Weblog 91

November 4, 2007~ 2:15pm
October is gone forever....my favorite month. November is solemn. Trees stripped down to bare business and atmosphere- the black and white of pilgrims, the flash of turkey feathers through the thicket- it too, has many charms: it's the going 'back inside the house time' of the year- inside to cozy furnace noises, and closing off the world and its chilling winds.

Tomorrow- (I decided late at work on Friday to give myself a gift of a do-nothing day off)- the hindpart of an extended weekend. It's lovely to do that now and again.



And here it is, still unwrapped, glowing in the new green glow of things unopened and untried. There will be lots of dozing and coffee sips, reading and playing solitaire, browsing the net and in general, "cooling my duals". I have 7 more days to take before the end of the year. I'll slip them in, one here- one there, and enjoy the option whenever the workload can afford it.

We rented '1408' last night. It's a spooky movie with a fine build-up to the magazine writer's actually staying in the room despite the hotel manager's dire warnings, but the events afterward are too over-the-top and shmaltzy. Even the wonderful actor, John Cusack could not pull it off: he over-acted all OVER the place. I kept wanting to say, "John.....this level of panic over some chocolates turning up on the pillows and a radio blasting 'We've Only Just Begun' is ridiculous....especially after your coolness thus far...."- but that was just the beginning.

Cusack screamed and bugged his eyes out and ran around like Chicken Little for the rest of the film. This would have made a good 'Twilight Zone' episode, but Stephen King's short story was too thin a thing to make into a full-length feature film-- thus the schmaltz and special effects. I do think it still could have been done with real terror-brewing, though only through understatement by showing the psychological erosion of the main character, and by things 'hinted' at- not globbed on in a LOUD and garish attempt at horrifying the audience. The writer's guilt over his young daughter's death and his loss of faith, his general jadedness with life that played so well in the run up to his stay at the Dolphin Hotel should have been sustained-- he was 'real' in that part of the film. Glad I saw it though- I'd been wondering about it.

I've begun 'Wicked'- a delicious book about the birth and life of the Wicked Witch of the West, from the Oz story. Now that's a terrific concept, and the story is richly told so far, even though I'm only 20 pages into it, it's gonna be a good one.



I know there's a musical based on this book as well, and I'll have to imagine as I'm reading it, how that would work- 'The Wiz' was wonderful as a musical adaptation, so perhaps this will succeed in kind. What I do know, is that Gregory Maguire is a fine writer. He's managed to create a very believable world so far, with three-dimensional characters and a sense of menace and magic. Little Elphaba, the witchbaby with the green-tinted skin has just been born- and I've already had a glimpse of her watching Dorothy ("a fine, big-boned farm girl") and her companions on the road to the Emerald City, with Elphaba passionately aching for the ruby slippers at the very beginning. Ooooooooo, I'm gonna love this!




November 5, 2007~ 7:00pm
THE STRANGE CASE OF MR. BROOKS AND MR. BROOKS-- Ever since Robert Lewis Stevenson chilled us with his Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, we've been fascinated with people who house two distinct personalities- one thoroughly evil- and one benign. The Kevin Costner movie, "Mr. Brooks" is the latest in this vein, and it's a very mesmerizing film.



I've long been a fan of Costner's, rooting for him even when the critics have deep-sixed his efforts. I find him to be a grossly underrated actor-- he's always believable, thoughtful in his roles, entirely committed to the character-- and because 'Mr. Brooks' is no different, he's wildly unsettling in the role. Since I had the day off today, I treated myself to buying myself a copy of this one yesterday and I watched it late last night.

I can tell you I can barely wait to see it again this Saturday with my honey....it's that interesting a character study.

The whole movie appears to be a dance with darkness and light- even in the way each scene is composed, depending upon which 'side' of Costner we're seeing: the darkened and murky burgundy running to black when the killer comes out to do his compulsive dirty work, and the modern well-lit office and home- with plenty of windows and natural lighting. He lives in two very different worlds-



It's his fussy precision gets to me- that is the bleed-over from one side of his personality to the other: both are fastidious and painstakingly careful. I don't think I'll easily forget the sound of his plastic 'handcuff-fastener' being pulled tightly in his teeth so his gun is totally protected in an industrial-weight plastic bag to catch the spent shells as he fires- or his indentical 'killing suits'- lined up obsessively in a perfectly arranged closet with matching shoes and black jacket. He is the Angel Of Death, and obsessive-compulsive to the max.

He presents a serial killer totally organized and scary. The understated sweep of almost orgasmic satisfaction in the first murder did remind me a bit of his riding his horse out onto the battlefield in 'Dances With Wolves'- arms upraised, outspread- a 'chosen' one. An embodiment of a force larger than the man, riding its waves.

I completely recommend this film for those who like character studies, and the darker, the more delicious. Costner has achieved wonders in 'Mr. Brooks'. Like the man or not, he acts the pants off this one.




November 8, 2007~ 5:00am
I am up and barely awake, browsing the net, and all of a sudden I wanted to know the exact definition of 'waterboarding'. Never did understand exactly what it was, so I Googled it and it took me to this page- and as you can see, it does tend to go on an on.

Notice the 'protection block' announcement on top of the page....Ah.......waterboarding.....

It's seems to be the one phrase by which we define the truth of ourselves as a nation- or the lies. With so much riding on the silent agreement to or not to-- you'd better believe there'd be LOTS of fingers in that pie right now. (Remember the blog entry here on finding 'edits' to Wikipedia? Yep, this one is a hot potato for sure.)

I grow so tired of lies and lawyers. So tired of people stretching the definition of truth- strangling and straining it until situational ethics makes just about anything o.k. as long as it's tagged as secret. The one phrase that spells the final failure of the United States as a credible nation in the eyes of the world and for all of time is "national security"- with a close second in the words "democracy" and "freedom"-- because neither are real words anymore, they are euphanisms tossed out with a wink and a nod.

All of this makes me tired this morning. Very, very tired. And the whole hoopla over the confirming of a man as the new [Secretary of State]--(whoops, it's been pointed out this is a mistake. Attorney General. Got my crooks crossed for a minute. Condie does tend to blot out the sun by her glaring sycophantry and makes it difficult to see anything else)- a man who will not be pinned down on the one question which seems to me to be the only question, and one that must be answered truthfully, and the fella 'hedged'. Alas, there are no more Atticus Finches--"You can kill all the bluejays you want, but it's a sin to kill a mockingbird." In the last seven years we have indeed killed the mockingbird. Nothing sings as sweetly as truth, and everyone knows it.

This makes me very sad.





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