Monthly Archives: December 2011

Review: Hugo

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Talk about unexpected.

Yesterday, good fiend Tom Hanks and I went to see the new Martin Scorsese film, Hugo.

Based on the children’s book The Invention of Hugo Cabret, the story centers around an orphaned son of a clock maker who lives secretly within the walls of the clock towers in a busy 1930s Paris train station. He keeps the clocks running during the day, and by night, works to solve a mystery — one directly tied to the father he misses so much — locked inside a non-functioning automaton his dad found rotting in a museum.

This is not a children’s film, in that there are no blazing special effects (although the CG and 3D were masterfully done), and actually very little extended dialogue. Things are left for the viewer to discover; to experience; to pull from the tale’s framework. It is a touching, moving and tender story of a sad little boy with a heart full of love and a penchant for adventure, and no one to share it with, until that one day…

The casting, typical of Scorsese, is flawless. The child actors are completely effective: no pandering or becoming tiresome. The somewhat sparse script, while a bit slow to start, wastes not a single word. Ben Kingsley, Sacha Baron Cohen and Christopher Lee are brilliantly believable. The colors in the cinematography are not to be believed, however. Seriously, the photography will knock you out. The only way to drive that point home is to provide some stills, taken from the movie’s website:

~

You simply must see this film. Not only is it cinegraphically (is that a word?) and verbally beautiful, but there’s a fantastic side-story surprise buried about halfway through, in the form of a delightfully entertaining, visually stunning history of filmmaking and film preservation — a subject near and dear to Scorsese’s heart.

On the Rat-O-Meter scale of five cheeses, I give Hugo:

Great movie, great company, great afternoon. Done and done.

Now it’s on to the insanity of the next 72 hours. We shall overcome……………………..

FO

See, here’s the thing.

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It’s all over Facebook:  the latest indignant foot stomp about the whole “Merry Christmas” vs. “Happy Holidays” thing. Behold the official RtB stance:

I say “merry Christmas.” I say “happy holidays.” Why does it have to be one and not the other? What’s wrong with saying “happy Hanukkah” to a Jewish person, or “blessed Kwanzaa” to an African American, or “good winter solstice” to a religiously unaffiliated friend? What’s the big hairy deal? Is America not the great tossed salad, where liberty — both secular and sacred — reigns? So the government would rather we use generic terms to describe this time of year. Yeah, so? It’s part and parcel of the free society. People who make you feel guilty over saying “merry Christmas” are not “making” you feel guilty; you’re allowing them to make you feel guilty. So, don’t. Somebody dissing your beliefs? It happens all the time. Don’t give them the time of day.

Do you feel ooky at the fact that we all sing “White Christmas,” even though its composer was Jewish? It didn’t matter to Irving Berlin, fiends, so it shouldn’t matter to us. Life’s too short.

And for those who constantly yammer about how the “founding fathers” did things…I say HA to you. If I had the time, I would go into more detail about some of the practices in which our “founding fathers” engaged. It might make some think twice. But it’s all about selectivity, isn’t it? We like this or that rule, so we’ll pick the ones we want and ignore the rest.

Buuuuuuuuuuut….it’s time for me to wake up the Js and get them gussied for their CHRISTMAS program at church this morning. :-)

Merry Christkwanzakkah solstice!

Checking in again

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All right, fiends — how is your weekend shaping up?

Last night, the Thriller and I went to M-town to get a few things, and ended up going to five different places, including a stop we rarely make: the mall.

At that mall is a lovely store in which I could spend the better part of a day (and of my paycheck): yikes. But I managed to escape with only this new little toy, and God bless the Thriller, he bought me a new griddle, which I’m not even sure will fit on my tiny little kitchen counter top. S’ok — I’ll use it on the dining room table. Kidding. :-)

The Js arrive tonight for a fun sleepover, which means I have got to get to work today. So little to do, so much time. Stop. Wait. Reverse that.

Happy Saturday! I’m off to check off the list.

Should you fancy a story…

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…you only need go as far as your nearest music-playing contraption.

Recently, one of my students told me he didn’t know who James Taylor was. Is. Well we can’t have that. So last night, I took a break from all the craziness, called up the 60+ JT tunes off my hard drive, and made him a “mixtape.” The hardest part was deciding which 20 or so to choose.

As I spent the better part of two hours listening and reliving countless memories, I was reminded of why I contend that he is one of the greatest storytellers of my generation — if not the greatest.

While his 1992 New Moon Shine project is my all-time favorite album of stories, there are a dozen songs that easily rank at the top of the “awesome” list. His lyrics know no convention; it’s impossible to pigeonhole him, which I think is fantastic.

From recalling a lost love…

Took a fall from a windy height;
I only knew how to hold on tight
And pray for love enough to last all night (Copperline, New Moon Shine)

To great personal loss…

Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone.
Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you. (Fire and Rain, Sweet Baby James)

To taking quiet delight in a special love…

If I’m feeling down and blue, or troubled by some foolish game;
She always seems to make me change my mind (Something in the Way She Moves, James Taylor)

To clever wordplay…

Don’t be leavin’ me now;
Believe in me now (Only One, That’s Why I’m Here)

…it’s magic.

Having read much about him (most recently in this book), I believe he can tell great stories because he’s known profound joy, sorrow and internal struggle. He spent time in a psychiatric hospital on more than one occasion, did his share of living carelessly, and lost himself in drug addiction. Having come out alive on the other side, he has all the more reason to tell tales — and lucky for us, he’s an incredibly talented singer and guitar player as well.

So choose any one of his albums, or just go to Pandora or Spotify, and lose yourself for an hour or so.

Hmm, two nostalgic music posts in as many days. What does this mean, Yoda?