It's Time Again For Films I've Watched Lately Some of Which I Loved Greatly, Plus a Bonus Bit About Sean Baker

The Florida Project

The Florida Project (2017) Baker. I think of The Florida Project as the 21st century version of Grapes of Wrath. Forgotten, displaced people trying to scrape by either by seeking greener pastures or hustling for every buck. The Florida Project and The Grapes of Wrath are obviously very different stylistically, but spiritually they share a great deal. Both are deeply American works about people living on the edge of the economic system that is designed to soak them for all their worth while enriching the coffers of the richest. In The Grapes of Wrath, families are displaced by the Depression, their homes, that might go back generations, are gone. In The Florida Project the poor have no homes and no means to buy one or to even lease or rent one. They’re forced to get by as best they can on a month-to-month even week-to-week basis. The Florida Project is another absolute gem from Sean Baker that primarily centers around small children but also looks at the single parents trying to raise them. Scams and hustles and deals are part of living. Both films could have been depressing but both show people with dignity and their refusal to yield to powerful forces that could break them. Like Tom Joad in Grapes, the young girl Moonee in The Florida Project has an indefatigable spirit and a stubborn refusal to accept defeat. Maybe theirs is the true spirit of America. Willem Dafoe shines as the motel manager who struggles with being empathetic while enforcing the rules.

Red Rocket (2021) Baker. Another from Sean Baker and this one pulls of the difficult feat of featuring a perfectly unlikable person as its protagonist.The ex-porn star, Mikey returns to his Texas Gulf Coast roots and is an absolute train wreck. To varying degrees he disrupts the lives of his wife, neighbors and would-be underage girl friend. We sort of root for him because he has a certain charm and his success could elevate the lives of those around him. But there’s also a fatalism to Mikey. It’s impossible to see such a tire fire of a human being doing anything but falling flat. Baker’s genius is in making Mikey someone we can’t dismiss. His story demands a look, maybe because its so outrageous, maybe because there’s a sense that maybe this time… Simon Rex is incredible as Mikey which shouldn’t be a surprise because like a lot of great directors Baker is a master at eliciting brilliant performances from his actors. Red Rocket creates atmosphere through place and texture an environment is captured without romanticizing it, in this case a Texas refinery town. The setting becomes moral atmosphere.

Nothing Sacred (1937) Wellman. A Thirties screwball comedy in color? Strange but true. The queen of the screwball comedy, Carole Lombard stars so you know it’s good. Her leading man is the reliable Frederic March. I’ve never found him to be a terribly interesting actor yet I’ve always enjoyed his performances. March and Lombard are aided by two of the better supporting players of their time, Walter Connelly and Charles Winninger. Nothing Sacred is about Hazel Flagg (Lombard), a small-town woman mistakenly diagnosed with a fatal illness, and Wally Cook March) , a New York newspaper reporter who brings her to the big city as a human-interest sensation. Hazel becomes a celebrity and loves the attendant attention. Romance develops between her and Wally, but the truth about her perfectly good health threatens to expose them. Connelly plays Wally’s editor and Winniger is the small town doctor who knows the truth about Hazel. Why he goes along with the charade is never explained but who cares, it’s screwball, Jake, and one of the better ones at that. Directed by Wild Bill Wellman who one doesn't usually associate with comedies, screwball or otherwise. 

 

Cold Water (1994) Assays. Like most great films Cold Water deepens on rewatch rather than diminishes. It resonated with me because atmosphere and emotional drift matter as much as plot. It’s a film about youthful rebellion that doesn’t romanticize. We are drawn to watching the two co-stars but can’t let ourselves exactly root for them. They are too morally comprised.The atmosphere is extraordinary. The music and the cinema photography create an unmistakable early seventies vibe. The long party sequence is brilliant. It is less narrative and more experiential. You feel the exhaustion, intoxication, longing, and temporary sense that these kids have escaped the world. Cyprien Fouquet and the stunning Virginie Ledoyen co-star. They’re not generally likable teens but they’re compelling. Ms. Ledoyen, seventeen when the film was made, had one of the most gorgeous young faces ever to grace the scene and this played a part in how enthralling I’ve found Cold Water. This is another film in which plot is secondary to mood and atmosphere, the feeling of being transported in time.

I Knew Her Well (1965) Pietrangeli. I’ve always loved this movie but initially struggled with the ending (SPOILER ALERT) because the main character, Adriana (Stefania Sandrelli) commits suicide. In the first viewing and even the second it’s not something that is telegraphed and seems barely hinted at. But with repeat viewings it has the feeling of inevitably. She is a beautiful young woman on the outskirts of fame holding down numerous jobs flirting (literally and figuratively) with those who can make or break her. She endures heartbreaks, disappointments and even humiliation. Adrianna is, unsurprisingly given the times, objectified more than respected — if indeed she’s respected at all. There are high times but always with the sense that they are stops along the way and not something that will become a permanent feature of her life. Beyond her beauty she has little to offer the entertainment world. She can’t imagine settling for less so rather than remaining on the treadmill until she ages out, she takes the inevitable ultimate step. Somehow it’s not a sad story, perhaps because it is presented so lightly (while given deeper meaning). It in some ways recalls the great Fellini film, Nights of Cabiria in that it avoids cynicism without denying cruelty. Both feature a female protagonist who suffers the slings and arrows. One ends by offering us a sad smile, the other opts out of life. Both are poignant and important films.

 

Martin Short

Marty, Life is Short (2026) Kasdan. Among other things Martin Short is the greatest talk show guest of all time. He also ranks among the funniest people of all time in any setting as has been made evident by his role in Only Murders in the Building. His career extends back nearly fifty years and has seen him star in SCTV and, for a brief time, on SNL. He’s also been in a series of films, frankly most bad but never because of him. He’s created innumerable fun characters such as the interviewer, Jimminy Glick. Comic genius is the simplest and best way to describe him. However his life has been struck by its fair share of tragedy and then some. The death of a beloved older brother when he was young and both parents before he’d turned twenty and the passing of the love of his life, his wife             Nancy Dolman from cancer at 58. Add to that the recent suicide of his daughter and it’s a wonder that he can smile let alone make us laugh. But Marty Short is made of tough stuff and is living proof that laughter is the best medicine. This documentary by Lawrence Kasdan gives us some insight into the man and not surprisingly it is one rich with friends, love and laughter. It really is a wonderful life.

Point of Order! (1964) de Antonio.No narration, no later-day analysts, just raw footage from the infamous Army-McCarthy hearings of 1954. One hundred and eighty-eight hours of footage was reduced to ninety-seven captivating minutes. You don’t feel the lack of those other eight days worth of film, there’s plenty here. One thing you’ve got is the slow descent of Senator Joseph McCarthy, the red-baiting Nazi hunter who wreaked so much havoc on the the public and its psyche in the early fifties. By the end of the film when he is continuing a tirade as the hearing room empties and everyone is going home, you can clearly see that this once mighty figure has been exposed. Joseph Welch, the aw shucks but brilliant attorney for the army played a very large part in bringing the monster down. It’s all compelling stuff.

Il Grido (1957) Antonioni. I loved this film. The pacing was interesting, not as languid as Antonioni's later films, but leisurely yet purposeful. It was more about mood than plot with the weather and settings playing a key role in establishing the feeling. It was melancholy but never depressing, never melodramatic. As if it were purposeful. You can see how it portends some of his later work but also how it stands alone as unique to his oeuvre. But unlike the later Antonioni films, Il Grido still has traces of postwar Italian realism in it. The workers, gas stations, river towns, economic hardship, transient labor — it’s grounded in a recognizable social world. Later Antonioni becomes more abstract, more modernist, more existentially rarefied.Il  Grido is a romantic, heart-breaking road film. That preceding sentence will make sense if you see the film which I recommend you do.

Platoon (1986) Stone. Platoon is one of the greatest war films ever made. As a Vietnam veteran once said of it: it has everything but the smell of war. Indeed it can at times feel like you're watching a documentary made by filmmakers embedded in the unit. There is an immediacy to the story but at the same time it has a mythic quality. It has the sweat, confusion, fear, exhaustion, and moral randomness of war — particularly the one in Vietnam — but is at its core a moral tragedy. Private Taylor (Charlie Sheen) is a soldier and our guide being transformed by war. Like the war itself, Platoon leaves residue rather than clean resolution. The cast is wonderful as is everything about the production. It was a personal film for director Oliver Stone, based in large part on his own experiences. It won the Academy Award for Best Picture which shows you that the Oscars do sometimes award excellence.

Finally a word on the director Sean Baker. I’ve now seen all of his films at least twice. The missus and I just enjoyed a retrospective of his work. For me Baker's films are about people, their relationships and their dignity regardless of their status. They're about people struggling and succeeding in small ways. A Baker film is not a grand gesture, it's a nod, a quiet affirmation. Like Aki Kaurismäki, Baker respects his audience and trusts them to appreciate small moments. Baker's world is not for Pollyanna's, there is struggle, there is shouting, there is anger and there is not always resolution, as in life. I find his films life affirming. I don't recall ever yawning during a Baker film. His films are not heavy-handed or preachy. The stories and the people speak for themselves without him underlining or emphasizing to make a point. He trusts the audience to understand or better still to find their own answers and meaning

Belated Happy 18th Birthday Streams of Unconsciousness! You're Now of Legal Age

The actress Ana de Armas, a friend of the blog

This blog is now of legal age, eighteen-years-old. Its birthday was actually on the eleventh of this month which fell during our recent European vacation. So today’s celebration is very much a case of better late than ever. Late or not....yay!!!!!🥳🎉🎂🎊

I thought it would be worthwhile to look back on all that has gone on since that first post in 2008. I see that many of you disagree. Well, I've never let common sense stop me. Here goes.

When this blog was born George W Bush was still in the White House and would be for another eight months and nine days. Barack Obama had not yet been elected and most of us were blissfully unaware that such a person as Sarah Palin existed. In the months and years to come she would help lower the national discourse with her folksy stupidity. Also in the coming months Joe Biden would be selected as Obama’s running mate and would go on to serve admirably as vice president. He seemed like a wise old hand who’d seen and been through a lot and was appreciated and admired for his efforts. Later would come his presidency during which he seemed at times to be comatose. That said he did a good enough job, though one wishes he would have timed his decision to step aside better. That Obama fella was all right and we’ve been missing him a helluva lot lately as the US teeters on the brink.

In 2008 Donald Trumpy was just a businessman and buffoon with weird hair who appeared occasionally on talk shows. No one was thinking that the blowhard would some day ascend to the highest position in the land and work at destroying democracy.

Back then the U.S. was dropping bombs on brown people in the Middle East. Some things never change.

George Carlin still had a month to live. His comedy today is as relevant as ever and he has come to be rightfully seen as something of a soothsayer.

Michael Jackson had another year on this planet. His departure devastated fans across the globe. His music — as they say — lives on although his legacy has been tarnished. Speaking of tarnishing legacies, Woody Allen has practically been canceled as his adopted daughter re-introduced to the world the false and spurious charges he was long ago cleared of — twice. To study the Allen case in any depth and with objectivity is to realize he is not a molester and that Mia Farrow manufactured the whole story. Back in 2008 Allen was still cranking out films and “everyone” wanted to be in one. He would make excellent films like Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Midnight in Paris, Blue Jasmine and Rainy Day in New York before the Farrow hate machine would slow him down.

In May of 2008 there was no such thing as Instagram, WhatsApp or Tik Tok. Twitter was in it’s infancy and was years away from being taken over by dark forces. People were blogging and when I started I was one of many. Today a blog is a rare thing. I’m a dinosaur. 

In those days Bill Cosby was not in prison or a pariah. It wasn’t until 2014 that the allegations against him became widespread and part of the news cycle with him eventually going to the gray bar hotel.

In 2008 people were worried about climate change coming soon. Now it’s here in what may be the worst development the world has known since Hitler.

There was talk of artificial intelligence and it kind of sounded cool. Little did we know how prevalent it would become and what dangers would be attendant to it.

What about little ole me? What’s gone on with the author these past eighteen years? 

Thanks for asking.

When I started this blog I was still a middle school teacher but only for another month. I spent two years as a sub while I got my TEFL certificate (Teacher of English as a Foreign Language) and the last sixteen years teaching English to people from hither and yon (over sixty different countries) minus eighteen months during the pandemic.

I’ve been at three different schools all of which liked me and all of which I’ve liked. I’ve loved virtually every minute of my job which is in stark contrast to teaching middle school where there were many minutes I disliked, hated or even detested. So it goes.

I have maintained excellent physical health throughout this time. I haven’t had the flu at all and only caught cold about ten times. I’ve had a surgery or two but nothing major and haven’t been out of commission as a result for more than two days. You could accurately say I’ve been lucky, but a good diet and exercise are also contributing factors.

In the world of sports the highlight came only last week when Arsenal won their first premier league title in twenty-two years. There have also been three world series championships for the San Francisco Giants but they’ve mostly been crap since. Cal football had pretty good seasons during the first two years of this blog but they’ve been mostly crap since. This year however….I’ve made it to London for six matches since the birth of this blog including in each of the last four years. Arsenal have not been mostly crap although they hadn’t won a title until now.

I’ve made seven trips to Europe, six with the missus and three trips to the East Coast since ’08. I’ve enjoyed them all including our most recent trek earlier this month.

I’ve remained married to the same woman which speaks volumes about how tolerant and understanding a person she is. Also, she’s the love of my life. *sigh*

I mentioned my physical health being quite good. As for my mental health…well, I wish. There has been much depression. There’s been too much anxiety. There have been unhealthy obsessions. On the bright side I’ve stayed clean and sober and continued the process of working on being mentally healthy and happy. I’ve proven to be medication resistant and even tried Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation which worked for a few months. In am finding that dark chocolate helps a little.

As for the blog itself well you can see by the labels on the right I’ve covered an array of topics. Most commonly I’ve written about films and in the early days of the blog I wrote almost exclusively about movies. This has been great for me because I’ve become a real student of cinema and fancy myself as something of an expert. At the very least I’m a cinephile and film snob.

I’ve included a fair amount of fiction on the blog though not lately as most of my fiction efforts are going towards the novels I keep writing that keep not getting published (I’m trying).

This will be my 1,743rd blog post (raise your hand if you’ve read them all). I’ve come here when I’ve been happy, sad, angry, inspired and apathetic. The blog has proven to be therapeutic. The reality is that today virtually no one reads the thing (I barely do myself) but I’m a persistent son of a bitch and keep cranking out content that no one sees. Do I wish more people read the blog and occasionally offered comments or asked questions? Yes, of course, that would be nice. But if these posts continue to be met with resounding silence, no matter, I shall carry on. I don’t know no better. I love the process and if no one sees the results.

Happy 18th Streams of Unconsciousness. You can now vote and join the military and get married. Just don’t try to buy any booze here in the States. This is a law abiding blog — if an irreverent one. 

Cheers, y’all.

Championships Are Forever -- With Much Love to Arsenal

“𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳, 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦; 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨.” - 𝘋𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘴 𝘉𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘱.

The pinnacle for a sports fan is when their favorite team wins a championship. In most sports for most teams they are extremely rare. I was in my fifties before I experienced the San Francisco Giants being World Series winners. I have never seen  the University of California football team win a conference championship and they’ve never come close to a national title.

A few days ago Arsenal Football Club of the English Premier League won their first league championship in twenty-two years. It came after three successive years of finishing second. 

I fell in love with Arsenal on May 2, 1971. I was an excellent "soccer" player in those days. I’d been good at a lot of sports, but in this one I excelled. It’s a heady feeling being superior to most everyone you face in a sport (and yes, it very much went to my head, humility was a stranger to me as a young man). But I had no team and no hero. There was "soccer" in the U.S. but just as it is today it was of inferior quality. It was hard to get excited about the Bay Area’s entry in what was then the North American Soccer League — the Oakland Clippers. They were made up primarily of players from Yugoslavia. No disrespect to that former nation, but it was hard to relate to them. If they had players from a variety of countries maybe with an emphasis on Brits, it would have been a different story. Also the stadium wasn’t exactly packed. In fact it was mostly empty and had all the atmosphere of a picnic. 

But on that fateful Saturday, Wide World of Sports was showing the FA Cup final from London. Arsenal was playing Liverpool. It was an extremely rare to see soccer on TV, especially from Europe. It was decades before the World Cup was televised here.

Though I don’t recall for certain, at the outset I was likely rooting for Liverpool  because that was where The Beatles were from. The game went to extra time and a chap named Charlie George scored a beautiful goal to put Arsenal ahead, 2-1. His celebration culminated with him laying on the ground with his arms spread. Charlie had long flowing locks, eschewed shin guards and his socks were rolled down. He looked like a rock star. I had a hero and a team. As the next match I played in began I tossed my shin guards aside and rolled down my socks.

Two years later I was standing in the terraces of the North Bank section of Highbury cheering Charlie George and The Arsenal on as they thrashed Manchester United, 3-0. It was (and remains) one of the great days of my life. I’ve been a Gooner ever since. The atmosphere in the stadium was unlike anything I'd experienced and at that point in my life I'd already been to a lot of different kinds of sports event courtesy of my father. Fans were not merely cheering, they were chanting and singing -- constantly. These supporters weren't just rooting  for their team, they loved them.

For much of my life it wasn’t easy being an Arsenal supporter. This had nothing to do with how good or bad the team was and everything to do with living in a different continent. I was left looking up scores in the paper the day after matches. It was hard to feel a connection. Thankfully in the late '90s, games from England began to be televised in the States and we got the internet in our house. I could not only watch matches, I could read about them, watch videos and connect with other fans — many in England — via forums. One such person who became a cyber friend. I finally met him in person earlier this month in Copenhagen where — fittingly enough — we watched an Arsenal match in an Arsenal-dedicated pub.

In 2006 I made a pilgrimage to London to see Arsenal in their last season at historic Highbury Park. The Gunners were 2-1 winners over Liverpool. In 2008 I saw them in their new stadium, The Emirates and again in 2017 (both victories). In 2017 I went on a stadium tour led by Charlie George -- I met my hero! I’ve been to matches the last four years (one draw and three wins) including three weeks ago, on the 55th anniversary of Charlie George’s goal. The Gunners won, three-nil. I always get choked up when before the match the fans sing part of Louis Dunford's song Angel, specifically the part known as North London Forever.

Charlie George's iconic celebration

Today every match is available on U.S. television for a modest fee added to the cable bill. (Remarkably not all matches can be seen in England. I find that bizarre.) I also listen to an Arsenal-dedicated podcast (appropriately called the Arsecast) follow the team and individual players on Instagram, follow other Arsenal lovers on Bluesky, read about the team on various sites and watch videos related to the club.

I’m obsessed.

Indeed my obsession with the team has become so all encompassing that I only closely follow two other teams: Cal 's football and Cal women’s basketball teams. I barely pay attention to other sports and watch none. 

So you can imagine my reaction on Tuesday when second place Manchester City dropped points at Bournemouth thus clinching the title for my beloved Arsenal: I was happy. I’m still happy. I’ll remain happy for a long time. 

Interestingly I did very little jumping up and down with joy. I only barely shed tears. I’ve felt more of a contentment, a deep satisfaction, a relief and immersion in a warm glow.

Once you’ve won a championship either as a player, coach, parent or fan (and I’ve experienced it as all four) it’s yours forever. It can’t be taken away. If you lose all your games the next season you still were title holders the year before. It’s permanent. Wins and losses are that way. You suffer a painful loss to a rival and it’s there forever and winning ten in a row against that team will not wipe away that loss. You do your best to forget those defeats and while  hold ing those wins and championships close to your heart. 

The team you love becomes part of your identity. That’s why it can sting when someone says that they hate the team you love, they are saying that there’s part of you that they despise. It feels personal.

Some people don’t like sports. I can appreciate that. They’re saving themselves a lot of time, frustration and anxiety. But for me the positives of loving a team far outweigh the negatives. There are few joys to match that provided by sports. Also there’s the love. To really care about a team is to love them. And goodness we need all the love in our lives that we can possible get. You're  part of a community. I feel that every time I go to a match. Everyone there is like an old friend. 

I'm proud to love Arsenal. They've always been known for their multicultural fan base, for their early embrace of Black players, their early support for the LGBTQ fan base. And now they're champions of England. In my heart they always have been and always will be champions.