Wow, I haven't blogged since February? Good grief. I must have been so well adjusted all spring!
I have noticed throughout my life that I only write when I am freaking out or having an adventure. Perhaps that is why it feels so strange to be writing now. But my summer plan is to write for at least an hour each day, and that can't just be scribbling in my journal about what I am reading.
Besides, I have had such a rich fulfilling day, I really must document it.
Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head...
Read newspapers, ate fruit, drank coffee, planted vegetables.
HA! Didn't see that last one coming, did you? But it really happened. And I even had to go down into the scary, scary basement to turn the spigot on so that the little shoots would have a fighting chance. (In spite of the fact that I bought them at Home Depot 2 weeks ago and they have been sitting in the backyard getting providentially rained on since.)
Tidied up, sorted laundry, aired a blanket, went shoe shopping.
Got you again! Yes, I bought two pairs of shoes, both of which were designed for women's feet. I couldn't be more surprised myself. One pair are (is? how do you verb for pairs of something?) sneakers - navy blue sneakers that make me feel like doing Zumba! (If Zumba still exists...) The other pair are some sort of hiking sandal that are waterproof and feel absolutely wonderful on my feet. I am going to experiment with wearing socks with them so that I can fit in when I go to Canada. I feel very good about the shoes.
And with all these accomplishments, the only picture I took today was this -
My delicious egg sandwich with cherry limeade on my beautiful Maud Hart Lovelace china.
According to world famous Lovelace scholar, Kathy Baxter, the plate actually belonged to the Hart family. The cup was a find of a friend who saw a set at a yard sale, know the pattern was the same and offered pieces to different Betsy-Tacy friends. I adore it!
And the book is a hoot. Samantha Irby is funny, funny, funny. She makes me feel better about how rarely I left my house this winter.
Okay, I have been writing for significantly less than an hour, but I really need to go prance about in my new shoes.
Monday, June 26, 2017
Monday, February 13, 2017
There is this theory that after the age of 45 or so, women become invisible. There was a book I read back in my 20s where these two middle aged broads go away on a girls weekend and make a wish and apparently are turned back into their more youthful selves and men hit on them again and all is right with the world.
This seems patently terrifying to me.
I reeeeeeally like my 50s. I like being invisible until I speak up. I like not being too concerned that I am wearing socks and Birkenstocks. And most of all, I like having an excuse to be nosy. Don't get me wrong, I have always been nosy! I am always, according to el Guapo, about 5 minutes from poking my nose into someone else's business. Not to stir up the shit. I am very low-drama, thank you very much. I just find people's stories fascinating.
In BETSY AND JOE by Maud Hart Lovelace, Joe, a suitor of Betsy as you perhaps have sussed out from the title, pays her father a wonderful compliment. Something about being a student of human beings. I am far too lazy to look it up. But I like to think I share that attribute. I really do find people interesting.
My best conversation of the past week was with a woman with whom I have worked for years. For some reason we got to talking about husbands' schedules and I casually asked what her beloved does for a living. Well, it turns out he is a horse dentist.
WHAT??? How do you get to be a horse dentist? How do you find any horses to work on their teeth? Is he one of the 4 horse dentists who recommend Trident to their horses who chew gum?
I did not ask all of those questions, but I got her started and out poured the story of how she, herself, used to be a horse groomer at the racetracks in Boston and how she traveled the country and would just show up at a track looking for work and be grooming horses in no time. This is an immaculately put together lady who looks like she spends her weekends drinking tea and looking at the Ann Taylor website from her breakfast nook in Marblehead. And here she has had this amazing life of adventure. Who knew?
I do find the young people of my acquaintance to be interesting by virtue of the fact that they are just starting out and finding their way. High school and college and just beyond are the times just ripe for seeing the world and trying to figure out how it works. I remember the feeling of being adrift and at the same time wanting to suck out the marrow of life. (While at the same time wanting to stay in bed and read...Ah, youth...) When I run across a friend of my kids, or a student at work who seems to have that wanderlust, it warms my heart.
One of the reasons I love the Facebook is because occasionally I will come across one of the travel videos made by a former student, or the political rants of a current student and smile at their newly-hatched enthusiasm. I love that we are churning out more creative, brave young adults every day. But I also appreciate those of us who may have most of our physical adventures behind us, but continue to explore the landscape of humanity through the stories of other people.
*From Julie Schrader's amazing blog - https://betsytacysdeepvalley.wordpress.com/
*From Julie Schrader's amazing blog - https://betsytacysdeepvalley.wordpress.com/
Friday, February 10, 2017
With the change in the federal administration, I have begun to think more and more about women's issues and how they have changed through time. I have also been thinking about my “bubble” - even though I was born in the midwest and have family members and friends in red and blue states alike, most of the people I am closest too are on the coasts. And well educated. And liberal. And I started thinking yesterday about marriage and why my friends have long lasting marriages. We are all Godless communists – how can we not be engaging in free love and naughtiness? Perhaps it is generational – three out of four of my best friends are pretty menopausal (sorry to out you ladies) – but the ones of us that are married have been with our spouses for a LONG time and while things have not always been a picnic for everyone, we have persisted and remained faithful and loving.
For the longest time I have thought that the divorce rate in the US was 50%. It turns out that (according to the New York Times – which I read every morning, ask anyone!) the divorce rate is dropping. And one of the main reasons for this is feminism! And they reported this in 2014.
That was going to be the point of this whole essay. And I was going to have a big reveal at the end. Smart women marry feminist men. Your minds would be blown at the way I was able to pull this amazing truth out of anecdotal evidence.
I was going to tell funny stories of my friends' marriages. Well, not best friend #1 – I was going to call her Victoria. She is my best friend from work. We became friends when I started working at the high school over 10 years ago. She is younger than me and single by choice. She was the favorite teacher of both of my sons and she has had a huge influence on them. She has not made me a godmother, but she has decreed that my sons are her dog's godfathers. So I am essentially a godgrandmother or grandgodmother. (Spellcheck is really resistant to both those options.) Anyway, you can bet your ass that if she ever finds someone she deems worthy of sharing her life with exclusively – they will be a feminist.
There is my friend Lady Chardonnay (she came equipped with her own secret internet name!) and her husband Dr. Chardonnay. I believe she calls him Mr. Lady Chardonnay in her blog, but he is an esteemed academic so I will refer to him as so. So Lady Char just had double knee surgery a few days ago and Dr. Char has been sending email updates to her friends and family. The thing that shines through these is the fact that he respects and adores her. And he may win for feminist-est husband in my circle – these two met when she was working withPlanned Parenthood and he was volunteering with the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center when those two groups joined up for an education program.
My friend Anna (short for Indianapolis – her zombie survival name) is married to...hmmm...we'll call him Mankato (even though he has a very uncalled for superior attitude about Mankato, the greatest small city in Minnesota). If you look at the facts of their marriage, it doesn't look typically feminist. They were both raised in small towns the midwest. He is quite a few years older than her (although he looks a few years younger than me which is patently unfair). She married young. He is a minister. Ooh! He is her boss at work! (Okay, I have been known to make very funny and only mildly inappropriate jokes about sexual harassment in the workplace to her.) He has spent most of his adult life searching for truth and meaning in this world and helping other as they aspire to do this as well. And he clearly respects and adores his wife. Now I don't know if he calls himself a feminist, but in the 18 or so years that I have known and loved this family, I have never heard him say anything that was disrespectful towards women. And I have heard him talk a LOT! And they have raised a daughter who is a teenaged feminist of the highest order.
Mo is my anomaly. We have been friends for over 25 years. She moved to California 20 years ago, but we have remained besties. She has married two feminists! Okay, yes, I know, the point of this was supposed to be that smart women marry feminists and that makes their marriages last longer. But when I talked to her about her marriages, I couldn't help but think that she had chosen wisely twice. I watched her fall in love with her first husband, Herle. I was actually friends with him before they met and I have to say I was not a fan when she showed up at our house. She mocked my spelling. (This seems to be a theme with me!) And she was a pain in the ass. But she grew on me. And I was the matron of horror at their beautiful wedding. They split up for reasons that were, I think, out of their control. They remained co-parents of their amazing kids. Sadly, the kids have kind of aged out of my spectacular godparenting, but someday they will have children of their own and I will be waiting with a pocket full of butterscotch candies and a used tissue tucked in my sleeve to begin my grandgodparenting.
A few years after their marriage ended, Mo started talking about this guy. Just a friend. But she talked about him a lot. And she showed me a picture. He looked just like Mal Reynolds, captain of the Serenity! And - like any sensible person would do when they met someone who looked like Captain Mal and was a trained chef and was an excellent father – she married him. Now she is married to her second feminist husband. I am not saying that this makes her twice as smart as my other friends, but you do the math...
My husband, el Guapo as he is known around these parts, gave me the stink-eye when I asked him if he was a feminist, way back when. “What do I look like, an idiot? Of course I am...” My mom told me when I was a teenager that if I wanted to have a happy marriage, I should marry a man who is smarter than me. I joke that el Guapo was the closest I could find. Fine. He is CLEARLY equally as smart as I am. I will admit that he knows way more science and how to fix things, but I kick his ass at Jeopardy and I will never stop.
I would amend my mother's advice – to have a happy marriage, you should, of course marry a smart person if at all possible. But also make sure that they believe that, regardless of gender, marriage, any marriage, is the coming together of equals. There must be a word for this, but I can't for the life of me remember what it is...
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
Well, you've gone and wrecked one of my favorite names. I usually name my cars Betsy, and, of course, the Betsy Tacy books. And now we have Betsy De Vos. Where do I begin?
So I guess I will begin with the Bloomer list. It is a list of book that is put out by an ALA committee every year that features books with feminist content. I am applying to be on the committee this year. One of the questions on the application is - “Has feminism played a role in your community involvement and/or activism? If so, please describe.”
First of all, how sweet that you assume I am an activist! Most of my activism consists of whining on Facebook. That is an activity, right? But I am involved in the community. And since my community is often times mostly made up of teenagers, I thought I would look there to see how feminism has played a role.
And how does this circle back to the new Secretary of Education, you ask? Well, it became clear to me how closely related feminism and education are. I am a feminist, I have been since I became aware that it existed. And I have had the gift of being well educated in both public and private schools. And believe me when I tell you that a public school education is a gift.
So I talked a girl yesterday at school. She is an ELL student who I have seen around, but haven't really interacted with before. She speaks 6 languages. She is 17 and moved to the US from Malaysia three years ago. She is worried about passing the state standardized tests for 10th graders. Even though she is 2 years older than most 10th graders, this is where she has ended up because she missed so much school. She only attended school for 1 year in her home country.
She is Muslim, but apparently pretty liberal: no headgear, cute fashionable outfit, made up as if angels from Sephora did her face this morning. But with a clearly Muslim last name.
Oh, why did she only have one year of school in her home country, you ask?
Well, when she was 11 she got her first period so she was no longer allowed to attend school. I don't know specifically why, but it sure seems like someone in her her home country doesn't want women to be educated.
Her little sister just turned 11 and she told me with a smile that since they are here in American her sister “will not have to miss any school.”
This student lost the four years that we take for granted. The years where kids wonder if they should be taking AP, wonder if they should try out for the musical, if they should run track, if they prefer math to social studies. She might be brilliant (and she seems pretty damn smart) but she lost 4 of her brain-spongiest years not being allowed to be educated.
(And her Muslim parents upended their entire lives to come here for a better life for their girls. For a more secular life. And yet our government vilifies them because of the their background. That isn't radical Islam, that is radical parenting. But we won't even get into the immigration debate.)
For her, being a woman directly impacted her education in a way that makes me want to scream! Feminism depends on education.
I had an interaction with one of my favorite students yesterday as well. This girl is a senior and she has some pretty significant medical issues and some learning delays. And she is the most engaging kid, she never stops reading and if I didn't adore her already – she is a compulsive book buyer who purges her YA collection regularly and donates her books to the school library!
So this girl came in yesterday wearing a shirt that said, “Books make me happy. You, not so much.” I howled with laughter. And I got to thinking, because of public education, she has been able to overcome so many challenges to become the woman she is today.
And Aunt Betsy isn't even sure if we need to fund special education. I don't even have the words to express my dread.
As I mentioned earlier, I attended private schools. They were very warm, kind places where I was surrounded by a lot of privileged kids who looked just like me, who had parents who thought just like mine and who, if they exhibited any challenging behaviors, were invited to go back to public school. Aunt Betsy would have LOVED my educational experience. And I am grateful that my parents wanted their daughters to have a good education. And I don't regret the time I spent in those institutions.
But the truth is, private schools separate us from people who are different. And it is important to surround yourself with people who have different experiences. So many of the problems of this world (not the least of which is the current administration) stem from not understanding that your experience is not necessarily universal.
My younger son attends a public university where his 10 suite-mates are essentially a United Nations. This pleases me to no end. I was in third grade before I met a non-white child. (Not because my family was racist, I just lived in a super-white suburb. My parents hosted a Fresh-Air kid every summer and caught a rash of shit from some parts of the community for that.) He has had gay friends since elementary school. I met my first gay friend in college. (If you don't count every closeted boy I had a crush on in high school...) It was Michael Tolliver from Armistead Maupin's TALES OF THE CITY. But then I met non-fictional gay friends too.
Part of my slow exposure to people who were not “just like me” was because of geography, part of it was because of the era in which I lived, but part of it was the way that private education can insulate you. The idea that it is somehow superior to public education is laughable.
Take it from me, I experienced it and I love to laugh. And I have devoted what will probably amount to the second half of my life to public education. I tell my students that there is no more extravagant gift that they will ever receive than a free public education. And I firmly believe that.
So, Aunt Betsy, before you destroy everything that I hold dear by your greed, incompetence and misguided sense of superiority, be aware that I am a feminist educator and I am watching you.
Tuesday, January 17, 2017
Fear of missing out is not a new phenomenon. Many of the worst decisions of my life can be attributed to wanting to be where the action is, rather than being where I should be to get things done. (See entire college education, 1984-1989.)
In the works of Maud Hart Lovelace, the newly acronym-ed FoMo plays a role, even in the early 20th century. In HEAVEN TO BETSY, when Betsy is honored with a place in the essay contest, she blows her preparation time because of a slew of parties to honor a friends who is moving away. In BETSY IN SPITE OF HERSELF Cab and Tony are supposed to read the noble work of IVANHOW the night before there sophomore year of high school begins. Instead, they decide to hang out at the Ray's, making fudge and singing tunes. Emily Webster of the apocryphal EMILY OF DEEP VALLEY attends the sleigh ride from hell when her friends are home from college even though she knows she is on a pity date and she will be spending the entire evening shivering in the Minnesota winter while her best friend and cousin unknowingly flirts with the undeserving boy who holds her heart. But she doesn't want to miss out.
There are a lot of parallels to current teenage behavior (and adult behavior, too) in these books. Instead of going to Five Guys to celebrate the last night of summer, Betsy and Tacy take a picnic up on the big hill. When Carney's beau Larry moves away to California, Betsy helps her get over it with the 1907 equivalent of listening to Fall Out Boy and binge watching Gilmore Girls – she listens to Carney play classical pieces on the piano and reads out loud to her when she sews. And Betsy's Christmas in Milwaukee is her own French/Music/Spanish trip – the first somewhat-independent trip that is a rite of passage for current upper middle class girls. Especially those who want to come home dramatic and mysterious.
The reason I love these books so much is because even though they are set in a very specific time, the experience of being a high school student generally shares the same emotional arc. Certainly not for everyone, but for many smart girls who like to read and write. And I was (and remain) just that sort of smart girl. Maud Hart lived that arc in the aughts, my mom did it in the 50s, I did it in the 80s and there are the same things going on now in the twenty-teens. Is it the lattice of coincidence? The circle of life? The wind beneath my wings? Perhaps not, but it is a shared experience of young womanhood that Ms Lovelace was brilliant at putting on the page.
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
The first song that came up was Lesley Gore's THAT'S THE WAY BOYS ARE. Well, that blew my mind. The lyrics forgive a bunch of really passive-aggressive behaviors with the phrase “that's the way boys are.” And I learned from this song that in 1964, boys were real assholes. According to Richard Aquila (and my pals at wikipedia) this song's lyrics “voice the era's acceptance of sexual double standards” and Walter Everett (a musicologist) says it “perpetuated a boys will be boys tolerance for male, but not female, infidelity.” The first line is about how she feels so awful when he check's out other girls, but she just suppresses those rebellious feelings because, for heaven's sake, he is a boy. They are wired for objectifying women! (Spoiler, when they have a fight it is Lesley's fault.) This is the girl who sang YOU DON'T OWN ME, so it makes this a little tough to take.
But next up is Bo Diddley's CHEYENNE. And that CHEYENNE was up to all kinds of mischief. Manly mischief. It was a good time to be a manly man...
Then Bobby Darin tells us how he wants SOMEBODY TO LOVE. You see, he was off chasing fortune and fame, but all he wants now is a good, good girl to spend his life with. (And she damn well better be good!) He wants to change her name. He is even willing to give up his roaming ways. I think that means he may even stop having sex with other girls for her! (But he might not be able to because he is a boy, after all.)
These are all love songs, but the pining kind. ONE FINE DAY, STAY, TELL HIM – lots of instructions about how to make these crazy teenage relationships work. There was one song by Nancy Shapiro (Britain's Top Female Singer!) called WHEN THE RAINS CAME that seemed like it might be about agriculture. But no, it was a metaphor for love - chaste, sweet love. So much romance and longing in these songs, but no one is getting it on! Except maybe Cheyenne, he had a lot going on. And Bobby Darin back before he quit his roaming ways. Let's put it this way, the boys were getting it somewhere, but not from these nice singing girls!
Susan Maugham hit the jackpot with best song of the night with BOBBY'S GIRL. Okay, Susie, you have one way and one way only to show the whole world that you are grown up now. Are you going to do really well in school? Are you going to help those less fortunate? Maybe you should run for office! Nope, not going to happen. You are putting your eggs in one basket. A basket named Bobby. Being his girl is the pinnacle. It is the greatest gift you can give yourself – the gift of a boy! Admittedly, he's a boy who has someone else and probably doesn't even know who you are, but his love is the only goal worth achieving here! You will be a thankful, faithful girl. And that is the most important thing a girl can be!
Admittedly, I love the feel of these songs. I even like the romanticism of the lyrics and the nostalgic sexism behind them, but it dawned on me as I was listening that these are the songs that 70 year old men grew up listening to. No wonder they want to make America great again! Boys got to do all the fun stuff and girls basically waited around to be noticed. Right around the corner we have the summer of love where everyone gets a seat at the table, eventually Madonna shows up, followed by Lady Gaga and Beyonce. It occurs to me that I don't listen to much modern pop music - give me the Grateful Dead and the Rolling Stones, please – (and don't mock me for thinking that Madonna is modern pop music) and I am not sure exactly what these ladies want out of life. But I am pretty sure it isn't to be Bobby's girl.
But as the worm turns, politically, and feminism is still considered a dirty word in many quarters, these songs I listened to tonight made it clear that there was some programming in the culture that made it seem like if, you weren't a girl, it was pretty awesome to be a roaming, adventuring fellow, secure in the knowledge that when you were ready to settle down you would have a good, good girl waiting for you. And with this kind of advertising it is no wonder that some old guys (and some young guys, and some women who don't have a real grasp of the concept of equality) want to find a way to get these gals back in the kitchen making those sandwiches and remembering who it is who wears the pants in this great country of ours!
Saturday, January 7, 2017
I already reviewed Lion earlier in the week. Here are the rest of the movies I went to see over Christmas vacation.
Tuesday 12/27 – La La Land – Liberty Tree Mall – with niece Yvonne
Saturday 12/31 – La La Land – Liberty Tree Mall – with L L Lizbeth
Yvonne and I both were dying to see this one and we both fell in love with it. Lizbeth and I planned on being movie buddies over vacation so when she got home, I went to see it with her for a second time.
It was magnificent. The music was beautiful, the cinematography was delightful, there was a ton of chemistry between the leads. There was so much to love about this movie! Story is girl flips off boy in traffic, boy snubs girl, girl tortures boy in 80s band act of revenge, boy gets girl, jazz, acting and fate step in.
The first time I saw this movie I had a huge smile on my face, the second time I cried throughout the whole thing. (This could be a me problem.) But both times I left the theater grateful for having been there. On the first viewing, I applauded at the end of several of the musical numbers and so did other members of the audience. When I went later in the week, I still applauded but was looked at askance by other members of the audience for my enthusiasm.
This movie gets a high 5 on the Barb-o-Meter and is recommended for everyone who values creativity and understands the idea that love is a gift.
Wednesday 12/28 – Rogue One – Liberty Tree Mall – el Guapo, the boys and nephew Drew.
Yes, it was fantastic. It reminded me of The Dirty Dozen, but in space. Sure, I slept though about 62% of it. But the parts I stayed awake for were magnificent. I don't suppose there are people who look at a Star Wars movie and think, “Well, I'll wait to see how the reviews come in and then decide if I am going to spend my $11 on it.” You're pretty much legally obligated to go see it. And we were no exception. There is this Death Star being built and it is going to be a big deal. There are some plans for it and finding these plans will allow the rebel alliance to make 6 or 9 more movies (depending on how you count them) so they must be found. Someone on the internet posted about how the Galactic Empire really needs to employ better archivists for their records. I concur.
Seeing this movie the day after Carrie Fisher passed away added an emotional bump I wasn't expecting.
I give this one a 3.5 out of 5 – it was loud and violent and couldn't really keep me awake. But the parts I saw were excellent.
Wednesday 12/28 – The Lobster – my living room – el Guapo, even though he claimed he wasn't watching it
This was a strange, strange movie. It had actors that I love – Colin Farrell and Rachel Weisz play the strange people who fall in love. And Olivia Colman showed up as the hotel manager to surprise me, I always love her.
The premise is that everyone must be coupled. You must have a partner. (Don't have a moving buddy? Get one!!) When Colin Farrell's wife leaves him for another nearsighted man, he is sent to a hotel where he has 45 days to find a partner or he will be turned into a lobster. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? There is a dog (who used to be Farrell's character's brother), the gorgeous, unrecognizable Ben Whishaw as a man with a limp, John C. Reilly sporting a lisp and a cruel woman played by Angeliki Papoulia who I have never heard of, but will be keeping an eye out for. It got a 90% fresh rating from Rotten Tomatoes critics, but only 60% from normal people. And this makes sense. The ending is abrupt and leaves you to decide what actually happened.
I gave this movie a 3 out of 5, but I feel like if I were to watch it again, the score would go up because I wouldn't have to wait for it to begin to make sense. I recommend this movie to people who are secure in their relationship status (be they paired or single), have an open mind and aren't planing on getting LASIK surgery any time soon.
Thursday 12/29 – Manchester by the Sea – The Cabot – el Guapo and LLLizbeth
Well we had to go see this at our local cinema what with it being filmed in the Garden City! There were several local landmarks in view. First off, the table that my colleagues and I sit at on Friday afternoons at Fibber McGee's was on display during an early scene. Beverly Hospital where my younger son was born and the funeral parlor across from Rite Aid both were settings for important parts of the story. There is one point where if the camera had been pointed a little bit to the right, you may have been able to see my house! (Sadly, Cabot Street was not as scenic as Lothrop Street for the big parking scene...) So that was exciting.
Now to the film itself – it is one of the best movies I have ever seen in my life. It was so perfectly put together that even when looking at places I have known in real life, I was never pulled out of the story. It is also harrowing. My shirt was damp from crying. Seriously, it wrecked me. I got to discuss it with the guy behind the counter at the liquor store and he said he felt the same way. Because OF COURSE I had to go to the liquor store right after seeing this movie. Before I saw MbtS, I ran into a friend at the movie theater at the mall and when I mentioned that I was going to see it at the Cabot the next day, he said to make sure I scheduled some extra therapy sessions because I was going to need them. (On a side note, when I told him I was not in therapy he said, “Really? No one has ever suggested that you go? There have been no court orders?")
I had a few students in my film class who saw it over break and when we discussed it on Wednesday one of them opined that it wasn't as painful to watch it if you took the kid's point of view, rather than the adults. Nonetheless, it will have an impact.
This movie gets a 5 from me (and pretty much everyone one else in the world) and I recommend it for everyone who can drown their sorrows after, who can schedule more therapy and for children 15 and older.
Friday 12/30 – The Arrival – Liberty Tree Mall – alone
This could have just have easily been a review of Fences, because I was still on the fence (heh...get it?) about which one to see when I got to the theater. But the start time was a little more convenient for The Arrival, so there I went.
I was taken quite by surprise by how much I liked this movie. I have grown to appreciate science fiction films thanks to the support of my sci-fi-maniacal husband, but it is rarely going to be my first choice of genre. This film had my favorite kind of sci fi setting – in our world in the near future – and it had some really interesting real science bolstering it up. The premise was the arrival of some unidentified life forms (12 maybe?) over different areas in the world and the different ways humans attempted to interact with them.
Amy Adams played a woman who loses a child early in the film to some sort of horrible disease and is currently living a solitary life of teaching linguistics at a university during the day and drinking wine at home alone at night. When the visitors come, she is tapped to try to learn their language. Jeremy Renner (el Guapo's celebrity doppelganger!) plays a physicist with whom she works. They start off not really trusting one another's perspectives on the aliens, but end up with a strong sense of mutual respect.
The story unfolds a bit more slowly than the usual space movies I have seen, which I appreciated. And the bad guys (there are a few different sets) are generally more nuanced than viewers usually get in this type of movie. (With the exception of a couple of kids who watch way to much Bill O'Riley. Let that be a lesson to you all!) I have some overarching questions about fate and inevitability that are brought up by the way the film ends, so if you see it, message me and explain it please.
I gave this moody little film a 5, I really did. I recommend it to any literate person who likes tentacles, gravity and ponytails.
Monday – 1/2 – Jackie – Liberty Tree Mall – niece Yvonne and sister-in-law Liz
Liz is the sister of el Guapo and she is a big fan of the Kennedys I was thrilled to be invited to go see this film with her and her daughter. The fact that I invited myself in no way diminished my pleasure.
Natalie Portman is amazing! I admired her work in Black Swan, put up with her in the first few Star Wars, loathed her in Beautiful Girls and loved her in Where the Heart Is – which is a horrible movie, nonetheless, she was adorable in it. She plays Jackie Kennedy perfectly. I was never that interested in Jackie. I mean, I think she had an interesting life, but I never read much about her or was that curious. Well, I am now!
The movie is very moody. It has a strange soundtrack that I found really evocative. Her speech, facial expressions and even costumes really drew me to the character, even as I realized that she was not particularly likable. The framing device for the story is an interview with a reporter (played by the reliably dreamy Billy Crudup) in Hyannis shortly after the assassination of JFK. The meat of the movie is the time between when the Kennedy's landed in Dallas and when the president's body is interred at Arlington National Cemetery.
The story is familiar, the parts that stood out to me were the people who supported Jackie at this time. Greta Gerwig plays Nancy Tuckerman, Jackie's best friend and social secretary of the Kennedy White House with warmth. Peter Sarsgaard plays Bobby Kennedy beautifully - trying to be kind to Jackie while reeling from the death of his brother. But the show belongs to Portman and it is impossible for me to imagine anyone else ever playing this part.
I gave this movie a 4.5. It probably should earn a 5 for the quality of production and the stellar performances, but it is a cold movie, I think perhaps intentionally, and while I appreciated it as a work of art, it rarely hit me emotionally. Again, perhaps a flaw of mine and not the film. But in a week of seeing some really remarkable films, it holds up. I recommend it to anyone who likes couture, mild rhotacism and capricious funeral plans.
So there you have it. If we are Oscaring these contenders, I think Portman and Affleck deserve the big prizes with Michelle Williams (didn't mention her in my Manchester review, but holy cow!) and Sarsgaard providing the best support. La La Land, however, was the most pleasurable movie-going experience of my year, twice! And for me, it is the best picture.