Who Wants Pie? The Author Writes About What he is Writing

Is Ana De Armas (above) taking over Rihanna?

Haven’t the foggiest what I’m about to write. This is meant to be a blog post. Maybe it’ll all come to nothing. Perhaps I’ll peck away for a few minutes and realize it’s not happening today. I hope not. I like it when I can create something out of nothing. I’ve done it before. Good days/bad days. It’s like with push-ups. I worked out today. My most recent workout had been on Friday which featured new records in push-ups. In my first set I did 63, followed by 48 in my second and 41 in the third for a combined total of 152. All records. Today I didn’t have it. Managed only 52 in my first set and went downhill from there. I totaled 110. That’s a whopping 42 less than three days prior. Just never know. Next time I might struggle again or I could eclipse Friday’s records. Mystery to me. Same as with writing. At least in terms of creating something new. Working on a novel I can always add, edit, subtract, whatever I need. But starting with the proverbial blank page is a different story entirely. So far I seem to be doing okay. Just passed two hundred words. Would love to write a thousand though seven hundred would be fine. 

The novel is going great. I’m delighted with the first eight chapters and don’t feel they need a lot of work. Obviously not the finished article but pretty close. That just leaves the remaining thirty nine (!!!) chapters. Yeah, it’s a long book. Ultimately it may be considerably shorter. Or for that matter, longer. Or perhaps the same length with various sections excised and others added with many others altered. It’s a process. One I love.

I like this too. Creating off the top of the proverbial head. It would be nice if I had readers. I pretend that I do. I always imagine legions of people all over the world anxiously awaiting my next post, worried to tears when I haven’t written for awhile. I have had readers in the past. Back when I strictly wrote about films I had a fair amount who would regularly comment and others who popped in from time-to-time. Some of my posts were linked in the Internet Movie Database back when they did that sort of thing. The only problem was that I’d occasionally get nasty comments. People would get upset because of my opinion on a movie, or genre. I once posted a list of movies I’d show if I taught a film class. I found it amazing how angry a few people got, swearing they’d never take a class from me. It seems I left off some of their favorites. Same thing happened when I wrote about my favorite Westerns. People get really upset if you don’t include all of theirs. Weird. 

Eventually I stopped writing so much about films. I found that I was getting repetitive, especially with certain adjectives. Plus I wanted to explore other topics. Readership plummeted. I’m not in it for the money so I didn’t care. Don’t care. I have a Twitter account with 255 followers virtually none of whom ever like, comment on or retweet anything I say. I have some pretty good tweets and retweets, but not being a celebrity of any sort it's merely sagebrush blowing by when I tweet. Oh well. I do get likes on my Instagram posts. I don’t think ever more than fifty, but still…..

There may have been literally about five or six people who read my first book. Three I know of for sure. My second has done considerably better and I’ll be discussing it in person at the Finnish Hall in Berkeley in March and will be doing a zoom talk on it with the Finlandia Foundation in the coming months. That’ll sell more copies. I’m guessing somewhere around thirty to forty people have read it. I’ve gotten great feedback. It’s enormously gratifying to hear from a stranger that they liked your book. I’m hoping my current project goes through the roof. I’m desperately hoping not to have to self-publish this one. I think it’ll be good enough. No. I know that it’ll be good enough. 

It’s hard not to think of yourself a lot when you spend so much time immersed in writing. I wish I could teach again and direct more of my focus outwards.

I’m afraid I’ve been a selfish person all my life (as are many people who suffer from addiction). Enormous ego and all the rest. I recognize it in other people too. I can spot a self-absorbed person in a couple of minutes — if that. Takes one to know one. 

You see that Rihanna is pregnant? (The child is not necessarily mine.) I guess that ends it between us. I wish her well. That just opens the door for Ana De Armas. Lucky girl. (Don’t tell the wife.)

Look at this, over eight hundred words. I could make a thousand with ease. 

I wish this had been more interesting to the general reader (of which — again — there are none). I’ve got a few things planned for this blog but the big obstacle is always time. I get wrapped up in the novel. Then there’s work-outs, walks, chores, reading the paper, podcasts, reading books, films, chillin’ with the missus (or Ana De Armas), sleeping and my new hobby: deep sea diving, which I do in a nearby creek. I also enjoy sky diving, alighting from a sturdy box. Then there are whaling trips, fox hunts, seances, voodoo rituals, being a cult leader, translating the dictionary into pig latin and space travel. I’ve got my fingers in a lot of pies, though boysenberry is my favorite.

Say, who wants pie?

Ricky Gervais Likes My Tweet But More Importantly I'm Inspired by His Show, After Life

Ricky Gervais liked my tweet. That’s enough to make my day if not my week. But more important is the tweet itself and what it meant. As you can see I was not merely praising his show, After Life, but specifically how it has helped in my on-going battle with depression. The final episode in particular, besides bringing me to tears, caused me to look at the world and my place in it with more optimism and hope. Indeed one of the emphases of the episode was that losing hope was the worst thing that could happen to a person. 

I’ve been staring at death — from afar, thankfully, though closer than I’ve had cause to before — a lot recently. Too much. It’s coming and I can’t quite reconcile myself to that basic fact of living. I’ve been slapped around by other people’s deaths for years now. Three of the best four best friends I’ve had in adulthood died pre-maturely as did my only sibling. My father, though ninety-two went too soon, the victim of a freak fall. I’ve had former students die as well and needless to say they’ve been young.

It’s all too much, especially when coupled with the expected passings that occur in the course of one’s life, such as grandparents, aunts and uncles and older friends and workmates.

I’ll be sixty-eight in one month. Not even in my seventies yet, some might say jovially. Sure I’m in excellent health but I’m approaching that age when one’s physical condition can change quickly. I’m okay for now. But how about in five years? Ten? Twenty? Mortality has become an ugly obsession. (It’s not like one can find a solution.)

But After Life has helped improve my outlook. In it the main character, Tony, played by Gervais, is mourning the passing of his wife. He is depressed. He is suicidal. He is bereft. He can be prickly or cruel with work mates, friends, acquaintances and passers-by. He obsesses over his loss and finds no joy in life, merely tolerating it. Remarkably there is humor in After Life, for only Ricky Gervais could elicit yucks in the story of a depressed man. There are also green shoots of hope that come through the people he gets to know in the course of doing his job as a journalist on a small town paper. There is a widow (Penelope Wilton) who he often sits next to at the cemetery. There is a woman who works at his the care facility that looks after his father (until he too dies). He draws wisdom and comfort from both. As he eventually does from the motley crew of co-workers and friends who surrounded him. The presence of his loving dog is also crucial to the show and keeping the character alive.

In the final episode it is a visit to a hospice center where a young girl has cancer that, in an odd way, changes Tony perspective. As does the widow’s plea for him not to lose hope. She suggests that without it one is already dead. Tony is able to find the joy in life. He is able to help others. He is able to see the beauty in people, in relationships. He is able to reconcile his lot in life and finally carry on — with his head unbowed by anger or despair. 

How the story unfolds is magical and beautiful and establishes beyond doubt that in addition to being a brilliant comedian, Ricky Gervais is a master story-teller with a great heart.

I went on some errands today and greeted everyone with fellowship and cheer —something we all deserve. At Moe’s Bookstore I found out that an employee who is co-author of The Annotated Big Sleep, a book I positively loved — was in the store. He was haled and I had the pleasure of telling him how much I enjoyed the book. It clearly made him happy as it did me.

Fuck death. I’m living and spreading whatever joy I can.

Love you, dear readers, you’re few in number, but fine folks every one.

A Post in Which the Author Takes a Quick Look at Words and Language

Ever receive an email or text — often work-related -- that bills itself as a “friendly reminder”? I’m curious why the sender distinguishes the reminder as “friendly.” After all one seldom, if ever, receives “hostile” reminders. 

If you can damn someone with with faint praise can you also praise someone with faint damnation? 

You often hear about what people said on their death bed. My question is this: why would anyone get in their death bed? I wouldn’t even have one. If I were to have an extra bed it would be a life bad.

If your a tactile learner in anatomy class does that mean you have to…..

I keep reading and hearing people talk about past experience. Is there any other kind? You can’t have future experience nor even present experience. It as dumb as pre-planning.

I wasn’t too crazy about partner being turned into a verb, such as “our company is going to partner with them…” Now people “partner up.” What the hell is the word “up” doing there?

I read that something was a senseless tragedy, yet I’ve never read about a sensible tragedy. Are there any sensible tragedies? You hear about senseless violence too. But never about sensible violence.

Ever notice how in movies and TV shows a, for example, Mexican character, will say to English speakers. “Si Señor, we will take care of the problem.” Or a Frenchman will say, “Oui monsieur it is a beautiful city.” Having spent much of the past ten years teaching English to people from other countries, I can tell you that primarily Spanish Language speakers do not throw in a si instead of yes or a señor instead of sir. Nor do primarily French speakers say oui instead of yes or Monsieur instead of sir when speaking English. I suppose TV and film writers have characters from other countries throw in a word in their native language for the benefit of the audience, to remind us that this person is not an American. I find it annoying. 

I recently saw — and not for the first time — something being advertised as an added bonus. A bonus is already something that is added. Yet another redundancy. 

In days of yore you could tell an annoying or unwanted person to "beat it" or "scram" or "get lost" or "take a hike." None of these terms are used anymore. That’s a lot of phrases for the same action that have disappeared. 

Also, no one tells anyone to “go to hell” anymore. I guess the replacement has been “fuck off.” Can’t we have both?

The nice thing about texting becoming the dominant form of communication is that you never hear the following anymore: “we’ve been playing phone tag for the last week.” I don’t know why the phrase “phone tag” bothered me so much — but it did.

Ever been given “a heads up” about something? Do you like the term “heads 

up”? I can’t say that I do but I’m not going to make a big deal out of it.

Someone ever ask to "have a word with you?" Invariably they have several words, not just the one. Maybe from now on say: "can I have some words with you?"

Here's something you only ever hear in movies: "I'm afraid I'll have to insist." Never heard it in "real life."

In the Sixties and Seventies I recall people in the counter culture asking "when it the meeting happening?"  I'm glad that the addendum "happening" has faded. It was superfluous. As is so much of what we say.

The same sort of people refused to admit that they forgot something. It was always "I spaced out on that." Or I "totally spaced out on that." Didn't make you sound quite as dumb as if you'd simply forgotten. Then again saying "spaced out" is never a good look.

I'm sure you've heard it said of someone that "he is good people." Nope. He's a good person.

I never knew what to make of people who are described as a "class act."

As hip people used to say: I'm out.

Birthdays Of Note Occurring On Three Consecutive Days Are Noted

Ali and King

Today marks the third of hugely significant birthdays in three days. Muhammad Ali was born on this day eighty years ago. Yesterday marked the 106th anniversary of my father’s birth and of course the day before was the actual birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. though it is celebrated today as this is a Monday. (I recall holidays being celebrated on a specific day each year and not shuffled over to the nearest Monday. Memorial Day used to always be on May 30th without regard to day of week. Veteran’s Day still always gets November 11th, largely because of it’s origins as Armistice Day which commemorated the end of World War I.) But I meant to discuss the three aforementioned men and not get lost in a digression on holidays.

Dr. King was someone who I — strange as this might sound — took for granted when he was alive. This can probably be attributed to the fact that I was a mere lad (still only fourteen when he was killed). It was akin to Willie Mays who patrolled centerfield for my beloved Giants. He was already a legend of the game and I didn’t fully appreciate his greatness. I’ve grown to appreciate both Dr. King and Mays much more as an adult. Yes, of course in different ways. Being a baseball champion is not on the same plane as being Civil Rights champion. King is today an icon and sadly, much of his legacy and teachings have been lost to most of the people who "celebrate" his birthday. If he were saying today what he did in the Sixties, he would be reviled by the right, moderates and even some of the left. He was a progressive and would be regarded a such today. He was unequivocal about non-violence and equal justice. He'd have been appalled at today's political scene and shocked at the rightward swing of the Republican Party.

My father in the army

I suppose in some respects I at times also took my father for granted. Much of this is because he was — figuratively speaking — always there. A constant, reliable figure. Kind, thoughtful and so damn much fun. He had the one indispensable quality required of a parent — an unrequited love for his children. That came through in his parenting. Since his death in 2008, I’ve recognized some of his failings. Being human he had his share. But this has created a fuller picture of the man and oddly, has done more to make him a lovable and sympathetic figure. I miss him still and quote him constantly, invariably in his Finnish accent. What a grand soul, beloved by all who knew him.

Ali was not someone who I ever took for granted — that is once I came to truly appreciate his greatness which I did when he bravely stood up to the draft. He had no quarrel with those Viet Cong — nor did, in actuality — any of us. Since he was forced into boxing exile, Ali has been my ultimate hero. He was not only the greatest in the ring, but he was a brave political symbol. Even more that that he was the most colorful and endlessly fascinating of characters. Larger than life is the cliche that comes to mind. The day I met him, told him what he meant to me and shook his hand is one of the most memorable of my life.

I here note that a wonderfully disproportionate number of my heroes are African American. For example: Ali, King, Mays, Malcolm X, Angela Davis, Fred Hampton, James Baldwin, Nikki Giovanni, Richard Pryor, Jimi Hendrix.

Sadly this writing reminds me of the current U.S. Senate’s failure to pass voting rights legislation and to end the filibuster. This at the same time that state legislatures are passing restricting voting strictures that are clearly aimed at Black voters. At the same time there are more attempts at gerrymandering by the same bodies, which again are designed to curb the influence of Black voters. We’ve come so far since Dr. King’s day at the same time we’ve barely moved an inch. 

I urge people to avoid cynicism and try to get others registered and encourage and help them vote. See such organizations as: Rock the Vote, When We All Vote, Election Protection, Brennan Center for Justice and the League of Women Voters.  Fight voter suppression!

I end this post with an extreme rarity, a plug. Ninety-nine per cent of all requests I get to mention this, or write about that or extoll this and that go immediately in the trash. Here is one of the one percent (so to speak). I refer my darling readers to, Support Black-Owned Businesses: 181 Places to Start Online. This article features links to the businesses with many more mentioned in the comment section. Check it out. 

A Trip to the Bookstore Highlights this Post About My Day that Includes Many Digressions

Moes' Bookstore on Telegraph Avenue 

Walked to Moe’s Bookstore. Took me just under half an hour. Looked for a copy of Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez ( you probably just said what my wife did when I told her what I’d looked for, “I know who wrote Love in the Time of Cholera." You may also, as she did, have said, “you haven’t read it yet?” No, I haven’t.) Moe’s had two used copies but neither met my exacting standards for decent used paperbacks. They did not boast a new copy. So I browsed. Me and bookstore browsing get along like water and ducks. No, make that fish and ducks. I mean fish and water, not fish and ducks. But to say me and bookstores get along like fish and water is too extreme. After all, fish live in water and I don’t live in a bookstore (wouldn’t mind, though). By the way, I like fish, ducks and water just as I like bookstores and of course books. In different ways. Water is in the category of a necessity. Then again I could argue that, for me, books are a necessity. End digression. My browsing didn’t last long because I soon found a sale copy of Dave Eggers’ Heroes of the Frontier. I've wanted it for awhile now. I did a wee bit of gratuitous browsing (who can resist? Not I.). Before “checking out.”

I did not require a bag but took the receipt. I like receipts in books. They are historical records of when I bought a book. I was also given a complimentary Moe’s bookmark. I love bookmarks. I have many from many different places. I like it when museums sell bookmarks. I like it when bookstores have bookmarks with their names and other pertinent information on it. I am a bit of bookmark connoisseur. Are you? 

Having completed my business at Moe’s I walked home. The weather here is temperate today (I’m ready for more rain, myself). Of all things, we had a tsunami warning today. People in the marina area were evacuated. Imagine that. In Berkeley! I think the only real danger was for anyone standing near the water who risked being swept out to sea, or actually, bay — but then again if your swept out to bay you might make it all the way to sea. I’m not altogether sure how being swept away works. Except I very well know what it’s like to be swept away by a woman as I was when I met my wife. Well, she wasn’t my wife when I met her. Imagine! She was initially a stranger, then an acquaintance and then a date and soon a crush which was followed by girlfriend before she was afforded (or saddled with) the position of wife. Thirty-four years and counting. Color me lucky.

Where was I? That’s right, walking home in temperate weather. I arrived home and shortly after I did the aforementioned wife departed the premises. Not, presumably to get away from me, although truth to tell we’ve been cooped up together a lot these past two years. Who could blame her for timing her departure for shortly after my return? She got the dump to herself for awhile and then I did. We’ll still end up having spent the better part of the day together which will include dining and enjoying our Saturday night movie. We watch a movie together every Saturday night, a tradition that began shortly after the pandemic came along. I hope the tradition outlasts the pandemic. In fact, I’m damn ready for the pandemic to vanish, or at least begin fading away or receding into the background.

What I’ve done since coming home hasn’t been all that interesting (not that what I did on my little outing was all that fascinating). For example the making and consumption of toast is not typically the stuff of great literature and I understand that many of you probably said: nothing this joker writes is the stuff of great literature. Very funny. Maybe my third novel (currently in the works) will change some minds. I’m sure putting considerable time and effort into it. I’m also enjoying the process immensely. 

Can I change the subject?

Thanks.

Ever asked the following question: “how are you today?”

Why the “today?” When you ask someone how they are it is assumed that you mean at present. If someone merely asks, “how are you?” Do you ever answer with a question such as, “you mean yesterday? Or right now?”

Then again maybe in appending the “today” you’re asking the person to be succinct and not detail how they’ve been over the last few days, weeks, months or years. Could get contemplated.

When checking out a store you might be asked (as I have been on occasion). “Will that be all today?” Again I’m confused about the seemingly superfluous "today." More than that the question itself seems silly. If there were to be anything else, surely the customer would not keep it to herself.

Perhaps I’m all wrong, maybe people check out wanting something else but decide not to confide in the checker. I can see it if they want condoms and are the shy type. 

Speaking of asking someone how they are, people often respond with, “not bad” or “not too bad” or “not bad at all.” Really underselling it. I guess it breaks up the monotony of always saying, “fine” but it’s not very convincing. I had a friend who always used to say “I’m hanging in there.” Sounded dire. His response always made me worry that he was close to ruin.

I have a more serious complaint. I hate the following: “be careful what you wish for, you might get it.” People who say or write that can fuck all the way off. What a negative, cynical world view. I wish for my children’s health, would it be dreadful if that wish were answered? No. I wish that my third book would be a success. I wish my favorite teams win championships. I wish for rain. I wish for an end to the pandemic. Do I really need to worry getting that particular wish? It's a horseshit thing to say.

I’ve got one more thing to complain about. If you’re on twitter you’ve no doubt seen a tweet of a meme or photo or quote and under it the tweeter has written, “that’s it, that’s the tweet.” WE CAN FUCKING WELL SEE THAT! YOU DON’T NEED TO TELL US. NONE OF US LOOK AT THAT TWEET AND WONDER, HMMM, IS THERE ANYTHING MORE TO IT THAT I’M SOMEHOW MISSING?

Imagine if under one of his paintings, Van Gogh had written, that’s it, that’s the painting. Or if at the of The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald had written, that’s it, that’s the novel.

I’ve said my piece.

Now I gotta get ready for Saturday Movie Night with the missus.

Hey, thanks for reading.

I've Watched 14 Films in Nine Days?!?! Might As Well Write About Them

Holiday, the first film I watched in 2022

Nine days into the new year and I’ve already watched fourteen films. It is a pace that I can’t won’t shouldn’t couldn’t wouldn’t mustn’t shan’t maintain. Today for example, I reckon I’ll not watch a single one.

Anyhoo, I thought that it would be a worthwhile exercise for me to write some comments on each of them and thereby create a blog post for your reading pleasure. You’re welcome!

New’s Year’s Day

Holiday (1938) Cukor. An original member of my top 100 films of all-time, it’s a favorite this time of year as it includes a scene on New Year’s Eve. I’m sure I’ve watched Holiday over a dozen times, the first occasion being in the mid-eighties in a now defunct revival theater in Berkeley. Of course co-stars Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn are luminous but I’m increasingly impressed by Lew Ayres as Hepburn’s alcoholic younger brother. He is sad and wise and one can’t help rooting for him to break away from his oppressive father and job.

The Lost Daughter (2021) Gyllenhaal. It’s a sign of what a good year in cinema we’ve just had that this fine film could only manage the seventh spot on my top ten films of the year. Olivia Colman and Jesse Buckley sparkle in the this story of a middle-aged academic (Colman) named Leda on a working holiday in Greece. Much of the movie is a flashbacks of Leda's younger days (where she is played by Buckley) and her struggles as a young mother, her affair and the dissolution of her marriage. Meanwhile there is psychological drama aplenty, much of it involving Leda and her odd relationship with fellow vacationers, one of whom is ably played by the gorgeous Dakota Johnson. 

January 2

Nightmare Alley (1947) Goulding. Based on its reviews I was not interested in seeing he Guillermo Del Toro remake. I’m not enamored of his directing style, finding it indulgent and excessive. But I did decide to re-visit the original as it was enjoying a revival. It’s a fine film with Tyrone Power — somewhat limited in range — solid in the lead. But it’s not a picture that sticks with me. A lot of late forties and early fifties noir is like that for me. Diverting while watching but ultimately forgettable.

The More the Merrier (1943) Stevens. For the first two-thirds or so of it’s running time, this is a classic screwball comedy that is utterly delightful. But for me the film fades towards the end. The plot goes off the rails and takes a roundabout way to get to the inevitable conclusion. Joel McCrea and Jean Arthur are excellent as the leads and the racist Charles Coburn (member of the White Citizen’s Council) deservedly won an Oscar for his supporting role, if a racist can be deserving of awards.

January 3

The Enemy Below (1957) Powell. Robert Mitchum is the captain of a destroyer in the South Atlantic during World War II locked in a life or death battle of wits with a German U-Boat commander. Dick Powell directed and did a fine job of fitting all the action into under an hour and forty minutes. A lot of fun as seemingly most Mitchum films are.

January 4

The Tragedy of MacBeth

The Tragedy of MacBeth (2021) Coen. MacBeth is my favorite Shakespeare play. I’ve seen it on stage twice. Once at the Berkeley Rep starring Frances McDormand who co-stars in this film version, and once in Boston. I also own Roman Polanski’s film of it on DVD. I really enjoyed this version of the Scottish play. Joel Coen (without his brother Ethan this time) clearly got a lot of inspiration from German expressionism. Characters and action are accented by the large angled sets and the brilliant black and white cinematography. Denzel and Ms. McDormand are excellent in the lead roles.

January 5

The Big Steal (1949) Siegel. Wow, what a fun movie. Director Dan Siegel crammed an amazing amount of action into a film that somehow clocks in at seven-one minutes. Mitchum stars opposite the underrated and lovely Jane Greer in a chase picture through much of Mexico (or so it seems). Money has been stolen and there's questions about who the real good guys and bad guys are. John Qualen, who appeared in seemingly half the films made between 1930 and 1960 and on TV through the early seventies, makes a rare appearance as a someone who is definitely a bad guy.

When Women Kill (1983) Grant. Better known as an actress, Lee Grant was also a documentarian. The good folks at Criterion Channel have put up a batch of them and this was my first look at a Grant-directed movie. In it she interviews about a dozen women who serving sentences for murdering men, usually either a boyfriend or husband. The exception being Leslie Van Houten who participated in the Tate-LaBianca murders as part of the Manson Family. It's not unsurprisingly a compelling film and I often found that my sympathy was largely toward the murderesses many of whom had been horribly treated by their eventual victims.

January 6

Lifeboat (1944) Hitchcock. Like virtually all Hitchcock films, I'm quite familiar with this gem. Also like most of the great director's pictures it is a pleasure to re-visit. I was once again drawn to the luminescent Tallulah Bankhead. Ms. Bankhead was a wild lady with a penchant for sex, booze, drugs and parties, some of which inspired her to get naked. During the filming of Lifeboat she had to climb some stairs everyday. This was much appreciated by crew members as she eschewed underwear. 

January 7

People Will Talk (1951) Mankiewicz. Simply put, this film stinks. I'm so disappointed that I wasted nearly two hours watching it that I don't want to waste any more time writing about it. Certainly Cary Grant's worst film. Jeanne Crain was terrible and the pacing was awful. 

Trouble In Paradise

Trouble In Paradise (932) Lubitsch. This was probably my fourth viewing and this time I fell completely in love and am here ready to declare it my favorite of Lubitsch's films, which is saying a lot because he made some beauts. Herbert Marshall was never more charming. Miriam Hopkins never more devilish and Kay Francis never more stylish. Charles Ruggles and Edward Everett Horton were two highly regarded supporting players of the time and they added immeasurably to this exemplar of the Lubitsch touch.

January 8

Mirror (1975) Tarkovsky. A film deservedly placed among my top 100, Mirror reveals something different every time one watches it. It defies easy explanation though it is ostensibly about a dying man looking back at his life. Several cast members play two roles, seemingly disconnected scenes are placed in the middle of the story and there is footage from Russian wars and the Spanish Revolution mixed in. Mirror demands repeat viewings and I already look forward to my next one.

Witness for the Prosecution (1957) Wilder. This was the first time I watched WFTP remembering exactly how it ended. That didn't diminish my enjoyment of it one iota. Billy Wilder wrote and directed (from an Agatha Christie story) and it starred Charles Laughton, Elsa Lanchester and Marlene Dietrich -- and a scenery chewing Tyrone Power. With the exception of my wife, no woman has ever aged as well as did Dietrich who looked nowhere near her true age of fifty-six -- especially not those gams.

January 9

Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927) Murnau. Another member of my top 100. It really deserves a better print although given that the original negative was destroyed that's a big ask. Sunrise was one of the first films to include a soundtrack which was composed of music, street noises and other ambient sound. It is a great example for film students of framing and letting the camera tell the story. Few title cards were used, especially after the first fifteen minutes. A masterpiece.

My Top Ten Films of 2021

1. Drive My Car (Hamaguchi)

2. The Power of the Dog (Campion)

3. Licorice Pizza (P.T. Anderson)

4. The Tragedy of MacBeth (Coen)

5. Red Rocket (Baker)

6. tick, tick...Boom! (Miranda)

7. The Lost Daughter (Gyllenhaal)

8. The Hand of God (Sorrentino)

9. Belfast (Branagh)

10. Spencer (Larrain)

Honorable Mention: The French Dispatch (W. Anderson), Passing (Hall), C'mon, C'mon (Mills), The Souvenir Part II (Hogg), Bergman Island (Hansen-Love).

Best Actress: Kristen Stewart (Spencer). Runners Up: Olivia Colman (Lost Daughter) and Alana Haim (Licorice Pizza).

Best Actor: Andrew Garfield (tick, tick...Boom!). Runners Up: Benedict Cumberbatch (Power of the Dog) and Simon Rex (Red Rocket).

Best Supporting Actress: Caitriona Balfe (Belfast). Runners Up: Jessie Buckley (Lost Daughter) and Kathryn Hunter (MacBeth).

Best Supporting Actor: Kodi Smit-McPhee (Power of the Dog). Honorable Mention: Jesse Plemons (Power of the Dog) and Jamie Dornan (Belfast).

Two Weeks: A Lamentation and A Hope For the New Year

My good friend (I wish) Dakota Johnson

"Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing."

-- From MacBeth by William Shakespeare

This is the Monday when most schools re-open after Winter Break — or Christmas Vacation, as it was known when I was young. As someone who taught in public schools for over twenty years, I remember it as the most difficult day of the school year, certainly the most depressing, certainly the one that was the most difficult to awaken for. It was similarly difficult as a child/student.

The best two weeks of the year had ended. Two weeks — that included Christmas, mind you — of sleeping in, being with family, good food, many of the year’s best films in theaters. Two weeks of freedom from the troubles of work. Then it was back to reality, the grind, normal life. The tree taken down, the ornaments put away. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich and diced carrots for lunch. The dreary walk or bus ride. The sad faces of co-workers and students. The struggle.

I’ve got much the same feeling this year as youngest daughter’s visit with us has ended. After two weeks, of course. This was an especially welcome visit as she had not been able to come out from New York the previous year due to the coronavirus. Now she’s returned and the tree will be taken out and the decorations put away and although I’m not currently “going to work” it’s back to the grind of working on the novel. Life is normal. Nothing special. No seasonal music, no family gatherings. Sameness.

The two-week vacation is a metaphor for life. It eventually ends. During the last few days there’s a kind of melancholy as one faces the reality that it’ll all be over soon. My life is becoming increasingly like that, there is a constant haze of melancholy knowing that time is running out. Yes, I’m in good health right now. I keep fit and maintain a healthy diet but there’s such a huge element of luck involved in staying alive. I’ve had two friends who were struck down by pancreatic cancer. They, like me, got plenty of exercise and ate healthily. It can all happen fast. 

I know, I know, it’s not the proper attitude. One should live each day to the fullest, thankful for the gifts of health and life. One should be filled with gratitude for friends, family, food and in my case films. 

Oh and I should be happy for the time I’ve had and anyway I could have another good twenty, twenty-five years left. Actually that doesn’t sound like much. When you can remember events from fifty, fifty-five years ago, having half that much time left doesn’t seem like a lot.

But….It’s better than nothing.

Yes, and I could have nothing. I could be out for a walk tomorrow when a tree falls on my head, or a drunk driver careers onto the sidewalk or I find myself in the midst of a mass shooting.

Fuck it. I’m going to make the most of every day — in principal. Keep writing, continue to hang out with the love of my life, listen to music, watch films, go to and watch sports events (there’s a double-edged sword). I’ll stay positive to as great a degree as I possibly can.

All that good talk aside, I wish it was two weeks ago instead of today. (How many times have I had that feeling? Whenever “winter break” ends, for sure.) Lamentations. Wishing for what you cannot possibly have is not healthy. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change....

What a wicked partner self-awareness is. To be plagued by knowledge and understanding and to seek answers and to be never satisfied with one’s lot. To continue to learn and by so doing have more and more questions to ask — with only a few answers forthcoming.

But I’m not going to start this odd sounding year (2022? I’m still getting used to 1986) on a totally down note. I am going to close by celebrating all the artists, writers, thinkers, scientists, journalists and athletes who will continue to supply more nourishment for the soul and the mind. Who will open more doors to greater awareness. Who will shine light on dark places, illuminating and brightening our world in the process. Ahh, to explore and to understand and to think are such great gifts.

Plus this will be the year that the coronavirus ebbs from the forefront of our activities and lives. This is the year that Trump will be brought to justice. This is the year that one of my sports teams will experience great glory. This is the year that I’ll put the finishing touches on my latest novel. This is the year that great and wonderful things can and will happen. There will be beauty and love and fun in great abundance. This is the year!!!