filmic overview

Lawrence of Arabia is brilliant. So long as you don't want any resolution, can sit through twelve hours of film, and think the desert is beautiful. Otherwise, the stunning cinematography that has shaped the industry will mean nothing to you. Stunning symbols expressed through visual symbols and the subtlest dialogue loose their savor without a keen interest in the impact of this film. All of this wonder was nearly lost for me in an ending leaving me searching for symbolism and resolution to a character worthy of such an epic.

Margaret O'Brien's The Secret Garden left much to be desired. In fact, I gave up on it halfway through, not something I customarily do with films. It failed to capture the wonder and fantasy associate with this beloved children's tale. Furthermore, I found the use of technicolor when the garden had reached its full-grown glory to be a cheap parlor trick which failed to compensate for the lack of interest through the remaining fifty-fives minutes.

Perhaps the highlight of my film encounters of the past week or so is being able to see Alfred Hitchcock's North by Northwest on the big screen. The skill of a Hitchcock film never ceases to leave me mystified. Just like Lawrence of Arabia, it is the subtlety of the oral text and the depth of the shots that draws me into this film time and time again. To see this on the big screen was nothing short of a dream for me. One, Cary Grant looks even better when blown up via the in-house projector. Secondly, this film was not meant for the home theater. While the story carries an intimate cast, the panoramas demand grandeur in the size of projection. A plane nearly buzz-cutting Mr. Grant just does not have the same impact otherwise.

After reading a couple of books in the past few days, I am also needing to rewatch Little Women, Meet Me in St. Louis, Kiss Me, Kate, and locate a copy of the Bette Davis All About Eve.

bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens

Firefly.
Robin McKinley.
Captain Wentworth.
Malcolm Reynolds.
BBC mini-series.
Jane Austen.
The West Wing.
Anne Shirley.
Horatio Hornblower.


A small sampling of things that compose my mental stockpile. Things that I forget some people know nothing about. Shows, books, characters, networks. Some of you do know of these things. Some of you know of many these things. Some of you, I bless and curse you, introduced me to several of the items on the list. Whatever the case may be, these things run thick in my psyche and have been begging for recognition. And now they have it.

If any of the names on this list appear foreign to you, might I suggest you introduce yourself as soon as possible. They are all spirited companions and will offer lifetimes of happiness.

good hair

I just got out of the theater seeing this documentary compiled by Chris Rock. It unveils the depths to which black women go to secure what society defines as "good hair." As a white girl, my complaints usually revolve around a cowlick, not nappy, thick, coarse hair. Once I figured out how to use a round brush and that humidity is not my friend, I really had little to worry about.

Holy expensive beauty habits batman! I knew weaves were expensive and all, but it was ridiculous the amount of money some of these women spent on "their" hair.

The best part of this film, however, was watching it with nearly thirty other people. All black. Mostly women. Did I mention I'm white? And preppy? Even hiding in the back row, I could feel the awkward stares. I loved some of the reactions to this documentary because of my obvious status as a minority. These women were shocked and appalled at what some of their cultural peers were doing, and it made me happy.

"What're they doin' puttin' dat baby in for a perm?"

"One thousin' dolla? And they ain't payin' no rent? Tha' ain't right!"

Not to mention all of the "Mmhmmm"s and the "You got dat right!"s making sporadic appearances.

My favorite was in the parking lot after we all left. A group of women were discussing the film together as they walked out to their car. "I had no idea people would do that to their baby's hair," exclaimed one woman.

"Me neither!" The words were out of my mouth before I realized it. The women all laughed in unison and replied, "I bet you didn't." What would the tall white girl with long blond hair possibly know about hair relaxers? Or weaves? Or hot irons? Or..or..or...

More than they will ever realize, that's for pretty dang sure.

reeling

Turner Classic Movies, better known in the colloquial as TCM is both a virtue and a vice. For me at least. August they are running a series called Summer Under the Stars where each day of the month is devoted to one iconic film star. All day. Every day. Thirty-one days. That's a lot of films that I either love, rarely get to see, or have never seen before. Great news for my film loving sensibilities, plague-like news for my OSU application.

First there was the day of Harold Lloyd, silent film genius who I knew absolutely nothing about until last week. He was brilliant! The films were fantastic! And they were on average only about an hour long. Do you realize how many movies that is? Then there was the day of Judy Garland films, beginning with her early career working with Mickey Rooney in the "Andy" movies. Those I can typically avoid fairly well. But then, ,then the demonic forces of TCM unleashed films like Summer Stock and In the Good Old Summertime. Both of those are on my all-time favorites list as the diva-like Judy pairs up with the likes of Gene Kelly (be still my dancer loving heart!) and Van Johnson (seriously underestimated film legend, in my approximation). Here's the thing: I didn't get to watch the former of the two, and for good reason.

I was out watching another film. It's a disease I have, really. Me and my partners in crime rustled up some free tickets to the film Adam, an absolutley fantastic piece! It's about a young man with Asperger's Syndrome, a high-functioning form of autism, who struggles to find himself, work with Asperger's, and to find his place in the world. I'd watch it again in a heartbeat and listen to the soundtrack even sooner.

TCM really did a number on me yesterday though. One solid day of Cary Grant. This wouldn't have been as bad were it not for the fact that I watched An Affair to Remember before the Cary Grant-a-thon even began. So it was that late yesterday, I curled up at home after a day at the beach to watch Mr. Grant in Notorious and Houseboat. The latter of these films I have seen several times before. It is a light-hearted romance in which he stars with Sophia Loren. Good grief! That woman is a knockout!

The former of the two films, however, was new to me. Notorious is a Hitchcock film from 1946 in which Grant plays against Ingrid Bergman. Without even seeing the film, these three names should give a sense that it is fantastic. In reality though, this film is even better than you could imagine. Cary Grant, the total dreamboat that he is, has been inconized for his roles as a suave, debonnaire, witty man. He's absolutely brilliant at it. In Notorious, however, he is none of those things. Devastatingly handsome, to be sure. But his character is cold, distant, and brooding. I fell in love with him all over again feeling like I'd found a whole new side to him. The swooning that took place during that film was utterly absurd.

Luckily Cary Grant day came fairly early in the month giving me ample time to try to avoid TCM until Frank Sinatra day in the latter portion of August. That way I can focus on my appli-oh! Fun movie I've never seen before! Gotta go!