Girl Detective

New Dark Chocolate Altoids. Drake loves them, too, and they’re a relatively guilt-free bribe, e.g., “Get in your carseat NOW; I’ll give you a chocolate mint.”

The Tiny Love Musical Stack & Play is from Drake’s babyhood. The rattly balls, the rings, and the toy itself can be used together or separately. Generally, I shun musical toys, but the music can be turned off.

The Whose House shape sorter was a recent gift for baby Guppy and he loves it. He puts the shapes in the box, he plays with the shapes by themselves, and he puts anything else that fits in the box. The box is soft, so it’s possible to put many things and different shapes into each hole, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing. He’ll get the shapes eventually. Mixing and matching toys is part of the fun.

One thing that makes these toys so winning is that they’re adaptable, with many parts and uses that span multiple development levels. 3yo Drake and his peers still love to play with the elephant toy. 6M to 3+ is an impressive amount of time to hold their interest.

#8 in my 2007 book challenge was The Evolution of Desire: Strategies of Human Mating by David Buss. I found it often repetitive, and occasionally interesting. Published in 1994 and relying on research up to twenty years before that, it’s old for non-fiction, and thus dated about things like sexual behavior in the face of AIDS. The author has an interesting premise, and one I didn’t find very shocking or surprising: men and women’s mating strategies are often unpleasant adaptive mechanisms that have ensured survival and propagation. These strategies are general and animal-like, rather than individual and emotional. Buss interestingly deploys many examples from the animal world to illustrate parallel points. His anecdotes of humans, though, never felt like they illustrated his scientific data well. They seemed more like stories (and often unpleasantly sexist ones) in the vein of “love’s a bitch.” Additionally, the scientific evidence Buss relies on was sometimes sketchy. He noted that lesbians mating behavior didn’t conform to certain of his theories, but didn’t explore this at any length. In one particularly egregious instance, Buss noted how the sexual revolution proved one of his theories, since it occurred during a time of more women than men, yet he didn’t mention another key contributing cause, the birth-control pill. The chapters had some slipshod endnotes that hinted at less than rigorous scholarship. One of the members of my book group recommended Jared Diamond’s Why Is Sex Fun? instead.

#10 in my 2007 movie challenge was Talladega Nights. Thank you, Will Ferrell, for making me laugh out loud. This was a silly, relatively plot-free movie that seemed more like two hours of improv scenes strung together. But it hung together well enough for me; I liked it even better than I did Ferrell’s Anchorman. The extras were fun to watch, and the movie was full of quotable lines like, “Thank you, baby Jesus…” and “Shake…and…bake!” And my husband G. Grod’s favorite: “Hakuna Matata, beetches!” One of the reasons for my annual book and movie challenges is to stay intellectually agile. I can’t say this film contributed to that. But it did make me laugh. And a good comedy is hard to find.

#7 in my 2007 book challenge was Evelyn Waugh’s Loved One. It’s a recommendation of my husband G. Grod. It was also my attempt to sneak in a short novel before I had to read two non-fiction books for my two book groups. The Loved One is, to borrow from Hobbes, nasty, brutish and short. It’s a bleak comedy about two Hollywood funeral homes (one for pets, another for departed “Loved Ones”), a dead Hollywood failure, and a love triangle among an aspiring poet, a head embalmer, and an idealistic cosmetician. I found it perhaps more clever than enjoyable. It has the kind of biting, mean-spirited humor that I’m not always in the mood for.

#9 in my 2007 movie challenge was Repo Man, which my husband borrowed from the library after finding this list of fifteen essential geek movies. I had seen 11 out of the 15, 8 of them with my husband. Repo Man is extremely weird, more so than other movies of its time that I did see, like Valley Girl, Better Off Dead, and the John Hughes canon. Emilio Estevez is a skinny young punk drafted into service as a repo man by Harry Dean Stanton. They inhabit a dark corner of the 1980s with generic everything, where there’s a ready supply of items to be reclaimed by people whose reach extended their grasp. The plot centers on a mysterious car that inspires warring factions, and there’s a truly bizarre ending.

#8 in my 2007 movie challenge was Stranger Than Fiction, which I saw at a discount theater. Good: ticket only cost $2, and they have good popcorn with real butter. Bad: film was mis-framed to start (could see the boom mike at the top of the screen), then out of focus throughout. I enjoyed the film anyway. Ferrell was funny, vulnerable and sweet as a boring IRS agent who suddenly starts hearing someone narrate his life. Maggie Gyllenhaal was charming, Emma Thompson was believably weird as the author, Tony Hale (Buster from Arrested Development) was ideal as a geeky friend, and Dustin Hoffman was kookily engaging as a literature professor. Only Queen Latifah seemed to be superfluous to the endeavor.

Not all the shows I watch are going through rough patches, as are Veronica Mars and Battlestar Galactica. Good things are happening on House, Bones (it must be the elevating influence of Stephen Fry), and Heroes. And The Office and My Name is Earl are still able to make me laugh.

Veronica Mars: so disappointing. Last week’s episode was pretty good. Logan snapping a pic of Veronica in jail, and the appearances of both Cliff and Vinnie all paid off. But the lame ending of the O’Dell death mystery? They killed off a good character for that? And I’d pegged the killer since the beginning of the season because of his bad fake hair. Why the fake hair? Was there a storyline there that didn’t play out? I’m about to bail on this show. Oh former favorite, how things have changed.

Battlestar Galactica: last week’s episode, Dirty Hands, about the fuel ship strike was terrible. I don’t like when writers change characters merely to further the storyline–suddenly Roslyn and Adama are fascists? And then by the end they’re nice again? And while Baltar is a master of manipulation, the sudden emergence of his social conscience still feels contrived. One of the writers of this episode was also the writer on the last filler episode that I hated, The Passage, about Kat. These filler episodes are NOT working for me.

Over the weekend I went with friends to The Glass Menagerie at the Guthrie Theater. While reviews have been good, my friends thought it was terrible. I’m not familiar with the play (more on that below), but it had some of the hallmarks that made me stop going to the Guthrie a while back–it felt homogenized, and overfull of sitcom-ish laughs. The Guthrie production was most effective in its use of one character at two ages, played by two actors, the elder of which is the narrator. These scenes were poignant. My friends liked the set, a small box of an apartment surrounded by dirty and decayed-looking scaffolds and cheap neon signs. I, on the other hand, longed for a more abstract set. I don’t go to a play for realism; if I want that I see a film.

As for the new theater itself, the views from the lobby are spectacular, but I don’t like that the lobby is not on the ground floor. This is counterintuitive, and makes “meet me in the lobby” ambiguous. I found the red interior of the proscenium stage a little too reminiscent of Target.

Embarrassing admission: When my friend told me we were seeing The Glass Menagerie, I thought I’d seen a television production before. I was mistaken–what I’d seen was A Doll’s House by Ibsen. I’d neither seen nor read anything by Williams before–yet another gap in my so-called liberal arts education that I’ll address on my own. So take my opinions for what they’re worth–I’m hardly part of the theater cognoscenti.

“Sexyback”’s lyrics begin

I’m bringin’ sexy back
Them other boys they don’t know how to act

The first time I heard it, I thought it was “The motherboys”.

I wonder if Justin was an Arrested Development fan?

Since I’m admitting embarrassing things, I might as well admit that I borrowed the new Justin Timberlake CD, FutureSex/LoveSounds, from the libary, based on a rave review I read somewhere. To my surprise, I liked it. Really liked it, in fact. The album in general (and the track SexyBack in particular) is catchy, and reminded me (in a good way) of listening to pre-weird Michael Jackson’s Thriller, oh-so many years ago.

The recent death of Sidney Sheldon coincided with an online column and lengthy comment section at Entertainment Weekly on surreptitious reading–what books did people read as teenagers and hide from their parents, because the books were about sex, profanity, rebellion, violence, etc?

I was a precocious reader. My parents didn’t forbid me from reading anything, but I tried to hide some of the racier ones. (Interestingly, they forbade my sisters and me from watching Three’s Company, Charlie’s Angels, Love Boat, and Fantasy Island, so TV was censored more than books. Yet I remember watching all those shows many times, and I couldn’t have spent THAT many nights at friends’ houses.)

A list of forbidden books is the antithesis of the more usually found top ten lists, like those recently compiled in The Top Ten by J. Peder Zanes. Forbidden books were usually selected more for their racy content than for their literary merit; very few of the forbidden books I read as a teenager have survived in my library.

Here, in all their embarrassing glory, are some of the books and authors I read when I was a teenager. I couldn’t contain myself to ten, even when I collapsed a few authors and categories.

1. Flowers in the Attic, V.C. Andrews’s cult classic. I don’t even want to know how far I got in that series.

2. Judy Blume: The progression for me was Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret, Then Again Maybe I Won’t, Forever, and Wifey.

3. Horror Books: The Amityville Horror (couldn’t sleep for weeks), The Omen, anything by Stephen King. These books often had sex AND scary stuff, so there was plenty of stuff that parents would disapprove of.

4. The Crystal Cave and The Hollow Hills by Mary Stewart. Merlin! Magic! Naughty bits! But, oh, the later books were pretty bad.

5. Restoree, Dragonflight (and far too many of its sequels), Get off the Unicorn, by Anne McCaffrey, who had some non-explicit racy bits mixed into her fantasy stories and novels.

6. Chances and Hollywood Wives by Jackie Collins

7. Rage of Angels, Bloodline, If Tomorrow Comes, and Master of the Game by Sidney Sheldon

8. The Promise by Danielle Steele, strangely, a novelization of someone else’s screenplay. I remember a stirring love story, yet when I re-read it as an adult I was horrified by how badly written it was.

9. Bodice rippers: Whitney, My Love by Judith McNaught, A Rose in Winter by Kathleen Woodiwiss, and the Steve and Ginny books by Rosemary Rogers.

Years later, my younger sister pointed out that most of McNaught’s books have a rape scene; I hadn’t noticed or been bothered by them when I was younger–yikes.

I loved most of the books by Woodiwiss, but this Beauty and the Beast homage was one I read again and again.

Even when I was reading them, I found the Steve and Ginny books by Rogers to be kind of disturbing. Steve cheated on her all the time, yet she only cheated on him when she had amnesia or was being tortured, then he’d be horrible to her after she got rescued. And I don’t recall what he went through, but she was a captive army prostitute, a harem girl, an opium addict, so I definitely think she got the worst of it. A most embarrassing moment: I was reading one of the Rogers books while waiting to go on a school trip. The teacher commented, “Oh, you have such a look of intensity on your face while you read!” Given the racy cover of the book, and the very racy scene I’d just read, I was mortified.

I always wondered–why was the man always 33, and the woman always 18? That was a hard age difference for me to buy when I was young, yet I suppose it was mostly that a man would have to be significantly older to have achieved the kind of financial success necessary for a romance hero.

10. It looked like a bodice ripper, but it had more substance to it: Amanda/Miranda by Richard Peck. I had to tear off the cover, because I got tired of being teased about it. It was a romance, a mystery, and about the Titanic! It was a girly dream come true.

11. Lace by Shirley Conran, The Debutantes by June Flaum Singer (these were pretty much the same book) Lace had a very naughty part involving a goldfish.

12. Scruples, Princess Daisy, and probably my favorite of them all, Mistral’s Daughter by Judith Krantz

At our lovely dinner last weekend, my husband G. Grod and I opted for the 5-course, rather than the 7-course tasting menu. The cheese entry in the 7-course menu featured Brillat-Savarin cheese. Earlier that day, I’d intercepted R., the cheese man at our grocery cooperative, as he put out freshly cut wedges of Brillat Savarin. I bought some medjool dates to go with the cheese, so thought the extra course at the restaurant would be redundant. Yes, I may spend too much on cheese. But it’s really good cheese.

To celebrate both our birthdays and his recent bonus, my husband G. Grod made surprise plans for a babysitter and dinner out at La Belle Vie. Earlier that day, we took baby Guppy to the doctor. He’d had a cold, then spiked a fever, so we feared an ear infection. The doctor allayed our fears and said it was just a virus. We also worried about the impending winter storm, but decided to venture forth in spite of it all.

It was well worth it. We chose the five course tasting menu, and supplemented with
the foie gras first course and an additional dessert. La Belle Vie has food that is both delicious and well-presented. Each dish has numerous ingredients, yet none are superfluous, and all are complementary. From the amuse bouche of tuna tartare, to the post-check plate of petit-fours, everything was exquisite. The foie gras, with its caramelized exterior and melting interior, nearly brought tears to our eyes. That was G. Grod’s favorite, but I couldn’t decide between the Moroccan spices of the quail and the perfectly done char. It was a stunning meal, and its memory lingers long into the mundane reality of this week.

Truffle-Poached Florida Pink Shrimp with Tangerine Reduction
Sautéed Arctic Char with Razor Clams, Salt-Cod Stuffed Squid Ink Ravioli and Bibb Lettuce
Caramelized Foie Gras with Porcini Mushrooms, Sweet Potato-Chestnut Gnocchi, and Marsala
Pan Roasted Quail with Carrot Fondant and Moroccan Spices
Roasted Lamb Ribeye with Black Trumpet Mushrooms, Salsify and Red Wine
Lemon-Scented Financier With Blood Orange Curd, Mascarpone Sorbet and Candied Kumquats
Chocolate Custard Cake with Coconut Sorbet and Sweet Curry Foam

With the rise of Netflix and the fast, inexpensive availability of DVDs, why do I go to the movies, especially now that I have two kids, and going with my husband involves paying a sitter?

I go because I like the experience (even when I don’t; more on that below) and because some movies are better in the theater. I saw Branagh’s Henry V at least four times in the theater (a really good one, too) and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it became one of my favorite films.

I recall reading (but can’t find a link after much searching) that the brain processes films and DVDs differently. Films are a string of images, and even though the break between frames happens so fast it’s impossible to see, our brain still experiences it and actively provides closure between frames. DVDs, though, are a steady stream of digital images, and the brain receives these passively.

From his review of Star Wars: Episode II, Roger Ebert has this to say about the difference between film and digital images:

Digital images contain less information than 35mm film images, and the more you test their limits, the more you see that. Two weeks ago I saw “Patton” shown in 70mm Dimension 150, and it was the most astonishing projection I had ever seen–absolute detail on a giant screen, which was 6,000 times larger than a frame of the 70mm film. That’s what large-format film can do, but it’s a standard Hollywood has abandoned (except for IMAX), and we are being asked to forget how good screen images can look–to accept the compromises. I am sure I will hear from countless fans who assure me that “Episode II” looks terrific, but it does not. At least, what I saw did not. It may look great in digital projection on multiplex-size screens, and I’m sure it will look great on DVD, but on a big screen it lacks the authority it needs.

That’s why I went to see Lawrence of Arabia last year when it was showing in a nearby revival. It was not meant to be seen on my television; it was meant to be seen on a big screen. It was a spectacle, and as such, it was spectacular.

There are films that are better at home. Comedy DVDs, with their extras, are especially fun. My husband and I watched Talladega Nights last week, and got several nights of enjoyment out of a friend’s DVD. Character-driven films, and films that were shot digitally, also benefit from small-screen viewings.

It’s not only the image that draws me to theaters for films. It’s the holistic experience. I know what the arguments are against theater going; I don’t disagree with most of them: dirty theaters and restrooms, overpriced and poor quality concessions, skyrocketing ticket prices, and, oh, the humanity–cell phones, conversations, small children in adult movies. Yes, these are hazards, and not uncommon ones.

One of my most disappointing experiences in recent years was going to see the movie Adaptation at The Lagoon theater. Tickets were $8 each, even though the movie was in the early afternoon (there had been a morning show). A 16-oz. bottle of water cost $3 (I’d purchased a 6-pack of 24-oz. bottles at Target the day before for $1.99). We paid for parking, and then I didn’t like the movie and the people behind us talked the whole time. I haven’t been back to the Lagoon since. Instead, I adjusted my movie practices and have had much better experiences, with only occasional annoyances ever since. Going to the movies has become an event, and an oasis of time to myself. I make the effort to minimize these potential pitfalls.

Dirt: if I go to older theaters, I bring anti-bacterial wipes and tissues. I seek out new stadium theaters that have not yet acquired the sticky patina of pop on the floor. The newer restrooms have hallway entrances, not doors, and automated soap, water, and flushing, so there are fewer contact surfaces.

Overpriced concessions: Theaters make their money here, not on tickets. I think it’s bad manners to bring stuff from home. But there are usually some lower-priced combos. I always buy the smallest size because it’s more than enough and it is cheaper, if not by much. I also seek out theaters that have good concessions. Three Twin Cities theaters with good popcorn and real butter are The Heights, The Riverview, and the GTI Roseville 4.

High ticket prices: I try to go to the cheapest show of the day, which is often the twilight show (about 4 to 6 p.m.), NOT the matinees. Don’t buy tickets online or on a credit card if you’re carrying a balance; the additional charges add up. Also, check out discount theaters. Paying $2 a ticket is a bargain, but there are hidden costs. I’ve found the crowds at discount theaters are less polite, and the last film I saw at one was out of focus.

Rude and stupid people: There’s no way to avoid them fully. Going to nicer, newer theaters and seeing non-blockbuster movies will reduce their incidence. While some people WILL bring children to adult movies (there were a few last week when my husband and I saw The Departed. I’m all for early education, but Scorsese is a bit much for the under-six crowd), I try to stem the tide of judgment and wonder if they can’t find childcare or can’t afford it. Finally, my best advice for avoiding talkers and other pests is to take the path of MOST resistance in the theater. If the door is on the left side, I cross over and sit on the right side. I don’t sit in the middle. I sit against the wall rather than on the aisle. If the person behind me talks, I move, since shushing them often doesn’t work.

Leaving the comfort of my home means taking some chances, and possibly spending more to do so. For me, seeing a movie is such an enjoyable event I think it’s worth the risk.

Tivo is perfect for watching the Oscars. We started late, forwarded through all the commercials and boring awards and speeches, and only got to real time at the end.

Fashion, good: Kate Winslet’s dress’s old-time glamour, though the shade was a bit too pale. Cate Blanchett’s dress flattered and dazzled. Helen Mirren seems to own the definition of “age-appropriate”. The color of Jessical Biel’s dress looked good in general and on her.

Fashion, not so good: Nicole K’s red dress looked like she had a giant red mushroom on her shoulder, and only served to accentuate how ghostly pale and weirdly non-human she looks. She’s done too much to her face; it doesn’t seem to move. Her hair color is too pale, and too straight. The skirt of Reese Witherspoon’s boring-black dress was distracting, though the shape was flattering. And she’s gotten too thin for her chin; it’s going to take over the world. J. Lo’s jeweled bodice was also distracting, and the dress wasn’t flattering to boot. Plus where’s the color, people? Bleige is not flattering or interesting. Kirsten Dunst’s dress had a collar at the top, and feathers at the bottom. And what was that shove she gave Toby when they presented? Play nice, kids. Clive Owen’s weird collar and blue suit did not enchant.

Ellen did a good job as host, though her her last pair of pants were not flattering. The extra ceremony stuff was pretty good, though I found Michael Mann’s America montage a little bizarre. And oh, yeah, the movies that won awards were pretty good. I didn’t feel there were any egregious mistakes. For the record, though, I think Children of Men deserved better attention.

For more gossip, visit Perez Hilton and Go Fug Yourself.

#7 in my 2007 movie challenge was Amores Perros, directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu, an Oscar nominee tonight for Best Director. I’d heard AP was good but violent, and that held true for both people and animals. The movie told three interwoven stories that centered around love, also for both animals and people. Love for animals proved more simple, though not less wrenching.

#6 in my 2007 movie challenge was Children of Men. Using sparing detail, director Cuarón effectively evokes a near-future dystopia in which humans can no longer reproduce. Clive Owen looks handsome and haunted as the reluctant hero, drawn into danger by his ex-wife, Julianne Moore. The colors are dark and somber, and the long film shots are mesmerizing to watch. I think this competes with some of the Best Picture nominees. It is well worth seeing both for its look and the story, which is told simply and well.

#6 in my 2007 book challenge was The Easy Way Out by Stephen McCauley, recommended by a member of my writing group. Though the plot meanders, it has outstanding characters, sharp writing, and some very funny, believable and poignant insights on relationships. Patrick, the main character, can’t seem to dump his boyfriend. One of Patrick’s brothers is engaged, but seeing another woman. The other brother is separated from his wife and living in their parents basement. Published in 1994, some of the material is dated, such as the perception of the threat of AIDS, and the details of the travel industry. Yet the travel details are so hilarious that they inspire nostalgia rather than disdain. (Remember using travel agents to book flights? Remember meeting people as they got off planes?) Sharon, the main character’s best friend and co-worker at a travel agency, takes great pleasure in subverting the travel system, among other things. She is one of the best and funniest characters I have read in a long time.