Identity (2003) nat

A smart and scary psychological thriller starring John Cusack, Amanda Peet, Alfred Molina, and Ray Liotta. All I can really write is that it’s about 10 people caught in a rainstorm at a scary out of the way hotel. They all start dying one by one and have to figure out how they are all connected in order to escape. I didn’t see the major plot twist coming—I was also not paying a super lot of attention because I was carving a pumpkin while watching the movie—but I thought it was fairly smart and interesting. Worth a watch.

Dirty Pretty Things (2002) (nat)

I'd seen this one before but Joel and I bought it while waiting to eat at Cheesecake last night--he hadn't seen it and I like it a lot. It's about Okwe (Chiwetel Ejiofor) and Senay (Audrey Tautou) who are illegal immigrants in England, him from Lagos, she from Turkey. They both work in a hotel when some strange things start to come to the surface. Okwe finds a human heart lodged in a toilet and then things start to unravel. Senay is pursued by the immigration authorities and falls in love with the emotionally closed Okwe. The movie was in the "thriller and horror" section of the DVDs but I wouldn't really classify it as either. It's a tad suspenseful and definitely dark but not a thriller or a horror movie in my book--just a drama with a macabre tinge to it. Anyway, it's very good and Ejiofor won all sorts of awards for his acting in it. Definitely worth a watch.

Horror Hotel (1960) (nat)

Also titled, The City of the Dead, this one has Christopher Lee as Alan Driscoll, a professor of witchcraft who sends a student, Nan Barlow (young, pretty, and blonde, of course), to research her term paper in Whitewood (a tiny, New England town untouched by time) and stay at the Raven's Inn, which is own by Mrs. Newless (a friend of Driscoll's--he was born in the town). The town's claim to fame is that it burned the witch Elizabeth Selwyn in 1692--this is the opening scene of the movie. Nan goes to the town, much to the dismay of her science professor brother and science-minded boyfriend. There she stays at the creepy Raven's Inn in a room with a trap door in the floor and a mute servant girl who keeps trying to tell her something. She goes about her "research" (which really consists of reading a book loaned to her by Patricia Russell, the priest's granddaughter who has just returned to town) and is oblivious to the similarities in what she finds out about Candelmas Eve (when the witches sacrifice a girl) and what's going on right now in her life even though she's reading a book describing what's happening right now and Alan Driscoll told her that Elizabeth Selwyn was supposedly still alive and well and Driscoll looks ominous and threatening ALL the time. There's a completely gratuitous lingerie shot and then she's trapped and sacrificed. Her brother, boyfriend, and Patricia (who the brother obviously has a thing for and vice versa) try to figure out what has happened to Nan after she mysteriously disappears--the brother and the boyfriend both descend upon Whitewood. Then, low and behold, it's the Witches' Sabbath, the other night when the witches have to sacrifice a girl. Patricia is marked for sacrifice and the brother has to save her. Remarkably, the flirtation between Patricia and the brother doesn't amount to much and no one seems very sad or upset when they finally figure out that Nan has been killed . . . . it's as if saving Patricia stacks up to saving Nan. As long as we save the one girl . . . .



Not a terrible movie but sleepy, definitely, and full of plot holes (like the lack of emotion over the dead sister/girlfriend)--we watched it because it was the first on Joel's new "Horror Classic Movies" boxed set.

Stand by Me (1986) (nat)

No, I've somehow never seen this movie. I knew the basic plot and cultural knowledge associated with it but never actually saw the movie. I would have been too young to see it when it first came out and somehow missed it ever since. And since even I knew the plot, I won't rehash it here. Regardless, I liked it. Little boys get interesting ideas in their heads, though. It would have never been appealing to me to go find a dead body but it seems to make sense that these kids would go in search of the dead boy to escape their lives for a little bit. The movie did remind me of two more things I could do without in movies (and, really, in life in general): eating contests and leeches.

Clerks (1994) (nat)

I think I needed to have seen this one when I was younger (well, meaning closer to the release of the movie). Then I would have loved it. I like it now but only sort of chuckled at the funny parts . . . . except Silent Bob dancing, that made the whole movie for me but we all know how I feel about awkward running and funny dancing in movies.

Everyone else on earth has seen it--but it's about a day in the lives of a convenience store clerk and a movie rental store clerk including a hockey game, a chewing gum rep who rebukes cigarette smoking, a dead guy in the bathroom, a wake for a dead ex-girlfriend, encounters with the current girlfriend, the reappearance of another ex-girlfriend and her encounter with the dead guy in the bathroom . . . .

It's funny and I'm glad I saw it but I like the Kevin Smith movies I saw closer to their release date better: Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma, even Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.

City of God (2002) (nat)

I have a terrible memory for movies. I swore I'd seen Fight Club only to find out while showing it a class of freshmen that I had not. I swore I'd seen Like Water for Chocolate, even bought it, but, no, I'd seen another movie (that I still haven't identified) with a somewhat similar plot. I swore I'd seen Emma with Gwenyth Paltrow and bought that one too, nope, hadn't seen it. And it works the other way around, too. I have City of God from Netflix and went to watch it tonight, to make 193 of the list. Ten seconds in, I knew I'd watched it before. And, not only watched it, but gotten it from Netflix. I looked and, yes, I'd watched it a year ago June. Nothing is more aggravating (at this moment, anyway) than getting geared up and settling in to watch a movie that's over two hours long and realizing that you've seen it. Grrr, but I guess that's a super great rationale for this blog. I'd end up watching the same three movies over and over while swearing I'd seen ten others that I haven't.

Anyway, I did like the movie last time I saw it. I'm not going to watch it again because I didn't think it was super. It's about two boys growing up in Argentina and having to navigate the violence in order to just be able to grow up. The movie is beautifully shot and, if I remember right (which we know may not be true particularly given the subject of this post), it doesn't seem like the two hours ten minutes it runs. Not one I feel the need to own but definitely one to watch.

Meanwhile, Netflix really should help a absent-minded girl out and say, "you already saw that one, sure you want it sent again?" Oh well, off to see what else I can watch. . . .

Gone Baby Gone(r) (2007) (nat)

Super good movie. Bit of a downer but that's ok. Casey Affleck is Patrick Kenzie and Michelle Monaghan is Angie Gennaro. The two are living together and have a private investigation business (more or less a repo business) when they are approached by the frantic aunt of a missing little girl. They take on the case, against Angie's intuition, and find themselves in the middle of a lot of sticky, morally ambiguous situations.

Affleck is brilliant. Who knew he could pull off a well-rounded, well-thought-out, serious character with any real emotion or talent? (Well, I guess Ben thought maybe that would work out). He's at his best, I think, when he's giving the seemingly off the cuff, million words a minute, I'm-telling-you-exactly-what-the-situation-is-and-I'm-not-taking-any-of-your-nonsense speaches. Ed Harris is good as Det. Remy Bressant. But too much depends on the intense plot twists to say too much about the characters themselves. I did like and appreciate that they didn't make Angie the advocate of the mother as if all women bond over being mothers or the potential to be mothers.

Definitely a morally tricky movie. It's not a feel good story at all. It might be interesting to teach--it's based on a Dennis Lehane novel of the same name but I've never heard of him much less read any of his books (I'm guessing it may be a little airport-fictiony?)

William Carlos Williams (1920s) (nat)

I don't get poetry. I try. I really do. But the little things in my brain that would make poetry work are lost to the darkness with whatever would help me read Cormac McCarthy.

The anthology has two selections from Williams: "To Elsie" and "All the Fancy Things." And that's all I can say about the actual poems.

I do want to take the introduction to Williams for task. Without knowing much about the man or his poetry, I think the information is just plain wrongheaded. It quotes, Julio Marzan's (accent on that last a) "groundbreaking study" The Spanish American Roots of William Carlos Williams. He says that Williams's need to understand and possess America is due to his "mixed ancestry" and that

the 'America' in the question is not narrowly the United States, but the hemispheric America that Columbus stumbled onto. Elena's [Williams's mother] being from Puerto Rico, one of the sites where Columbus is believed to have actually set foot, and from a Spanish-speaking line that mingles its blood with the continent, made that 'America' Williams' legacy. He was an American and a 'pure product of America' because his mother was Puerto Rican.

What? He was American because he grew up in the country. I know the pc connotations of the word and that all North and South Americans are "American." But I think the critic is really reaching for it by making the "because his mother was Puerto Rican" and because Columbus might have "set foot" in Puerto Rico that means Williams is a real American. That's just nonsense. Most immigrant fiction (especially that of children born in the US of immigrant parents) is about trying to be more like the people in the US, to fit in with the clothes, the food, the language. Like any kid trying to be cool and brush off the dust of their parents' generation, the children of immigrants are trying to fit in and, more often than not, trying to sever their roots at their own feet. Puerto Rico, despite being a US territory or whatever it's called, is just not like the mainland of the country. And, despite any of that, the critic fails to pay any attention (at least in this quote, which may have been poorly chosen) to the father, who was of Caribbean (no mention of which country) descent but was born in and immigrated to the US from England. That means he's half British (via the Caribbean somehow), which is most certainly not American. I just think it's an incredibly silly and ill-founded argument to say that Williams is trying to be American because his mother was from a territory (and Columbus really has nothing to do with any of it).

"The Rebel Is a Girl" from The Rebel (1920) (nat)

This is part of my new effort to read some "ethnic" literature so as to please the job market gods who will inevitably laugh uproariously at my pale white girl self for even feigning to read anything "ethnic." Regardless, here I go. All of these are in an anthology, The Latino Reader (it's not like they make an "ethnic" reader--and thanks to JD for the recommendation), so some of them are excerpts.

Anyway, the first is "The Rebel Is a Girl" from the autobiographical novel The Rebel by Leonor Villegas de Magnon (supposed to be an accent on that last o). The selection is a little schizophrenic. It begins detailing the poor people who live on the banks of the Rio Grande until storms come and raise the water level, threatening their homes, possessions, and lives with drowning. The story then moves to a group of bandits who ride through the poor sections looting but with the ultimate goal of arriving at the home of Don Joaquin (accent on the i) who has just gotten a stock of wine. They go, drink Don Joaquin's wine, and threaten his home only to be stopped by the sight of his wife having just given birth. Moments later the Federals come knocking, looking for the rebels (who have scattered). Don Joaquin shows them to the rebel--his newborn daughter. The Federals say, "a man child" and the don replies "the rebel is a girl," which prompts the Federals to leave. We then join The Rebel all grown up with a husband and kids of her own while she is a revolutionary working against the government in the Mexican Revolution. She and another woman rescue imprisoned soldiers with the help of the faithful Pancho (who was her father's servant). They also encounter a woman who brings telegrams with important information to The Rebel. And that's about it.

I'm just not sure what to do with this. All of that happened in a little over 13 pages--not much was devoted to any of the plot points and it seems just as I'm getting interested in one aspect, the author switches modes dramatically. I actually was more interested in the poor people moving house away from the river and that's only about a page of the selection. There is also a fair amount of awkward exposition about the historical situation--odd, out of narrative voice, let's give you a history lesson so you can understand the impact this story should have on you sections--when the author really should have been able to get me that information and make it more dynamic and important to the action of the story that I felt how important The Rebel was to the movement. Instead, I have little to no idea about the historical situation, what exactly The Rebel was doing, how it impacted the situation, nothing. I would hope the novel as a whole is much better or I'd feel schizophrenic after a few chapters and would wonder at the use of "recovering" this one (the author tried to publish it in Spanish in the 20s, failed, tried to publish it in English in the 40s, failed, a scholar found it and campaigned for it, finally getting it published in 94--39 years after the author's death).

We're off to a roaring positive start with my new project, huh? Next is William Carlos Williams. We all know how well I do with poetry . . . .

Run (2007) (nat)

Ok. So. This is not Bel Canto. I know that's my refrain if you've talked to me in the past few days. But I love that book. And Run is not Bel Canto. I have to remind myself to let this newer book try to make it on its own instead of being smushed by the earlier (better) book. Regardless, Run (by Anne Patchett) isn't bad. I love the way Patchett writes and I like the general idea of the storyline and I found myself genuinely interested in all of the characters. Ok, that's all of the general information--the rest contains spoilers (which I'm going to try to put in the same color as the background so it should only be seen if you highlight it--we'll see if that works out for me).





My first concern is that the reviewers let it slip that Tennessee dies. She doesn't die until the penultimate chapter and at the very very end of that chapter. We get an idea she might die in an earlier chapter but nothing is confirmed until later. I don't like knowing about the end before it happens unless the author has intimated something. And I don't like waiting for that event to happen, thinking that the book will actually "happen" after that point. It was like waiting for the murder/trial in Stranger in the Kingdom. It's unsettling and leaves me less than invested in a character that isn't dead yet.

My second concern is the conversation between Tennessee and Tennessee. So, it's a dream or hallucination or step into the afterlife, whatever. But are we to take that information seriously? If we are, Kenya is not the dying woman's daughter and, therefore, is not the sister of Tip and Teddy. Yet there are several points at which her hands are noticed as similar to Tip/Teddy, her running ability matched to Tip/Teddy, her personality, etc. This is where there's the slight possibility of a "they all look alike" statement, making Patchett racist. I don't think that's the case and think the argument is a stretch. But I don't know what we are to do with the information that the dying Tennessee is not Kenya's mother. That makes me question whether she is Teddy's mother (because he was placed first and she assumed from only a photo that he was her child). I can deal with Tennessee not being Kenya's mother but then that seems to make some sort of "better with the white man even though she's not the boys' sister" statement that I'm not comfortable with. I can handle a "family no matter what, regardless of blood relation, etc" statement. But that seems problematic because parents aren't the most reliable thing in this novel. Tennessee gives up Tip and Teddy. Bernadette dies. Kenya's father is somewhere but not with her. Kenya's birth mother dies. Kenya is "adopted" by Tennessee who drags her around to look at her "real" children. And Bernard Doyle trades in children every now and then; Sullivan wasn't working out so he paid more attention to Tip/Teddy and then Tip/Teddy weren't doing what he wanted so Kenya became his favorite. He's a good dad but he's made some major mistakes. And all of this seems to say that mothers are not all that necessary. Three of them die in the novel and the best case scenario for Kenya is to live with Doyle. Regardless of all of that, I don't know what we are supposed to do with the information. That's a pretty big thing to drop in the lap of the reader--Oh yeah, this woman who you think is Kenya's mother? She's not but no one knows that. Meanwhile Kenya feels a strong bond to men she's never met because she's been lied to about a biological relationship. Ok. We're done with that. On with the story I want to be telling about Kenya being related to Tip/Teddy. That's a problem.

MAJOR PROBLEM! Kenya being promised the statue of the Virgin. She never met Bernadette! I don't like that one bit. I think Sullivan or Teddy should have gotten it because there were no girls before Bernadette died and the statue was passed on based on appearance or disposition--Sullivan looks most like the statue and Teddy acts most like her. It should probably go to Sullivan because he really got the short end of the stick in this whole situation. That scene at the end at the graduation where its finally realized that Doyle is making Kenya a favorite and Sullivan has been knocked further down on the totem pole is very sad. I wanted to know more about Sullivan.

Ok. I think those are my major issues with the book. And, even though that's a big rant up there about the Kenya's biological mother situation, if you can get past that problem, the book works on every other level.

I do wish there had been more about Sullivan. He was probably my favorite although it is unnerving to see my name in a novel--I don't know if it's happened before now. I almost would have preferred that he adopt Kenya rather than Doyle. Hmmmm.

I didn't read with a pen in hand (I know, silly me) so I didn't underline anything but a line stuck out nonetheless--when the older Sullivan, the priest, is thinking about his healing powers and his death he says something like, it would be a shame to miss God looking for Him. I just think that's a wonderfully simple but important idea. Religious or no, looking for the all-important, end-all-be-all of anything will often result in overlooking the thing itself which is quite often very simple.

I love the scenes where each man finds his bond with Kenya. Teddy comforting her at the scene of the accident (does he have a bonding moment with her after he finds out she's his sister?). Tip being thrilled that she's interested in the fish. Doyle loving that she hears the stream in his music. And Sullivan's first meeting with her--maybe that's why I like him the most, he seems the least reserved, the least outwardly concerned with how all of this will effect him and understands that at the moment it's about a little girl whose mother has been hit by a car.

And I like Kenya. I like that she reminds herself to be honest (having no idea who Thoreau is). And I think Patchett just nailed her character with things like being simultaneously scared and thrilled that there were new things to be discovered (I had to laugh at her thinking all of the birds had yet to be discovered). And the cadence of the writing seems to mimic Kenya's movement--that calm that builds and builds until she just bursts with energy and has to run.

I do like the book a good bit. I just wish I could cut out that Tennessee/Tennessee conversation.

The Jazz Singer (1927) (nat)

Oh. My. God.

First, this is a silent movie; the first to have synchronized talking/singing sequences (i.e. lip-synching). So that's painful for me.

Second, it's terribly terribly racist. Terribly.

So little Jakie Rabinowitz is Jewish and living in a New York "ghetto" with his mother and father. His father is the cantor and wants Jakie to follow his lead. Jakie is a quite good singer and knows all of the songs. The little boy, however, has other plans. He wants to be a jazz singer. He sneaks off to the beer garden to sing and makes his father mad. Little Jakie persists, leaving home to pursue his dream, at which point his father disowns him. He stays in contact with his mother and changes his name to Jack Robin, much to the chagrin of his father. He gets to play Broadway, finds a nice non-Jewish girl, and gets to be a jazz singer. Then his father falls ill and his mother comes to retrieve him so that Jakie can sing on the Day of Atonement. He finishes the dress rehearsal that's in progress first but then goes home to see his dying father. Jakie sings for the Day of Atonement the next night, cancelling the opening night of his show, and his father dies while he sings. His jazz singing begins again the following night as his show opens.

So, all of that, in and of itself, isn't too terribly bad. He's rejecting his Jewish heritage for something less traditional but kids do that every single day. While it's not a great portrayal of the Jewish faith, it's no worse than if the kid decided he wanted to be a singer instead of a baker like his parents. And, while he leaves his faith, he doesn't dismiss is as useless and he does come back to it when it matters (when there would be no cantor for the Day of Atonement, when his father needs him most). Where this movie becomes incredibly problematic is the inexplicable use of blackface. When Jack Robin is on stage as a jazz singer, he's in full on blackface with a nappy wig. Why? Who knows. One could say jazz is a black tradition. Sure. No one is going to argue with that. But in the 20s jazz went Broadway (which is where Robing was performing) and big band, which is to say it went white. So there is no overwhelming reason for Robin to be in blackface. And it makes today's viewer uncomfortable for no real reason. Historically interesting as the first integration of synchronized talking/singing so I can at least see why it's on the list but otherwise . . . . not so much my cup of tea.

Barbarian Invasions (2003) (nat)

The 2003 winner of the best foreign language film Oscar is D-E-P-R-E-S-S-I-N-G!! But not in a it's-still-a-good-movie way. In a I-can't-believe-I-just-watched-someone-die-and-didn't-learn-a-thing-from-it way. The basic plot is that Remy is dying of cancer. He's in a hospital in Montreal and thanks to the poor healthcare situation, he's in a room with two other guys (he's lucky he's not in the hallway) and he's not receiving the best care ever. His ex-wife Louise calls their son Sebastien (all of these names have accents I can't replicate here) who lives in London and is quite rich; she asks Sebastien to come and help with his father. He and his fiancee, Gaelle, come and shake things up. More or less, Sebastien bribes everyone he comes in contact with to get "the best" for his father even though his father is a womanizing cad who cheated on his mother 6 months after they were married and kept up multiple affairs throughout his life and the father/son duo never had a real relationship. Sebastien bribes his way into a private room (on a closed floor of the hospital), bribes the union to get their help, bribes the nurses, takes his father to the US for expensive tests that he sends to a friend overseas to interpret, bribes his father's former students to visit, essentially bribes his father's friends to come visit . . . . . The apparent moral of the story is if you've got a stack of bills, you, too, can connect with your dying father. Further adding to the morality of the story is that the overseas doctor friend recommends heroine over the prescribed morphine. To the dr's credit, he recommends a trial that is testing the benefits. St. Sebastien, however, goes to the local police department and asks a couple of narcotics officers where to score. That only sort of works in that they tell him to ask some "musicians and poets"---ta da--his father's friends are just that, a bunch of academic sorts who have illicit affairs, drink a lot of wine, eat things like scrambled eggs and truffles, smoke pot, change political alliances frequently . . . . . you know the sort. Well, low and behold, one of his father's former mistresses (that's right, in that group of friends is not one, but two, former mistresses--visiting while the ex-wife is there and there seem to be no grudges) has a daughter (named Nathalie) who just happens to be a junkie. She scores for herself and the father and, along the way (of course!) learns the errors of her junky ways. The heroine "helps" (really in the same way morphine would, just lessening the pain) but then they all decide to take the dying man to the lake house of one of the friends where he miraculously does not get better and the junky (who is now on methadone) helps euthanize him. Meanwhile there are some longing looks at Sebastien from the junky and some semi-aware looks at her from the fiancee and the fiancee gives some sort of speech to the father about love that I didn't quite get but nothing seems to materialize out of any of this--the junky gets to live in the father's flat where he seduced many woman and Sebastien and the fiancee fly home to London. Also, it is, of course, wintery when the man dies. Overwrought pathetic fallacy, anyone?

I really can see absolutely no reason why this movie is on the list. It's not that good. The acting isn't spectacular. The story isn't that interesting. It doesn't make that much of a statement about the medical care situation in Montreal (the man was going to die anyway and the "help" the son gave was of the illegal sort not the correct-medical-neglect sort and there isn't any indication that the morphine wasn't working). It doesn't make a big statement about father/son relationships or friendships or marriages or gay relationships or father/daughter relationships (all of which are included--I mean what's an academic without a gay friend?) No big statement about academia--I couldn't even really figure out what the man taught (politics? history? philosophy?). No live life to the fullest nonsense. No give up and die already edict. No condemnation or endorsement of drug use. No condemnation or endorsement of police looking the other way. Lots of religious references but no real payoff. No going to God. No rebuttal of God. Nothing but a man dying. And that's not really movie worthy.

Michael Clayton (2007) (nat)

Because writing this is more fun than writing a "statement of current research"--yick! Anyway, Tracy and I saw this today as part of our day o' fun. It's not really a "fun" movie, but it is quite good. More of a character study than the thriller the previews make it out to be. And a much simpler plot than the previews or any of the articles I read intimated. Clooney is fantastic, as usual, and I could handle Tilda Swinton even though she scares me a little and I want to know if she was wearing padding around her middle. And she delivered my favorite line of the whole movie perfectly: "You don't want my money?" Anyway, Clayton (Clooney) is a "fixer" for a law firm--that is just the job it sounds like with all of the moral ambiguities thrown in--and he's good at his job. He also has a young son from a failed marriage, a gambling problem, and a failed bar venture. He's not a happy man and I think Clooney did a good job of showing us just how unhappy he is, just in his face and with his eyes. Swinton is Karen Crowder, a newly-minted chief counsel for uNorth, a firm that makes a pesticide that apparently kills people. Clayton's firm represents uNorth in a lawsuit filed by farmers who have been harmed by the pesticide. Another lawyer, Tom Wilkinson's Arthur Edens, goes a bit batty and threatens to blow the whole thing out of the water. Information slowly leaks out and Clayton has to navigate the moral ambiguities of his job and well as its effects on the people he loves and the world at large.

The movie begins en medias res but quickly goes back to the beginning to tell the story and I think that works in this case. You get just enough information to get to know the character and then the replay of those events once the flashback catches up is well done with enough of the original scenes interspersed with new information to move it along pretty seamlessly. And there are some interesting camera angles and shots that help the feel of the movie. I would have liked the sub-plot of the son's fantasy book/card game to have gone somewhere and to have seen the outcome of Clayton's final actions in terms of his firm. And the very end is good but a bit awkward for the viewer (which is fine, probably a bit purposeful even). Overall, I liked it a lot.

The Asphalt Jungle (1950) (nat)

Woo. hoo. I'm up to 190. Right. So only 10 more and I'll be 20% through the list. This takes a long time, especially when I'm not so much falling in love with any of the movies.

I did not especially care for this one but I was also dealing with a clingy drugged cat, a dog jealous that the clingy drugged cat was touching me, and my dad calling (with a reason at first but then just to chat). It's a noir about a gem heist gone wrong, really wrong. There are a bunch of players including a con-man recently released from jail who coordinates the heist, a few two-bit crooks, cops on the take, a double-crossing bankrupt rich guy who is supposed to bankroll the participation of said two-bit crooks, a private eye with his own ideas, and the police commissioner trying to partially domesticate, if not completely tame, the jungle. None of the actors are names that I know with the exception of Marilyn Monroe in a bit part (which makes it further amusing that she's on all of the posters). There isn't anything really wrong with the movie necessarily but it didn't hold my attention well enough for me to ignore the cat/dog/dad distractions (which I would have been capable of doing for a captivating movie).

My Darling Clementine (1946) (nat)

This movie makes me go back to my original assertion that I do not, in fact, like westerns. Another version of the Tombstone/Wyatt Earp/Doc Holliday/OK Corral shoot-out/civilize the west story, My Darling Clementine just isn't that interesting. Wyatt Earp decides to become Marshall of Tombstone after his younger brother is shot and killed and their cattle stolen by the Clanton family (he suspects, no solid proof yet). He befriends Doc Holliday who is playing both sides of the fence with women, a fiery Mexican woman and a innocent fiancee he left back East. Holliday also has a nasty cough . . . Earp takes a liking to Clementine (the fiancee). Blah Blah Blah. Shoot out. Dead bad guys. Dead morally ambiguous guys (and girls). The truly good live to ride again. I just don't care. Not one bit.

Cat People (1942) (nat)

Not so much scary. Or even creepy. The basic premise is that Irena, who is Serbian but living in the US, meets Oliver, your average all-American and they fall in love. Well, except this is a "horror" movie so something has to go wrong. But it doesn't so much go wrong as is wrong. Oliver just doesn't listen. The people of Irena's village in Serbia had a mythology of cat people--those who were especially connected to witchcraft and the devil--who had escaped to the mountains when vanquished by Christianity and its sword. These cat people may look feline but the real problem is that when aroused (we're talking 1940s movie aroused--smashed face kissing and allusions to sex) they turn into panthers and kill people. Irena shows signs of being one of these cat people (a strange fascination with a panther at the zoo, a kitten hates her, she disrupts a pet shop, and she kills a canary accidentally) and it was rumored that her mother was one. She tells Oliver this and they never even kiss much less consummate their marriage. Oliver becomes despondent thanks to the strictly platonic nature of his marriage and hangs out a little too much with Alice, his coworker who has professed her love. Apparently, jealousy is equal to arousal and Irena is certainly jealous because she is trying to overcome her curse but, of course, can't (despite what her therapist might think). Well, surprise, surprise, Irena the cat-woman/panther goes after Alice, Oliver, and the therapist and it all ends tragically.

It's ok. Not terrible but certainly not very interesting.

A Confederacy of Dunces (pub.1980, written early 1960s) (nat)

I am happy to be finished with this one. It's long. It's the second book I've read in a row about a grotesquely overweight and annoyingly socially inept "academic" man. I don't want to hear one more word about Ignatius J. Reilly's "valve." I don't want to read anymore of his absurd social commentaries. I don't want to see him win. I don't like him. The novel, as a whole, wasn't bad but I don't like any of the characters. Not one of them. And it was painful to read some of the scenes just because I was embarrassed for them.

So, I said the novel wasn't bad and I guess that needs some backing up. It's well written and it's fairly funny. It's vaguely reminiscent, as Walker Percy points out in his brief intro, of Don Quixote. Except you like Quixote, you want him to get the girl of his dreams, you want the windmills to be giants. You don't root for Reilly. You want the police to arrest him. You want the lesbians to beat him up. You want the black workers to smash his brains in. You want his mother to finally take some real initiative and kick his 30+ year old ass out of the house. Ok. That's not helping with the "not a bad book" argument. Somehow, Toole makes the novel compelling without asking for any sympathy for the characters. You don't have to like them in order to find the book enjoyable. And that's quite a feat because there is a long list of characters. Toole manages to keep in a tight storyline that coheres and honestly involves all of them--with the exception of one, a college professor of Reilly's that pops up 3 or 4 times but really has nothing to do with the plot as a whole except as another life Reilly has ruined.

That character and the end of the novel are my huge problems. The professor doesn't need to appear. We get stories about Reilly's college days and the professor's don't add anything. We could have used Mirna's voice (Reilly's college "friend"), though. And the end. Yick. I'm giving it away because it's just terrible. He wins. He escapes the fate he's created for himself. He escapes the people who deserve to punish him. He escapes his punishments. He escapes some much needed professional mental help. And he hasn't changed. He's not a better person. He hasn't learned anything. I still don't like him. And I don't want to think that's he's continuing his absurd life in the real world somewhere (of the book, of course--I don't think he's come to life). If ever there needed to be a random, uncalled for moment of violence, it needed to be at the end of this book.

And, they (the big and ominous "they") were going to make a movie out of it?! Besides having to cut at least 50% of it, they'd have to let the audience like someone. I don't think they'd get away with a movie where everyone is unlikable. But I think the movie was cancelled or put aside anyway so no worries there.

I don't even know whether to recommend the book. I read it because my Dad LOVES it and has been after me for several years (literally) to read it. I don't dislike the book but I do dislike every character in it. Odd.