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#12 in my movie challenge for the year was Nicholas Nickleby, which was highly praised by Roger Ebert when it came out years ago. My husband and I watched it over two nights. We enjoyed the first part, but then my new film guide arrived and I read a scathing review. We didn’t enjoy the second half nearly so much. Did the review jinx it, or did the weaknesses of the film become more apparent? In any case, don’t bother.
#11 in my movie challenge for the year was a challenging film, Terence Malick’s The New World. I heard several people on their way out say, “I didn’t get that movie.” I don’t think it’s inaccessible, but it requires something on the part of the filmgoer in order to appreciate it. As is typical of Malick’s films, The New World is beautifully filmed, and centers on themes of human violence in the midst of idyllic natural scenes. Colin Farrell as Captain John Smith is a maddening anti-hero in the spirit of Hamlet–introspective, hesitant and passive. Music is deftly deployed. I found it a little too romantically fixated on the natives. Overall, though, this was a beautiful, provocative film and I’m glad I made the effort to see it in theater rather than at home.
#10 in my movie challenge was Walk the Line, which I saw in theater, and has one of the best film posters of recent years. The movie didn’t fit exactly with its trailers–it’s more a chronicle of Cash’s general decline than it is a love story. I can understand why Roseanne Cash walked out of the screening; whether or not it’s largely “true,” it’s often painful to watch. Phoenix and Witherspoon are talented and charming as the leads. The music is great, the prison scene powerful, and this movie made me wish for a time machine. Why? To go back to a show that featured Cash, Elvis, Jerry Lee Lewis, and others playing together. That would’ve been a hell of a show.
#8 in my book challenge for the year was A Long Way Down, sent to me by kind reader V. who had an extra copy. It’s about four people who meet on New Year’s Eve at the top of a building. They all intend to jump, but don’t. The story rotates through their four voices, each of which is distinct. The book is dark, funny and human. Some dismiss Hornby as light reading, but I feel he has a talent for illuminating difficult emotional aspects of characters that gives his work more than average heft.
Or do this year’s Oscar nominations not seem like complete crap?
Perhaps 2005 was just a really good year for movies.
I am baffled, though, by William Hurt’s supporting nominatino for A History of Violence. There were good things about that film; he wasn’t one of them.
#9 in my movie challenge for the new year was Nausicaa, the animated classic by Hayao Miyazaki. Like most Miyazaki films, it features a smart, brave young girl who is often wiser than the corrupt adults who surround her. This also features other Miyazaki trademarks, such as warnings about the environment and disrespect of nature, and grand, industrial flying machines. The voice talent in the new adaptation is suberb, and helps bring this powerful eco-fable to life. It’s a beautiful story that is beautiful to look at. Here, now, is the kind of princess that little girls should aspire to be.
#8 in my movie challenge for the year was Made, with Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau, directed by the latter. I think this was recommended by someone in the wake of Wedding Crashers as another good movie with Vaughn. I disagree. This movie is just over 90 minutes, but Vaughn’s over-the-top annoying character is so excruciating to watch that the first hour is so painful to watch that my husband and I nearly gave up. I think it was Nigel St. Hubbins who said that there’s a fine line between clever and stupid. There’s also a fine line between funny and painful, and too often Made is on the wrong side. The last half hour, in which Vaughn is less obtrusive and Favreau comes into his own as a mensch, didn’t redeem the film entirely, but did mitigate the pain of what went before.
#7 in my movie challenge for the year was the new adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. When I first saw the trailer for this movie, I thought Keira Knightley was too pretty to play every-woman Lizzie, and I thought the music in the trailer overwrought and obtrusive. Since I love the story, though, and since it was well-reviewed, I went to see it anyway. It was worth seeing, though it had some flaws.
First, I was wrong about Knightley. While she is quite pretty, her infectious smile and laughter made her a good fit for smart, funny Lizzie. Further, the Bennet household was believably shabby, while the Bennet daughters wore dresses that got dirty in realistic ways. Much has been made of Donald Sutherland as Mr. Bennet, Brenda Blethyn as Mrs. B, and Dame Judi as Lady Catherine. They are established actors who do good work in these meaty roles. What impressed me more, though, was Claudie Blakley, who was allowed to look convincingly plain as Charlotte Lucas. She also gave this more minor character a depth unseen in other productions. Tom Hollander did an admirable turn as the toady-ing Mr. Collins.
The less effective elements, though, were several. Matthew MacFadyen as Darcy was stiff, angry and handsome enough to be good, but not nearly as smolderingly sexy as Colin Firth, who so embodied Darcy in the 1995 production that he may have made the role unplayable by other men. MacFadyen looked well striding purposefully across a misty field in an open-necked shirt at the end to declare his love (again) to Lizzie, but it was at that point that the music swelled so obnoxiously that the effect was somewhat ruined. As with the 1939 version, I was disappointed by the lack of the famous opening line, and surprised by the many changes to Austen’s very good prose. The ending, though, left me appalled. Darcy and Lizzie are married and alone. He finally kisses her, while intoning “Mrs. Darcy” over and over. This is hardly a fitting ending for Lizzie, who has spent the entire film standing up for herself and her individuality.
#7 in my book challenge for the year was Bungalow Kitchens, since we’re on the verge of updating ours. After flipping through the book, I thought the photos were lovely but didn’t think I’d get much out of the book. The photos had a lot of period reproductions of older kitchens with vintage appliances. We plan to update our kitchen, not make it look like it’s original. Yet we don’t want to plonk a modern-looking kitchen in the midst of our 1917-looking house. Reading the book cover to cover, though, was well worth my time. I learned a lot about bungalows in general, and about design choices in particular. Specifically helpful was the organization of the book by detail, e.g. counters, and the inclusion of information on how to obsessively restore, countered by compromises for modern kitchens. It was also helpful to learn that if we take a restorative tack in our kitchen re-do, then there are lots of things we can rule out, e.g. recessed lighting, thereby limiting the vast number of choices we’d have to make if we were building a kitchen from scratch or renovating a kitchen in a more modern house.
#6 in my movie challenge for the year was Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain, which I saw in a theater rather than at home. A lot of people have gone to a lot of trouble to protest that this isn’t a movie about gay lovers. Actually, yes, it is. It is also a universal story about doomed love in a disapproving society. But the lovers are doomed because they’re cowboys in the 1960s. This movie is beautiful to look at, and strongly acted, particularly by Heath Ledger. It had a couple of nice ambiguities. One of them wasn’t how Ledger’s character’s wife found out, though. That happened too quickly and too definitely. It would have had more power if her discovery would have built over time. The subtlety of the rest of the film more than made up for this one detail, though.
For the record, Hypnobirthing by Marie Mongan was my #6 book for the year, though it seems weird to mention, since it’s obviously a situational thing. The name sounds very cheesy, and some of the assurances a little too good to be true, e.g. birth doesn’t have to hurt! But I’m doing two big things differently this time: using hypnosis as a relaxation tool, and working with a doula. When I had Drake, my water broke after a long day; I was exhausted and probably dehydrated. Then when I had tough contractions, I threw up, making things worse. I would love drug-free pain, but I’ll settle for no vomiting. Also, when I had Drake the hospital was full, and G. Grod and I were left alone for long periods of time, with me in a labor whose details were not by the book. This time we’re working with a doula, in the hope that if things go weird again, we’ll have a calmer, more experienced person with us the whole time.
#5 in my book challenge for this year is a practical read: The Not-So-Big House by Sarah Susanka. Not only does our family live in a NSB house, but with a second child on the way, a new sink in our immediate future, and a restored/renovated kitchen in our possible future, I thought it would be good to gather ideas. This is a beautiful book with lovely photography. It’s coffee-table size, though, makes for awkward reading in bed. It’s written much in the manner of a self-help book. Susanka introduces different concepts about how to live more authentically in smaller places, then reinforces her points both in the text and the photos. Unlike many self-help books, though, many of the ideas continue to resonate. One is that of an “away” room in the house–a place for quiet reading that is apart from the general traffic flow and noise of everyday life. Another is her suggestion that rooms be multi-functional. She gently denigrates the modern house staple of a formal dining room that is hardly ever used because of its singular function. Instead, she advocates the creation of a dining space that can be informal or formal depending on light and decor, or a dining space that does double duty in other ways. (Case in point: I am typing this entry on my laptop as I sit at our dining room table, which is also where our little family eats every night. Breakfast and lunch usually take place in the kitchen.) She also has an interesting suggestion for planning house changes when you have kids–ask them. Very often, they’ll have opinions, and you might save time and hassle by finding out what kind of space your kids want for their room or play space, instead of making something they will dislike and not use.
My husband G. Grod made a mix CD, and Drake can identify the newest song:
“It’s Doctor Who!”
#5 in my movie challenge for 2006 was Wuthering Heights, the adaptation from 1939 starring Lawrence Olivier and Merle Oberon. Olivier is a better fit for Heathcliff than for Darcy, I think. Needfully streamlining Emily Bronte’s character-rich novel, the film does an admirable job of showing the complicated push/pull between the main characters of Cathy and Heathcliff. It also underlines what interesting and complex characters the two leads are, and allows them to be unlikeable. This is a much darker film than the 1940 Pride and Prejudice, and the differences between the films mirror the contrast between Austen’s and Bronte’s novels. There is much more passion and emotion, and there are far fewer manners, in Wuthering Heights.
#4 in my movie challenge for 2006 was the 1939 film version of Pride and Prejudice, starring Laurence Olivier and Greer Garson. While Garson looked too old to play Lizzie, she displayed enough humor that this wasn’t a serious detraction. Seriously distracting, though, were the dresses and the hats, embellished to outrageous degree in old Hollywood fashion. Olivier makes a fine, handsome, dark, and brooding Darcy, but the true standouts, as in most versions of the story, are the actors who play Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine. The screenplay was adapted by Aldous Huxley. While it’s good, I often wondered at the departure from the original material, especially the lack of its famous opening line. The lack of class conflict in this version, as well as the modification of the Lizzie/Lady Catherine confrontation at the end, make this a very light version of Austen’s book, which most would say is hardly heavyweight itself.
#4 in my book challenge for the year was Consider the Lobster by David Foster Wallace. The essays here cover range over the past decade and cover such diverse topics as the AVN awards (like the Oscars of porn), 9/11, Kafka and Dostoyevsky. With his trademark lengthy footnotes adorning every pages, this is not a quick or easy read, though it is rewarding. I especially enjoyed “Authority and American Usage,” ostensibly a review of the new A Dictionary of Modern American Usage, but really a history and analysis of what he terms The Usage Wars. It’s hard not to feel intellectually small after reading DFW, but he counters his extreme intellectualism with a humanity that makes the essays, no matter their topic, extremely engaging. I don’t think, however, that he could ever manage to balance the humanity and the intellectualism–he’s so far gone in the latter that it can only be tempered. Equilibrium would be a long shot.
#3 in my movie challenge for the year was The Lady Eve, which I chose after enjoying director Preston Sturges’s The Palm Beach Story. Stanwyck is a card shark and femme fatale, and Henry Fonda is the rich naif who has been studying snakes in the jungle for a year. When Fonda finds out her “true” identity, he dumps her and she vows revenge. Much later, she shows up in his neighborhood pretending to be royalty. The humor, charm and stellar performances are so winning that the bumpy transitions are forgiveable.
or Pampers is messing with me. My two-year-old son Drake has shown no interest in using the toilet, so he is still in diapers. As he’s grown, I’ve had to largely ignore the weight guides on the diaper boxes, since they’re vast. Instead, I look at how the diaper is fitting him, especially around the legs. Sometime last fall, I thought, “These size 4s feel small; time to move up to size 5.”
After a few months in the size 5s, a friend changed his diaper and asked me why I was using 5s. “They’re huge on him!” she exclaimed. I dug up a size 4, tried it on him, and she was right; it fit just fine. I tried hard not to berate myself for however long I’d been buying 5s, since larger diapers cost more because there are fewer per box. I went back to buying size 4s.
But these past few weeks I noticed that the 4s seemed awfully big on him, too. I mentioned this to a friend who produced a size 3 diaper (keep in mind these are all Pampers, so all sizing SHOULD be apples to apples), I tried it on him. AND IT FIT.
Drake isn’t shrinking–he’s finally grown too tall for some of his pants. And he can see AND reach the shelf in his closet that he previously couldn’t. He’s always been on the thin side, but lately he’s been eating well and is not worryingly skinny as he has been sometimes in the past. So I don’t get it. Did I rush him ahead not just one, but two diaper sizes? (I cringe when I think of the wasted money over these several months. Pampers are not cheap, and we are a one-income family.) Has Pampers increased the size of their diapers? Is he growing up and thinning out in the diaper area?
Whatever the reason, I bought a case of size 3s today and they seem to fit him fine. I’ll just put aside those 4s and 5s for now. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be contrary in a good way, and start using the toilet before he outgrows (again?) the size 3s.
#3 in my book challenge for 2006 was We Were the Mulvaneys. I veered from 2 quick graphic novel reads into Oates’s long, dense novel. This was the first book by Oates for adults that I have read, and I admired it. It is a family history, so thickly characterized I could almost swear the Mulvaneys were real. The Mulvaneys seem to have a charmed life until one awful, disruptive event sends them all spiralling down and out. It’s tragic, believable, and ultimately redemptive.