From Kenneth Branagh's Belfast
I’m finding it increasingly difficult to read the news. The Republican Party has devolved into a hate-filled, fear-mongering gang of obstructionists who offer nothing constructive while picking fights with the likes of Big Bird. They try to subvert democracy at every turn whether by voter suppression or gerrymandering or blocking legislation that the majority of Americans support. I read in history about racism and bemoan those times then realize it’s barely any better today. The pandemic remains a threat because of brain dead idiots who oppose common sense medically-endorsed methods such as getting vaccinated and wearing masks. The serial liar and idiotic blowhard Trumpy still has followers and many are among the core of the Republican Party. Billionaires get richer, the planet gets poorer and hotter and progress seems impossible.
On the other hand there are movies. I’ve seen eight recent releases in the last month or so. I've especially enjoyed Belfast, Passing, Spencer and The French Dispatch. I had been hungering for new movies despite my love of the classics. I like to mix eras, genres and stars although I will occasionally focus on type. I’ve binged Bergman, Allen, Bunuel, Westerns, Bogie and others although I usually mange to sprinkle in screwball comedies, a staple of my cinematic viewing experience. Another constant is U.S. films from the 1970s which, as I’ve noted umpteen times on this blog, I consider the best decade in cinema history. See this recent post.
I received my booster shot this morning. Disappointing in that I wasn’t immediately given a lollipop, despite my bravery. One can only hope that the citizenry will flock to get the third dose and we can start to truly stifle this awful pandemic.
I may be repeating myself here. I may be repeating myself here. I miss the word funky as in “play that funky music, white boy.” Or from the song "Play Something Sweet (Brickyard Blues)" by Three Dog Night: “Play something sweet and make it funky/Just let me lay back and grin like a monkey.” Or the song Funky Town by Lipps Inc.: "Won't you take me to Funkytown?" According to the good people at Merriam-Webster, funky’s second definition is “characterized by rhythmic elements similar to those of funk.” But what I miss most is from the third definition: "odd or quaint in appearance or feeling — a funky little restaurant; unconventionally stylish; hip, funky clothes." “Dig that dude’s funky threads, man.” No one says that these days and more’s the pity. I do not miss groovy or far out but could do with a revival of right on, which I think was a great way to express approval, especially of something important, often of a political nature. I even recall people describing others or things as being right on as in “he’s a right on cat.”
Speaking of words (I see you rolling your eyes out there), I’ve long railed about the bastardization of “awesome” as when a barista says when you announce your order, “awesome.” Now we add “perfect” to abused words. The other day as I checked out at my local Target, the clerk asked if I needed a bag. I told her that I did indeed require one. “Perfect,” she replied. Hunh? In what universe is it “perfect” that one needs a bag? What would the same young lady have said if I’d responded, “no, I’m good”? Would she have said, “that’s flawed.” I’ve gotten the “perfect” when placing an order at a cafe which always seems to suggest that the server believes I couldn’t have ordered a better meal. Oh well….
I was relating a story to my wife earlier in which I noted that there were four college freshmen women sitting in front of me at a basketball game. So far so good. Then I said that they were joined by a young man who was clearly gay. “Non binary” she corrected me. I asked what the difference was. She explained that I couldn’t know for sure that he identified as gay. Okay.
Then I compared his behavior with someone who was binary. “Cisgender,” she said. Oh my, things were getting complicated. This led me to ask why when some people come out they do so as a member of the LGBTQ community. Why not just say they are gay? I asked. Because, my patient spouse pointed out, they may not want to publicly state their individual preference. Things have changed since I was a kid. I daresay for the better although the language around sexual identity is confusing and seems to sometimes change on the fly. At least I’m adaptable.
My greatest discovery in the past few months has been the television program, Succession. Brilliant. There is not a single likable character in it but they are all fascinating, or at least are in their interactions, especially the four children with their father the patriarch Logan Roy (Brian Cox). I find Kendall Roy (Jeremy Strong) the most compelling, plagued as he is by addiction (I can relate) and -- it would seem obvious -- mental issues (again, I can relate). Succession gives viewers a glimpse into the world of the uber rich and it's not a pretty sight. How being born into wealth must twist a soul. They all exude arrogance, entitlement and privilege and it's downright sickening. Of course it skews their politics and world view -- the bastards. Succession benefits from a great cast and superior writing. One of the best things I've ever seen on TV.
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