I'm been watching movies this week end. Yesterday it was this documentary Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus which is a tour through the American south with singer song-writer Jim White and writer Harry Crews as guides. Both of whom had lived there as children. The video featured much haunting scenery and music and interviews of the locals that amounted to storytelling at its most basic.
I enjoyed the comments Harry Crews had on the meaning of story to us and how the natural story-telling of those around him as he grew up has influenced his own written stories.
Sense and Sensibility was a re-watch for me. Can't get enough of it. Cannot believe never realized that Emma Thompson who played Elinor had also written the script adapted from Jane Austen's novel.
This was her Golden Globe award for best screenplay acceptance speech in which she in the words and persona of Jane Austen herself. Funny.
Judy Garland sings Born in a Trunk (part 1 -- part 2 below)
I have been busy filling in two of the gaping lacuna in my cultural awareness. I watched both the 1954 (Judy Garland & James Mason) and the 1976 (Barbara Striesand & Kris Kristopherson) remakes of A Star is Born for the first time.
I'm star struck.
No that is too glib and too cliche.
I'm thunderstruck.
Again with the cliche.
I'm gaga.
I give in. Sometimes words just can't be worthy.
I'd never seen Judy Garland in anything besides Wizard of Oz so this was a huge treat getting to hear how her voice and acting had matured into adulthood.
The film was just gorgeous all the way through. Not just the set of this musical number.
Barbara Streisand sings Watch Closely Now in the final scene of A Star is Born 1976
The scripts of the two movies were very different with only a handful of lines in common. The basic plot was quite similar but with definite differences due to changes in the culture in the intervening decades. In the first it was the 1950s Hollywood scene and in the second it was the 1970s rock and roll scene.
In both an aging star loosing his grip on his career discovers a new talent and paves her way to stardom. They fall in love. Against his better judgment he marries her and there is hope for a time that her love for him can anchor him and his for her redeem him. But he succumbs to jealousy as her star rises while his crashes and burns. Disgraceful behavior on his part nearly destroys her career and he realizes she is willing to sacrifice her stardom to continue what he sees as her hopeless attempts to save him from himself so he commits suicide.
Oh yes a hanky honker.
A bit of a spoiler that if you've never seen or heard of either one of these movies but not so much unless plot is the be all and end all of story for you because there is so much more to the story. To both stories.
Here Barbara performs one of my fav songs from the movie Woman in the Moon in 2006 just days after the elections that sent a record number of women to Congress--well over 70 between the two houses. We had zero the year A Star is Born was in theaters. The year I graduated high school.
The line in this song, 'I was raised in a no-you-don't' world.' gave me goosebumps.
I watched both of these now because I'd had them in my Netflix instant queue for months and was alerted earlier this week that they would stop streaming on the 19th. I had not been aware of the 1937 original film staring Janet Gaynor and Fredric March before it came up in my Netflix searches. It wasn't streaming so I put in my DVD queue. But while I was looking for clips of the 1954 and 1976 remakes to embed in this post I found that someone had posted the entire film of the original 1937 on YouTube. And it is embedable! At least for now.
So I'll probably be watching it tonight.
I understand it is not a musical like the other two and that the rumors are that the story is based on the real life story of Barbara Stanwyck and Frank Fay. I remember Stanwyck as an aging female bit part player or character actress in the sixties but I'd never heard of Frank Fay.
I'm watching Joan of Arcadia season 2 this weekend as the DVD set is due at the library Monday. In spite of needing to watch over 20 episodes in two days I just watched episode 8 for the second time in the process of looking for a specific clip from it to post.
This episode has to be one of the top three or four best of both season's so far. It was so intense with a multi-track storyline that had not one wasted word or image with a theme and a message so profound and acting so right on that I can't imagine they can top it. All that in 43 minutes!
The clip I wanted was from the very end where Joan is juggling three glowing blue balls in the dark. The theme and the message of the story is contained in this scene which is beautiful on its own but of course can't be experienced in full without the preceding story. The clip is actually in the last couple of minutes of this video and there may be enough of the story in the preceding segment to orient a newbie to the series but just in case: Joan is always encountering what seem to be ordinary people who identify themselves as God and give her advice, warnings and tasks.
If you want to watch the whole episode from the beginning you can find the first four parts on YouTube posted by the same person who posted this one.
Total spoiler below this line. Also in the clip of course since it is the last minutes of the story.
In this episode her best friend, Judith, helps her prepare for her first fancy restaurant date and while Joan is on her date Judith goes out to party with the druggie friends from her old school and is stabbed while they are trying to score. Joan's policeman father is called to the scene by his boss who believes the injured girl is his daughter as she is wearing Joan's sweater with her name tag inside.
Joan arrives home from her perfect dreamy evening to the news and her Mom drives her and Adam to the hospital where Joan has one last intense encounter with Judith who requests that Joan demonstrate that she can juggle, a skill Judith had been teaching her for their joint Physics class project. Joan attempts to juggle three rolls of bandages and fumbles them several times before finally keeping them going for a full round and the moment Judith sees the success she closes her eyes and the machines begin to howl. I was a total blubbering fool at this point and could barely see the remainder of the scenes through the tears.
There is an intense car ride home with her Mom and when they pull up her younger brother, Luke, his up to this point secret girlfriend, Grace and Luke's friend Friedman who has had a raging crush on Judith since she was introduced in S2E2, are sitting on the front porch obviously having already heard the news. The three of them had gone to a cheesy sci-fi movie marathon that night. Friedman had recently finished memorizing the entire Hamlet play after Judith had promised him a date if he did. He was ready to recite it but had wanted to go to the movie marathon so put it off. Over the next several minutes he quotes very relevant passages from Hamlet in response to the anguished questions or comments from one of the others.
Now I've simply got to find a Hamlet video!
Adam had disappeared from the scene at the hospital soon after a brief visit to Judith's bedside with Joan. He arrives on the scene in Joan's front yard an indeterminate time after Joan's arrival, early in this clip actually. Joan's paralyzed older brother, who had dropped Judith off where she was meeting up with her friends on his way to work, drives up in the last seconds of this clip. It is hard to tell if he has heard what happened to Judith yet but since he works for the newspaper I can't imagine how he wouldn't have. Not to mention that the whole family has cell phones.
OK that's the setup for this scene. You can watch it now and get most of the effect.
But in case you'd rather just read it, here's the gist. Or at least the part that is most meaningful to me. When Adam arrives he presents Joan with three balls he had made which light up when he presses a button on them. He tells Joan he had made them for Judith to use in their Physics project. As he hands them to Joan she spots one of the reoccurring characters self-identifying as God. The dog walker is walking several dogs on leashes past the yard. Joan walks over to him and confronts him with his negligence for having not kept Judith alive. Earlier, at the hospital in another guise he had talked about free will and choices good and bad and their consequences. Now he asks her to solve the riddle of the man with three boxes who must cross a bridge that will bear only 200 pounds but he weighs 190 and each box weighs 5lbs so how does he and his boxes get to the other side?
Joan knows the answer is by juggling them and always keeping at least one in the air. But she spits out the answer in anger and disgust not seeing the point until God tells her that the boxes represent her feelings: joy, pain, loss, etc. He takes the balls from her and starts juggling them and then tosses them to Joan one by one and she keeps them in the air effortlessly as he walks on with the dogs.
The last minute or so is all image with musical background as we watch the balls float up and down and the faces of her family and friends watching the balls and watching Joan.
And I'm left feeling a huge YES exactly. That's how I manage not to fall through the floor of my life each and every day. It doesn't take a major tragedy (or several in a few short years as in Joan's case) to make you feel weighed down to the point of being crushed. Even the comparably ordinary burdens of an ordinary life are too much to bear all at once all the time.
I don't think I've ever done this before--relating the entire plot of a movie or TV show in a post. I doubt I'll ever do it again. It's just that tonight I could not tear my mind off of it and thus could not imagine a post on any other topic. When I began I was going to just find the clip if I could and relate the riddle. Quick and easy see. But I should have know myself better than that.
I just had to pull the third blue row out of the baby afghan for the second time in twelve hours.
This is the kind of thing that tends to make me crazy with frustration, second guessing and self-loathing.
Not to mention project loathing.
To make matters worse I spilled the left over peas while clearing the table tonight and made a mess all over the table, the side of the table cloth, my pant leg and foot, the floor and the chair leg. Who knew pea juice could be so sticky!
My MIL had to come in and clean it up as I'd have likely made a bigger mess of it. Plus I was hopping on one foot trying to clean the other with a paper towel so as not to track it. She's going to have to mop the entire kitchen floor again.
I had to get a shower and put on clean clothes in order to protect the bedding and the afghan as I continued working. I blithely finished the blue row which I'd left off at the call to dinner with about twenty to thirty stitches left or two to three inches. Out of 300 stitches or 36 inches.
Then I inspected the row looking for egregious mistakes. The kind that mess up the pattern or stymie the stitches on the next row. Again I'd made it almost to the far end of the row before finding the error. I'd already heaved that big sigh of relief and almost begun to reach for the scissors to clip the white thread of the row below so I could bring it around to start the next row.
The mistake was very similar to the one I made this morning before I slept--I'd skipped a stitch (which meant nothing to attach the stitch in the next row to once I'd worked it back that far) and had 'fixed' the hitch in the pattern by repeating a double crochet instead of alternating with the triple as required. This morning I'd made the mistake in stitches three thru six. This evening it was stitches fourteen thru seventeen.
Like I said. This is the kind of thing that makes me crazy.
But last night Ed and I watched Chitty Chitty Bang Banb together and the song about roses growing in the ashes of failure spoke to me and later I'd hunted for it on YouTube so I had it handy to refresh my spirit.
And I'm reminded to be grateful that I found the error before I put in the next row. Because I would have found it when I reached that point and then had to take out two rows!!
Like I did twice with the first green row first with white row below it and then with the white row above it. That experience prompted me to inspect each row before starting the next. That takes about three minutes but saves me up to 70 minutes if a mistake is found. For though I have to take out the current row back to the mistake I don't have to take out the portion of the row above that was worked back to the mistake.
The theme of the song, Roses of Success, is that mistakes always teach you something you can build on for the next try. This time I think the lesson is that I need to inspect the current row any time I'm interrupted enough to put the work down. Because I do believe both mistakes in the blue row today occurred as I resumed work after such an interruption.
Roses of Success Lyrics:
Every bursted bubble has a glory! Each abysmal failure makes a point! Every glowing path that goes astray, Shows you how to find a better way. So every time you stumble never grumble. Next time you'll bumble even less! For up from the ashes, up from the ashes, grow the roses of success! Grow the roses! Grow the roses! Grow the roses of success! Oh yes! Grow the roses! Those rosy roses! From the ashes of disaster grow the roses of success! (spoken) Yes I know but he wants it to float. It will! For every big mistake you make be grateful! Hear, hear! That mistake you'll never make again! No sir! Every shiny dream that fades and dies, Generates the steam for two more tries! (Oh) There's magic in the wake of a fiasco! Correct! It gives you that chance to second guess! Oh yes! Then up from the ashes, up from the ashes grow the roses of success! Grow the roses! Grow the roses! Grow the roses of success! Grow the roses! Those rosy roses! From the ashes of disaster grow the roses of success! Disaster didn't stymie Louis Pasteur! No sir! Edison took years to see the light! Right! Alexander Graham knew failure well; he took a lot of knocks to ring that bell! So when it gets distressing it's a blessing! Onward and upward you must press! Yes, Yes! Till up from the ashes, up from the ashes grow the roses of success. Grow the roses! Grow the roses! Grow the roses! Grow the roses! Grow the roses! Grow the roses! Grow the roses of success! Grow the roses! Grow the roses! Grow the roses! Those rosy roses Those rosy roses Those rosy roses From the ashes of disaster, grow the roses of success! Start the engines! Success! Batten the hatches! Success! Man the shrouds! Lift the anchor! Success!
I watched this 3 hour movie streaming on Netflix this afternoon. I can't believe I'd never heard of it before I put it in my Instant Queue a few weeks ago. I had not planned to watch it today or anytime soon really but it was one of 30 movies on my Instant Queue that were going to stop streaming as of January 1. This was the second of the two movies off that list that I got to watch today. The fist was Ghost. I chose both via two main criteria: it was unavailable from the library so I'd have to use one of my 3 Netflix DVD slots to send for it and it was something I thought I could watch with half an eye while crocheting. Ghost fit this latter criteria because it was a multiple rewatch for me and I wanted to listen to the soundtrack more than I needed to see the story again. I chose Barry Lyndon based on the reviews complaining about its slow pace and length.
I was so wrong to think that a movie based on William Makepeace Thackeray's picaresque novel that was slow paced could be watched with half an eye. Not only did I end up having to take out and redo in the second half of the film the two rows of the baby afghan I'd accomplished in the first half, I discovered late in the film that I'd been missing a lot of story that was presented visually. It is not enough to listen to the narrator and dialog only.
Besides missing many story elements by glancing at the screen one or two out of every five seconds, I had missed a lot of the visual artistry Kubrick had given this film. Every scene was like a 18th century painting come to life and choreographed like a dance. The use of color and light was enchanting.
As enchanting as the visual elements was the musical scoring of this film with the use of many classical pieces including Handel's Sarrabande as the primary theme throughout which was given several distinct renderings according to the mood of the scenes via use of different instruments and pacing. That and several other pieces I've not yet identified by name and artist continue to haunt me hours later.
I do believe I'm going to have to send for this one after all. In order to watch it start to finish without taking my eyes off the screen for more than the occasional blink. In fact this is probably going to go on my short list of movies to own that I would watch repeatedly.
Above is the scene in which the Irish rake Barry seduces the married Lady Lyndon during a card game. Note the sparsity of dialog. I actually missed most of this scene during the movie and only got its full impact while watching this YouTube.
Below is the scene near the end of the duel that takes place about ten years after the above scene in which Barry Lyndon and his stepson Lord Bullington square off. Because this was the third of three duels that framed the story as told by Kubrick, I do believe he was trying to say something about the duel as a concept or its role in that era but I'm not clear exactly what.
Lending to the poignancy of this scene are both the memory of the duel Barry fought at a similar age to Lord Bullington and the fact that shortly before his own son with the Lady Lyndon had died in an accident and thus the death of this son in the duel would leave her bereft of both sons.
Based on the material I've read online after watching the movie, I understand that Kubrick changed the story dramatically by including this scene which was either not in the novel or had a quite different outcome and by leaving out the several decades of Barry Lyndon's life that followed in the novel. Now I'm intrigued to give reading the novel a try. I don't believe I've ever read a Thakeray.
Ed and I are about to watch Grand Prix and it won't be over before midnight so I'm opening a post to get the time stamp and will probably post something about the movie afterwards.
Later: Ed didn't make it to the end of the movie. He kept falling asleep so he gave up. He had been saying for an hour that it was almost over but though he'd seen it as a 10 year old and I'd never seen it, I could tell by the 'feel' of the story that it was closing in on the climax of the several story lines--three romantic relationships and the four racer's competing for the championship.
I sensed that even though I was mostly clueless in over half the scenes because I couldn't catch all the dialog. Ed asked that we not have captions as they interfere with the aesthetics of the cinematography and we couldn't have it turned up loud enough to compensate as his folks had gone to bed. So after I'd asked him for the fifth or sixth time in the first half hour what he/she had just said and caught a whiff of annoyance off him I decided to relax and crochet and get what I could out of the story and plan to watch it again alone on my netbook with headphones and captions before we send it back to the library.
Meanwhile I allowed the music of the soundtrack to trigger nostalgic memories of listening to my Dad's LP which had the themes of several movies one of which was this one.
I noticed Maurice Jarre's name in the titles as composer of the soundtrack and was intrigued as I became aware of Jarre from the soundtrack of Ghost which I used to own and nearly wore out the CD. Until I found the following YouTube montage of Jarre's soundtracks I was unaware he was responsible for Doctor Zhivago and Tin Drum as well. There were others on here that surprised me and also some that didn't show up on it that I was sure I remembered were his as well. I guess I need to look him up on Wikipedia to get the full scoop.
I was watching the first season of Joan of Arcadia on DVD this past week and as before when the show was on TV, I fell in love with the theme song by Joan Osborne. This music video is pretty awesome too.
I have season 2 of Joan of Arcadia waiting for me at the library and will probably be picking it up tomorrow along with two or three other TV series seasons. Like Crossing Jordan 1 and Castle 2 and House 2. Once again they have either come earlier than I counted on or we delayed picking them up so that more than I can really hope to watch in a week are waiting at the same time. Sigh.
I just watched Gone With the Wind. It was the second time in my life, the first being 30 odd years ago either shortly before or shortly after I got married. In the late 70s or early 80s on TV. I remember it was a two night event and was terribly chopped up by commercials.
I had read the book a few years before that in the summer between 9th and 10th grade. It was one of the rare books for which I turned back to page one after turning the last page and started over again.
Oddly, I remember favoring Melanie over Scarlett. I 'got' her. She was closer in spirit to who I thought myself to be at the time. Scarlett reminded me too much of the bullies I contended with throughout my school years and I could not muster sympathy for her or root for her success. But tonight, though I still admired Melanie, I was mesmerized by Scarlett. Her gumption in the face of despair and terror outshown the selfish brat persona I had remembered and I had to admire her for her ability to renounce the culturally expected helplessness of her era's 'ladies' and make her own success by hook or by crook. I'm wishing I had a bit more of Scarlett and a bit less of Melanie in myself now.
During the intermission just before switching to disc 2 I went to the library catalog and ordered the book. And while there I discovered there had been two sequels written in the last twenty years. If ever there was a story--movie or novel--that needed a sequel, it was Gone With the Wind. But how can a sequel written by someone not Margret Mitchel ever do the story justice? I know that Mitchel herself was adamantly opposed to a sequel.
One tells Rhett's story and the other Scarlett's. Rhett Butler's people by Donald McCaig in 2007 and Scarlett by Alexandra Ripley in 1991.
Does anyone know if either of them were any good at all?
