*Heavily cinematic weekend. Begins with a viewing of John Huston's "Red Badge of Courage," which speaks volumes about doing more with less -- the battle scenes are relatively simply done, yet gripping; the acting is similarly unaffected, and therefore far more realistic -- a tribute to folks like John Dierkes, seen in other vehicles like "MacBeth," "Shane" and "Les Miserables," and Royal Dano (Royal Dano!), who went from the likes of "King of Kings" and "Moby Dick" to the likes of "Ghoulies II" and "Spaced Invaders." Later, I look in on "All the Vermeers in New York," which is a feast for the patient eye but less interesting in terms of character development -- the "romance," such as it is, seems tucked into the edges.
*On Sunday, having duly celebrated my accumulation of 41 years (with home-made drawings and poems and Chinese take-out), we settle in for Kenneth Branagh's "A Midwinter's Tale." It almost veers off its pleasantly smart-ass track into the realm of hand-wringing idealism, but is hard to dislike. Wish I _could_ see a production of "Hamlet" like that...
*YD, essaying the role of a game-show host, came up with one of the best dramatic-sounding names ever: Peter Millennium.
Feb. 3
Remember those cheap kids' walkie-talkie sets, which had a range of about 100 ft. if you were lucky? Instead of reporting from across the other side of the county on police chases or at-large saboteurs, about all you could describe for your correspondent on the other end was anything you could see next door or across the street. When I see people talking on cell phones as they walk, drive, or dine at restaurants, I can't wondering if they're really confirming whether the lights are on at old man Ferguson's house or if the Johnsons next door have replaced their trash can lids.
Feb. 2
Fair's fair. If there's a TV miniseries titled "Net Force," shouldn't there be one called "Gross Force"?
Jan. 29-31
Rare child-free night (sleep-over invitation, Girl Scout encampment) results in home-cooked lobster dinner and spouse's first viewing of "The Truman Show" [briefly discussed in
June 21 '98 entry. After OD's return the next day, we treat ourselves to a family viewing of:
"Smoke Signals" -- Excellent. Period. Evan Adams' Thomas is like a kinder, gentler, more mystical (and vulnerable) Mars Blackmon. A different kind of road movie, illuminated by touching, complex relationships. And the "John Wayne's Teeth" song-chant is a riot.
Later, OD and I embark on the first of two sledding expeditions this weekend, during which I discover to my chagrin that the supposedly indestructible "soft sleds" we got last winter are, in fact, not so. We then take in "Bringing Up Baby" (OD, upon seeing and hearing Katherine Hepburn: "Hey, isn't that Captain Janeway?").
Also, in late-night viewing of "Fame," LW and I discover to our delight a carrot-topped, shaggy Paul ("ER"'s pugnacious, pernicious Dr. Romano) McCrane, and a long-haired Richard ("Homicide") Belzer.
YD joins in the second sledding party, and for a short while, the two watch the Super Bowl with me...just for the commercials, of course.
Jan. 27
Book completed: "Purple America," by Rick Moody -- comparisons with "The Ice Storm" inevitable, of course; well, once again, genteel, suburban Connecticut is his bailiwick. And there are the unlikely alliances and assignations, consecrated in the throes of disaster. The characters are drawn somewhat more fully and deeply this time around, and (almost literally) drenched in irony. The frequent use of italics, however, gets to be a bit much.
Jan. 24
Strange dreams indeed: first, I relive (from a variety of vantage points) a Civil War battle over and over, at one point watching a Union troop deployment with U.S. Grant which includes the use of large surrealistic puppets and disturbing-looking clowns taunting the Confederate pickets -- Grant's comment: "I've never seen this strategy before. I don't understand it!" Then, during a tour of the Capitol in DC, I witness a fight break out between two visitors; later after having helped authorities intervene and cart off the miscreants, I receive a letter from Senator Byrd promising that "all will be taken care of."
I can only deduce that such is the outcome of excessive viewing of Ken Burns' documentaries, and saturation from, er, affairs in Washington.
Jan. 22
Middle school dance, to which I am given escorting privileges (but no further than 25 yards of the building) because I am judged to be "cooler than Mom": Flushed faces, a few broken hearts (none from our household, fortunately), steamed-up cafeteria windows, and as the final number, "Stairway to Heaven." (Not only that, it was preceded by "Come On Eileen" and "Jump Jive 'n Wail"). I was informed, however, that I was a source of embarrassment because I was observed actually singing along.
Jan. 20
Recent temporary acquisition of Ladysmith Black Mambazo's "Heavenly" album yields truly unique track: Dylan's "Knocking on Heaven's Door," with reggae arrangement, featuring LBM backing up Dolly Parton.
Jan. 15-18
Multifaceted winter storm segues into lovely weekend trip to author's proverbial Old Stomping Grounds, located in rustic Columbia County, NY, to stay overnight with sisters-in-law. Rental car agency's short supply of compacts results in our first-ever jaunt in an SUV, a challenge to my usual blase, utilitarian regard for motor vehicles. Stay includes brief sledding party, progressively silly game of "Risk" and visits with other dear friends and relatives.
MLK Day is mostly spent in clean-up semi-frenzy, with brief venture out for new boots and additions noted in The Dumb, Stupid Baseball Hat Page.
Jan. 12
NY Times reports on escalating national conflict on toilet-training -- when to start, when to finish, and how to get from one phase to the other -- which is personified by clashing philosophies of T. Berry Brazelton and one John Rosemond, who describes his approach as "naked and $75" -- i.e., let the kid wander around starkers in the house for a day, then spend $75 on carpet-cleaning.
Jan. 11
*OD's first (only?) bona-fide sports injury, an almost-fractured finger sustained during a hockey game in PhysEd necessitates an actually enjoyable HMO excursion.
*After watching the "Rimmer Munchkin Song" episode, I can no longer conceal my continual delight in watching "Red Dwarf."
Jan. 10
*When Urban Legends Come to Life: Disney recalls copies of "The Rescuers" because of unauthorized, surreptiously introduced brief nude image. If this problem is not resolved, we may never feel the same way about Bob Newhart again.
*Meanwhile, a Rhode Island diocese has turned to advertising on MTV as a means of attracting potential recruits for the order. For their sake, they'd better hope the spots run after the Amy Grant videos.
Jan. 9
Viewing: "The Game" -- trouble with this is, after "The Prisoner" and "Nowhere Man," the Omnipotent Invisible Enemy concept gets a bit too familiar. Noteworthy, at any rate, for the reappearance of Linda ("Out of the Blue"; "Days of Heaven") Manz, albeit in a bit role.
Jan. 8
More musical acquisitions:
*"So Early In the Spring," by Pentangle -- actually gets better as it goes along. At first, the absence of Danny Thompson and Terry Cox is noticeably jarring, and the band sounds too slick for its own good. But when Bert Jansch kicks off Side 2 with the "Bruton Town" variant, they sound back in a familiar groove.
*"Traditional Music of Ireland," by Joe and Antoinette McKenna -- a fine introduction and all, but I'd have liked a few more pipes-harp duets than what they have.
Jan. 7
Book completed: "The Last Full Measure," by Jeff Shaara -- I didn't read "Gods and Generals," but in this Shaara certainly does his father proud. The occasional narrative involving nameless foot soldiers is a good, and well-needed touch. Perhaps a bit arch in the Appomattox section, but still quite moving, especially the three epilogues. But...I could have done without...all those ellipses.
Jan. 6
NBA settlement, end of our long national nightmare. David Stern, Billy Hunter -- co-recipients of the Nobel Peace Prize?
Jan. 5
Well, time to catch up on some recent musical acquisitions:
*"Ashes and Diamonds," by June Tabor -- builds quite well on her debut, "Airs and Graces," and ably sets the stage for "A Cut Above." If nothing else, early on June was a terrific partisan for Eric Bogle, given that she does two of his pieces here. Nic Jones shows again why his departure was such a pity.
*"(Fourth Album)" by Tannahill Weavers -- they really do play much too fast, but their enthusiasm and good cheer pours right through the stereo speakers. And few trad groups have put as much effort into their harmony singing as the Tannies. Whatever happened to Alan MacLeod, anyway?
*"Promenade," by Kevin Burke and Michael O'Domhnaill -- certainly helped popularize more than a few session staples. Instead of the visceral immediacy in most fiddle albums up to that time, this one has a more restrained feel to it -- invites one to listen, rather than clap hands and reel around the room.
Dec. 23-Jan. 4
I regard as a good portent the fact that I've written over half a dozen checks since The Turning of the Calendar, and have not had to scratch in "99" over an erroneously scribbled "98" for any of them. So: We live to fight another year. Christmas was generally about the most low-key it's been since, perhaps, the kids wore diapers, even though they did get themselves a tad frenzied the night before. But all went well, and even the presence of not one, but two Furbies has proven tolerable. My share of the Xmas dividends included a copy of The Famine Ships as well as other significant additions best covered in The Dumb, Stupid Baseball Hat Page.
The New York trek almost came a cropper thanks to a deceased car battery, but we retooled and managed an overnight visit with Mum, before her departure to work with the Iraqi Kurds (not a misprint). New Year's Eve was a decidedly somnolent affair, with your correspondent the only one in the household who stayed awake 'til the numbers changed.
Along the way, some viewings (in chronological order):
*"Wag the Dog" -- the art/life parallel has been well-chronicled, of course. What's more interesting is the significance the spin doctors attach to inventing folklore, both the more traditional as well as the urban forms. In any case, DeNiro and Hoffman should seriously think about more collaborations in the future.
*"In and Out" -- there's nothing like that unsettling feeling you get when you realize that the film you're watching has no idea what it wants to do. A promising first half-hour or so, but disaster afterwards.
*"Jack" -- a companion piece to "Hook" in the Robin Williams pantheon. But it serves even more as Williams' confrontation with his own maturity, if not mortality -- the body betraying the spirit within.
*"The Horse Whisperer" -- can someone ever remember Robert Redford playing a really just-plain-bad, awful person? Liked this, but was somewhat puzzled by the relative absence of Booker's "Zen" -- i.e., we knew the goal of the operation, but what exactly achieves it? Sam Neill, by the way, seems fated to play the guy outside looking in.
