It is summer, so in a bow to one of the few girlie things I do (wearing perfume being the most prominent), it’s time for a mani-pedi. Off I go to the nail salon.
Remember back in the day when people had their hair “done” on a weekly basis? My mother made me have mine “done” for my senior picture in high school, and I emerged from the rollers, the rocket ship-looking hair dryer and enough hair spray to seriously damage the ozone layer looking nothing like I actually looked on any given day in high school. I have since been immortalized in the yearbook looking the way my hair looked for three hours on that one day. But I digress. Those were the days when manicurists were all like “Madge” in those Palmolive commercials, the ones where the ladies soaked their hands in Palmolive before Madge would do their nails while they gossiped – in English.
Times have changed.
Madge is long gone, and so, for the most part, are manicurists who work in what we used to call “beauty parlors” (I believe that term had to be dropped right after my hair was “done” for the yearbook picture). We get our nails done at a nail salon, ubiquitous storefront operations that pop up, along with pizza joints, dry cleaners and Chinese take-out places, at virtually any strip mall you can find. At least in New Jersey, that is. The “nail technicians,” if that’s what we can them, all speak English as a second language, and generally work for a woman named Kim. I’m pretty sure that is a legal requirement to own and operate a nail business.
This of course reminds me of the episode of Seinfeld where Elaine was sure the nail technicians were talking about her behind her back but, in this case, in front of her face. And if Elaine were your customer, you’d talk about her, too.
The technicians, upon arriving in this country from wherever they may hail, first learn the most important English phrase in their vocabulary: “Pick a color.” This is the single biggest decision a woman can make. The choice depends on the season, the length of the nails, the age of the person getting them done (I saw a nine-year old having her nails done in a neon lime color the other day), and what we have planned, like matching the nails with a certain outfit. But that is far from the only decision. Should the finger and toenails match? Do we want a French manicure – which I fear will result in boorish behavior on the part of the technician – a gel manicure, acrylics, wraps or nail “art?” The latter consists of using tiny brushes and a million little bottles of color to create anything from a snowman to a flower to a peace sign on the nail to make it, well, artsy, I guess. We can pay extra for a spa manicure, where they apply lotion and massage the feet and hands, or we can add a special topcoat that will protect the nails even longer – even though mine almost always are ruined by the time I turn the key in the ignition of the car as I leave the salon.
I try to do this right, even though my heels hurt as they are massaged because of my plantar fasciitis, and I am ticklish, so touching my feet makes me squirm. I bring my own polish so when my nails chip 10 minutes after I get home I can retouch them. I don’t wear a watch so they can massage my hands and arms. I don the shortest capris I have, which for me is an issue since most just look like shorter long pants on my stubby little legs. I wear my flip flops, which I wear exclusively to get a pedicure, and I put my credit card and money in my pocket so I don’t have to reach into my purse to pay (the second phrase all technicians must learn upon arrival in the U.S. is, “You pay now,” which they remind you after the initial work is done but before the polish is applied).
The whole experience is quite a process, and though we pay for the service, sometimes we forget who is in charge. Once a friend of mine had a manicure and upon leaving, headed straight to another nail joint for a “color change” since she was too embarrassed to admit she hated the color she selected.
Sure, you can do this yourself, and occasionally I try, but the cuticles never cooperate and my left hand isn’t all that helpful when working on my right hand. You can tell I have done it myself when the polish is clear, which usually is meant only to keep them strong enough to last until I can get a manicure.
Between the chlorine in the pool and the ordinary wear and tear on my hands, and not even considering that my nails seem to grow much faster in the summer, my nails will look good for approximately 3 days. After that, the chips appear, the cuticles split, and, let’s face it, I have no future as a hand model. But for those three days, as Shania says, “Man, I feel like a woman.”
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Tina's May Movies - June 2010
It was a good month for documentaries once again, as well as a movie I had never seen ("The Old Man and the Sea" and one I never miss "Rudy." Here's how I spent my time during May:
May
53. Feast of Love (TV) – This movie about relationships stars Morgan Freeman and Greg Kinear, who both bring their considerable charm to a bittersweet tale. The problem is that there is so much foreboding that I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, which affected my enjoyment of the film. This movie is one that I hadn’t even heard of, but I figured anything with Morgan Freeman can’t be all bad. Feast had its moments, but I’m not sure I’d go back for seconds. 3½ cans.
54. The Kid Stays in the Picture (HBO) – Hollywood producer Robert Evans offers a fascinating account of his life that is equal parts biography and bombast. From a successful career in women’s clothing (Evan-Picone, but take that any way you like) to becoming a strictly B actor, he ended up as a producer and the very young head of Paramount Pictures. There he claims credit for saving the ailing studio with such hits as “Rosemary’s Baby,” “Love Story” and “The Godfather.” His meteoric rise was followed by a predictably precipitous fall, as he lost his wife Ali McGraw to hot star Steve McQueen, got busted for drugs, sunk money into the disaster that was “The Cotton Club” and lost his beloved home when his career nosedived. This guy has had more lives than a cat, and he unabashedly shares his triumphs and failures here. 3½ cans.
55. The Cooler (TV) – Bernie, the sad sack played by William H. Macy, is such a loser that his mere presence can cool off anyone’s hot streak in the Vegas casino where he works. That is, until Lady Luck, in the form of a waitress played by Maria Bello, comes along. He gets lucky (take that any way you want), which turns out not to be so lucky for a guy who is paid to be a loser. Casino boss Alec Baldwin runs the casino old school style, which means Bernie’s luck is about to run out. 3½ cans.
56. Days of Wine and Roses (TCM) – This sobering tale about the demons of drinking features Jack Lemmon as a PR man whose life careens between frenetic and pathetic. He and his wife (Lee Remick), who initially drinks only because he doesn’t want to drink alone, descend into the depths of alcoholism. The lesson here: You are only one step away from ruin when drinking dominates your life. On the other hand, you are only 12 steps away from helping yourself once you face up to being an alcoholic. A sad, disturbing and difficult film to watch, but well-played by all, and directed by Blake Edwards, better known more for such frothy fare as “The Pink Panther.” 4 cans.
57. Babies (in Manville with Dee) – Short and very sweet, this unscripted movie documents the birth and growth of four babies from four continents during their first year. Despite immense differences in cultural backgrounds, the babies are all very much the same in their eagerness to explore the world around them, cry for food, laugh at things that amuse them and, generally, act like little babies. Whether it is playing with a rock in Africa or attending a Gymboree-type class in San Francisco, these babies show us the miracle that is life and the wonder of it all. Oooh, baby, baby. 3½ cans.
58. Letters to Juliet (in Hillsborough with Dee and Angela) – I won’t bog you down with the details of this tale of lost love. The movie stars Dakota Fanning look-alike (but older) Amanda Seyfried as engaged yet ringless Sophie, who is to marry would-be restaurateur Victor. On a trip to Italy, Victor spends most of his time visiting his suppliers and exalting the food and wine of Italy, while Sophie gets involved helping Clare, played by the elegant and gracious Vanessa Redgrave, find her long-lost (50 years) love (her actual long-lost love, Franco Nero). Accompanying them is Vanessa’s priggish Brit of a grandson, an actor whose name escapes me and is best forgotten and who bears an uncanny resemblance to the late Heath Ledger but with better enunciation. The story, acting and dialog (which ends with one of the cheesiest lines I have ever heard) are largely forgettable, but if you appreciate the beauty of Italy, the road trip alone is worth seeing. 3 cans, made better with a good bottle of wine and some Italian food.
59. Rudy (TV) – There are scenes in movies that you know are coming (because you’ve seen them before) but they get you anyway. I think of Gregory Peck leaving the courtroom in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” Tim Robbins escaping Shawshank or a smirky Dustin Hoffman at the back of the bus with Elaine in “The Graduate.” “Rudy” is a movie based on a true story of a kid not smart enough to be accepted by Notre Dame and too small to play football there. So, of course, he gets into Notre Dame, ends up on the practice squad and inspires his more athletic teammates. The last game of his senior year is down to the final seconds when the crowd, chanting “Rudy, Rudy,” beseeches the coach to put him in. On his one and only play from scrimmage, he sacks the quarterback and is hoisted up by his teammates and carried off the field, the last player to be so honored at Notre Dame. My throat is getting that giant lump again. It’s a great scene and worth 5 cans on its own, while the movie itself, a bit too long and slow, gets 4 cans.
60. Hotel Gramercy Park (Sundance Channel) – Proving the adage that “everything old is new again,” this documentary takes a look at New York’s once tony but ultimately rundown Gramercy Park Hotel. Owned by the Weissberg family, who lived above the store (so to speak), the hotel was favored by rock stars, artists and an odd collection of people who still reside there full-time. We witness the new owner, hotelier Ian Schrager (the former owner, with partner Steve Rubell, of Studio 54) as he takes the hotel from decrepit to divine, even as the long-time residents are forced to sidestep the ongoing construction and lack of elevators, etc. One unique perk the hotel offers is a private park. Residents actually have keys to open the gates of this Manhattan oasis. Interesting (especially when Schrager goes toe-to-toe with artist Julian Schnabel on design), but too much emphasis on the family and its many problems. After checking this out, I won’t be checking in. 3 cans.
61. The Old Man and the Sea (TCM) – Spencer Tracy stars in this movie about one man, one boat, and one whale of a marlin, bigger than the tiny fishing boat but not bigger than the will of the fisherman. For days and nights, the old man battles the fish, the elements, his bloody, cramping hands and his fatigue before the fish finally succumbs to his will. But sometimes you win the battle and lose the war, as the fisherman soon realizes. Beautifully shot, this film, from the novel by Ernest Hemingway that everyone had to read at some point in school, is a study in man’s determination as well as where we fit in the universe. I think I’ll get my fish from the market. 4 cans.
62. Visual Acoustics (Sundance Channel) – I love photography and admire architecture, and this documentary about renowned architectural photographer Julius Shulman features both. Working with acclaimed architects from Frank Lloyd Wright to Frank Gehry, Shulman documented the modern architecture that largely defined southern California from the 40s on while enhancing the work and acceptance of a myriad of famous architects and others just starting out. A brilliant essay on a man with a clear focus on straight lines, lighting and some of the most spectacular homes in America. This movie won’t appeal to everyone, but it fascinated me. 4 cans.
May
53. Feast of Love (TV) – This movie about relationships stars Morgan Freeman and Greg Kinear, who both bring their considerable charm to a bittersweet tale. The problem is that there is so much foreboding that I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, which affected my enjoyment of the film. This movie is one that I hadn’t even heard of, but I figured anything with Morgan Freeman can’t be all bad. Feast had its moments, but I’m not sure I’d go back for seconds. 3½ cans.
54. The Kid Stays in the Picture (HBO) – Hollywood producer Robert Evans offers a fascinating account of his life that is equal parts biography and bombast. From a successful career in women’s clothing (Evan-Picone, but take that any way you like) to becoming a strictly B actor, he ended up as a producer and the very young head of Paramount Pictures. There he claims credit for saving the ailing studio with such hits as “Rosemary’s Baby,” “Love Story” and “The Godfather.” His meteoric rise was followed by a predictably precipitous fall, as he lost his wife Ali McGraw to hot star Steve McQueen, got busted for drugs, sunk money into the disaster that was “The Cotton Club” and lost his beloved home when his career nosedived. This guy has had more lives than a cat, and he unabashedly shares his triumphs and failures here. 3½ cans.
55. The Cooler (TV) – Bernie, the sad sack played by William H. Macy, is such a loser that his mere presence can cool off anyone’s hot streak in the Vegas casino where he works. That is, until Lady Luck, in the form of a waitress played by Maria Bello, comes along. He gets lucky (take that any way you want), which turns out not to be so lucky for a guy who is paid to be a loser. Casino boss Alec Baldwin runs the casino old school style, which means Bernie’s luck is about to run out. 3½ cans.
56. Days of Wine and Roses (TCM) – This sobering tale about the demons of drinking features Jack Lemmon as a PR man whose life careens between frenetic and pathetic. He and his wife (Lee Remick), who initially drinks only because he doesn’t want to drink alone, descend into the depths of alcoholism. The lesson here: You are only one step away from ruin when drinking dominates your life. On the other hand, you are only 12 steps away from helping yourself once you face up to being an alcoholic. A sad, disturbing and difficult film to watch, but well-played by all, and directed by Blake Edwards, better known more for such frothy fare as “The Pink Panther.” 4 cans.
57. Babies (in Manville with Dee) – Short and very sweet, this unscripted movie documents the birth and growth of four babies from four continents during their first year. Despite immense differences in cultural backgrounds, the babies are all very much the same in their eagerness to explore the world around them, cry for food, laugh at things that amuse them and, generally, act like little babies. Whether it is playing with a rock in Africa or attending a Gymboree-type class in San Francisco, these babies show us the miracle that is life and the wonder of it all. Oooh, baby, baby. 3½ cans.
58. Letters to Juliet (in Hillsborough with Dee and Angela) – I won’t bog you down with the details of this tale of lost love. The movie stars Dakota Fanning look-alike (but older) Amanda Seyfried as engaged yet ringless Sophie, who is to marry would-be restaurateur Victor. On a trip to Italy, Victor spends most of his time visiting his suppliers and exalting the food and wine of Italy, while Sophie gets involved helping Clare, played by the elegant and gracious Vanessa Redgrave, find her long-lost (50 years) love (her actual long-lost love, Franco Nero). Accompanying them is Vanessa’s priggish Brit of a grandson, an actor whose name escapes me and is best forgotten and who bears an uncanny resemblance to the late Heath Ledger but with better enunciation. The story, acting and dialog (which ends with one of the cheesiest lines I have ever heard) are largely forgettable, but if you appreciate the beauty of Italy, the road trip alone is worth seeing. 3 cans, made better with a good bottle of wine and some Italian food.
59. Rudy (TV) – There are scenes in movies that you know are coming (because you’ve seen them before) but they get you anyway. I think of Gregory Peck leaving the courtroom in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” Tim Robbins escaping Shawshank or a smirky Dustin Hoffman at the back of the bus with Elaine in “The Graduate.” “Rudy” is a movie based on a true story of a kid not smart enough to be accepted by Notre Dame and too small to play football there. So, of course, he gets into Notre Dame, ends up on the practice squad and inspires his more athletic teammates. The last game of his senior year is down to the final seconds when the crowd, chanting “Rudy, Rudy,” beseeches the coach to put him in. On his one and only play from scrimmage, he sacks the quarterback and is hoisted up by his teammates and carried off the field, the last player to be so honored at Notre Dame. My throat is getting that giant lump again. It’s a great scene and worth 5 cans on its own, while the movie itself, a bit too long and slow, gets 4 cans.
60. Hotel Gramercy Park (Sundance Channel) – Proving the adage that “everything old is new again,” this documentary takes a look at New York’s once tony but ultimately rundown Gramercy Park Hotel. Owned by the Weissberg family, who lived above the store (so to speak), the hotel was favored by rock stars, artists and an odd collection of people who still reside there full-time. We witness the new owner, hotelier Ian Schrager (the former owner, with partner Steve Rubell, of Studio 54) as he takes the hotel from decrepit to divine, even as the long-time residents are forced to sidestep the ongoing construction and lack of elevators, etc. One unique perk the hotel offers is a private park. Residents actually have keys to open the gates of this Manhattan oasis. Interesting (especially when Schrager goes toe-to-toe with artist Julian Schnabel on design), but too much emphasis on the family and its many problems. After checking this out, I won’t be checking in. 3 cans.
61. The Old Man and the Sea (TCM) – Spencer Tracy stars in this movie about one man, one boat, and one whale of a marlin, bigger than the tiny fishing boat but not bigger than the will of the fisherman. For days and nights, the old man battles the fish, the elements, his bloody, cramping hands and his fatigue before the fish finally succumbs to his will. But sometimes you win the battle and lose the war, as the fisherman soon realizes. Beautifully shot, this film, from the novel by Ernest Hemingway that everyone had to read at some point in school, is a study in man’s determination as well as where we fit in the universe. I think I’ll get my fish from the market. 4 cans.
62. Visual Acoustics (Sundance Channel) – I love photography and admire architecture, and this documentary about renowned architectural photographer Julius Shulman features both. Working with acclaimed architects from Frank Lloyd Wright to Frank Gehry, Shulman documented the modern architecture that largely defined southern California from the 40s on while enhancing the work and acceptance of a myriad of famous architects and others just starting out. A brilliant essay on a man with a clear focus on straight lines, lighting and some of the most spectacular homes in America. This movie won’t appeal to everyone, but it fascinated me. 4 cans.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Lazy Days - May 2010
There is an old saying that goes something like this: “If you have something to do, get a busy person to do it.” I believed in that adage and practiced it as the soul of efficiency when I worked. My days were jam packed with meetings, my nights with errands and my weekends with chores, activities and friends. Though I usually worked late, I could still manage to squeeze in multiple stops on my way home – the supermarket, dry cleaners (that woman has yet to recover from my retirement; she still looks crushed whenever I make one of my infrequent stops there), library, gas station and the like. Once I ran to Macy’s for the first day of the two-day “1 Day Sale” and a button popped off my coat as I was getting out of the car. Knowing I had neither the time nor the skill to sew it back on properly, I simply bought a new coat. As the dark days of winter moved to the bright, sunny days of summer, I would leave work later and later, with my motto being, “It ain’t late if it’s still light.”
Oh, how times have changed.
What I used to squeeze into my ride home now can take a day. While I keep busy with lots of activities, I sometimes have days when I do absolutely nothing, and nobody does nothing better than me. As proof, I recall that many years ago I sprained my ankle and my sister stopped by to see how I was doing. She left and returned a few hours later, only to find me in exactly the same position on the couch. “You look like you haven’t moved since I left,” she commented. “I haven’t,” I admitted.
Unfortunately, on those lazy days, the less I do, the less I do.
There’s nothing in the house to eat, but I’ll have no motivation to get to the supermarket. There’s always tuna fish or an egg, I reason (except today, for example, when the last remaining egg expired two days ago despite its somewhat permanent residency in my fridge). Sometimes even when I do shop, I’ll refuse to go and get one more item because I have already been down that aisle once and I refuse to backtrack.
I never feel like shaving my legs, even though I’m in a bathing suit three days a week for water aerobics class (see, I am busy sometimes). Ah, those people won’t notice, I figure, and besides, how many of them have shaved their legs? And would I have noticed if they didn’t?
My foot doctor told me years ago that treating my plantar fasciitis requires that I stay off my feet, keep my feet up, cut down on shopping, etc. When no real improvement took place, he reiterated his instructions. “Doc,” I told him, “nobody you know stays off their feet more than I do.” I even have matching recliners – one in the family room and one in the bedroom – so my feet stay elevated and I am safely and comfortably lounging for as long as possible.
I believe some of this sloth characteristic must be genetic. My 17-year old soccer-playing nephew can lounge around in his pajamas all day on the couch, playing video games, unwashed and only possibly energetic enough to make a Pop Tart for lunch. I draw the line at that level of inactivity. In my house, I am always showered, dressed and the bed is made immediately when I get up.
I must be making up for lost time, for all those years of frenetic activity, rarely giving anything outside of work its due. Now I can leisurely devote an entire day (and a weekday, at that) to running around with my camera. I can actually read the newspaper on the day it is published, and I can read books before they are due back at the library. I have the chance to watch tons of movies and even exercise my writing muscles by reviewing each of them.
Sure there are days still packed with volunteer activities and appointments, with movies and lunch plans or dinner dates with friends. But, whenever possible, I spread out the activities, so they no longer get clumped together like they did when my time was so limited. I have developed my “The Kitchen Cabinet Theory of Time Management.” Figure it this way: No matter how many cabinets you have in your kitchen, you will always find plenty of stuff to fill them. Metaphorically speaking, whatever you have to do takes up the time in which you have to do it.
I admit to this kind of behavior not to evoke jealousy, as though I have the leisure time you wish you had, though you might take it that way. In fact, this is a therapeutic way for me to admit publicly that I can be a real slug, a trait I find less than desirable. But isn’t admitting it the first step in rehabbing it?
Nonetheless, this weekend we begin those “lazy, hazy, crazy” days of summer, where sloth seems more acceptable, especially if I can persuade friends who are available to join me around the pool. Our biggest decision will be whether to go into the pool or the hot tub, and that suits me just fine. I might even shave my legs. Just don’t look too closely.
Oh, how times have changed.
What I used to squeeze into my ride home now can take a day. While I keep busy with lots of activities, I sometimes have days when I do absolutely nothing, and nobody does nothing better than me. As proof, I recall that many years ago I sprained my ankle and my sister stopped by to see how I was doing. She left and returned a few hours later, only to find me in exactly the same position on the couch. “You look like you haven’t moved since I left,” she commented. “I haven’t,” I admitted.
Unfortunately, on those lazy days, the less I do, the less I do.
There’s nothing in the house to eat, but I’ll have no motivation to get to the supermarket. There’s always tuna fish or an egg, I reason (except today, for example, when the last remaining egg expired two days ago despite its somewhat permanent residency in my fridge). Sometimes even when I do shop, I’ll refuse to go and get one more item because I have already been down that aisle once and I refuse to backtrack.
I never feel like shaving my legs, even though I’m in a bathing suit three days a week for water aerobics class (see, I am busy sometimes). Ah, those people won’t notice, I figure, and besides, how many of them have shaved their legs? And would I have noticed if they didn’t?
My foot doctor told me years ago that treating my plantar fasciitis requires that I stay off my feet, keep my feet up, cut down on shopping, etc. When no real improvement took place, he reiterated his instructions. “Doc,” I told him, “nobody you know stays off their feet more than I do.” I even have matching recliners – one in the family room and one in the bedroom – so my feet stay elevated and I am safely and comfortably lounging for as long as possible.
I believe some of this sloth characteristic must be genetic. My 17-year old soccer-playing nephew can lounge around in his pajamas all day on the couch, playing video games, unwashed and only possibly energetic enough to make a Pop Tart for lunch. I draw the line at that level of inactivity. In my house, I am always showered, dressed and the bed is made immediately when I get up.
I must be making up for lost time, for all those years of frenetic activity, rarely giving anything outside of work its due. Now I can leisurely devote an entire day (and a weekday, at that) to running around with my camera. I can actually read the newspaper on the day it is published, and I can read books before they are due back at the library. I have the chance to watch tons of movies and even exercise my writing muscles by reviewing each of them.
Sure there are days still packed with volunteer activities and appointments, with movies and lunch plans or dinner dates with friends. But, whenever possible, I spread out the activities, so they no longer get clumped together like they did when my time was so limited. I have developed my “The Kitchen Cabinet Theory of Time Management.” Figure it this way: No matter how many cabinets you have in your kitchen, you will always find plenty of stuff to fill them. Metaphorically speaking, whatever you have to do takes up the time in which you have to do it.
I admit to this kind of behavior not to evoke jealousy, as though I have the leisure time you wish you had, though you might take it that way. In fact, this is a therapeutic way for me to admit publicly that I can be a real slug, a trait I find less than desirable. But isn’t admitting it the first step in rehabbing it?
Nonetheless, this weekend we begin those “lazy, hazy, crazy” days of summer, where sloth seems more acceptable, especially if I can persuade friends who are available to join me around the pool. Our biggest decision will be whether to go into the pool or the hot tub, and that suits me just fine. I might even shave my legs. Just don’t look too closely.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Tina's April Movies
April turned out to be a great month for movies, with three terrific documentaries and two of my ATFs on the list. I have already seen more than 50 movies, putting me on track to equal or surpass last year's total of 110. Here is what I watched in April.
43. 12 Angry Men (TV) – We made a film at J&J in 1976 that featured top management – all white men – in shirts and ties, discussing making decisions that affect the business of the company. We refer to that film today as “12 Angry Men,” and it isn’t all that different from this first class tale of 12 men sequestered in a jury room, deliberating the fate of a young man who allegedly killed his father. Henry Fonda stands between the men and a guilty verdict, and he is determined to talk it through any degree of reasonable doubt. Personal history and biases are revealed as the men debate the case. This movie is the best possible testimonial to the American justice system and a real triumph. 4½ cans.
44. In Love With An Older Woman (TV) – John Ritter is a young (under 30), ruthless lawyer who falls in love with divorced mother Karen Carlson, a mature 43-year old woman who teaches him how to be a real man. Ritter is adorable and earnest in this made-for-TV movie. My dear friend Andrea called me early one morning to let me know it was on, but I was already recording it. She and I may be the only two people who know this movie, and it isn’t great, but it is very sweet, and we both love it. And, you know, 43 doesn’t seem quite so old anymore. 4 cans.
45. The Shawshank Redemption (TV) – This movie is an ATF (all-time favorite) and is in my top five movies. There’s so much I love about this movie, the story of inmates in a Maine prison. From the plaintive score to the languorous pacing that mirrors the slow passage of time for the men, from the formation of friendships to the affirmation that hope keeps us alive, this is a wondrous film. Tim Robbins as Andy and Morgan Freeman as Red are superb as they build a bond of respect and humanity. The last scene, which you would expect to be a close-up, instead pulls away to a broader view that is brilliant and inspired, like Andy himself. 5 cans and a Coke.
46. Mr. Holland’s Opus (TV) – A musician turned reluctant teacher, Glenn Holland (Richard Dreyfus) initially is unable to reach or teach his equally reluctant students. You know that won’t last, as Mr. Holland brings his passion for music to decades of students, often at the cost of time spent with his wife and ironically deaf son. This movie is a case study for the importance of the arts and music in the classroom and features a bravura performance by Dreyfus in the title role. 4 cans.
47. The September Issue (On Demand) – If you have seen “The Devil Wears Prada,” you are familiar with at least the notion of the fashion uber-editor portrayed by Meryl Streep. In this documentary, Anna Wintour, iconic editor of Vogue magazine, feared and followed by the entire fashion industry, wields her considerable power in shaping the 600+ page September 2007 issue. The September issue each year marks the beginning of a new season, and to make it work Wintour has to make tough decisions with looming deadlines, budget constraints and disagreements with her dedicated staff. I’m no fashionista, but this film has style. 4 cans.
48. Date Night (at Hillsborough) – Steve Carell and Tina Fey are well-matched as a believably boring married couple from New Jersey in this laugh-out-loud romantic comedy/action adventure movie. In their effort to break free of their usual date night routine, they venture into the city and take someone else’s dinner reservation at an expensive and snooty restaurant when the other couple fails to show up. Shortly after, they become the victims of mistaken identity and mayhem and pole dancing ensue. Also starring Mark Wahlberg and his pecs. Not a classic in the “When Harry Met Sally” sense, “Date Night” nonetheless had me at Tripplehorn. See the movie to understand what I mean. 4 solid cans.
49. Winged Migration (TV) – With its stunning photography, this documentary delivers a bird’s-eye view as various species of birds migrate north and south each year. From the 620-mile trek of the King penguin to one species of birds that travels thousands of miles from the Arctic to Antarctica, this fascinating film makes you realize how much effort it takes to flap your wings and fly. The Canadian geese look too big and broad across the chest to fly at all, while other birds land on such spindly legs that you wonder how they can support their weight. I would have liked more information – any, in fact – on exactly how the cinematographer managed to fly like an eagle. Pretty, amazing stuff. 4 cans.
50. The Graduate (TCM) – This movie became my favorite movie of all-time when it was released in 1967 and it still ranks at the top of my list. A tale of the turbulent late 1960s, this film totally eviscerates the establishment while making you question what you really want out of life. Or at least that is what it did to me (and “plastics” wasn’t the answer). Perfectly cast and played by an unknown Dustin Hoffman, Anne Bancroft (who was only a few years his senior) and Katherine Ross (“ELAINE!!!!”) and expertly directed by Mike Nichols in his directorial debut, “The Graduate” is comedy, drama, social commentary and irony in one neat and classic package. And then there is the Simon & Garfunkel soundtrack, an amazing use of contemporary music that works within the storyline and setting. 5 cans and a brownie.
51. To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar (TV) – Drag queens Miss Vida, Nozema Jackson and Chi Chi Rodriguez (Patrick Swayze, Wesley Snipes and John Leguizamo) are on their way to Hollywood when their car predictably breaks down in a smaller-than-one-horse town in this delightfully silly little ditty. Somehow, these “ladies” manage to bring style, grace and more than a little self-esteem to the land that time forgot. Snappy dialog and outlandish get-ups make you forget how preposterous the whole thing is. This is a really sweet little movie and I am glad I finally got the chance to see it. You go, girl. 3½ cans.
52. The Heart of the Game (TV) – This heartwarming documentary follows college tax professor Bill Ressler as he brings his unorthodox coaching methods to the Roosevelt High School Rough Riders girls basketball team in Seattle. He may encourage his players to attack like wolves but he has the heart of a lion as he serves as coach, mentor and father figure to his team. When the naturally gifted Darniella Russell arrives at his school, Ressler has to deal with her talent and her troubles, defending her right to play despite a ruling by the state association that would have banned her. This movie, shot over seven seasons, is the female equivalent of the classic high school boys documentary “Hoop Dreams.” 4½ cans.
43. 12 Angry Men (TV) – We made a film at J&J in 1976 that featured top management – all white men – in shirts and ties, discussing making decisions that affect the business of the company. We refer to that film today as “12 Angry Men,” and it isn’t all that different from this first class tale of 12 men sequestered in a jury room, deliberating the fate of a young man who allegedly killed his father. Henry Fonda stands between the men and a guilty verdict, and he is determined to talk it through any degree of reasonable doubt. Personal history and biases are revealed as the men debate the case. This movie is the best possible testimonial to the American justice system and a real triumph. 4½ cans.
44. In Love With An Older Woman (TV) – John Ritter is a young (under 30), ruthless lawyer who falls in love with divorced mother Karen Carlson, a mature 43-year old woman who teaches him how to be a real man. Ritter is adorable and earnest in this made-for-TV movie. My dear friend Andrea called me early one morning to let me know it was on, but I was already recording it. She and I may be the only two people who know this movie, and it isn’t great, but it is very sweet, and we both love it. And, you know, 43 doesn’t seem quite so old anymore. 4 cans.
45. The Shawshank Redemption (TV) – This movie is an ATF (all-time favorite) and is in my top five movies. There’s so much I love about this movie, the story of inmates in a Maine prison. From the plaintive score to the languorous pacing that mirrors the slow passage of time for the men, from the formation of friendships to the affirmation that hope keeps us alive, this is a wondrous film. Tim Robbins as Andy and Morgan Freeman as Red are superb as they build a bond of respect and humanity. The last scene, which you would expect to be a close-up, instead pulls away to a broader view that is brilliant and inspired, like Andy himself. 5 cans and a Coke.
46. Mr. Holland’s Opus (TV) – A musician turned reluctant teacher, Glenn Holland (Richard Dreyfus) initially is unable to reach or teach his equally reluctant students. You know that won’t last, as Mr. Holland brings his passion for music to decades of students, often at the cost of time spent with his wife and ironically deaf son. This movie is a case study for the importance of the arts and music in the classroom and features a bravura performance by Dreyfus in the title role. 4 cans.
47. The September Issue (On Demand) – If you have seen “The Devil Wears Prada,” you are familiar with at least the notion of the fashion uber-editor portrayed by Meryl Streep. In this documentary, Anna Wintour, iconic editor of Vogue magazine, feared and followed by the entire fashion industry, wields her considerable power in shaping the 600+ page September 2007 issue. The September issue each year marks the beginning of a new season, and to make it work Wintour has to make tough decisions with looming deadlines, budget constraints and disagreements with her dedicated staff. I’m no fashionista, but this film has style. 4 cans.
48. Date Night (at Hillsborough) – Steve Carell and Tina Fey are well-matched as a believably boring married couple from New Jersey in this laugh-out-loud romantic comedy/action adventure movie. In their effort to break free of their usual date night routine, they venture into the city and take someone else’s dinner reservation at an expensive and snooty restaurant when the other couple fails to show up. Shortly after, they become the victims of mistaken identity and mayhem and pole dancing ensue. Also starring Mark Wahlberg and his pecs. Not a classic in the “When Harry Met Sally” sense, “Date Night” nonetheless had me at Tripplehorn. See the movie to understand what I mean. 4 solid cans.
49. Winged Migration (TV) – With its stunning photography, this documentary delivers a bird’s-eye view as various species of birds migrate north and south each year. From the 620-mile trek of the King penguin to one species of birds that travels thousands of miles from the Arctic to Antarctica, this fascinating film makes you realize how much effort it takes to flap your wings and fly. The Canadian geese look too big and broad across the chest to fly at all, while other birds land on such spindly legs that you wonder how they can support their weight. I would have liked more information – any, in fact – on exactly how the cinematographer managed to fly like an eagle. Pretty, amazing stuff. 4 cans.
50. The Graduate (TCM) – This movie became my favorite movie of all-time when it was released in 1967 and it still ranks at the top of my list. A tale of the turbulent late 1960s, this film totally eviscerates the establishment while making you question what you really want out of life. Or at least that is what it did to me (and “plastics” wasn’t the answer). Perfectly cast and played by an unknown Dustin Hoffman, Anne Bancroft (who was only a few years his senior) and Katherine Ross (“ELAINE!!!!”) and expertly directed by Mike Nichols in his directorial debut, “The Graduate” is comedy, drama, social commentary and irony in one neat and classic package. And then there is the Simon & Garfunkel soundtrack, an amazing use of contemporary music that works within the storyline and setting. 5 cans and a brownie.
51. To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar (TV) – Drag queens Miss Vida, Nozema Jackson and Chi Chi Rodriguez (Patrick Swayze, Wesley Snipes and John Leguizamo) are on their way to Hollywood when their car predictably breaks down in a smaller-than-one-horse town in this delightfully silly little ditty. Somehow, these “ladies” manage to bring style, grace and more than a little self-esteem to the land that time forgot. Snappy dialog and outlandish get-ups make you forget how preposterous the whole thing is. This is a really sweet little movie and I am glad I finally got the chance to see it. You go, girl. 3½ cans.
52. The Heart of the Game (TV) – This heartwarming documentary follows college tax professor Bill Ressler as he brings his unorthodox coaching methods to the Roosevelt High School Rough Riders girls basketball team in Seattle. He may encourage his players to attack like wolves but he has the heart of a lion as he serves as coach, mentor and father figure to his team. When the naturally gifted Darniella Russell arrives at his school, Ressler has to deal with her talent and her troubles, defending her right to play despite a ruling by the state association that would have banned her. This movie, shot over seven seasons, is the female equivalent of the classic high school boys documentary “Hoop Dreams.” 4½ cans.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Long Live the Queen - April 2010
There are a few things that I have retained since retirement. I still have many of my old suits, though I either can’t or don’t wear them. I have my old go-to-work jewelry – things like pins for my lapels – that sit in the drawer, unworn and forgotten.
And I still retain the tile of “Comma Queen.”
It’s not a title I mind, and it is certainly one that I earned over many years of whipping out the red pen and marking up all sorts of documents. One of my old bosses, Jim Murray, theorized that man’s basic needs were food, water, shelter and editing someone else’s copy. I have to agree.
The joke at the office was always, “Put a comma in, take a comma out.” I’d try to soften the blow of all that red ink on the paper by explaining that I had a comma quota and my compensation was tied to how many errant ones I found.
My comma queendom represents more than the mere comma. It encompasses all grammar, punctuation and spelling, and it is a responsibility that I take to heart – maybe too much to heart. Recently I was at the Met with my dear friend Katherine. I was reading dutifully (note that the adverb “dutifully” appears after the verb “was reading”) all the plaques explaining the paintings on the wall when I found one where a line of text was indented by a single extra character. Did no one else spot this egregious error? Why is this travesty allowed to endure? Did it ruin my day? Well, not exactly, but I’m still thinking about it, aren’t I?
In fact, I am still thinking of the typos I found in on the plaques in Monument Park at the old Yankee Stadium many years ago. I wrote to George Steinbrenner himself to let him know that there were spelling errors on the plaques of Elston Howard (called a “genteleman”) and the “courageaous” Roger Maris. Several years later I saw an item in Sports Illustrated noting the same mistakes, about which the Yankees claimed they never knew. Hmmm, I thought. Did George not even read my letter? Did the erroneous plaques make the trip across the street to the new Yankee Stadium? One of these days I’ll go to a game and visit Monument Park to see for myself.
Even now, I still get calls from people who have a grammar question or who need help with a little piece of text. As I revise the website for the Community Visiting Nurse Association as part of my volunteer work, I correct text and punctuation all the time. The nurses are amazed at the breadth of knowledge I possess on this somewhat arcane subject, while I am equally impressed with their expertise in caring for people. I think they win that contest, since I doubt a comma ever saved someone’s life.
My sister already has volunteered me to review college essays for friends of my nephew. Wait until next year, when he and the majority of his friends begin the dreaded application process. I might as well hang out a shingle, because I can see a line of teenagers accustomed to communicating only via text message vying for much-needed help. I can imagine their college interviews, picturing them whipping out their cell phones to text responses to questions from the interviewer right in front of them.
My grammar expertise no longer includes the ability to diagram a sentence (although listening to Rutgers Coach C. Vivian Stringer’s endless sentences, I am tempted to try), but just coming across a dangling participle makes my day. (For those of you wondering, here is a dangling participle, where the noun and verb do not match properly: “Walking down the street, my eyeballs spotted the red car.” Your eyeballs cannot walk down the street.) I delight in putting a possessive before a gerund, as in: Tina’s knowing the rules of grammar is a good thing.
And it is a good thing, except that I cannot read a newspaper or magazine without finding errors. Books? Don’t even get me started on the typos I find in nearly every book I read.
These days I am on a mission to stamp out the misuse of the single quote. Unless the quote is within a quote, you always must use a double quote. This abomination is my latest pet peeve, as I see it proliferating. A related issue is putting the punctuation inside the quotes, where it belongs, a practice that has been abandoned by many writers. The third pet in the pet peeve triumvirate is the possessive vs. contraction or plural debate, as in “It’s a nice day” and “Its wingspan is 25 feet.”
Yes, I occasionally end a sentence with a preposition, as in: What’s up? And my self-diagnosed finger dyslexia means that I make more typos than I should. I’ll even confess to occasionally splitting an infinitive. Oh, the horror! But, thankfully, I’ve never accepted any sentence that ends with multiple exclamation points, dammit!!!
Heavy is the head that wears the crown, but, for the most part, I wear it with pride. It’s good to be Queen.
And I still retain the tile of “Comma Queen.”
It’s not a title I mind, and it is certainly one that I earned over many years of whipping out the red pen and marking up all sorts of documents. One of my old bosses, Jim Murray, theorized that man’s basic needs were food, water, shelter and editing someone else’s copy. I have to agree.
The joke at the office was always, “Put a comma in, take a comma out.” I’d try to soften the blow of all that red ink on the paper by explaining that I had a comma quota and my compensation was tied to how many errant ones I found.
My comma queendom represents more than the mere comma. It encompasses all grammar, punctuation and spelling, and it is a responsibility that I take to heart – maybe too much to heart. Recently I was at the Met with my dear friend Katherine. I was reading dutifully (note that the adverb “dutifully” appears after the verb “was reading”) all the plaques explaining the paintings on the wall when I found one where a line of text was indented by a single extra character. Did no one else spot this egregious error? Why is this travesty allowed to endure? Did it ruin my day? Well, not exactly, but I’m still thinking about it, aren’t I?
In fact, I am still thinking of the typos I found in on the plaques in Monument Park at the old Yankee Stadium many years ago. I wrote to George Steinbrenner himself to let him know that there were spelling errors on the plaques of Elston Howard (called a “genteleman”) and the “courageaous” Roger Maris. Several years later I saw an item in Sports Illustrated noting the same mistakes, about which the Yankees claimed they never knew. Hmmm, I thought. Did George not even read my letter? Did the erroneous plaques make the trip across the street to the new Yankee Stadium? One of these days I’ll go to a game and visit Monument Park to see for myself.
Even now, I still get calls from people who have a grammar question or who need help with a little piece of text. As I revise the website for the Community Visiting Nurse Association as part of my volunteer work, I correct text and punctuation all the time. The nurses are amazed at the breadth of knowledge I possess on this somewhat arcane subject, while I am equally impressed with their expertise in caring for people. I think they win that contest, since I doubt a comma ever saved someone’s life.
My sister already has volunteered me to review college essays for friends of my nephew. Wait until next year, when he and the majority of his friends begin the dreaded application process. I might as well hang out a shingle, because I can see a line of teenagers accustomed to communicating only via text message vying for much-needed help. I can imagine their college interviews, picturing them whipping out their cell phones to text responses to questions from the interviewer right in front of them.
My grammar expertise no longer includes the ability to diagram a sentence (although listening to Rutgers Coach C. Vivian Stringer’s endless sentences, I am tempted to try), but just coming across a dangling participle makes my day. (For those of you wondering, here is a dangling participle, where the noun and verb do not match properly: “Walking down the street, my eyeballs spotted the red car.” Your eyeballs cannot walk down the street.) I delight in putting a possessive before a gerund, as in: Tina’s knowing the rules of grammar is a good thing.
And it is a good thing, except that I cannot read a newspaper or magazine without finding errors. Books? Don’t even get me started on the typos I find in nearly every book I read.
These days I am on a mission to stamp out the misuse of the single quote. Unless the quote is within a quote, you always must use a double quote. This abomination is my latest pet peeve, as I see it proliferating. A related issue is putting the punctuation inside the quotes, where it belongs, a practice that has been abandoned by many writers. The third pet in the pet peeve triumvirate is the possessive vs. contraction or plural debate, as in “It’s a nice day” and “Its wingspan is 25 feet.”
Yes, I occasionally end a sentence with a preposition, as in: What’s up? And my self-diagnosed finger dyslexia means that I make more typos than I should. I’ll even confess to occasionally splitting an infinitive. Oh, the horror! But, thankfully, I’ve never accepted any sentence that ends with multiple exclamation points, dammit!!!
Heavy is the head that wears the crown, but, for the most part, I wear it with pride. It’s good to be Queen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)