Some oldies but goodies appeared on this month's list of movies I saw, along with a few new ones. Those newbies are marked with an *, and numbering
picks up from the previous month. They are rated on a scale of 1-5 cans of
tuna, 5 being the highest accolade.
105. A League of Their Own (1992) – You would think I would love this movie, and I so wanted to. It is about the first women’s baseball league, based on the actual All-American Girls Professional Baseball League that debuted during WWII. The men were off fighting the war, so women from small towns around the country were recruited to play professional baseball. There is the requisite drama – a rivalry between sisters who are the star player (Geena Davis) and her petulant little sister (Lori Petty), an alcoholic, disinterested manager (Tom Hanks), and a bunch of female jocks trying to win games while they bond with each other. It is a winning formula, but that’s the problem – it is too formulaic, too manipulative, and I didn’t believe for a minute that any of these women had ever thrown a ball or swung a bat in their lives. Penny Marshall is the director (she also directed Tom Hanks in “Big”) and Rosie O’Donnell and Madonna are ballplayers. I couldn’t get past the fact that the players always had dirt on their faces. I mean, really, nobody had a towel? And finally, if there really is “no crying in baseball,” why did they make an ending that made me what to shed a few tears? 3 baseballs.
106. Jobs* (2013) – It’s difficult not to compare this dramatization of the life of Steve Jobs, creator of Apple Computer, with “The Social Network,” the story of the rise of Facebook and its founder, Marc Zuckerberg. Both men were creators of goods and services that people don’t know how they could possibly live without, even though they had no idea they needed them initially. Both men were brilliant, demanding, self-centered and with a strong sense of vision and purpose. And both could be real jerks. In this movie, based on the Walter Issacson biography that I read last year, Jobs is a drifting hippie who drops out of college, likes to smoke pot and eschews bathing and wearing shoes. Working for Atari, he can’t get along with anyone and realizes that he has to be his own boss. He brings in his geeky friend Steve Wozniak to help him with a project but when he sees that Woz is building a personal computer, he immediately understands how this device will change the world. They start Apple Computer, which goes on to be a huge success, even as Jobs becomes more difficult. He dumps his girlfriend immediately after she tells him she is pregnant, and he gives up visitation rights so he won’t have to admit the child is his. He cuts long-time collaborators out of lucrative stock deals he doesn’t think they deserve. And then he makes the big mistake of allowing someone else to run Apple, which ultimately unseats Jobs himself. This movie is part history, part business story and part apocryphal – sometimes you can want something too much. Ashton Kutcher is highly believable as a doppelganger for Jobs, and, while lots of details from the book are glossed over, the only thing really missing is how Jobs started using a mouse with the Macintosh. If you like technology, you’ll like the story of a product proselytizer who believes everything he says. 3½ cans.
107. Donnie Brasco (1997) –Though I detest violence, I somehow gravitate towards movies about the mob. Here “Donnie” (Johnny Depp) is actually Joe Pistone, a real-life FBI special agent assigned to infiltrate the mob. He latches onto Lefty (Al Pacino), a mid-level “made” guy who takes a liking to him and brings him along as the bad guys do bad things. Brasco gets caught up in the life, and before you can say “fugetabouit,” he’s sawing dead bodies into pieces for the goons. His undercover life doesn’t go over so well with his Jersey wife, as he begins to cross the line between good guy and bad guy. There’s plenty of tension, with occasional laughs (the bad guys in their Florida outfits), and you worry about whether Donnie will survive without being unmasked. This movie is based on the real Joe Pistone, and, despite the blood, violence and what must be a record for the use of one particular swear word starting with an F, I liked it. 4 cans.
108. Goodfellas (1990) – And speaking of the mob, this classic Martin Scorsese film (based on a true story) takes us into the inner sanctum of the New York underworld. Ray Liotta is Henry Hill, a kid who aspires to the life of the goodfellas. They have money coming in from every quarter, and they pay off the cops and everyone else as they pull off their heists and pay their tributes up the line to the bosses. Robert DeNiro is master thief Jimmy Conway, and Joe Pesci plays the volatile Tommy, who will shoot someone for making a joke or not serving a drink fast enough. Hill marries Karen (Lorraine Bracco, who gives a great performance) becomes a player, gets hooked on drugs and eventually is busted. But will he rat out the other wiseguys to save his own hide? The movie leads the league in F-bombs and the violence is so relentless that you eventually get used to it. There’s nothing like whacking somebody and then stopping at Ma’s house for something to eat (and a large butcher knife to chop up the body). Mob movies are not for everyone, but this is one of the best of the genre. 4½ cans.
109. My Favorite Wife* (1940) – A complete departure from the previous two movies, this trifle stars Cary Grant as Nick, a widower whose wife (Irene Dunne)was declared dead after a plane crash years before. So imagine his surprise when she shows up on his wedding day. Now he has two wives, a possible case of bigamy, and he tries desperately to keep new wife away from first wife. Back in the day, these screwball comedies were quite in vogue, but the only appealing element to me now is the chemistry between the suave if confused Grant and the elegance of Dunne. How she shows up perfectly coiffed and isn’t recognized by her own kids could make this into a mystery, but that wasn’t the film’s intent. Good in its day, I suppose, but well past its prime. 2½ cans.
110. Private Benjamin (1980) – I can’t think of an actress more irresistible in a role than Goldie Hawn as Private Judy Benjamin. Spoiled, rich and ditzy, Judy is in mourning for the loss of her second husband (Albert Brooks in a very small part), who dies on screen in the throes of passion on their wedding night. Her depression makes her succumb to an enlistment pitch to join the Army. She sees pictures of a beautiful army base with nearby yachts and condos and figures, “This is for me.” Not exactly. Instead, she has basic training with a bunch of other recruits under the mean and watchful eye of Captain Doreen Lewis (Eileen Brennan, who is wonderful). Soon she’s scrubbing toilets with her electric toothbrush and stuck wearing drab green fatigues. She isn’t cut out for the life, but the alternative of going home to Mommy & Daddy again seems worse. Hawn is perfect in the part, and the scene where she and her troop celebrate in the barracks by dancing to “We Are Family” is one of my all-time favorite movie scenes. What a great way to start my day. 4½ cans.
111. The Stranger Beside Me* (1995) – I was enticed to watch this Lifetime movie by a title I recognized as a murder-mystery from one of my favorite authors, Ann Rule. Instead, this turned out to be the typical Lifetime drama, overwrought and underacted by stars Tiffani-Amber Thiessen and Eric Close as a young couple with a major problem: He is a rapist. The neighborhood is not safe with this guy around, but, of course, his wife is shocked to learn the truth about her husband. Close is handsome in a Rob Lowe kind of way, with his All-American looks masking his twisted persona. Thiessen goes from loving to skeptical to shocked to determined with a minimal change of expression. The real mystery here is why I kept watching. No cans.
112. Moscow On the Hudson (1984) – A very hairy Robin Williams exudes charm and vulnerability as Vladimir Ivanov, a Russian musician who defects in Bloomingdales. Vladimir leaves behind his family – and his saxophone – but is befriended by a security guard and a sales clerk (delightful and spunky Maria Conchita Alonzo). His English improves as he becomes more comfortable in the US, where he can buy toilet paper, shoes that actually fit and as much coffee as he likes, all without standing on a line as he did in repressive Russia. This Paul Mazursky comedy-drama reminds us that everyone in the US is from somewhere, and especially reminds us to appreciate the freedoms we enjoy on the US. 3½ cans.
113. Nine for Nine* (2013) – This ESPN production was actually nine separate documentaries airing throughout the summer that focused on various aspects of women’s sports. There were profiles of legendary Tennessee women’s basketball coach Pat Summit and player Sheryl Swoopes, a look back at the exciting “99-ers,” the women’s Gold Cup soccer team from 1999, and many others, all having to do with the growth of women’s sports as a result of the adoption of Title IX legislation 40 years ago. ESPN’s last series, “30 for 30,” was equally diverse, informative and entertaining, and I commend the network for rising above its usual sports banter and analysis to examine and highlight special people and unique subjects – like free diving – that might otherwise go unnoticed but for those participating in them. Overall, 4 cans.
114. Parental Guidance* (2012) – This misguided, predictable comedy wastes the comedic chops of stars Billy Crystal and Bette Midler with a hum-drum plot and little humor. The stars are the parents of uptight mother Marisa Tomei, with whom they barely have a relationship, when they are called upon to care for her three issue-laden children while mom & dad go out of town. The grandparents can’t do anything right – at least not according to firmly-establish new-age house rules, and their old-school demeanor is foreign to the well-programmed kids. Of course, this set-up is doomed to fail, and we know that inevitably the kids will love their grandparents, who come in and change everything. When the best part of a movie is the credits at the end, you know it’s bad. The good thing is that, initially, this was supposed to be our family holiday movie last year. Glad I caught it on HBO for free instead. 2 cans for the credits and a heart-warming ending.
115. American Gigolo (1980) – I can never hear Smokey Robinson singing “Just a Mirage” without conjuring up the image of a handsome, young Richard Gere casually assembling his Giorgio Armani clothes on his bed in this movie. Gere is Julian, a “man about town,” an escort (and more) for rich women. He works for a woman who books his “dates,” but he also freelances, and on one such occasion, he goes somewhere he would have been better off avoiding. This sojourn connects him with a murder of a California couple, and Julian gets drawn deeper into the seedier side of LA as he tries to establish his innocence. Although the plot here centers around the case, the story is much more focused on Julian’s lifestyle. He wears the best clothes, drives a cool car and lives a hedonistic life made possible solely because of his attractiveness to women. When a politician’s wife (Lauren Hutton) meets him in a bar, he lets down his guard and lets her into his world at great risk to both them and her aspiring husband. Can someone whose business is to gratify others truly enjoy himself? This film is visually arresting, with much of the credit going directly to Gere, who plays the part to perfection. Not a great movie, but you can’t take your eyes off the prize. 4 cans.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Monday, September 16, 2013
Prep School
Let the games begin. Every three years or so, it is time for the exam all of us over 50 dread – the colonoscopy. I know what you’re thinking (besides TMI, Tina, TMI): The test isn’t so bad, it is the prep we hate. And right you are.
As a colon cancer survivor of 13 years, I know that having a colonoscopy saved my life, so I faithfully follow doctors’ orders and report for my exam as instructed. Let me be your guide as you get ready to take on the challenge, and I’ll even drive you there and back if you are anywhere near my zip code, just so I know you will go!
The procedure itself isn’t bad (assuming the doctor doesn’t nick your colon or there aren’t any other complications). You show up, strip down, roll over, and get the best 30 minutes of sleep all year. I can almost understand why Michael Jackson found Propophol so appealing – until it killed him, that is. Afterwards, you can’t drive a car or make big decisions, but that’s fine. I won’t decide to buy a South American diamond mine that day. It can wait.
The bigger decision starts for me the day before – the dreaded “prep day.” My gastro guy requires that I use an entire container of non-tasting (really, it is) Miralax mixed with 64 ounces any clear liquid. My beverage of choice was low-cal lemonade, which I will not be able to drink again for at least a year without recalling the rigors of prep day. The ingestion of that much liquid, combined with the use of laxative pills, is designed to work something like Drano. Take as directed and anything in your system will soon be out of your system. Ah, but there’s the rub, and the rub hurts like hell. Grab yourself a container of baby or adult wipes, and trust me, the ones you bought three years ago are now stuck together like a brick, so buy more before the process gets underway.
The directions call for drinking 8 ounces of your beverage of choice every 20 minutes until you have consumed all 64 ounces, and they encourage you to drink any kind of non-red liquid (which, sorry to tell some of you, rules out red wine). Good grief, only fraternity boys with a keg can drink that amount of fluid. And after doing it, they will feel as shitty as I will. (And then they will pledge not to do it again, but they will, as we know, break that promise…) You have to get the stuff down so the Drano can work its magic.
The morning of Prep Day morning, after having read the instructions in advance so I would have everything I needed at the ready, I sat down to watch the doctor’s video, which, thankfully, features only a doctor explaining the procedure and no graphic depiction of any part of the process. Maybe I should have watched it sooner so I would have known not to have taken my vitamins this week. I knew I couldn’t take aspirin or Motrin, so only ice could be used to relieve the pain in my knee. Now I’m thinking the ice might be put to better use…
The doctor in the video very calmly goes through the steps. Mix the drink, keep it cold, try using a straw, slow down if you get nauseous. Slow down? Once it took me from 9 AM to 6 PM to down the requisite amount, and then it was time for the next dose. Because my procedure was scheduled for 1:30, I also had to drink again on the morning of the test. Being the total wuss that I am, taking the bottle of “citrusy-flavored” whatever they suggest is out of the question for me. What goes down the next morning will come right back up. So instead, I drank more Miralax (a mere 32 ounces this time) with BOC (beverage of choice, just nothing red), AND I had to finish drinking it no later than 9 AM. Calculating the slow rate of descent, that means I was up around 5 AM to get it all down. Like my desire to have my driveway after a snowfall be “down-to-blacktop,” I only want to “run clear” so the test can be done. The worst thing imaginable would be to NOT be prepped properly and have to go through the process all over again.
This prep isn’t nearly as unbearable as the prep I used to do, which required drinking a mere 3 ounces of a hideous “citrusy-flavored” Drano-type product called Phospho Soda. That stuff worked, alright, assuming I could get it down. I don’t want to say the stuff was strong, but it has since been banned by the authorities so it is no longer used. It caused possible kidney damage, I hear. I wasn’t sorry to see it go. But the Miralax really doesn’t have any taste, so the issue is merely consuming all of that liquid in one day. Incidentally, for those who think taking pills is a better course of action, you still have to drink gallons of liquid anyway, so you will be facing the same issue as taking Miralax.
The other side of the prep is the food side, or, more accurately, the LACK of food side. I had my “farewell to food” at dinner on the day before Prep Day, or, as I like to think of it, “the day before the day before.” According to the doctor’s orders, I could not consume fruits or vegetables, which made eating a challenge. I tried to incorporate foods that wouldn’t stick around long, but if they would only let me eat a bowl of cherries and a bowl of chili, I could skip the prep entirely and still achieve the desired state of internal cleanliness. On the day before, you consume only clear liquids. Since broth or Jello have no appeal to me, I confined my consumption to drinking and followed directions banning all solid food after my hard-boiled egg at breakfast. I just hoped whatever I ate in the last 3 months would be gone in time.
Not eating has its advantages. You don’t have to plan, cook or clean up after you eat for one. The kitchen stays clean, and it will be that way for about 36 hours. I also count on the lack of caloric consumption having a positive effect at next week’s Weight Watchers weigh-in, but that assumes I won’t go overboard to compensate for a day without food. Meanwhile, tracking my food intake required no time at all since there wasn’t any. I guess you could say that I looked at the glass as half-full, but what is in that glass?
The plan was simple – take the pills, drink the stuff and stay near the bathroom. I had programs all lined up to watch on the DVR and Netflix to keep me busy. I avoided watching the Food Network, though I know that anything I watch on TV on prep day will undoubtedly be laden with commercials for foods that ordinarily wouldn’t even interest me. When I walked through Walgreen’s before I started the process, I found the Doritos display tempting – and I don’t even like Doritos. Even the newspaper seemed to have a preponderance of food-related advertising and articles, but it just might be that I was getting cravings simply because I was not allowed to eat. Like fasting on Yom Kippur, if I get over the first wave of hunger, I’m usually good for 24 hours. Since this prep was longer, not eating was a bigger challenge. My sister and I like to view anything like this as a “silver lining.” You get the flu and can’t eat for a day? Silver lining: You lose weight. Stuck in the house? Silver lining: You get extra laundry done. I try to think of it all that way and see how silver my lining can be.
Several hours after this process began I was still able to tolerate the lemonade, as long as I kept drinking it from an icy mug. The magic potion worked well after a slow start, so I can’t complain. I felt weak but, with all that liquid I drank, I was more bloated than hungry, which is a good thing. Even so, my stomach seemed flatter. I wondered if we could stop at Weight Watchers for a quick weigh-in before the colonoscopy. Oh, never mind.
The day of the test, the main road in Hillsborough was closed because of flooding, so my sister and I left extra early, got there in plenty of time and I was whisked away ahead of schedule. As the medical team prepared for the procedure, I kept my eye on the anesthesiologist, the person who will make sure I get a quality – albeit short – rest. He inserted the IV in my arm, and as I saw him push the plunger and release the drug to knock me out, I looked up and said, “Goodbye.” The next thing I knew, a nurse was waking me up and telling me I was done. It was over so fast that my poor sister never made it to Kohl’s before they called her to come and get me.
I am happy to report that the story has a happy ending. I survived the test and not even one nasty little polyp could be found, so I am good for another 100,000 miles or three years, which ever comes first. I got my sleep, I came home and drank a lot of water to flush out my system, and I reveled in the good news.
“Bottom line,” so to speak, is that if you are over 50 and haven’t been through the colonoscopy process yet, suck it up, swig it down and get it done. It is a small price to pay to possibly save your life. And call me if you need a ride.
As a colon cancer survivor of 13 years, I know that having a colonoscopy saved my life, so I faithfully follow doctors’ orders and report for my exam as instructed. Let me be your guide as you get ready to take on the challenge, and I’ll even drive you there and back if you are anywhere near my zip code, just so I know you will go!
The procedure itself isn’t bad (assuming the doctor doesn’t nick your colon or there aren’t any other complications). You show up, strip down, roll over, and get the best 30 minutes of sleep all year. I can almost understand why Michael Jackson found Propophol so appealing – until it killed him, that is. Afterwards, you can’t drive a car or make big decisions, but that’s fine. I won’t decide to buy a South American diamond mine that day. It can wait.
The bigger decision starts for me the day before – the dreaded “prep day.” My gastro guy requires that I use an entire container of non-tasting (really, it is) Miralax mixed with 64 ounces any clear liquid. My beverage of choice was low-cal lemonade, which I will not be able to drink again for at least a year without recalling the rigors of prep day. The ingestion of that much liquid, combined with the use of laxative pills, is designed to work something like Drano. Take as directed and anything in your system will soon be out of your system. Ah, but there’s the rub, and the rub hurts like hell. Grab yourself a container of baby or adult wipes, and trust me, the ones you bought three years ago are now stuck together like a brick, so buy more before the process gets underway.
The directions call for drinking 8 ounces of your beverage of choice every 20 minutes until you have consumed all 64 ounces, and they encourage you to drink any kind of non-red liquid (which, sorry to tell some of you, rules out red wine). Good grief, only fraternity boys with a keg can drink that amount of fluid. And after doing it, they will feel as shitty as I will. (And then they will pledge not to do it again, but they will, as we know, break that promise…) You have to get the stuff down so the Drano can work its magic.
The morning of Prep Day morning, after having read the instructions in advance so I would have everything I needed at the ready, I sat down to watch the doctor’s video, which, thankfully, features only a doctor explaining the procedure and no graphic depiction of any part of the process. Maybe I should have watched it sooner so I would have known not to have taken my vitamins this week. I knew I couldn’t take aspirin or Motrin, so only ice could be used to relieve the pain in my knee. Now I’m thinking the ice might be put to better use…
The doctor in the video very calmly goes through the steps. Mix the drink, keep it cold, try using a straw, slow down if you get nauseous. Slow down? Once it took me from 9 AM to 6 PM to down the requisite amount, and then it was time for the next dose. Because my procedure was scheduled for 1:30, I also had to drink again on the morning of the test. Being the total wuss that I am, taking the bottle of “citrusy-flavored” whatever they suggest is out of the question for me. What goes down the next morning will come right back up. So instead, I drank more Miralax (a mere 32 ounces this time) with BOC (beverage of choice, just nothing red), AND I had to finish drinking it no later than 9 AM. Calculating the slow rate of descent, that means I was up around 5 AM to get it all down. Like my desire to have my driveway after a snowfall be “down-to-blacktop,” I only want to “run clear” so the test can be done. The worst thing imaginable would be to NOT be prepped properly and have to go through the process all over again.
This prep isn’t nearly as unbearable as the prep I used to do, which required drinking a mere 3 ounces of a hideous “citrusy-flavored” Drano-type product called Phospho Soda. That stuff worked, alright, assuming I could get it down. I don’t want to say the stuff was strong, but it has since been banned by the authorities so it is no longer used. It caused possible kidney damage, I hear. I wasn’t sorry to see it go. But the Miralax really doesn’t have any taste, so the issue is merely consuming all of that liquid in one day. Incidentally, for those who think taking pills is a better course of action, you still have to drink gallons of liquid anyway, so you will be facing the same issue as taking Miralax.
The other side of the prep is the food side, or, more accurately, the LACK of food side. I had my “farewell to food” at dinner on the day before Prep Day, or, as I like to think of it, “the day before the day before.” According to the doctor’s orders, I could not consume fruits or vegetables, which made eating a challenge. I tried to incorporate foods that wouldn’t stick around long, but if they would only let me eat a bowl of cherries and a bowl of chili, I could skip the prep entirely and still achieve the desired state of internal cleanliness. On the day before, you consume only clear liquids. Since broth or Jello have no appeal to me, I confined my consumption to drinking and followed directions banning all solid food after my hard-boiled egg at breakfast. I just hoped whatever I ate in the last 3 months would be gone in time.
Not eating has its advantages. You don’t have to plan, cook or clean up after you eat for one. The kitchen stays clean, and it will be that way for about 36 hours. I also count on the lack of caloric consumption having a positive effect at next week’s Weight Watchers weigh-in, but that assumes I won’t go overboard to compensate for a day without food. Meanwhile, tracking my food intake required no time at all since there wasn’t any. I guess you could say that I looked at the glass as half-full, but what is in that glass?
The plan was simple – take the pills, drink the stuff and stay near the bathroom. I had programs all lined up to watch on the DVR and Netflix to keep me busy. I avoided watching the Food Network, though I know that anything I watch on TV on prep day will undoubtedly be laden with commercials for foods that ordinarily wouldn’t even interest me. When I walked through Walgreen’s before I started the process, I found the Doritos display tempting – and I don’t even like Doritos. Even the newspaper seemed to have a preponderance of food-related advertising and articles, but it just might be that I was getting cravings simply because I was not allowed to eat. Like fasting on Yom Kippur, if I get over the first wave of hunger, I’m usually good for 24 hours. Since this prep was longer, not eating was a bigger challenge. My sister and I like to view anything like this as a “silver lining.” You get the flu and can’t eat for a day? Silver lining: You lose weight. Stuck in the house? Silver lining: You get extra laundry done. I try to think of it all that way and see how silver my lining can be.
Several hours after this process began I was still able to tolerate the lemonade, as long as I kept drinking it from an icy mug. The magic potion worked well after a slow start, so I can’t complain. I felt weak but, with all that liquid I drank, I was more bloated than hungry, which is a good thing. Even so, my stomach seemed flatter. I wondered if we could stop at Weight Watchers for a quick weigh-in before the colonoscopy. Oh, never mind.
The day of the test, the main road in Hillsborough was closed because of flooding, so my sister and I left extra early, got there in plenty of time and I was whisked away ahead of schedule. As the medical team prepared for the procedure, I kept my eye on the anesthesiologist, the person who will make sure I get a quality – albeit short – rest. He inserted the IV in my arm, and as I saw him push the plunger and release the drug to knock me out, I looked up and said, “Goodbye.” The next thing I knew, a nurse was waking me up and telling me I was done. It was over so fast that my poor sister never made it to Kohl’s before they called her to come and get me.
I am happy to report that the story has a happy ending. I survived the test and not even one nasty little polyp could be found, so I am good for another 100,000 miles or three years, which ever comes first. I got my sleep, I came home and drank a lot of water to flush out my system, and I reveled in the good news.
“Bottom line,” so to speak, is that if you are over 50 and haven’t been through the colonoscopy process yet, suck it up, swig it down and get it done. It is a small price to pay to possibly save your life. And call me if you need a ride.
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