Weblog 131

August 10, 2008~ 12:00am
Watched a stunning movie this evening that definitely goes on my 'highly recommended list'. If you've got a taste for old-fashioned character drama, good direction, letter-perfect casting-- do yourself a favor and rent "Michael Clayton". This is a movie like they used to be made, with tension coming from plot and the strength of the acting itself. There are no special effects, no high-speed chases, no blood-- just mature, moral dilemma boxed into a couple of hours of riveting entertainment.



I've long been a fan of Tom Wilkinson, who plays a wildly manic-depressive attorney, saddled with the same stinking case for 12 years- a case where he knows his client is guilty as sin in knowingly poisoning over 400 farmers with a carcinogenic pesticide.



He's a man being crucified by his conscience while deeply in the grip of his own mental illness, but even that does not dampen his crusade to do the right thing. Enter George Clooney (Michael Clayton)- his co-worker and world-weary 'fixer' at the firm, whose reputation is based upon strength of personality, connections, and the ability to get things done. Clooney's problem is that he loves his crazy partner, and Wilkinson's meltdown is having a profound effect on his own looming moral crisis. Add to this mix, an absolute snake of a senior female executive, willing to do anything to reach a settlement as painlessly as possible for the law firm, and you have a dynamite combination- and this movie is just that.

If there is anything as heartbreakingly lost as the look on George Clooney's face during this film, I can't think what it might be. He is perfect at playing jaded competence- despite personal character flaws. He did it way back in his 'E.R.' days, and he's even better at it now-- his face has aged into it. Clooney is a surprisingly competent, believable actor. Good looks notwithstanding, this fella' has always been much more than a 'pretty face'- he's got talent in spades, with the kind of presence that looks as though he was born for the big screen.

Tom Wilkinson's delivery of his manic, rambling monologues are nothing short of thrilling- and the movie opens with one of his hyped-up diatribes running in the background. From that point on, you'll find your ears prick up every time he opens his mouth, because he's a consummate actor. Always has been. In my opinion, he's never turned in a bad performance, but this one is very much like the 'Network' performance of Peter Finch which won him a posthumous Academy Award. I watched "There Will Be Blood", and I have to say that by comparison, Wilkinson's far out-shines the gimmicky schtick that Daniel Day-Lewis poured into this year's Best Actor win. We all love bright nuts.....especially when there's such sense strung through their word onslaughts, and Wilkinson plays this to the teeth. Seriously.....don't miss this one. It's simply superb.




August 10, 2008~ 7:30pm
In this world where so much is pain and suffering, where everywhere we look there is more and more to be saddened by, depressed about, to lose something precious that gives us laughter is a tragedy indeed. Yesterday we lost Bernie Mac- a comedian who made me laugh till I wet my pants. All it took was one look at that shiny brown face, that white-toothed smile that could change instantly to bugging-out eyes and comical seriousness- that's all it took to crack me up but good.

My fella Wayne and I first saw Bernie Mac when we rented "Kings of Comedy", and simply fell in love with his giant persona and perfect timing. All four comedians were funny as hell, but Bernie stood out. He just made us feel good. So much so, that Wayne wrote a poem about him that I think is apropos. Bernie as a kind of friendly 'angel of death'- the kind that doesn't scare you, but simply shows up, chews the fat......and takes you for a ride. It's one of my favorites.



We and Bernie Mac

One day he'll just stroll in, Bernie Mac.
Course we always knew he was coming
just never sure when.
He'll arrive around supper time,
might like to have a ham sandwich
or a little soup, and
he'll sit down on the couch,
the soft one where your butt sinks to the floor,
and he'll be sitting there in his porkpie hat
with his knees rising to his chest and his pants
sliding up revealing his gleaming shins
and he'll be making us laugh,
telling his jokes,
bugging his eyes out like he does,
and when he thinks we're okay
he'll tell us its time to go.
We won't argue with him,
its no use, and after all we always knew
there'd come a time when
we'd have to take a drive.
We'll take Bernie's car,
a big old Ford Galaxie, eight cylinders.
It'll be more roomy for her in back
he'll say,
so we'll help her in the car, careful
with her oxygen,
and Bernie'll be very soft with her,
fixing a pillow behind her head,
making sure she's alright and comfortable.
I'll ride shotgun,
I won't be left behind,
and off we'll go.
We'll ride down 60 through Heidelburg
past John Dewey Junior High to the place
she and I used to go,
when we'd take a blanket from her car
to lie on under the stars,
and I'll point it out to her and ask her
if she remembers and she'll shake her head
as best she can.
We might get a little bit wistful,
but Bernie'll shake us out of that,
doing his shtick, bugging his eyes,
looking pretend mean over his sunglasses.
Then we'll head out
to the highway
past where the mills and everything
used to be.
And it'll be alright, I guess,
going down the road,
me and her and Bernie Mac.

And I hope that's the way it'll be....Bernie, gone on before- kind of scoping things out, then just showing up one day, strolling in like we're old friends and saying, "Well folks, it's time to go"- and off we go. The two of us... and Bernie Mac. Thanks for the laughs, dear brother. We'll be waitin' for ya....




August 12, 2008~ 7:00pm
Took some pictures of my buddies today. I have to say that no matter how humdrum the day has been- or disappointing, or run-of-the-mill- my bird friends put that extra spring in my step. It just happens as I'm spreading the dry-roasted peanuts on the grass and filling their Pyrex baking dish with cold fresh water, then watching them flock. The first one is always a bluejay-



and then a cardinal, and a little guy- one of the chubby ones that feed each other, beak to beak-



of course, the little guy's thirsty



but then.....Mr. Jaybird has to turn around to make sure no one's creeping UP on HIM...lol!!



Meanwhile, all the really little ones wait their turn....line up along the fence....



and SEE? Even the teeniest ones get some grub. You should hear the racket!



Man O man...I just love it! At work in the early, early morning, just as I park my car in the lot, I stretch across the bucket seat and grab a jar of peanuts-- then take a quiet walk up through the grass where I've placed a bowl, and I listen to the quiet for a moment. Look at the fog draped over the river valley-- and then hear the sound of the peanuts pattering into the bowl. As I walk away, there's always a cardinal already landing on the edge, and that is my first glimpse of the workday: red against fog in the dewy dim grass, and it's like a prayer.

And I smile....

It's a good way to start the day.





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