The Lovely Susan

My mother - and probably your mother and maybe you and almost definitely Carol Brady - always said: If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. As I have no desire to (further) disappoint my mother (or yours, or you, or most definitely Carol Brady) here is my review of the movie The Lovely Bones.

Susan Sarandon rocks. She rocked as Louise. She was a bangin' Banger sister. I worship at the altar of the virgin(ish) Janet Weiss - A Heroine (and slut).

And she brought Grandma Lynn to life in The Lovely Bones. She represented everything I - as a girl only slightly younger than the lead character in this movie in the early '70's when it took place - found glamorous, sophisticated, and wonderful. She wore furs and huge sunglasses. Her hair was ratted to the sky. She smoked cigarettes and drank whiskey, neat. She cussed and talked frankly about sex. And she turned out to be the glue that held her family together. I love her so much. Wait - you might be asking - who do you love? Susan Sarandon or Grandma Lynn? But that's acting, isn't it? Because they became one and the same.

Also, Marky Mark is still very cute.

Oh - and a lot of the imagery was very pretty.

And that's about all the nice things that I can come up with to say about the movie The Lovely Bones.

Ask me about the book upon which it was based and I will wax rhapsodic.

Now, I'm gonna go back and watch that clip from Rocky Horror again. And yes, I'll be commenting to the screen. But I won't throw rice at the laptop (again). I learned THAT lesson. Skip The Lovely Bones. Rent Thelma and Louise or The Banger Sisters instead. Better yet, buy The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Mom might not approve, but I for one always left with good things to say.

It's Complicated

For many years now going out en masse as an extended family to a movie on Christmas evening has been traditional in our family. It's always interesting trying to find something that will appeal to everyone and compromises are always made. This year my youngest daughter and one of my more morally conservative cousins were the ones who found themselves compromising. We decided - and mostly agreed - on 'It's Complicated'. (and we didn't actually make it until the day after Christmas, but that's neither here nor there) It was a cute little flick and a big ole check in the win column for middle-aged women. Plus, Alec Baldwin is kind of like John Travolta for me - old, young, fat, trim, it's all good... (And for those of you who saw it - we're having Croque Monseur and mixed greens with a balsamic viniagrette for dinner tonight with warm chocolate croissants for dessert. I have high hopes.)

As the love lives of our heroes became more and more complex (as the title of the film implies) I thought about how all of us could probably take that title and apply it to our lives. In my case, my love life is blissfully uncomplicated - so my story would be different - but no less complicated.

My girls and I are babysitting this week. We're watching a thoroughly delightful toddler. My youngest has never spent much time around people smaller than herself. She asked, after our first day, "So - taking care of a toddler is really just about making them happy all the time, right?"

I told her that there were basically three priorities:

1. Keep them safe.
2. Make them happy.
3. Keep them happy.

Nothing complicated about that. I remembered when my own girls were that age and those were my priorities. So simple - but it didn't always feel simple. Uncomplicated doesn't always equal easy.

Keeping my girls safe and happy are still my priorities; things haven't changed that much I suppose. Just like when they were toddlers, the things I need to keep them safe from are often the things that hold the most appeal for them. Just like when they were toddlers, when I stop them from doing something potentially dangerous, I am bad and mean. Quite often - just like when they were toddlers - there are tears. (sometimes the tears are even theirs...) Sometimes - just like when they were toddlers - keeping them safe precludes making them happy in the short run.

Unlike when they were toddlers, though, I can't keep an eye on them all the time. They spend more time every year out in the big wide world where I can't keep them safe and where they're free to make their own happiness. I have to trust that I've taught them well enough to make good choices. Sometimes they show me that I have - and I am so proud in those moments. Sometimes, however, they make decisions that horrify me. Does this mean that I haven't taught them well enough? Or does there come a point where their decisions are a reflection on them alone and not on me and my parenting skills? I imagine if there is such a point, it's not yet. They are still so tangled up in me and my identity is still so tangled up in them.

Keep them safe and happy.

It's simple.

It's complicated.

Seen Any Good Movies Lately?

I love to go to the movies. I mean, I love movies in general, but I really love to go to the movies.

My love affair did not start young. The first movie I saw in the theater was Snow White. No, not in 1937, smart-ass, it was a revival. Sheesh. Disney does that, you know. I don't know how old I was, but I must've been quite young, as I have no recollection of it. As the story goes, though, my mom had offered to take me and several of my cousins to a matinee. Because she is clinically insane. I was the youngest of the brood, and at the first sign of the Wicked Witch I was in her lap, sobbing, and begging to go home. She would've probably obliged if it was just us, but my cousins were all into it, so she tried to keep me as subdued as possible. My first movie theater experience was something less enjoyed and more survived. Go figure, my mom didn't take me to the movies much after that. (And Snow White remains my absolutely least favorite of all the Disney movies. After all those dwarves did for her, all she could do was wave 'good-bye! good bye!' as she left them in the woods for her palacial life with the much taller, much more handsome prince. Snow White? You give love - and women - a bad name.)

Fast forward to Jr. High. THIS is where the love affair really begins. I went to the movies with my girlfriends ALL the time, often taking up a full row and more than once being shushed for giggling too loud. We saw revivals then, too - Gone With the Wind and Dr. Zhivago come to mind. Perfect fits for Jr. High girls sense of angst and drama.

As life moved on, I went in and out of phases. Sometimes I'd see several movies a week; sometimes I wouldn't see a movie for a month or two.

When I first met Tom, we went to the movies about twice a week. He'd pay once, I'd pay once. It seemed nicer that way than dutch treat. We saw everything - twice if we liked it. We saw funny movies and dramatic movies and scary movies and action movies. We saw blockbusters and indies. We saw truly wonderful movies and truly awful movies. We were completely indiscriminate.

When the girls were babies, we would go to the movies when my parents came to visit. I would hit that dark theater, as a sleep-deprived mom, and fall asleep before the previews for coming attractions were over. Tom never woke me, either, just gave me a gentle nudge if I snored or drooled. So I loved the movies then, too, but for a very different reason. Two hours of guaranteed uninterrupted sleep. Nice.

Then, of course, the kids came along and all of that changed. Videos ruled. Going to the movies became an event. And when we DID go to the movies, there was usually animation and/or talking animals involved.

Now, though - now our kids like cool movies. Now they like the sort of movies we like to see. Now, of course, they just want dropped off at the theater. Now, of course, we are a wallet on wheels. That's as it should be. It's their turn to take up a whole row with their girlfriends and be shushed for giggling too loud. Still...

(I started this post as a means to tell you about the two movies we saw this weekend (Whip It and Zombieland), but never quite fit that in. Oh well. Perhaps another time.)

Warming Up (That's Hot)

The Donnas - every single Donna (none of whom are named Donna) were all born in 1979. I know this because Tom looked it up. Tom could tell you their whole history. I know, 'cause he told me. When the squealy fanboy bug bit him, it bit hard. My first reaction to hearing this was, "Holy crap! I'm old enough to have been their unwed teenaged mother!" (You know, because having a child at seventeen is feasible, but marrying the boy I was dating when I was seventeen? I shudder.) My second and more prevalent reaction was, "They're THIRTY?" Because from the sixth row not one of them looked old enough to drink a legal beer. Third thought? Thank God they're thirty, because the thought of Tom getting so hot and bothered over teenagers was a little unnerving.

How cool are her pink bass strings? How cool is it that we were close enough to see her pink bass strings?

Our introduction to The Donnas came when we watched the special features included on the Detroit Rock City DVD. If you're waiting for me to apologize for or justify liking Detroit Rock City, I sure hope you're comfortable, 'cause that's not going to happen any time soon. Anyway. Here was this cute, young, girl band in KISS face make-up singing 'Strutter', rocking hard, and clearly having a ball. Not one thing wrong with that.

When The Donnas took the stage (For a mere four songs. That's how it goes when you're the warm-up band for not one but two icons.) Tom was on his feet for the whole short set. Most folks were not. MOST folks had not even showed up yet. When the set was over, he was all smiles. "I KNOW she saw me, Tam. SHE saw me and APPRECIATED me."

"She liked you, stud. Ain't no doubt."

They would've been great opening for Joan Jett. But then Tom's head might have exploded.

Next up? Pat Benatar and Blondie. And I'm still in the sixth row, center. Yeah.

Read to Me

When Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (or Philosopher's Stone, depending on your geography) came out - on video - we watched it with the girls. Before that they had shown no interest in the franchise. After that dementors couldn't keep us away. We acquired all of the books that had been released at that time, but since they were above the girls reading level, Tom read them aloud to us chapter by chapter.

Did he do voices and accents?

What do you think?

I sat on the loveseat, knitting. Lea curled up with Tom on the couch, watching the process of reading the words she couldn't quite make out independently yet. Liv either sat at the other end of the couch or laid on her belly on the floor.

We were all utterly enchanted. Under a spell, you might even say, if you were the sort of person prone to saying things like that.

He would finish the chapter and say, "Tomorrow's chapter is titled _____". Then he would raise his eyebrows and close the book with a great flourish amid pleas from the three of us for just one more chapter pleeeeeeeease! If the next chapter was on the shorter side, or if the evening was on the earlier side, sometimes we managed to get him to acquiesce. Usually, though, one chapter was it. We were left longing for the next installment the way I imagine kids in the early days of movies longed for the next installment of their weekly cliff-hangers.

When Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was released in the theater, we went to a matinee on opening weekend.

When Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was released in the book stores, we thought the girls were old enough to stay up for a midnight release. We got to the bookstore around ten. There were elaborate costumes and lots of games and activities. My mom had recently made both of them cloaks that were really lovely. They were having a lot of fun until they weren't. By the time they weren't, however, it was very close to midnight and Tom and I decided we'd made it this far, we weren't going home now. As soon as they started queuing people up Tom got in line and I took the girls to the car, where they promptly fell asleep, clutching their wands.

What a sober, tired little witch!

After that we hit every midnight release of a book or a movie. There was something special about not only being among the first to experience it, but also about sharing that experience with other fans.

By the time Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was released, the girls were old enough to read on their own. They no longer wanted it parceled out chapter by chapter, so several copies were purchased. I was a little bit sad, because I'd really enjoyed having the stories read to me.

I had a student teacher once who told me I'd intimidated her. She said that in every other placement she'd ever had, when she read a story to the children, the classroom teacher had used that as an opportunity to catch up on their work. I sat down, chin in hands, and listened to the story. She said she felt like I was judging her. When I quickly explained that I just really really enjoyed being read to and that she was an excellent storyteller/reader she relaxed considerably.

I tentatively asked Tom if he would continue reading it aloud. "The girls don't want that anymore" he protested.

"This girl does."

So he did.

Sure do wish I could be there for the midnight opening of the Wizarding World of Harry Potter themed park at Universal Studios Islands of Adventure next year. (Because SURELY there will be a midnight opening!!!) But we'll be there before it's a year old, I imagine.

The girls have grown a lot since 2005.

I guess we'll be needing new cloaks.

Now a Major Motion Picture

My daughter has a T-shirt that reads: Movies - Ruining the Book Since 1920.

She gets it. I should amend that. She gets it the same way I get it.

Because every time I hear about a beloved book being turned into a movie I get excited. I am old enough to know better. Once bitten, twice shy - that's the way it's supposed to go, isn't it? But I still get excited every. single. time.

Even when it turns out well, the movie still just serves as a nice supplement to the book. My daughter is reading The Outsiders for school right now. I know she'll love the movie, but I am so grateful that she'll be seeing it only AFTER having read the book. Movies are a nice little 2 hour visit with the stories we love. Kind of like looking through a photo album is a nice little way to revisit a favorite time. It's a nice reminder. But it's not the real thing.

I can remember a time when casting Interview With the Vampire was a game played by many. I played it with strangers in bars, once a mutual love of the book was established. Everyone had their picks. NO-one picked Tom Cruise. It seemed like such a ridiculous choice. And then it went ahead and worked. Who'da thunk?

More recently I've heard people in certain circles discussing casting choices for Water for Elephants in a similar manner. I'm staying out of it. (Unless someone wants to play! Then I'm totally in!)

A few years ago I read The Memory Keeper's Daughter and really enjoyed it. I thought it would make a great movie and was pleased when I heard it was in production. Then I found out it was going to be a made for TV movie. Wellllll that's ok, I reasoned, Brian's Song was a made for TV movie... Then I heard it was going to be a Lifetime made for TV movie. My optimism wavered a little at that point. But I watched it anyway. Much to my chagrin. A couple hours of my life I'll never get back. What a pile of sentimental drivel. How did they take such a lovely book and turn it into - that? It was dreadful.

My daughter and I recently had the same experience with The Tale of Despereaux. She loved the book. I loved the book. We marked the calendar for the release date. We watched the trailers. The characters looked great. We could. not. wait. My husband and my other daughter had not read the book. We both encouraged them to. "It's great! You'll love it!" The movie came out before they had a chance. The movie was - awful. We were so disappointed. Leaving the theater the two who had not read the book were looking at us like, "Really? You loved THAT? REALLY?" Well, no, as a matter of fact, we didn't. Despite our telling them that it was almost nothing like the book, neither of them will be reading that any time soon, guarantee.

It shouldn't matter - but it does. It somehow cheapened it.

Sometimes the movie is a beautiful complement to the book. The Kite Runner is an excellent recent example of this, as is The Namesake. Neither was terribly successful, as far as movies go. For what that's worth.

Fight Club amazed me. I couldn't imagine how they were going to make that one into a movie, but they did and it worked BIG time and it accomplished what I always HOPE will be accomplished by this. Folks who aren't big on reading see the movie - interest is piqued - they pick up the book - they look for more by the same author - it's a beautiful cycle, when it works. Movies - GOOD movies - can bring a whole new crowd of people to reading. (more on my thoughts on Chuck Palahniuk's books to movies here.)

A much better example of this is the Harry Potter series. Sure, the first book was wildly popular before the first movie. But AFTER the movie? Forget about it. Kids were READING! Kids were standing in line at midnight for the next installment! Kids and a LOT of grown-ups (jumps up and down, raises hand, "oooh-oooh's" like Arnold Horschack) - because a good read is a good read. (And yes, our calendar is indeed marked for July 17. Our local theater already has it on the marquee. Do you think it's too early to inquire about tickets?)

Do you have a book to movie story? One you loved? One that broke your heart? One you're eagerly anticipating?

Foxy

Liv came down for breakfast and I told her her hair looked pretty (because it totally did - it amazes me almost daily that I managed to spawn two children with good hair). She responded by putting two curled fingers on either side of her head and saying, "Foxy". A la Wayne's World. (party time! excellent!) I laughed out loud. She said the humor I found in it was disproportionate to the humor she had intended by her simple gesture. (Okay, she really didn't say that. But it was conveyed. In a glance. You're gonna have to trust me on this one.) I told her that I'd just never expected my child who was born in 1997 to be referencing a movie that was made in 1992 referencing a song from 1967.

But wait, there's more:

We sat down to breakfast. Pancakes. I asked if she was going to have more, as I started to clear the table. She told me to go ahead and clear them. I said, "Well, if you change your mind..." and before I could indicate where I was putting them she chimed in, "I'll be first in line..." laughing and in unison we continued, "baby I'm still free...take a chance on me..." Anyone who knows either of us knows that by this point we were dancing in the kitchen as we cleared up our breakfast dishes, "if you need me, let me know, and I'll be around...if you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down..."

Our kids are destined (doomed) to be the pop-culture geeks that we are. I guess there are worse things they could do. And if - in your head - you felt a compulsion to finish that line with: "than go with a boy, or two" - then I think you know you're okay in my book.

Feels Like the First Time

This mornings channel surfing found Lea and I landing on "Carrie". It had commercial interruptions and was edited for TV. Even given those two undesirable and annoying facts, it was really good.

Really, really good.

That's one of those movies that I just forget how darn good it is until I see it again. Just really, really well done. And it's stood the test of time - perhaps becoming even more relevant rather than less. The only "dated" aspect that took Lea out of it for a moment was the 70's gym shorts and tube socks. It wasn't enough of a distraction to keep her out of it for long. The music, the use of slow motion, the dreamy quality, the colors - my goodness, it all just adds up to a darn near perfect movie. I almost added "for its genre", but decided that qualification wasn't really necessary. Good is good.

I love when that happens.

You know it's good. You say it's good anytime anyone brings it up; then when you see/hear/read it again, it just knocks you on your ass the same way it did the first time.

"Smells Like Teen Spirit" does that to me every. single. time.

The Philly skyline (driving in from the west). Takes my breath away.

"Big Fish".

What could you see/hear/read a thousand times and still have it feel fresh and wonderful every time? I'm not talking nostalgia here. There are any number of songs/movies that make me feel all warm and fuzzy because of the associations I've consciously and subconsciously made with them. I'm talking about the stuff that's really just. that. good.

Anticipation

You know that moment when you go to a live show, that moment when the lights go down and you know the show you've been waiting for is gonna happen RIGHT NOW? At concerts that's the moment when you SCREAM REAL LOUD!!! At musicals and plays and ballets and the opera (yes, I've been to ballets and the opera. You don't know everything about me, smartypants) it's that moment when your throat gets tight and your eyes start to burn and you hope you don't whimper out loud. You know that moment. It's a wonderful, almost magical moment - so full of both anticipation and the release of anticipation.

I had that moment yesterday when we went to see "Choke" and the trailers were over (I do love me some trailers! Is that so wrong? "Milk" - welcome to my eagerly anticipated list!) and I'd been warned about not providing my own soundtrack (which is fine and all, but I miss the dancing snack foods and the hot dog jumping into the bun...) - then - opening credits. The movie I'd been eagerly (major understatement) anticipating since I learned of its existence was getting ready to start. Not a clip, not a trailer, I was gonna spend the next hour and a half with Victor Mancini.

My boundless love for Chuck Palahniuk has been well documented. I went into this movie prepared to love it, and I did. I might not have been completely unbiased.

But I've gotten ahead of myself. I knew the movie was opening this weekend and - since it was such a huge deal for me - I assumed it was a huge deal. Being the center of the universe that I am and all. Ahem. So I was surprised to learn that it wasn't playing at my local multi-plex and that I was going to have to go a little closer to the city to see it. Not a huge deal, but telling. I could have, however, seen "The House Bunny" at my local theater. So. Yeah. Whatever.

As we were driving to the theater I had mixed feelings about realizing that something I knew I was gonna dig so much was not gonna play well to the mainstream. On one hand, I was pissed at the world for not grokking Chuck's greatness and the inevitable greatness attached to anything based on his work. (Goodness, I'm veering into crazy stalker fan-lady territory. And I get on my daughter about her obsession with all things "Twilight"...) On the other hand, it made me cherish it even more. I think the easiest comparison would be this: You fall in love with an obscure little band. When they make it big (or even kind of make it a little) you get very proprietary - I knew them before it was cool to like them. You get a little snobbish and smug about it. Admit it - we all do it.

And that's how cult-classics are born. Songs, bands, movies. I wish I could say I was a "Rocky Horror" fan from the beginning, but it already had a full-fledged cult following when I jumped on board. I'd still feel justified wearing an "I was doing this before you were born" shirt to a show, though. There's something snobbish and smug about that, too, no?

Anyway.

That's what I realized this fucked-up-Chuck stuff is destined to be. His official fan site is even called "The Cult". That should've tipped me off...

Soooo we get to the theater. We have the kids with us, "Igor" was playing at the same time and had a similar running time, so we sent them off to that while we went to finally see "Choke". You should've seen the usher crack up when the 4 of us walked in, happy family that we are, and he looked at our tickets with our quite different destinations printed on them. We just may have made his day.

Anyway, I'm not a movie reviewer, so I won't attempt a serious review. It didn't follow the book faithfully, but it hit all the notes I needed it to hit. And one thing I consistently love about a smaller indie movie, as opposed to a big blockbuster (which I could've seen at my local theater) is how REAL the people look. The cast was attractive, but in the way people you see on the street are attractive, not the way we expect Hollywood movie stars to be attractive. I remember "Se7en" losing a little something for me because of the perfection of Brad and Gwyneth's teeth. I could picture a blue collar young couple being good looking, certainly, but there's no way in hell a blue collar young couple had teeth like that. But I digress. (what? me? no!)

I loved the movie and was sad when it was over. YM, however, MV. It's not for everyone. Sometimes I picture Chuck putting all of these various life experiences in a hat and then pulling them out randomly and saying, "I'm gonna write a book about this". If that were the case with "Choke" some of those slips of paper drawn from the hat may have read: sex addiction (depicted a little too graphically for some, perhaps), colonial reenactments (interestingly enough, something that came up last time Tom and a couple of our friends and I were trying to decide what Christopher Guest's next mockumentary should cover), dementia, cloning, grifters...

It's ugly and dirty and sad and funny and just a little teeny tiny bit sweet every now and then. I laughed, I cried, it became a part of me.

Now let's bring some of those other Chuck novel to movie rumors to fruition. "Survivor"? (I don't think it's too soon anymore) "Invisible Monsters"? (tricky, that one, but that's what I thought about "Fight Club" and that didn't turn out too bad...) "Rant"? "Diary"? I've heard all the rumors. Come on, Hollywood, make it so. I'm jonesin' big time for my next fix already...