Is there Sculptor's Block? Bottoms, a Documentary and Depression all in under 600 Words

From Bottoms, in theaters now

Do painters get painter’s block? Do sculptors get sculptor’s block? Do potters get potter’s block? If they do I’ve never heard tell of it. If they don’t, why the hell not? I’ve heard people claim that writer’s block is a myth. This is said by people who either don’t write or can’t imagine anything that is not within their own experience. In other words they lack imagination.

Lacking imagination does not merely mean you cannot conjure stories, it means you lack empathy. You cannot conceive of things outside of your world. This is a common affliction among conservatives in the United States. They are cold-hearted precisely because they have no empathy and they lack empathy because they have no imagination. Their thinking is stilted, stifled and stuffed.

I have no segue to introduce the fact that I saw a new film called Bottoms at an actual movie theater on Sunday (Berkeley’s last — theater, not Sunday). It was an absurdist comedy centering around two lesbians in high school who form a sort of fight club. Their motives are not necessarily pure but like a latter day Mean Girls there is a redemption arc and a helluva story in the bargain. There are also many laughs some courtesy of former Cal and NFL football player Marshawn Lynch who plays a teacher named Mr. G. He starts one class by saying that the holocaust was real and it all stemmed from the Treaty of Versailles and he wants his students to act out said treaty. That’s some innovative teaching. Marshawn improvised a lot of his lines and that was a really good call by the director. Bottoms was great raunchy fun with much to say about high school, sexuality, masculinity and friendship. I look forward to more from the young director, Emma Seligman.

Last night I watched Turn Every Page: The Adventures of Robert Caro and Robert Gottlieb, courtesy of the Criterion Channel. It is a documentary about the great biographer Caro and the even greater editor, Gottlieb who are still working in their late eighties. Caro rocketed to fame with his 1975 bio of Robert Moses, The Power Broker and has since produced four volumes (when the hell is the fifth coming?) of a biography on Lyndon Johnson. Meanwhile Gottlieb has edited over 700 books including Catch-22, True Grit, all of Toni Morrison’s oeuvre and books by the likes of Michael Critchon, Bill Clinton, Ray Bradbury, Lauren Bacall, Salman Rushdie, John Cheever, John le Carre and many, many more. The film is about both men as individuals and also on their long collaboration. They are extremely admirable individuals whose contributions have been incalculable. It was moving, inspiring and thought-provoking. Lizzie Gottlieb, one of the subject’s daughter, directed.

For reasons too complex to get into I have today off. It is my pleasure to be writing here now. It is also my sad lot to be as depressed as hell. Merciful heavens but does life feel grim and awful and full of foreboding and terrors and heartache and pain and anguish and do I feel worthless and hated and a complete failure. I’ve experienced this enough to know that it won’t last but I can’t FEEL that it won’t last. It feels forever as obvious and ugly as death. It’s not the worst level of depression, If it were I’d not be able to write. How terrible to think I’ve suffered worse than this. How grateful to be writing and alive and healthy. There’s tomorrow.

Hey Ziggy, We Did All Right; On Changing Language and Culture and Being Cool

Ziggy played guitar.

It’s one of those times in my life where I don’t know if I’m here or there, sad or happy, me or you, making it or faking it. But it doesn’t matter because I’ve got David Bowie playing on, in and around my headphones.

Dig it.

In my youth we said things like, “do your thing,” “it’s your bag” “funky” (I love the word funky — you jive ass turkey). We also said — well not me, but some people — my head’s in a weird place right now (for fuck sakes get it out of there!). We used to “trip” and “go through changes” and we were worried about someone “hassling” us or “messing” with us (the jive ass turkeys). Some of the shit people said was silly like “when is the meeting happening?” But at least no one forgot anything, they merely “spaced on it.”

I was young at some amazing times. It was when we stuck it to the man, took to the streets and grooved and got down and boogied. There was the fucking war in Vietnam and it was just so fucking obvious that that shit was messed up and we protested the hell out of the war. That was a damn good thing and was accompanied by our belief in equality and racial justice.

I’d grown up trying to be keen and boss but then it all became about being cool.

Young, man. That was a trip. Tripping man, they could be trippy. Course we tripped on acid (LSD to y’all). That was heavy. Messing with your own mind. Enlightenment. We were all about that shit. 

We got stoned, loaded, wasted, fucked up, shit faced, bombed out of our minds.

We went through some serious changes — dude.

Dude was a word that looped around in weird ways. Changing a lot and do the young people still use it, my dude? There were no fellas and very few guys. But dudes -- yes.

Females were chicks to some. Gays were queer, and queers were gay. Even the young and the hip were still processing homosexuality. That was new to us but in keeping with new and enlightened times we were accepting — eventually.

There was a time that our Black brothers and sisters were Afro Americans. I liked that term but it went away and was not my call. 

Ziggy played guitar jamming good….

Love and peace were serious themes. Do we talk about them anymore? I mean we were serious about them both. They were what it was all about. Give Peace a Chance and All You Need is Love, said the Beatles. They were the main spokespeople of our generation, hell, they pretty much formed our goddamned generation. 

Course there were others: Hendrix, Joplin, The Doors, The Who, Marvin Gaye, Bowie, Stevie Wonder, the Jefferson Airplane, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Neil Motherfucking Young. Even the Beach Boys — Pet Sounds, y’all. Yeah, we had our voices and they were cool beyond words. Rhythm. We danced like crazy and the dancing was CRAZY. But you knew that.

Woodstock!!Z!!

But some shit was nasty like Charlie Manson and the poor saps he hypnotized. Murdering bastards. Totally uncool.

Vibes were super important. You wanted good ones.

The Black Panthers were at the vanguard. 

But there were serious enemies. The pigs. Hoover and the Fucking FBI. The CIA. The Military. Nixon, Reagan. Mayor Daly. So many. The uncoolest.

We were right, though, ya know. We had it together. We were right and righteous. It was our time. We changed the world. No, not so much the U.S. power structure, it looks like rich, corporate, militaristic bastards will always hold sway. But we created the culture man. We made movies, and music, and TV and literature and art and liberated teens, and sex and language and clothes and hair. Hair, man.

We did a number on that. 

People should totally thanks us.

Ziggy, out.

Pain, Godland My New Novel and More Oppie, All in One Post!

From "Godland"

Pain hurts.

I’ve had a lot recently owing to a foot infection which stems from the surgery I had last month.

Sharp, biting, stabbing, throbbing pain. It comes suddenly. Sometimes one sharp jolt. Other times waves.

I’m on antibiotics. 

Again.

This is my second round. I was better now it’s back.

Great.

Sometimes I mix the pain with anxiety. At least I’m not currently depressed. Like I was last week. 

If it’s not one thing….

It’s another.

On Friday I taught a class while in excruciating pain. Not optimal. You do get a certain amount of adrenaline and are able to carry on — maybe an occasional wince — and while engaged can ignore the pain. 

Today is much better. I can feel the effected area but so far no jolts. There’ll be some in the course of the day but they’ve been diminishing and I’ll be right as rain soon. One assumes....

Meanwhile the novel is about a month away from being ready to send out to perspective agents and publishers one of whom will surely see it for the best selling classic it is destined to be. 

Here’s a little bit about it: “The Blood of Love is the story of David Trentwood and his great love, Cordelia McKenzie, set against the backdrop of massive social change and political unrest in Berkeley during the 1960s.

It is a kaleidoscopic look at the Sixties, the demonstrations, the counter culture, sex, drugs and rock and roll. It invokes the spirit and passion of the time as characters explore new found freedoms and take to the streets to protest the Vietnam War. David is at once a witness and a participant. The story is told in his voice which is fresh, irreverent yet sophisticated. David’s story is told as it happened, unfolding for the reader as it did for him. As David says in the book’s foreword: ‘This will be my story but it will also be about those times. Most of the eight years described took place within the crucible of Berkeley, California, then an epicenter of the student movement, a place where the cultural sea changes were always evident.’” Sound good to me....

Watched an extraordinary film yesterday, Godland (Pálmason). It is the best new movie I’ve seen since Drive My Car. Visually stunning replete with the dramatic vistas of Iceland. It is an engrossing story about a priest sent from Denmark to start a parish in the wilds of Iceland. It is man against nature, man against religion, man against man. I believe it was in theaters in the Spring and now it can be found on the Criterion Channel. Don’t know that it’s currently available anywhere else. Pity because it deserves a wide audience.....

Been reading American Prometheus the biography of Robert Oppenheimer that inspired the film currently raking it in at the box office (deservedly so). I enjoy reading about complex characters and Oppie was certainly that. Yes he helped fashion the atomic bomb that so devastated Hiroshima and Nagasaki but he came to abhor his creation and worked towards keeping it from being unleashed again. He was liberal, an ardent anti-fascist before the war who “flirted” with the Community Party. Actually he’s very difficult to label — which is a good thing in a person. He was admirable, deplorable, kind and cruel, progressive, thoughtful and the pioneer of the bomb. He was never dull nor was his life. Amazing character. Brilliant book. 

Movies I've Watched Lately, Some of Which I Liked Greatly

Stefania Sandrelli in I Knew Her Well

Dog Day Afternoon (1975) Lumet. I’ve written about DDA numerous times on the blog so long time readers (Mary Ellen Moskowitz of Bismarck, South Dakota) know of my deep affection for this film. I refer you to this post for more. A truly great film only gets better with time. I’ve got some complaints about the casting in some of the films mentioned below but you couldn’t begin to imagine anyone better in any of the cast of DDA. Of course Al Pacino as Sonny gives a master class in acting in one of his greatest roles but John Cazale, his blinkered partner in crime, Charles Durning, the New York cop in charge, Penelope Allen, the lead teller, Sully Boyar, the bank manager and Chris Sarandon one of Sonny’s wives couldn’t have been improved upon. Sidney Lumet’s direction deserves plaudits and this is one of the best edited films you’ll ever see thanks to Dede Allen who also edited such films as Reds, Bonnie and Clyde, The Hustler, Wonder Boys, Serpico and Little Big Man — not too shabby.

Traveling Saleslady (1935) Enright and Make Me a Star (1932) Beaudine. Two from Joan Blondell. The former is everything (almost) that you want out of Blondell picture. You get Blondell, a woman who was simultaneously cute and sexy as a perky young woman wise-cracking her way through life getting the better of any man who crosses her path. Blondell plays the daughter of a toothpaste company owner (ably played by the always reliable Grant Mitchell). She strikes out on her own when Dad won’t give her a job, working for a competitor and becoming an incredible success. The only problem was that her leading man was played by William Garage (who?) a fine supporting player but no romantic lead. Fredric March would have been perfect and others such as Robert Montgomery or Joel McCrea would have done nicely. Make Me a Star was a terrible film. The missus and I can’t figure out how we managed to watch a full half hour of it before calling it quits. The pacing was….well, pretty much non-existent. Under the incompetent direction of William Beaudine, the film had all the pep and excitement of a funeral. Blondell was billed as the lead but the main character was played by Stuart Erwin who could better carry a boulder than a film. His acting perfectly fit the film’s ponderous pace. What a dog!

Mirror (1975) Tarkovsky. This was my fourth viewing and I still have trouble making heads or tails out of much of it. I love it all the same. Like Stalker, another favorite of mine from the great Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky, Mirror is not exactly inaccessible but it is hard to unlock. This only enhances the joy of watching it. It’s a challenge but one well worth taking on because of the stunning and mysterious visuals. It is ostensibly the story of a dying man in his forties remembering moments in his life. Margarita Terekhova as his young mother is utterly beguiling, as is the film.

The Strange One (1957 Garfein. It’s the name of the film and it describes it as well. The Strange One is set in a military school where a sadistic upper classman browbeats freshman and sets up a major’s son for expulsion. Ben Gazzarra in his film debut is magnetic in the lead role as we quickly come to despise him. It’s a compelling story and yet an unpleasant one and by the end one is left wondering what the point was. Do we learn anything from this story of cruelty and the fate of the main character? Are their lessons for our or its time? Not obvious ones. I’m not sure what to make of The Strange One. It was like watching a nasty argument, but one you couldn’t turn away from.

I Knew Her Well (1965) Pietrangeli. This under appreciated (at least in the U.S.) gem from Italy tells us the story of an aspiring young model and actress. She is on the cusp of fame but reaching the highest heights is a big leap requiring a lot of luck. Will she make it? We see her life in a series of vignettes in which we both learn about the difficulties of achieving stardom — the disappointments, the embarrassments, the sacrifices and the joys of being young, beautiful and talented enough to draw attention. Our protagonist goes to nightclubs, works in movie houses, models during boxing matches, attends lavish star-studded parties, goes on dates. She also languishes in her apartment listening to an endless string of .45s. We see her as a pratfall prone naif but also as a sweet and caring young woman, perhaps too sincere for the world she seeks to enter. The movie’s ending hits hard but is somehow inevitable. The then 19-year-old Stefania Sandrelli stars and she is an utterly enchanting delight who it’s impossible not to fall in love with.

The Goddess (1958) Cromwell. We end with yet another disastrous bit of casting, and in the lead role, no less. Here the great stage actress Kim Stanley plays a woman who emerges from humble and unhappy beginnings to become a beloved actress and sex symbol. Stanley plays Emily Ann Faulkner from ages 16 through 31. The problem, especially in the early scenes, is that Stanley was 33 at the time and looked closer to 43. Couldn’t they have at least tried to make her younger? Perhaps more significantly, Stanley was no great beauty and there’s never any hint of sexuality, smoldering or otherwise, in her performance. And we’re supposed to believe she’s worshipped by fans the world over? It might have helped if they’d shown her acting. Adding to this, Stanley and some of the other cast absolutely chew up the scenery whenever given a big scene. The screenplay is perfectly fine which is not surprising given that it was written by the great Paddy Chayefsky. But director John Cromwell was not up to the script and whoever was in charge of casting the film was an idiot.

I Don't Know if I've Ever Been Almost Famous But I Saw a Film with that as its Title

Kate Hudson and Patrick Fugit in Almost Famous

Friday night the missus and I watched a film called, Almost Famous from 2000. I saw it when it first came out but hadn't since. I had the vague recollection that I didn’t like it at the time although I couldn’t tell you why. Even vaguer was my recollections of the film itself. A young reporter? Rock and roll? Kate Hudson was in it? It’s the sort of film that is made reference to every now and again. No one calls it a classic but it's not widely disparaged. It’s also obvious that it means a lot to some people. It seemed worth another go although I can’t tell you what finally got me to watch it again.

Almost Famous is the autobiographical tale of director Cameron Crowe’s experiences as a fifteen-year-old reporter (!!!) following a rock band on tour for purposes of writing a story for Rolling Stone magazine. It stars Patrick Fugit as the precocious writer and no that name is not familiar to me although he’s been in a few films I’ve seen, never in big roles. In Almost Famous the band is called Stillwater — it’s fictional. Crowe was embedded with the Allman Brothers. Kate Hudson plays the primary groupie or Band-Aid as they call themselves. She along with Frances McDormand as the kid’s mother steal every scene they’re in. McDormad, as we know, is a multiple Oscar winner but Hudson seems to have mostly done mediocre rom-coms. More’s the pity.

If it’s true that I didn’t like Almost Famous twenty-three years ago I’m at a loss for why. I found it to be a delightful story, with excellent pacing, a good soundtrack and good to outstanding performances. The story it told was worthy of the two-hour screen time. It was sweet, it was coming-of-age, it was about love and dedication and a young man learning life lessons in real time during the heady experience of traveling with the famous — or almost famous.

But Almost Famous also was a cold slap in the face for me.

In a good way.

I am a writer. I was once a young aspiring writer. I was a brash young reporter. I was a talent. I was cool. I was “going places” (never got there). But I tossed it all away. I was hedonist. I loved chasing women and getting high too much more than I was ambitious. I was lazy. I was stupid. I squandered my opportunities. 

In recent years I’ve come to wonder why there was no one around who would set me straight. I never had a mentor; I never had an older wiser voice around me prodding me in the right directions. Actually there were some voices about that occasionally tried to give me counsel but I was much too arrogant to pay them any heed. So perhaps trying to talk sense into me would have been fruitless. After all, how do you talk sense into the senseless?

Like a lot of good films, Almost Famous convinced me (again) that I have to get more serious about my writing. Mind you I’ve finished my third novel (well, almost) have the draft of a fourth and have started a fifth and write on this blog at least four times a month but I tell you it’s not enough and in all earnestness it isn’t. I squander far too much time poking around various corners of the internet. One can always do better and I can do a helluva lot better. Fucking internet.

(I have no idea how or why the above paragraph came out looking like that. I swear it's not my fault and I tried to fix it -- to no avail.)

I loved being a reporter. It seemed at the time that it was my calling. So naturally I quit when I was twenty-five. Idiot.

Is this the cause of my depression? Do I live in regret of my mistakes? Do I wallow in self-pity at the wounds I inflicted — on me? Better question: can I not learn to live in the moment? Can I not learn to be grateful? Can I not appreciate what I’ve done, where I am and where I’ve still to go as a mortal?

You’d think.

Almost Famous focused my thinking in a particular direction and I appreciate when a film does that. Yesterday I watched the great Russian film, Come and See (1985) Klimov which has to rank among the great World War II pictures of all time. It’s a visceral viewing experience and for fleeting moments hard to watch. It caused no great introspection on my part but did get me thinking about human’s incredible capacity for evil and destruction. Brutal honesty in film is much to be admired if it is presented in a way that is palatable to audiences. The imagery of Come and See is rich and powerful and glorious despite the horrific subject matter.

So, yeah, films — good ones — can send your mind into different directions.

What have I learned from writing this? Probably that I’m doing all right. I need to appreciate today, learn from yesterday and keep an eye out for tomorrow because it’ll be here soon enough. 

They Tried to Scam Me Out of $300 and They are Scum, They're Called Berkeley Cardiovascular Medical Group

The Berkeley Cardiovascular Medical Group is a bunch of blood sucking parasites with no morals. Allow me to elaborate.

Last summer I went to my GP as I was experiencing occasional heart palpitations. She referred me to Stanford Health Care which placed a monitor on me for two weeks to record what my ticker was up to.

A few weeks later they called me in for an appointment and I was advised that I should get a pacemaker.

Subsequent to that I got an unsolicited phone call from a doctor with the Berkeley Cardiovascular Medical Group who somehow had gotten a hold of the readings of my heart monitor. I told him that I’d already visited with a doctor from Stanford Medical and a had agreed to have a pacemaker installed. He said that in that case he was offering a second opinion that I should indeed have the procedure. It was a pleasant enough chat of no more than twenty minutes.

All well and good.

In October I had the procedure and am now the proud owner of a hunk of metal in my chest. Joy to the world.

But subsequent to that I got a bill from Berkeley Medical Cardiovascular Group for $320. That was the cost of unsolicited phone conversation. Mind you, thanks to my insurance I paid only $200 for the entire operation in which the pacemaker was installed. And here I was being asked to pony up more than 100% more than that for a phone conversation. And I reiterate that it was not one that I asked for nor for that matter needed.

I suppose it is no surprise that I was shocked and not a bit outraged that a health organization would try to bilk me out of $300 plus. I gave them a call, chatted with someone who I told in no uncertain terms that the bill was ridiculous and I’d not be paying it. I asked to speak with someone who could try to explain the bill to me. 

I did not hear back and assumed that they’d realized their mistake and the charge would disappear. 

Nope.

A month later they sent the bill again. This was truly unbelievable. So I called back, talked to someone about how insane the bill was and asked for a call back from someone in authority. 

Never got one.

Instead, a month after that they sent the bill again. I then made my third and final call. I was told there was no one available who could help me and that I should call in a week or so. I pointed out that this was my third and final call and it was high time they called me back. 

No one ever did.

Time passed and a fourth bill arrived. I mailed it back with the following note:

I have made several attempts to talk to someone about this bill over the phone but no one has called me back. This is my last communication on the matter. If I don’t hear from anyone I’ll simply toss out any future bills sent from you. This outrageous charge is for an unsolicited phone call that lasted less than twenty minutes. It was also superfluous as I was being treated by another doctor with whom I’d scheduled a procedure to install a pacemaker. Incidentally for the surgery I was charged $200. Here I am being asked to pay more than a $100 more for a short phone call made to me that I did not request. You will never see a dime out of me for it. At least I have made the effort to talk to someone.

When two months passed with no word I assumed that they had FINALLY accepted the error of their ways and the matter was settled.

Instead I recently received a notice from a bill collector demanding the $300.

I can only conclude that the people at Berkeley Cardiovascular Group are greedy, money-grubbing monsters who prey on senior citizens and are not above trying any form of chicanery they can conceive of to separate people from their cash.

Imagine how low a medical group has to be to revert to scamming people out of their money. Imagine the guile of supposed health care professionals who have doctors call people and then charge them $300 for the privilege. Why not pick random numbers out of the phone book, call people and then send them a bill? Of course they never called me back. How could they have begun to justify the bill?

Berkeley Cardiovascular Medical Group is beneath contempt. They are soulless cowards who never even attempted to explain the bill they foisted upon me. 

Berkeley Cardiovascular Medical Group tries to take advantage of senior citizen with heart problems. That’s who they are. Scum.

Oppenheimer: A Worthy Epic

Cillian Murphy as Oppenheimer

I saw Oppenheimer yesterday. Some thoughts:

The story was made into an epic which seems appropriate given the scope of Oppenheimer’s life, the significance of what he did, the personalities, many famous, who he encountered and how his story reflects the times in which he lived.

Robert Oppenheimer was many things. He was the guiding genius behind the most destructive weapon ever created. So destructive that it has altered the way we perceive war and engage in it. It is a weapon that risks life on Earth. Yet he did not set out to make such a device nor did he want there to be such power vested in the military or their superiors in government. He was a man of strong liberal leanings. Strong enough that he was labeled a Communist as were many prominent leftists of his era. Ultimately he was a victim of the McCarthy-like witch hunts that plagued the United States for nearly two decades after World War II.

He was also a large personality. Loved and reviled by many. He was brilliant, arrogant, a womanizer, an intellectual. He was — and the movie is very good in conveying this — an enormously complex man who was ever introspective. He spoke his mind but he listened to others who did likewise.

Today he is many things to many people. He is the evil who created the bomb, he is a victim of a red-hating bureaucracy. He is the genius whose efforts to stop Nazism were appropriated to wipe out hundreds of thousands of Japanese and make the world forever on edge.

The film gives us a complete picture of Oppenheimer, not aggrandizing or apologetic or critical. Audiences are left to draw their own conclusions. The picture works in large part because of Cillian Murphy who, contrary to my initial reaction to his casting, is letter perfect for the lead role. Mostly he has the face, that incredible face that told so much while keeping so many secrets. He also has the voice, which was so intelligent and interesting with its odd inflections. I can’t imagine anyone doing a better job.

It was nice to see Robert Downey Jr. and his prodigious acting talents back in a non-comic book movie. His talents were wasted (as are so many others’) prancing about in costumes in front of green screens. This film reminds us of the brilliant actor from Zodiac, Wonder Boys, Home for the Holidays, Chaplin, and Good Night and and Good Luck.

The supporting cast includes Emily Blunt, Matt Damon, Florence Pugh, Casey Affleck, Josh Hartnett, Alden Ehrenreich, Kenneth Branagh, David Krumholtz, Gary Oldham, Matthew Modine, Benny Safdie, Rami Malek and Olivia Thirlby. That’s a lot of talent and together they were as one would expect. (Interesting to note that Oldham played Harry Truman. Previously he had portrayed Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour, which means if they made a film about the Potsdam Conference he could play two of the three leads. For that matter maybe he could play Stalin too.)

I saw Oppenheimer at the Elmwood Theater in Berkeley. It is our city’s only remaining movie house (not counting the Pacific Film Archives which does not generally show first-run films). It is a classic old theater that used to boast a balcony. Sadly the upstairs balcony area has been converted to have two small screens which have walls thin enough that you can often hear loud sounds from the neighboring screens.

But the Elmwood (part of Berkeley’s Elmwood district where I lived from 1997-2013) still retains much of the charms of the old movie-going era. I’m so glad that it is still a going concern but there are fears that it is hanging on by the skin of its teeth. Two local theaters have closed in the last few months to go along with the several that shuttered during or soon after the pandemic. I was proud to bypass the huge AMC cineplex to see Oppenheimer and I was glad to see others do the same.

One of the draws for those of us in Berkeley is that several scenes were shot on the University of California campus (Go Bears!). The campanile was used as an establishing shot.

I went to the Elmwood about a dozen times last year and even for much ballyhooed movies that were just opening, the audience was sparse. Not so yesterday when the theater was about eighty per cent full.

Sadly two of the patrons sitting a few seats down from me were most unclear on the concepts of attending a film among other people. First the female got out her phone and studied it for a few seconds. Then she and her companion whispered and finally they whispered and both looked at her phone. I let my feelings be known before moving a few rows up thus avoiding any more of their rude behavior. Everyone else around me sat silently watching the film. Not a tough ask.

And it was a damn good film to watch. It’s three hours but breezed by. Compelling stories do that and full marks to Christopher Nolan who I’ve never been a fan of. Maybe this signals a new direction for his talents. I certainly hope.

I also hope for more thought-provoking films to come out of Hollywood, although the on-going writer and actor strikes may delay that.

I’ll sum up my feelings on Oppenheimer the movie by saying that immediately after seeing it I walked to a bookstore and bought a copy of the book upon which it is based. I couldn't have imagined not buying it. 

Starring in a Bio-Pic, Another Challenge for Actors

Sean Penn as Harvey Milk

It looks like I’m going to go see a movie called Barbie that is really and truly based on the doll from Mattel. (Margot Robbie in the title role.) Who’dathunkit? (I’m not going today, by the way, but eventually.) 

The reviews are in and they are overwhelmingly positive (a current 90% on the tomato meter). Also opening this week is Oppenheimer which is about the famous physicist. Robert Oppenheimer was a character in my novel Threat of Night. One of two real people in the book, the other being Fritz Weidemann the German general counsel in San Francisco in 1941. In including “real people” in my book I was diligent about research. Thus I got to know Opie a fair bit. Cillian Murphy seems an odd choice to play him but a lot of odd choices in bio pics have worked out well, see Leonardo DiCaprio as Howard Hughes in The Aviator. Less of on odd choice is Joaquin Phoenix in Ridley Scott’s Napoleon; due in theaters this fall. I’m sure he’ll do bang up job. Odd to think that Phoenix will have portrayed both Johnny Cash and Napoleon Bonaparte.

I guess I’m on the topic of actors playing historical figures. Daniel Day-Lewis set the standard when he played Abraham Lincoln. None of us have ever seen Lincoln nor is there any existing film of him (not that there could be, given that he died in 1865) but surely, we all believed, that was what Lincoln sounded, looked and acted like. We were all convinced that Day-Lewis WAS Lincoln. 

Gary Oldham similarly won a best actor Oscar for his turn as Churchill in The Darkest Hour. It was damn good but we’ve all seen plenty of footage of Churchill so the delusion that he was perfect was not quite there. Still he embodied the character and it was a bravura performance. 

Bruno Ganz gave an incredible performance as Adolph Hitler in Downfall. The movie was controversial because some claimed it humanized Der Fuhrer. I thought that was precisely the point. Hitler was a human and it’s important to remember that true evil springs from us. This was not some monster created in a lab or that arrived from another planet. Hitler and all those who did his bidding were people. Just like you and me.

So far I’ve only mentioned men, let’s fix that. Cate Blanchett (in yet another Oscar-winning performance) was positively brilliant as Katherine Hepburn in the aforementioned The Aviator. She barely looked like the great actress — not her fault — but totally captured her voice and mannerisms. 

Marion Cotillard as Edith Piaf in La Vie en Rose (yeah, she won an Oscar too) was mesmerizing. So too Reese Witherspoon as June Carter Cash (yup, got an Oscar) in Walk the Line opposite Mr. Phoenix. Singers are especially hard to do but great actors somehow manage. John Cusack and Paul Dano both excelled as Brian Wilson in Music and Lyrics.

I can’t believe I’ve gone this far and not mentioned Sean Penn as Harvey Milk in Milk (yes, he won the Oscar too, the Academy loves to reward actors for playing real people). It was one of the greatest performances in a film I’ve ever seen.

Ya know who else was good as real people? From the same film, Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman as Woodward and Bernstein in All the President’s Men and Jason Robards as Ben Bradlee. That was a helluva cast.

Here’s one that doesn’t get mentioned a lot, Joan Allen as Pat Nixon in Oliver Stone’s Nixon. That’s a tough one to do because you’re playing someone who is so publicly restrained. 

Damn! Here’s another I forgot and it’s another Oscar winner, Robert DeNiro as Jake LaMotta in Raging Bull. In terms of portrayals of real people it’s got to be in the top five along with Penn as Milk. 

Shout out to Margot Robbie as Sharon Tate in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. I hope people realize that Robbie is much much more than a gorgeous woman, she’s one of our better actresses. Here’s an example: her portrayal of Tonya Harding in I, Tonya. Another stunning bio pic performance.

Here’s another for my top five (better make it a top ten it’s getting kind of crowded), Al Pacino as John Wojtowicz in Dog Day Afternoon. Surely one of the greatest performances never to garner an Oscar. Of course Wojtowicz is not a familiar figure (according to those who knew him or met him — like my wife— Pacino nailed it) so I don’t know if that’s the same thing as Penn’s Milk. Maybe there’s two categories: portraying familiar people and those who, while real, are not seared into the public consciousness. It’s a whole different deal playing someone that the public is less familiar with. It’s much easier for Warren Beatty to play Clyde Barrow (Bonnie and Clyde) and John Reed (Reds) than for David Strathairn to play Edward R. Murrow (Good Night and Good Luck) or Meryl Streep to play Margaret Thatcher (Iron Lady).

There’s a terrific performance in a film not widely seen that’s well worth mentioning here and that’s Michael Sheen as the great British football manager Brian Clough in Damned United. If you’re not familiar with Clough watch the film then check him out and You Tube (there’s tons of clips) and you’ll see how good Sheen was. Another lesser known but brilliant performance was Ian McKellen as the director James Whale (Gods & Monsters). Dustin Hoffman as Lenny Bruce (Lenny), Denzel Washington as Malcom X (Malcolm X), Ray Liotta as Henry Hill (Goodfellas), Ralph Fiennes as Amon Goeth ( Schindler’s List) were also good. So too Sissy Spacek as Loretta Lynn (Coal Miner’s Daughter) and Diana Ross as Billie Holiday (Lady Sings the Blues).

I’m sure I’m missing a lot. Some haven’t been mentioned because I’ve not seen the movie or don’t hold it in high esteem.

I wonder from an actor’s perspective if it’s more difficult to play a historical figure or one who’s well-known in fiction like Henry Fonda playing Tom Joad (Grapes of Wrath) or the many women who have played Jo March — most recently Saoirse Ronan — in the many versions of Little Women? People develop pretty strong ideas of what a fictional character in a book looks and sounds like and the darn thing about it is they vary. If the actor’s version varies too widely from something resembling a norm, you’ve got trouble. Is it easiest to play a character who comes from an original screenplay? I would think so. Not only are you not dealing with the same type of expectations from the audiences, but you’ve got license to create the character pretty much as you see fit (though the screenwriter, the director and maybe even the producer might inhibit that process either for better or worse.)

Anyway I’m interested to see what Margot Robbie does with Barbie. Just hope she gets the voice right.

A Detailing of the Minor Surgery I Bravely Endured Yesterday

Yesterday I had minor surgery on my right foot (there are no minor surgeries, only minor surgeons — wait, does that mean that there are surgeons below legal age?). I was at the aptly named Surgery Center for just over three hours. During that time I was out like a light for maybe an hour and a half. As one does while in for surgery I was asked a lot of questions, what is your date of birth? Is a popular one. I guess they don’t want to forget to send me a card on that special day. I was also asked a few times to confirm which foot was to be cut open. Isn’t it more important that they know that? You also get your blood pressure taken a couple of hundred times. When I was overnight for my pacemaker “procedure” My blood pressure was checked with every breath I took. They could just ask, I could tell them it’s fine, it always has been.

Does it sound like I’m complaining? I’m not. Everyone was —despite the repetitive questions — very nice, totally professional and solicitous of my needs. I have — outside the psychiatric community — had universally excellent experiences with medical professionals, most particularly nurses -- the vast majority of whom are saints. 

I awoke from surgery only a little bit loopy (not the cockeyed drunk I seemed to be after the pacemaker business) and in a fine mood ready to greet one and all with a cheery hello, how are you. I was a regular hail-fellow-well-met. There were warnings of possible pain to be experienced in the coming hours and suggestions about over-the-counter pain killers to take but as I write this fifteen hours later and I haven’t felt a thing. The only thing I am feeling is a lack of sleep. I woke up at 2:37 to pee and never got back to sleep. Not even for a minute. This is an extreme rarity for me and it promises to make navigating the day a bit difficult and I’m sure there is a long nap awaiting me in the afternoon.

I’ll manage at work well enough. The crutches will just be for show for the next two days and by Monday I’ll have abandoned them completely. Meanwhile I'll garner some totally unnecessary sympathy and offers to help with small tasks.

The downsides so far have been fasting as I had to do yesterday, doing the hand-held shower thing to avoid getting the foot wet and the fact that I have to wait two weeks before returning to the gym. That’s two weeks if all goes well and I’m insisting that it do, er does.

So I’m delighted to have survived another bout on the operating table — I’m such a brave lad — and I hope not to have to visit one again for many rains.

I thank you for your indulgence as I’ve prattled on about this. You my faithful reader(s) (Lola Macaroni of Friday Harbor, Washington) make all my labors at the keyboard worthwhile. 

(Just occurred to me that maybe minor surgery refers to surgeries preformed by people who work in mines. No, that would be miner surgery. I'll have to get back to you.)