Remember when life was easy? When you didn’t have to choose between seven different kinds of turkey at the deli counter? When ordering coffee didn’t take half an hour? When fewer choices made life less complicated?
Witness:
“Do you want plastic AND paper?” the teenaged ShopRite cashier asked. “Sure,” I responded, not knowing I had that option. I thought the drill was paper OR plastic (except in Pathmark, where nary a paper bag can be found), so she threw me. Now I mostly bring my own bags – partly to be environmentally conscious and partly because I can’t make that choice.
The guy at the deli counter asks if the cheese is cut thin enough for my taste, and offers me a slice. Do I then dare voice a preference for thinner or thicker slices, and do I really have one? When I mentioned to a friend that I couldn’t get the slices apart, she declared, “I always have them shingle it.” Shingle it? I had never heard the term before, but I didn’t have to ask as I instinctively knew what she meant. I just didn’t know we had a choice to ask for it to be shingled for easier cheese access. (Speaking of cheese, the dumbest choice I was ever asked to make was in the Johnson & Johnson Corporate cafeteria, where, after ordering a grilled cheese sandwich, the guy behind the grill asked me, “Do you want cheese on that?” I replied, “Yes, I think you need to include the cheese, or we’re talking toast.” So that was one of the simpler decisions, but they aren’t usually that easy.)
At Quick Chek, just ordering a sandwich has become an adventure in self-service. You belly up to the computer, select your meat, then, by pressing the appropriate buttons, decide whether you want mayonnaise or a little mayonnaise, and all the other sandwich accompaniments, like salt, pepper, cheese or extra cheese, lettuce and tomato and who knows what else. I’m waiting for the computer to actually spit the finished product out at me, but, thankfully, creating the sandwich still requires an actual person. A friend of mine went to his local Wawa and proceeded to make the same sandwich choice day after day, until finally the sandwich maker refused to make one more of the same. I guess he had no choice but to change his sandwich selection.
“I’ll put your items in a double shopping bag,” the eager Williams Sonoma employee offered. “And do you want a handle to help carry it? Do you want your receipt in the bag?” “OK, thanks,” I replied, bewildered at the number of decisions we are asked to make each and every day. I thought just selecting my purchase was enough of a challenge.
At a restaurant (granted, a decent one), you are asked if you want water and whether tap or bottled is your preference (wet and in a glass is fine for me). And forget the wine list. Reading the latest John Grisham novel takes less time than wading through the phonebook-sized list to make your choice.
My refrigerator not only gives me cold water from the door, but makes me choose ice cubes or crushed ice. How to decide? Besides, the cubes look pretty crushed to me regardless of my choice.
Thankfully, I don’t drink coffee, because there seems to be an entire language one must master to order a double latte yada yada yada, a language and series of choices that would render me mute. And tea is no better. If you want tea at a decent restaurant, they bring that wooden box that looks like a pirate’s treasure chest and is filled not with doubloons but instead with herbal, breakfast, decaf and a myriad of other choices. Remember when tea was Lipton or Tetley? When sneakers were Keds or PF Flyers? When mustard was Gulden’s or French’s? I must have spent 20 minutes in the store the other day trying to decide whether my hand soap should be antibacterial, antibacterial with moisturizers or just moisturizing, and then I had to select a fragrance (apple, green tea, cool mint cucumber or citrus, among many) that wouldn’t make me hungry or nauseous. And you know how I feel about deciding among the dazzling array of skin lotions and potions.
I can’t even leave the house without making a decision. I have to choose between driving Gracie, my 13-year old Mercedes (she is doing fine, by the way), and her younger counterpart, Sunny, my 6-year old Chrysler Sebring convertible. Luckily, weather helps make that decision, but then, if I choose the convertible, I am faced with the decision of putting the top down or keeping it up. That choice depends on both weather and where I am going. No one at ShopRite cares if my hair has blown all over the place, but if I am headed to a meeting, I have to protect my hair, right?
When I am looking for new jeans, I not only have to find the right size, but I have to consider the variety of styles, from boot cut to high waist to fuller leg (guess which one I chose) and more, not counting the variety of shades of denim from which to choose. Thank goodness acid washed is now passé, since that helps narrow down the choices by one.
I can handle the choices at the diner, where I can quickly express my preference for a table or a booth (even though I have no logic for why I might prefer one over the other). I can go to a restaurant with outdoor seating and decide whether to sit inside or outside, depending on the weather. But with all the TV shows I watch, it is hard to decide what programs I want to see live and which others I should record on my two digital video recorders for later viewing. Back in the days when the remote control consisted of the youngest child in the house being ordered to get up and change the channel, deciding between channels 2-4-5-7-9-11 and the dreaded 13 was relatively easy. When Dad fell asleep on the couch, you made your move, hoping he wouldn’t awaken and bark, “I was watching that,” although his eyes were closed. With fewer choices – or none at all – life was considerably less complicated.
Hmm, I wonder what I should write about next month. Decisions, decisions.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Tina's August Movies 2010
Not a great month for movies, with nothing really special beyond a few old favorites and no documentaries. But I am getting close to 100 movies for the second consecutive year, a feat worth noting (at least to me). Here's what I watched in August, with numbers picked up from the year's total.
August
83. The Notebook (TV) – You don’t want to be with me when I watch this movie, unless, of course, you don’t mind the sights and sounds of someone sobbing, sniffing and blowing her nose. I’ve seen this movie a number of times but that never diminishes its impact. It is a lovely love story, heartwarming and sad, with indelible characters and wonderful performances by Ryan Gosling, Rachel McAdams, James Garner and Gena Rowlands. 5 cans and a box of tissues.
84. The Flamingo Kid (HBO) – A very cute, very young Matt Dillon plays 18-year old Jeffrey Willis, from a working class family in Brooklyn. When his friends take him to a beach club in Rockaway, Jeffrey gets a job there parking cars, cleaning cabanas, getting great tips and career advice from slick card player Richard Crenna. It takes Jeffrey a while to understand that the flashy car dealer Crenna, so initially appealing, isn’t all he seems to be. Best scene: Crenna showing off his new remote control to change channels and passing through a scene of himself and Walter Brennan in “The Real McCoys.” 3½ cans.
85. The Go-Between (TCM) – Long before the advent of cell phones and text messages, before e-mail, Facebook and tweets, love was expressed through letters. The logistics of an illicit affair were challenging for the lovers, since they had to devise a way to exchange messages surreptitiously. Enter young Master Leo, a 13-year old boy spending the summer at the country estate of his friend Markus and taking on the role of “postman” for Markus’ beautiful older sister Marian (Julie Christie) and her lover Ted (Alan Bates). Though poor Leo suspects what is going on, he has no understanding of the birds and the bees. With a major crush on Marian, however, he is a willing pawn. Much of the film is devoted to scenes of the poor kid running from the estate to Bates’ modest cottage. Slow-moving and veddy British, this is one of the few British films I have seen which doesn’t include Emma Thompson or Dame Judy Dench in the cast. 3 cans.
86. Eat, Pray, Love (Hillsborough, with Dee, Angela and Sheila) – Can a divorced New York author find happiness and fulfillment by eating her way through Italy, praying her way through India and loving her way through Bali? That’s the question here, as Julia Roberts portrays Elizabeth Gilbert, who took a year off to find herself and eat some beautifully photographed Italian food in this chick-flick. She’s not looking for a man, though she finds several influential men during her journey. The India part could have been shorter, but the other two seemed just right. Who among us hasn’t wrestled with her soul or the zipper of her jeans when life and our midsections become too much weight for us to bare? Gotta go now – the pasta is boiling on the stove. 3½ cans.
87. Cadillac Records (TV) – Before there was Berry Gordy and Motown, Dick Clark and Bandstand, even before rock and roll itself, there was the blues, exemplified by musicians like Muddy Waters. When Leonard Chess opened a club in Chicago, he introduced a stable of talented but often troubled musicians, signing them to his own Chess Records label. Along with Walters, his standouts were Little Walter on the harp, the legendary Chuck Berry, whose guitar riffs were later ripped off by the Beach Boys, and the tough but vulnerable Etta James, played here by Beyonce. Chess at one time or another bought them all Cadillacs to thank them for helping him grow the label, even as they wrestled with booze, drugs and money problems. Any movie that features the Etta James classic “At Last” can’t be all bad. 3½ cans.
88. & 89. Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kind/The Sting (TV) – It is only appropriate to pair together two movies that teamed the duo of Paul Newman and Robert Redford. Whether playing bank robbers in Butch Cassidy or con men in The Sting, Newman & Redford are such good bad guys. Their effortless performances, the pleasurable plots, the unique music that became popular because of these films (“Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” in Butch and Scott Joplin’s piano music in The Sting) made both of these movies immensely engaging. George Roy Hill directed both and I can only imagine the fun these guys must have had throughout production. Throw in small but effective parts by Katharine Ross in Butch and Eileen Brennan in The Sting and you have perfectly cast roles. Love it all. 9 cans, or 4½ cans each.
90. Impromptu (Netflix with Angela) – This strange little movie stars Judy Davis as author George Sand and a very young Hugh Grant as composer Frederic Chopin. The trouser-clad Sand has a reputation as a wild woman who goes after lovers aggressively and tires of them quickly. Grant uses his usual befuddled expression (though his usual stammering is replaced her by a persistent cough) while Davis bores in on him relentlessly. Meanwhile, Emma Thompson, as a rich society woman, is happy to invite artists and musicians to her estate since even then it seems that hanging out with celebrities was considered pretty cool. A quirky and occasionally amusing movie, Impromptu rates only 3 cans. Sorry, Angela.
91. Pride & Prejudice (TV) – This remake of the Greer Garson version of the Jane Austen novel is actually very good. As much as I admire Garson, I have to admit that Keira Knightly is more suited – age-wise – for the role of feisty Elizabeth Bennett. The story of a mother worried about having her five daughters marry well, it has all the pride and prejudice of high society versus plain folks – if you buy plain folks living in an old mansion and still having household help. In this version, the dour Mr. Darcy is played by Matthew Macfadyen. While you assume it is inevitable that he will fall for the sprightly Elizabeth, she initially wants no part of him – at least outwardly. I enjoyed the movie, but remind me never to watch anything with commercials. Oxygen not only interrupted the movie repeatedly, but the commercials promoted the network’s “Bad Girls Club,” which is not exactly like the Mickey Mouse Club. As for the movie itself, 4 cans.
92. The Invention of Lying (HBO) – Ricky Gervais plays to his strengths as a short, fat loser with a snub nose who lives in a world where everyone tells the truth (and describes him in that way). Imagine, the waiter tells you the food you are about to eat is terrible and the girl you just met tells you up front she has absolutely no interest in you. When Gervais’ character accidentally lies at his bank he discovers that he can benefit from not telling the truth and no one is the wiser. He tries to comfort his dying mother by telling her that once she passes on she’ll be in a much better place (“Everyone lives in a mansion,” he explains) and he gains notoriety for his wisdom and familiarity with the “Man in the sky.” This comedy has elements of fantasy (beyond the fact that Jennifer Garner falls for him), spirituality and social commentary that make it a step above the ordinary comedy. To tell the truth, I’m glad I saw it for free on cable, but I give it 3½ cans.
93. Without a Trace (TV) – In the 27 years since this movie was made, there have been countless high profile cases centering on missing children. The case in this movie predates most of what we have come to see far too often, young children becoming victims while their anguished and mostly helpless parents become the target of the media. Judd Hirsch as the cop and Kate Nelligan as the mother give excellent, nuanced performances, each trying to cope with life and solve the case. 3½ cans.
August
83. The Notebook (TV) – You don’t want to be with me when I watch this movie, unless, of course, you don’t mind the sights and sounds of someone sobbing, sniffing and blowing her nose. I’ve seen this movie a number of times but that never diminishes its impact. It is a lovely love story, heartwarming and sad, with indelible characters and wonderful performances by Ryan Gosling, Rachel McAdams, James Garner and Gena Rowlands. 5 cans and a box of tissues.
84. The Flamingo Kid (HBO) – A very cute, very young Matt Dillon plays 18-year old Jeffrey Willis, from a working class family in Brooklyn. When his friends take him to a beach club in Rockaway, Jeffrey gets a job there parking cars, cleaning cabanas, getting great tips and career advice from slick card player Richard Crenna. It takes Jeffrey a while to understand that the flashy car dealer Crenna, so initially appealing, isn’t all he seems to be. Best scene: Crenna showing off his new remote control to change channels and passing through a scene of himself and Walter Brennan in “The Real McCoys.” 3½ cans.
85. The Go-Between (TCM) – Long before the advent of cell phones and text messages, before e-mail, Facebook and tweets, love was expressed through letters. The logistics of an illicit affair were challenging for the lovers, since they had to devise a way to exchange messages surreptitiously. Enter young Master Leo, a 13-year old boy spending the summer at the country estate of his friend Markus and taking on the role of “postman” for Markus’ beautiful older sister Marian (Julie Christie) and her lover Ted (Alan Bates). Though poor Leo suspects what is going on, he has no understanding of the birds and the bees. With a major crush on Marian, however, he is a willing pawn. Much of the film is devoted to scenes of the poor kid running from the estate to Bates’ modest cottage. Slow-moving and veddy British, this is one of the few British films I have seen which doesn’t include Emma Thompson or Dame Judy Dench in the cast. 3 cans.
86. Eat, Pray, Love (Hillsborough, with Dee, Angela and Sheila) – Can a divorced New York author find happiness and fulfillment by eating her way through Italy, praying her way through India and loving her way through Bali? That’s the question here, as Julia Roberts portrays Elizabeth Gilbert, who took a year off to find herself and eat some beautifully photographed Italian food in this chick-flick. She’s not looking for a man, though she finds several influential men during her journey. The India part could have been shorter, but the other two seemed just right. Who among us hasn’t wrestled with her soul or the zipper of her jeans when life and our midsections become too much weight for us to bare? Gotta go now – the pasta is boiling on the stove. 3½ cans.
87. Cadillac Records (TV) – Before there was Berry Gordy and Motown, Dick Clark and Bandstand, even before rock and roll itself, there was the blues, exemplified by musicians like Muddy Waters. When Leonard Chess opened a club in Chicago, he introduced a stable of talented but often troubled musicians, signing them to his own Chess Records label. Along with Walters, his standouts were Little Walter on the harp, the legendary Chuck Berry, whose guitar riffs were later ripped off by the Beach Boys, and the tough but vulnerable Etta James, played here by Beyonce. Chess at one time or another bought them all Cadillacs to thank them for helping him grow the label, even as they wrestled with booze, drugs and money problems. Any movie that features the Etta James classic “At Last” can’t be all bad. 3½ cans.
88. & 89. Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kind/The Sting (TV) – It is only appropriate to pair together two movies that teamed the duo of Paul Newman and Robert Redford. Whether playing bank robbers in Butch Cassidy or con men in The Sting, Newman & Redford are such good bad guys. Their effortless performances, the pleasurable plots, the unique music that became popular because of these films (“Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” in Butch and Scott Joplin’s piano music in The Sting) made both of these movies immensely engaging. George Roy Hill directed both and I can only imagine the fun these guys must have had throughout production. Throw in small but effective parts by Katharine Ross in Butch and Eileen Brennan in The Sting and you have perfectly cast roles. Love it all. 9 cans, or 4½ cans each.
90. Impromptu (Netflix with Angela) – This strange little movie stars Judy Davis as author George Sand and a very young Hugh Grant as composer Frederic Chopin. The trouser-clad Sand has a reputation as a wild woman who goes after lovers aggressively and tires of them quickly. Grant uses his usual befuddled expression (though his usual stammering is replaced her by a persistent cough) while Davis bores in on him relentlessly. Meanwhile, Emma Thompson, as a rich society woman, is happy to invite artists and musicians to her estate since even then it seems that hanging out with celebrities was considered pretty cool. A quirky and occasionally amusing movie, Impromptu rates only 3 cans. Sorry, Angela.
91. Pride & Prejudice (TV) – This remake of the Greer Garson version of the Jane Austen novel is actually very good. As much as I admire Garson, I have to admit that Keira Knightly is more suited – age-wise – for the role of feisty Elizabeth Bennett. The story of a mother worried about having her five daughters marry well, it has all the pride and prejudice of high society versus plain folks – if you buy plain folks living in an old mansion and still having household help. In this version, the dour Mr. Darcy is played by Matthew Macfadyen. While you assume it is inevitable that he will fall for the sprightly Elizabeth, she initially wants no part of him – at least outwardly. I enjoyed the movie, but remind me never to watch anything with commercials. Oxygen not only interrupted the movie repeatedly, but the commercials promoted the network’s “Bad Girls Club,” which is not exactly like the Mickey Mouse Club. As for the movie itself, 4 cans.
92. The Invention of Lying (HBO) – Ricky Gervais plays to his strengths as a short, fat loser with a snub nose who lives in a world where everyone tells the truth (and describes him in that way). Imagine, the waiter tells you the food you are about to eat is terrible and the girl you just met tells you up front she has absolutely no interest in you. When Gervais’ character accidentally lies at his bank he discovers that he can benefit from not telling the truth and no one is the wiser. He tries to comfort his dying mother by telling her that once she passes on she’ll be in a much better place (“Everyone lives in a mansion,” he explains) and he gains notoriety for his wisdom and familiarity with the “Man in the sky.” This comedy has elements of fantasy (beyond the fact that Jennifer Garner falls for him), spirituality and social commentary that make it a step above the ordinary comedy. To tell the truth, I’m glad I saw it for free on cable, but I give it 3½ cans.
93. Without a Trace (TV) – In the 27 years since this movie was made, there have been countless high profile cases centering on missing children. The case in this movie predates most of what we have come to see far too often, young children becoming victims while their anguished and mostly helpless parents become the target of the media. Judd Hirsch as the cop and Kate Nelligan as the mother give excellent, nuanced performances, each trying to cope with life and solve the case. 3½ cans.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Judgment Day - August 2010
I try not to be judgmental, but there are just too many occasions when I can’t help but express my opinions. Although I am completely unqualified in so many areas, that lack of expertise in no way inhibits me from issuing my own verdict about practically anything.
Take dancing, for instance. Having watched all of the seasons of “Dancing With the Stars” – and I use that latter term loosely, based on my judgment of who is really a star – I now find myself opining on the contestants’ musicality, extension and the difficulty of the choreography. Me, whose entire ballroom dancing experience consists of Bunny and Stan Scharf showing me how to do the cha-cha when I was 12. I am equally qualified as a singer, or, at least, I certainly know bad singing when I hear it because that is all I can do. Yet, when “American Idol” airs, I immediately feel free to offer my opinion of the vocal talents of people 16-28 years old – even though no one has asked. Now that Simon and Ellen have left the show and, given my availability, I am waiting for a call from Hollywood officially asking me to join the judges’ panel. Don’t you think I’d be better than J Lo? I’d be much less expensive – and considerably less diva-like (I would agree to any color M&Ms in my dressing room, thank you, and any brand of bottled water, as long as it is cold, will do).
My ability to judge the creative arts appears to have no boundaries. Each year I dutifully note which clothing designers are the best and worst on “Project Runway,” even though I cannot even sew on a button successfully (I blame my eyes for not being able to thread the needle as I drop things off at the cleaners for repair). I quickly identified the bottom two designers on the new season of “Design Star,” and, though I know even less about art than dancing, singing and design, I promptly decided which aspiring artist should pack her brushes and go on the new program, “Work of Art.” Not being able to taste the food on cooking shows like “Top Chef” doesn’t stop me from deciding which chefs should pack their knives and go. And that’s not just a case of giving low scores to the ones who sweat into their food, either.
On the HGTV show “House Hunters,” I watch prospective homeowners look at three houses and decide which of the three to buy. One has big bedrooms but a bad backyard, while another has a room for a “man cave” but not enough room for the wife’s shoes (they never have enough room for the wife’s shoes). At the end of the show, while we review the attributes of each abode, I helpfully hold up one, two or three fingers to tell them which one to choose. When they choose one that I didn’t choose for them, I try to be happy for them, even though I know they made the wrong choice.
Recent editions of “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette” also have ignored my verbal pleas as someone gets down on one knee and proposes to the wrong person. I don’t want to say “I told you so,” but Jake and Vienna split before Ali and Roberto became a match (and this time, one of which I approve).
It’s not like I always want to be “Judge Judy.” I like the competition shows where the conclusion is clear. On “The Amazing Race,” for example, the last team to arrive at the pit stop is eliminated (unless it is a non-elimination round, that is). It’s easy: Come in last and you go home. But on programs where strategy is involved, such as “Survivor,” I just pick out the people I don’t like or trust and give thanks I am not stuck in a jungle with them, peeing in a bush and brushing my teeth with a leaf. On other shows, such as “America’s Got Talent,” we are asked to judge an earnest young singer whose father has leukemia versus a guy who juggles chain saws. Sometimes it is easier just to change the channel.
In the end, at least I am glad I am making my judgments on these shows based on the merits of the talent as I perceive it. I don’t watch shows like “The Real Housewives of Fill-In-the-Blank” or “America’s Next Top Model.” That’s because I don’t need to see those programs to judge them. I have already decided they aren’t worth my time.
Take dancing, for instance. Having watched all of the seasons of “Dancing With the Stars” – and I use that latter term loosely, based on my judgment of who is really a star – I now find myself opining on the contestants’ musicality, extension and the difficulty of the choreography. Me, whose entire ballroom dancing experience consists of Bunny and Stan Scharf showing me how to do the cha-cha when I was 12. I am equally qualified as a singer, or, at least, I certainly know bad singing when I hear it because that is all I can do. Yet, when “American Idol” airs, I immediately feel free to offer my opinion of the vocal talents of people 16-28 years old – even though no one has asked. Now that Simon and Ellen have left the show and, given my availability, I am waiting for a call from Hollywood officially asking me to join the judges’ panel. Don’t you think I’d be better than J Lo? I’d be much less expensive – and considerably less diva-like (I would agree to any color M&Ms in my dressing room, thank you, and any brand of bottled water, as long as it is cold, will do).
My ability to judge the creative arts appears to have no boundaries. Each year I dutifully note which clothing designers are the best and worst on “Project Runway,” even though I cannot even sew on a button successfully (I blame my eyes for not being able to thread the needle as I drop things off at the cleaners for repair). I quickly identified the bottom two designers on the new season of “Design Star,” and, though I know even less about art than dancing, singing and design, I promptly decided which aspiring artist should pack her brushes and go on the new program, “Work of Art.” Not being able to taste the food on cooking shows like “Top Chef” doesn’t stop me from deciding which chefs should pack their knives and go. And that’s not just a case of giving low scores to the ones who sweat into their food, either.
On the HGTV show “House Hunters,” I watch prospective homeowners look at three houses and decide which of the three to buy. One has big bedrooms but a bad backyard, while another has a room for a “man cave” but not enough room for the wife’s shoes (they never have enough room for the wife’s shoes). At the end of the show, while we review the attributes of each abode, I helpfully hold up one, two or three fingers to tell them which one to choose. When they choose one that I didn’t choose for them, I try to be happy for them, even though I know they made the wrong choice.
Recent editions of “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette” also have ignored my verbal pleas as someone gets down on one knee and proposes to the wrong person. I don’t want to say “I told you so,” but Jake and Vienna split before Ali and Roberto became a match (and this time, one of which I approve).
It’s not like I always want to be “Judge Judy.” I like the competition shows where the conclusion is clear. On “The Amazing Race,” for example, the last team to arrive at the pit stop is eliminated (unless it is a non-elimination round, that is). It’s easy: Come in last and you go home. But on programs where strategy is involved, such as “Survivor,” I just pick out the people I don’t like or trust and give thanks I am not stuck in a jungle with them, peeing in a bush and brushing my teeth with a leaf. On other shows, such as “America’s Got Talent,” we are asked to judge an earnest young singer whose father has leukemia versus a guy who juggles chain saws. Sometimes it is easier just to change the channel.
In the end, at least I am glad I am making my judgments on these shows based on the merits of the talent as I perceive it. I don’t watch shows like “The Real Housewives of Fill-In-the-Blank” or “America’s Next Top Model.” That’s because I don’t need to see those programs to judge them. I have already decided they aren’t worth my time.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Tina's July Movies
July
71. More Than a Game (TV) – Long before he became the world’s most sought-after free agent, LeBron James was an athletic kid playing basketball and winning championships in Akron, Ohio, with three good buddies. This film shows a lanky 11-year old James, one of several good players regularly trouncing AAU teams, through his evolution into a 17-year old man-child, winning state and national high school championships. But it is more than the LeBron show, as he and his friends develop into accomplished basketball players, young men and good friends. Talent like LeBron’s may come along once in a generation, but it is teamwork that ultimately wins championships. 4 cans.
72. Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work (Montgomery with Nan and Hank) – At 75 and with a face only a plastic surgeon could love, Joan Rivers is a desperate woman. She is desperate for recognition as the comedy pioneer she was and still is, desperate for acceptance and desperate to keep working. Her greatest fear is a blank page in her “book,” the calendar in which she writes down all of her engagements. “Ask a nun why she is a nun,” she says in attempting to explain why she is still doing gigs in Wisconsin, on cruise ships and at 4:30 in the afternoon in the Bronx. With staff to pay and a New York apartment in which even she admits Marie Antoinette could live, the insecure icon needs the money, the fame and to be on the stage, the only place where she is truly happy. There is a sense of loneliness and sadness to this movie, which documents one year in Rivers’ life but refers back to her many highs (as permanent guest host on Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show) and lows (when Fox cancelled her own talk show, Johnny refused to ever speak with her again and her husband committed suicide). But in the end, it is a revealing and honest look at a very funny woman doing what she does best – make us laugh – and she is still damn good at it. 3½ cans.
73. The Paper Chase (TV) – The trials and tribulations of law students at Harvard are played out in this 1973 film starring a floppy-haired Timothy Bottoms as first-year student Hart and the great John Housman as formidable Professor Kingsfield. They develop a mutual respect even as Kingsfield refuses to acknowledge that he knows Hart’s name. A young Lindsay Wagner (before she became the Bionic Woman), Edward Hermann (before he played FDR and lots of grandfathers) and James Naughton (before he became a song and dance man on Broadway) co-star. This movie was turned into a very good TV series and educated those of us not in law school about how tough it is to get out alive. 3½ cans.
74. I Am Love (Montgomery, with Dee and Sheila) – You start with a love story, add Italian scenery and throw in a dash of food, courtesy of the chef character in the movie, and you have a recipe for success, right? Not so fast. A great performance by Tilda Swinton as the bored Russian mother in a wealthy Italian family whose son decides to open a restaurant with his friend Antonio, a chef. Seduced by the chef’s enormous prawns, Momma begins an affair that seems somewhat far-fetched, and the foreboding music tells you that this is not going to end well. I wanted more – more food, more sunny countryside scenes and a more handsome lover with better assets than those on display here. I am love – no. I am disappointed – yes. 3½ cans.
75. Unfaithful (HBO) – Richard Gere is not enough for Diane Lane, at least not after she (literally) bumps into young Frenchman Olivier Martinez and begins a torrid affair in this movie. If Martinez had played the Italian in the movie above, I would have given “I Am Love” another star. I’ve liked Diane Lane’s work since she appeared as a 14-year old in “A Little Romance” way back when. I also loved her in the movie in which she had a torrid affair with Viggo Mortensen, “A Walk on the Moon.” Here, her face as she returns home on the train after her initial tryst with Martinez reveals both ecstasy and guilt. Great performance in a very satisfying film. My favorite part is when she knows that he knows but he doesn’t know that she knows that he knows. You know? 4 ½ cans.
76. Presumed Innocent (TV) – Harrison Ford stars in this whodunit courtroom drama as a prosecutor accused of killing his former lover, fellow attorney (Greta Sacchi). As in the two movies I saw immediately preceding this one, the lesson here again is that no good can come from having a hot affair. I will bear that in mind, just in case an opportunity presents itself. Ford gives an almost sleepy performance, with little dialog to help him convince us of his innocence. I won’t tell you how it ends, but I remember seeing this years ago and not expecting the twist in the case. 3½ cans.
77. Toots (Sundance Channel) – Saloonkeeper to the stars Toots Shor was the toast of New York from the 40s to the 60s. Long before places like Studio 54 attracted the rich and famous, Toot’s joint was the hangout for Sinatra, Gleason and DiMaggio, as well as sportswriters, newspapermen and mobsters. This documentary recounts the days and nights of the gregarious barkeep and his famous and infamous cohorts. Rich in anecdotes and interviews with Toots and his pals, this is a portrait of a true New York character, someone who met Pope John and called him a “helluva guy.” So was Toots. 3½ cans.
78. Flash of Genius (Blockbuster rental) –This film focuses on the inventor of intermittent windshield wipers, Dr. Bob Kearns, played by Greg Kinnear in a surprisingly interesting movie about patent violations. After striking a deal with Kearns, Ford rained on his parade by coming out with its own product, claiming its engineers invented it. Kearns struck back, doggedly taking on the giant company at the cost of first his sanity, and then his marriage and family. Don’t we always root for the underdog? Next time I turn on my wipers, I will think of Kearns and his contribution to automotive safety and innovation. 3 cans.
79. The Turning Point (TV) – This ballet-themed movie is on point as former ballerina Shirley MacLaine and fading ballerina Anne Bancroft, once BFFs, reflect on their respective choices and achievements as they battle for control over the promising career of MacLaine’s coming of age daughter. Harboring decades of resentment, they have to come to terms with each other and the paths they have chosen. Did MacLaine’s character get pregnant because she was in love or because she was afraid she wasn’t good enough to make it as a ballet star? Did Bancroft’s Emma give up everything to be a prima ballerina? This is the movie that brought the gravity-defying Mikhail Baryshnikov to the screen. Great performances and a stellar catfight. 4 cans.
80. The Kids Are All Right (in Montgomery with Dee and Angela) – Annette Bening is an uptight doctor with control issues and her partner, played by Julianne Moore, is a new age, middle aged woman looking for the right vibe – or something. When the kids in the title, an 18-year old daughter by Bening and a 15-year son named Laser by Moore, track down their sperm donor dad (Mark Ruffalo), relationships begin to change for everyone. Rough around the edges Ruffalo, a single restaurateur who is way too cool to be a real dad, nonetheless brings some perspective to the kids that their Moms could not. He also brings something to Moore that Bening cannot. She had him at “Hello!” 4 cans.
81. Three Days of the Condor (TV) – Robert Redford stars in this suspenseful film as a low-level CIA analyst. He can’t imagine that his mundane job – reading books – could possibly uncover a rogue CIA network that results in the deaths of all of his co-workers and leaves him on the run. He needs help and a place to hide, for which he randomly grabs Faye Dunaway, who is initially terrified but eventually – well, he IS Robert Redford, you know. Good story, if a little tough to follow, and Redford looked great in 1974. 4 cans.
82. Yankee Doodle Dandy (TCM) – As a movie aficionado, I have to admit I was embarrassed that I had never seen this All-American movie, but what better month to see it than in July? Tough guy actor James Cagney goes back to his song and dance man roots to portray George M. Cohan, composer, actor, singer, patriot and Broadway producer. Cohan was responsible for such classic tunes as “You’re a Grand Old Flag,” “Over There,” and “Give My Regards to Broadway.” Cagney emulates Cohan’s odd dancing style, tapping with a stiff-legged gait while bent from the waist, and he was impressive enough in this role to win an Oscar. The production numbers are grand but cheesy. I know it is considered a grand old movie, but it’s just not my cup of tea. 3 cans.
71. More Than a Game (TV) – Long before he became the world’s most sought-after free agent, LeBron James was an athletic kid playing basketball and winning championships in Akron, Ohio, with three good buddies. This film shows a lanky 11-year old James, one of several good players regularly trouncing AAU teams, through his evolution into a 17-year old man-child, winning state and national high school championships. But it is more than the LeBron show, as he and his friends develop into accomplished basketball players, young men and good friends. Talent like LeBron’s may come along once in a generation, but it is teamwork that ultimately wins championships. 4 cans.
72. Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work (Montgomery with Nan and Hank) – At 75 and with a face only a plastic surgeon could love, Joan Rivers is a desperate woman. She is desperate for recognition as the comedy pioneer she was and still is, desperate for acceptance and desperate to keep working. Her greatest fear is a blank page in her “book,” the calendar in which she writes down all of her engagements. “Ask a nun why she is a nun,” she says in attempting to explain why she is still doing gigs in Wisconsin, on cruise ships and at 4:30 in the afternoon in the Bronx. With staff to pay and a New York apartment in which even she admits Marie Antoinette could live, the insecure icon needs the money, the fame and to be on the stage, the only place where she is truly happy. There is a sense of loneliness and sadness to this movie, which documents one year in Rivers’ life but refers back to her many highs (as permanent guest host on Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show) and lows (when Fox cancelled her own talk show, Johnny refused to ever speak with her again and her husband committed suicide). But in the end, it is a revealing and honest look at a very funny woman doing what she does best – make us laugh – and she is still damn good at it. 3½ cans.
73. The Paper Chase (TV) – The trials and tribulations of law students at Harvard are played out in this 1973 film starring a floppy-haired Timothy Bottoms as first-year student Hart and the great John Housman as formidable Professor Kingsfield. They develop a mutual respect even as Kingsfield refuses to acknowledge that he knows Hart’s name. A young Lindsay Wagner (before she became the Bionic Woman), Edward Hermann (before he played FDR and lots of grandfathers) and James Naughton (before he became a song and dance man on Broadway) co-star. This movie was turned into a very good TV series and educated those of us not in law school about how tough it is to get out alive. 3½ cans.
74. I Am Love (Montgomery, with Dee and Sheila) – You start with a love story, add Italian scenery and throw in a dash of food, courtesy of the chef character in the movie, and you have a recipe for success, right? Not so fast. A great performance by Tilda Swinton as the bored Russian mother in a wealthy Italian family whose son decides to open a restaurant with his friend Antonio, a chef. Seduced by the chef’s enormous prawns, Momma begins an affair that seems somewhat far-fetched, and the foreboding music tells you that this is not going to end well. I wanted more – more food, more sunny countryside scenes and a more handsome lover with better assets than those on display here. I am love – no. I am disappointed – yes. 3½ cans.
75. Unfaithful (HBO) – Richard Gere is not enough for Diane Lane, at least not after she (literally) bumps into young Frenchman Olivier Martinez and begins a torrid affair in this movie. If Martinez had played the Italian in the movie above, I would have given “I Am Love” another star. I’ve liked Diane Lane’s work since she appeared as a 14-year old in “A Little Romance” way back when. I also loved her in the movie in which she had a torrid affair with Viggo Mortensen, “A Walk on the Moon.” Here, her face as she returns home on the train after her initial tryst with Martinez reveals both ecstasy and guilt. Great performance in a very satisfying film. My favorite part is when she knows that he knows but he doesn’t know that she knows that he knows. You know? 4 ½ cans.
76. Presumed Innocent (TV) – Harrison Ford stars in this whodunit courtroom drama as a prosecutor accused of killing his former lover, fellow attorney (Greta Sacchi). As in the two movies I saw immediately preceding this one, the lesson here again is that no good can come from having a hot affair. I will bear that in mind, just in case an opportunity presents itself. Ford gives an almost sleepy performance, with little dialog to help him convince us of his innocence. I won’t tell you how it ends, but I remember seeing this years ago and not expecting the twist in the case. 3½ cans.
77. Toots (Sundance Channel) – Saloonkeeper to the stars Toots Shor was the toast of New York from the 40s to the 60s. Long before places like Studio 54 attracted the rich and famous, Toot’s joint was the hangout for Sinatra, Gleason and DiMaggio, as well as sportswriters, newspapermen and mobsters. This documentary recounts the days and nights of the gregarious barkeep and his famous and infamous cohorts. Rich in anecdotes and interviews with Toots and his pals, this is a portrait of a true New York character, someone who met Pope John and called him a “helluva guy.” So was Toots. 3½ cans.
78. Flash of Genius (Blockbuster rental) –This film focuses on the inventor of intermittent windshield wipers, Dr. Bob Kearns, played by Greg Kinnear in a surprisingly interesting movie about patent violations. After striking a deal with Kearns, Ford rained on his parade by coming out with its own product, claiming its engineers invented it. Kearns struck back, doggedly taking on the giant company at the cost of first his sanity, and then his marriage and family. Don’t we always root for the underdog? Next time I turn on my wipers, I will think of Kearns and his contribution to automotive safety and innovation. 3 cans.
79. The Turning Point (TV) – This ballet-themed movie is on point as former ballerina Shirley MacLaine and fading ballerina Anne Bancroft, once BFFs, reflect on their respective choices and achievements as they battle for control over the promising career of MacLaine’s coming of age daughter. Harboring decades of resentment, they have to come to terms with each other and the paths they have chosen. Did MacLaine’s character get pregnant because she was in love or because she was afraid she wasn’t good enough to make it as a ballet star? Did Bancroft’s Emma give up everything to be a prima ballerina? This is the movie that brought the gravity-defying Mikhail Baryshnikov to the screen. Great performances and a stellar catfight. 4 cans.
80. The Kids Are All Right (in Montgomery with Dee and Angela) – Annette Bening is an uptight doctor with control issues and her partner, played by Julianne Moore, is a new age, middle aged woman looking for the right vibe – or something. When the kids in the title, an 18-year old daughter by Bening and a 15-year son named Laser by Moore, track down their sperm donor dad (Mark Ruffalo), relationships begin to change for everyone. Rough around the edges Ruffalo, a single restaurateur who is way too cool to be a real dad, nonetheless brings some perspective to the kids that their Moms could not. He also brings something to Moore that Bening cannot. She had him at “Hello!” 4 cans.
81. Three Days of the Condor (TV) – Robert Redford stars in this suspenseful film as a low-level CIA analyst. He can’t imagine that his mundane job – reading books – could possibly uncover a rogue CIA network that results in the deaths of all of his co-workers and leaves him on the run. He needs help and a place to hide, for which he randomly grabs Faye Dunaway, who is initially terrified but eventually – well, he IS Robert Redford, you know. Good story, if a little tough to follow, and Redford looked great in 1974. 4 cans.
82. Yankee Doodle Dandy (TCM) – As a movie aficionado, I have to admit I was embarrassed that I had never seen this All-American movie, but what better month to see it than in July? Tough guy actor James Cagney goes back to his song and dance man roots to portray George M. Cohan, composer, actor, singer, patriot and Broadway producer. Cohan was responsible for such classic tunes as “You’re a Grand Old Flag,” “Over There,” and “Give My Regards to Broadway.” Cagney emulates Cohan’s odd dancing style, tapping with a stiff-legged gait while bent from the waist, and he was impressive enough in this role to win an Oscar. The production numbers are grand but cheesy. I know it is considered a grand old movie, but it’s just not my cup of tea. 3 cans.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Trash Talk - July 2010
“We’re down to one bag of trash a month,” dear friend Katherine proclaimed proudly.
One bag a month, I thought. One bag a week would have impressed me, but one bag a month? That seems almost impossible, unless you reside on the space station, where I imagine trash pick-up is really limited.
Katherine went on to explain the seven kinds of recycling accepted in her town in a conversation that only two dear friends could have without feeling really bored. By now I was really jealous, though I perked up a bit when she admitted they still have a problem with overuse of paper towels. She assured me, however, that she really is using those ShamWows we bought and shared (and no, ShamWow is not one of the people on “Jersey Shore.”). They use cloth napkins (I could do that, I think), and run the dishwasher often. Mine runs about once a quarter, so at least I’m ahead on the lowering of energy consumption (as if this were a competition).
She also composts all her vegetable scraps and has a sizable garden, affording her family of four the opportunity to eat whatever tomatoes, zucchini, potatoes, etc., the rabbits and other wildlife haven’t plundered before harvest. That means not only better quality and more fresh veggies are consumed at her house than at mine, but also that she doesn’t have to deal with all the plastic bags and wrapping in which we tote home our produce. She always uses her own bags at the supermarket and has for years, even before it became fashionable to do so. I do this about half the time, when I remember to bring them in from the car. Once I had my own bags on my arm while shopping and still forgot to bag in them since I was apparently so transfixed by watching the cash register while checking out.
This leaves me with one question: How can one person produce all this trash?
As a consumer of many kinds of goods, I always have to contend with packaging materials. There is that hideous plastic that imprisons my memory sticks for my computer and memory cards for my camera, all 10 times the size of the product they encase, and all of which are lethally sharp as I cut them with my utility knife to wrestle out the contents. Then there is food packaging – huge boxes in which much less cereal resides than it would appear and boxes that contain individual packets of cookies or other snacks. There are the Styrofoam cartons for the eggs, foam trays beneath the meat and chicken, the little plastic cups for my cling peaches, and, of course, all those shiny packets that house my beloved Bumble Bee Tuna.
Sunday and Wednesday nights I haul the trash out in my trash can, placing it at the curb with my secret trash code visible from my front door. Code, you wonder? What is a trash code? I always take the red draw string from the big black bag (into which I place the smaller white bag) and put it outside the lid of the garbage can. That way I can tell at a glance whether the garbage has been picked up and I need to go out and retrieve the can. Believe me, in the winter, this clever trick has helped me avoid many a possible slip on the icy driveway.
Not that I don’t try to be good. I dutifully recycle my cardboard, remove the labels from my cans and bottles (more trash just from the labels), collect all the magazine inserts and junk mail and neatly tie my newspapers into bundles. (My sister, once observing the latter ritual, inquired as to whether I was recycling or gift wrapping the newspapers.) I broke down so many cardboard cartons when I moved into this house that I ended up at the orthopedist with carpal tunnel in both wrists (His advice? Don’t move again.). If I use a paper towel for a quick wipe of something (like cleaning my glasses), I’ll let it dry and reuse it for something else. I refuse bags from the store if the item is small and fits in my purse. I reuse my plastic bags, lining the garbage pails in the bathrooms and bedrooms with the grocery ones and reserving the larger ones (mostly from Kohl’s or Macy’s) for my shredded paper. If my take-out or doggie bags are aluminum pans, I wash them and reuse them for leftovers. In my town, you can’t recycle your cereal or pizza boxes or the plastic from the salad bar containers, so I feel like I am doing all I can.
Or am I?
Maybe if I consume less – buy less stuff that I probably don’t need anyway, eat less (my docs would be happy) and just try not to get all caught up in trash, I’d actually have less to toss. I’ll try the cloth napkin route and use the ShamWows more to clean up after meals to cut down on the paper towels. If I cook more and have less takeout I’ll probably come out ahead in several ways.
But one bag of trash a month? It’s only a dream for me.
Stay tuned for next month, when I consider this burning question: How can one person produce this much laundry?
One bag a month, I thought. One bag a week would have impressed me, but one bag a month? That seems almost impossible, unless you reside on the space station, where I imagine trash pick-up is really limited.
Katherine went on to explain the seven kinds of recycling accepted in her town in a conversation that only two dear friends could have without feeling really bored. By now I was really jealous, though I perked up a bit when she admitted they still have a problem with overuse of paper towels. She assured me, however, that she really is using those ShamWows we bought and shared (and no, ShamWow is not one of the people on “Jersey Shore.”). They use cloth napkins (I could do that, I think), and run the dishwasher often. Mine runs about once a quarter, so at least I’m ahead on the lowering of energy consumption (as if this were a competition).
She also composts all her vegetable scraps and has a sizable garden, affording her family of four the opportunity to eat whatever tomatoes, zucchini, potatoes, etc., the rabbits and other wildlife haven’t plundered before harvest. That means not only better quality and more fresh veggies are consumed at her house than at mine, but also that she doesn’t have to deal with all the plastic bags and wrapping in which we tote home our produce. She always uses her own bags at the supermarket and has for years, even before it became fashionable to do so. I do this about half the time, when I remember to bring them in from the car. Once I had my own bags on my arm while shopping and still forgot to bag in them since I was apparently so transfixed by watching the cash register while checking out.
This leaves me with one question: How can one person produce all this trash?
As a consumer of many kinds of goods, I always have to contend with packaging materials. There is that hideous plastic that imprisons my memory sticks for my computer and memory cards for my camera, all 10 times the size of the product they encase, and all of which are lethally sharp as I cut them with my utility knife to wrestle out the contents. Then there is food packaging – huge boxes in which much less cereal resides than it would appear and boxes that contain individual packets of cookies or other snacks. There are the Styrofoam cartons for the eggs, foam trays beneath the meat and chicken, the little plastic cups for my cling peaches, and, of course, all those shiny packets that house my beloved Bumble Bee Tuna.
Sunday and Wednesday nights I haul the trash out in my trash can, placing it at the curb with my secret trash code visible from my front door. Code, you wonder? What is a trash code? I always take the red draw string from the big black bag (into which I place the smaller white bag) and put it outside the lid of the garbage can. That way I can tell at a glance whether the garbage has been picked up and I need to go out and retrieve the can. Believe me, in the winter, this clever trick has helped me avoid many a possible slip on the icy driveway.
Not that I don’t try to be good. I dutifully recycle my cardboard, remove the labels from my cans and bottles (more trash just from the labels), collect all the magazine inserts and junk mail and neatly tie my newspapers into bundles. (My sister, once observing the latter ritual, inquired as to whether I was recycling or gift wrapping the newspapers.) I broke down so many cardboard cartons when I moved into this house that I ended up at the orthopedist with carpal tunnel in both wrists (His advice? Don’t move again.). If I use a paper towel for a quick wipe of something (like cleaning my glasses), I’ll let it dry and reuse it for something else. I refuse bags from the store if the item is small and fits in my purse. I reuse my plastic bags, lining the garbage pails in the bathrooms and bedrooms with the grocery ones and reserving the larger ones (mostly from Kohl’s or Macy’s) for my shredded paper. If my take-out or doggie bags are aluminum pans, I wash them and reuse them for leftovers. In my town, you can’t recycle your cereal or pizza boxes or the plastic from the salad bar containers, so I feel like I am doing all I can.
Or am I?
Maybe if I consume less – buy less stuff that I probably don’t need anyway, eat less (my docs would be happy) and just try not to get all caught up in trash, I’d actually have less to toss. I’ll try the cloth napkin route and use the ShamWows more to clean up after meals to cut down on the paper towels. If I cook more and have less takeout I’ll probably come out ahead in several ways.
But one bag of trash a month? It’s only a dream for me.
Stay tuned for next month, when I consider this burning question: How can one person produce this much laundry?
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