously.

Labels: writing

If a plan has been agreed upon, why is there no news on it? With several million people's pocketbooks in serious jeopardy, why aren't print and visual media demanding a fix? There have been no editorials, no diatribes, nothing. Or do the media people know it's all being plotted behind closed doors and we shouldn't fret, just wait it out? It's hard not to feel this is all highly scripted for showing off the muscles of the MTA, first, and the legislature, second. I'm not sure whose reputation it helps because no one is coming off very well....

Labels: headlines, transportation

The NYS legislature supposedly has worked out a plan to keep commuter fare increases to a dull roar this year, namely 10% as opposed to the insane and usurious 28% they were proposing. At the rental rates we pay in mid-state, that means paying $404 a month (not $471) and I should be relieved. But paying four hundred dollars just to get my feet from home to work still seems appalling. Something is wrong. It's not any news that income and expenses are wildly disparate, but I wish there was a recourse. Other than finding a rich husband or robbing a bank or engaging in the oldest profession (which wouldn't get me much considering my age and looks or lack thereof) or selling all my earthly possessions (which wouldn't net all that much, come to think of it). If anyone has a brilliant or even just a practical suggestion for how to increase income by, say, 15-20 percent, please pass it on.

Labels: daily life

Realizing as I do that I watch an inordinate amount of television, way too much by the measure that my emotional responses sometimes blur the line between life and tales, nevertheless I found myself distressed when Molly was snatched by that revolting Sam guy on The Unit. He is really perfect casting insofar as he looks like a scary and loose canon of whom one should be exceedingly wary. But he is actually too creepy. Makes me want to change channels except that I am too interested in everyone else.

But then, her dreadful ordeal only moments behind her, Molly decides she's had enough. Now she's had enough?! Wait a minute! Wasn't it she herself who deliberately flouted what everyone told her not to do? Didn't she consciously and deliberately continue hobnobbing with Mrs. Drake on the presumed theory that she knew best? How is it fair for her to cause all that trouble and then, in effect, blame the unit and Jonas?

Unless, of course, it's all parallax.... (see my movie post tomorrow).

Labels: tv, wirting