Now, this post is going to seem an obvious exploration to anyone who loves music, but, the older I get, the more surprised I am by the fact that I have not shed this teenage tendency. While I'm no longer inclined to run to my room, fling myself on my bed and crank up some Pat Benatar, there is a kernel of that urge in every impulse to be absorbed in something specific.
A few summers ago I spent several days in Paris. On one of our last days there, the group I was with went to Versailles. By that point in the trip, my brain was fried from a combination of jet lag, lack of sleep, grief, and an overwhelming influence of art. Walking through the vast indulgence that is Versailles, I felt incapable of processing any new information. I turned down the audio tour headset. Then I didn't feel like reading any of the signage located every couple of feet. Instead I dug out my iPod. David Byrne' 2001 release, Look Into the Eyeball, turned out to be what I needed. I floated through the rooms and felt comfortable just letting the art just wash over me in waves.
Likewise, my mom had hip-replacement surgery this past week. She did great and is recovering nicely, but I really do not like hospitals. The complication of surgery combined with an anxiety of not knowing and the tedium of waiting is an unsettling combination I find unlikely to master. On Sunday, we transported her to a rehabilitation facility, my dad driving her car, and me following behind in his vehicle. Anyone who knows my dad knows he has a nice car. Anyone who's ever riden in it knows it has an awesome sound system. Even though we were only traveling a few miles away, I came prepared, slipping Beck's Modern Guilt into my bag on the way out of my house. I got through about three songs on the way there, and finished off the rest on my way back to my parents' house. Like in Versailles, the instant the music I deliberately pooled into my ears, I felt better.
Released. Just like back in my bedroom, but in a totally new way.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Fitting in...
I've always been a person enthusiastic about jumping right into organized activities and bonding with people over them. I loved going away for camp and coming home a week later with people I felt sure I'd stay connected with forever. In school I was "inside joke" girl; so much so that my yearbooks are filled with obscure references about hypothetical beach parties and nicknames that no longer make sense. Every time I go into a new work situation (which is often) I can find a lunch partner in no time at all.
And so it comes as no surprise that I have developed a great bond with folks whom I have met in my MFA program that I completed almost a year ago. I went back this week, to visit classmates who are still there, and to get a little work done uninterrupted by domestic chores and such.
Honestly I didn't know entirely what to expect. For those of you unaware of my program, it is a "brief residency" which has gained popularity in recent years by attracting mainly older and/or non-traditional students who are not in a position to pick up and move to some college town for two years to teach undergrads. Instead, there are two ten-day "residencies," twice a year, where students and faculty alike arrive from all over the United States for intensive workshopping and lectures and leave with an individual mentor whom they will work for the ensuing semester. It was everything I'd hoped it would be and more.
Still. Coming back someplace when your status has changed can be awkward. You don't want to be the loser-y burnout who is forever spotted playing hackey-sack on the Quad (okay, Spalding doesn't even have a Quad and I'll admit I've not once seen anyone playing hackey-sack...) But you get what I'm getting out.
But it turned out great. I ended up seeing most of the people I wanted to, had interesting interactions with new folk, and get an impressive amount of work done (if I do say so myself) while still managing to indulge in dinners and drinks with friends. And staying with a super cool new-ish friend who didn't mind not knowing how long I planned to "hang out."
The best thing about "fitting in" here is, like most places where people share your interests or mindset, there is no explanation needed. Most everyone just "gets it." After about ten years of feeling like a "writer" outside of this group I still find it necessary to buffer my answer with jobs I have had or am currently pursuing in order to make ends meet. It's quite lovely to not feel the need to do that.
In the same way it feels good to start singing camp songs and have someone join in. Not that I do that...often...
And so it comes as no surprise that I have developed a great bond with folks whom I have met in my MFA program that I completed almost a year ago. I went back this week, to visit classmates who are still there, and to get a little work done uninterrupted by domestic chores and such.
Honestly I didn't know entirely what to expect. For those of you unaware of my program, it is a "brief residency" which has gained popularity in recent years by attracting mainly older and/or non-traditional students who are not in a position to pick up and move to some college town for two years to teach undergrads. Instead, there are two ten-day "residencies," twice a year, where students and faculty alike arrive from all over the United States for intensive workshopping and lectures and leave with an individual mentor whom they will work for the ensuing semester. It was everything I'd hoped it would be and more.
Still. Coming back someplace when your status has changed can be awkward. You don't want to be the loser-y burnout who is forever spotted playing hackey-sack on the Quad (okay, Spalding doesn't even have a Quad and I'll admit I've not once seen anyone playing hackey-sack...) But you get what I'm getting out.
But it turned out great. I ended up seeing most of the people I wanted to, had interesting interactions with new folk, and get an impressive amount of work done (if I do say so myself) while still managing to indulge in dinners and drinks with friends. And staying with a super cool new-ish friend who didn't mind not knowing how long I planned to "hang out."
The best thing about "fitting in" here is, like most places where people share your interests or mindset, there is no explanation needed. Most everyone just "gets it." After about ten years of feeling like a "writer" outside of this group I still find it necessary to buffer my answer with jobs I have had or am currently pursuing in order to make ends meet. It's quite lovely to not feel the need to do that.
In the same way it feels good to start singing camp songs and have someone join in. Not that I do that...often...
Friday, May 22, 2009
The Bob Seger Rejection
So I have an essay called "The Bob Seger Receonciliation." It is, essentially, a short piece about three seperate bonding occurances involving Bob Seger music that forced me to reconsider being so smug about the man.
Anyway, it was one of the last pieces I wrote for my graduate collection during my MFA, and my mentor (who is very open and cool as a teacher but tends to be more traditional) really liked it, so I felt it "legitimate" enough to send out into the world of literary magazines.
In February I attended AWP, a very large writer's conference where most of the literary magazines have a table. As a writer, I find the process of walking up and down the aisles and phyically seeing the collection of publications and the people who run on work on the publicaton quite helpful. Because the "unsolicited submission" pile at most of these places is vast, much of the processes is, admittedly, a numbers game. However, I think there is something to the repeated advice that you take a look at old editions and try to place your work accordingly.
Being extroverted also helps. I have a bachelor's degree in theater. Amoung theater people, I am the wallflower. Around other writer's however, I can easily slip into loud-mouth rock star if I am not careful. But, having a knack for amusing small talk and the confidence in knowing what I want to do can give the slightest of edges.
Anyway, by the end of the conference I'd compiled a nice little list of publications and names and went home ready to match them up with the dozen or so submission-worthy essays.
Which lead me to send out a total of about twenty submissions, including "The Bob Seger Reconciliation" to a very cool, impressive reputable journal. That was in February. The lit mags are notoriously slow because of high submission rate combined with notoriously over-worked and under-paid staffs. In the past week, the rejections have started trickling in. Of course most were the sub-human two-by-three inch cheap-ass "no thanks" things that infuriate me (see end of 2/24 post...)
What I've been more pleased with, generally speaking, are the email exhanged. The editors seem to be more inclined to jot a note or two that acknowledge you are being responded to by a person and not just an elimination machine. Take the following:
Anyway, it was one of the last pieces I wrote for my graduate collection during my MFA, and my mentor (who is very open and cool as a teacher but tends to be more traditional) really liked it, so I felt it "legitimate" enough to send out into the world of literary magazines.
In February I attended AWP, a very large writer's conference where most of the literary magazines have a table. As a writer, I find the process of walking up and down the aisles and phyically seeing the collection of publications and the people who run on work on the publicaton quite helpful. Because the "unsolicited submission" pile at most of these places is vast, much of the processes is, admittedly, a numbers game. However, I think there is something to the repeated advice that you take a look at old editions and try to place your work accordingly.
Being extroverted also helps. I have a bachelor's degree in theater. Amoung theater people, I am the wallflower. Around other writer's however, I can easily slip into loud-mouth rock star if I am not careful. But, having a knack for amusing small talk and the confidence in knowing what I want to do can give the slightest of edges.
Anyway, by the end of the conference I'd compiled a nice little list of publications and names and went home ready to match them up with the dozen or so submission-worthy essays.
Which lead me to send out a total of about twenty submissions, including "The Bob Seger Reconciliation" to a very cool, impressive reputable journal. That was in February. The lit mags are notoriously slow because of high submission rate combined with notoriously over-worked and under-paid staffs. In the past week, the rejections have started trickling in. Of course most were the sub-human two-by-three inch cheap-ass "no thanks" things that infuriate me (see end of 2/24 post...)
What I've been more pleased with, generally speaking, are the email exhanged. The editors seem to be more inclined to jot a note or two that acknowledge you are being responded to by a person and not just an elimination machine. Take the following:
Thanks for sending this for our consideration. We’ve read it with interest and have had more conversation about Bob Seger than any of us thought we ever would. In the end, this piece isn’t right for us. I’ll say, if you’d like to try us again, we’d be interested to read more of your work, though I think, compared to this piece, we’d be interested in longer work, if possible.
Isn't that nice? Makes me like this publication more and want to work towards pleasing them. Not in an obsessive, stalkery kind of way, but in a way that fuels the writing.
Just wanted to share...
Friday, May 15, 2009
A Thinking Gal's Chick Flick List - Part 2
So the list picks up... (see 4/25/09 post for intro...)
Terms of Endearment - Some will say this is the quintessential tear jerker movie. And they would be right. However, it is also a brilliant portrayal of a mother/daughter who aren't that likable. They are the kind of people you wouldn't want to be stuck beside at Applebees having an argument. You'd be embarrassed for both of them. And the friends aren't all that impressive. Mostly, everyone is given a full-range of character that include complicated flaws and attractions.
The Piano - Fundamentally, this movie is a stunner of cinematography. You can't say that about many standard chick flicks. There's a blue wash over the whole thing that sets the tone for the whole thing. The love story here might be described as bizarre, but it is deeply passionate and ultimately quite tender. And that Anna Paquin, there's this terrific blend of little-kid innocence and old-soul wisdom that is hard to find in on-screen kids. There's a scene where she's telling these busy-body women this huge whopper of a lie that I can just watch again and again.
Remains of the Day - A few years ago I was working in the marketing department of a large company. My desk was at the edge of a "cave" of designers, all guys, all film fanatics. One day I mentioned my quandary of being a female film fan; that I rarely had "peers." I didn't want to discuss the upcoming Batman or Transformers or Indiana Jones movie. "Can't we, for one day, discuss the rich detail and vast scope of, say, "Remains of the Day?" I said to the copywriter who cracked me up everyday. "Um, no. No, I'm afraid we cannot to do that..." I tried to counter by saying it could be spun as a Top Gun kind of phenomenon, that kind of perfect guy/girl balance in the story of war and romance, only way, way more repressed. He wouldn't buy it... Oh, and in the movie Waiting for Guffman, one of the main characters shows off his Remains of the Day lunch box. I want one of those...
The Sweetest Thing - Now this one appeals to me because it is one of the only truly raunchy comedies starring thirty year old women. While I haven't seen women portrayed like this in film, I've worked with these women and roomed with a few in college. I haven't seen this in a while so I can't speak of the details, but I remember watching it and thinking, "Oh my God, I can't believe they're doing this." Always a good sign in my book.
Never Been Kissed - Now this is the one that is the most like a "traditional" teen comedy/chick flick combo. Drew Barrymore makes this one work because, unlike other actresses who they doll up and then put glasses on in order to signal "homely," she can actually pull off dowdy. The plot is typical, in that she is a mid-twenties journalist who disguises herself as a high school student, is embraced by the cool kids, only to learn a lesson about true friendship... But I bought it. I was right there through the transformation and didn't once roll my eyes.
So I'm not done. But I'm liking this idea of getting some movies a second look.
Terms of Endearment - Some will say this is the quintessential tear jerker movie. And they would be right. However, it is also a brilliant portrayal of a mother/daughter who aren't that likable. They are the kind of people you wouldn't want to be stuck beside at Applebees having an argument. You'd be embarrassed for both of them. And the friends aren't all that impressive. Mostly, everyone is given a full-range of character that include complicated flaws and attractions.
The Piano - Fundamentally, this movie is a stunner of cinematography. You can't say that about many standard chick flicks. There's a blue wash over the whole thing that sets the tone for the whole thing. The love story here might be described as bizarre, but it is deeply passionate and ultimately quite tender. And that Anna Paquin, there's this terrific blend of little-kid innocence and old-soul wisdom that is hard to find in on-screen kids. There's a scene where she's telling these busy-body women this huge whopper of a lie that I can just watch again and again.
Remains of the Day - A few years ago I was working in the marketing department of a large company. My desk was at the edge of a "cave" of designers, all guys, all film fanatics. One day I mentioned my quandary of being a female film fan; that I rarely had "peers." I didn't want to discuss the upcoming Batman or Transformers or Indiana Jones movie. "Can't we, for one day, discuss the rich detail and vast scope of, say, "Remains of the Day?" I said to the copywriter who cracked me up everyday. "Um, no. No, I'm afraid we cannot to do that..." I tried to counter by saying it could be spun as a Top Gun kind of phenomenon, that kind of perfect guy/girl balance in the story of war and romance, only way, way more repressed. He wouldn't buy it... Oh, and in the movie Waiting for Guffman, one of the main characters shows off his Remains of the Day lunch box. I want one of those...
The Sweetest Thing - Now this one appeals to me because it is one of the only truly raunchy comedies starring thirty year old women. While I haven't seen women portrayed like this in film, I've worked with these women and roomed with a few in college. I haven't seen this in a while so I can't speak of the details, but I remember watching it and thinking, "Oh my God, I can't believe they're doing this." Always a good sign in my book.
Never Been Kissed - Now this is the one that is the most like a "traditional" teen comedy/chick flick combo. Drew Barrymore makes this one work because, unlike other actresses who they doll up and then put glasses on in order to signal "homely," she can actually pull off dowdy. The plot is typical, in that she is a mid-twenties journalist who disguises herself as a high school student, is embraced by the cool kids, only to learn a lesson about true friendship... But I bought it. I was right there through the transformation and didn't once roll my eyes.
So I'm not done. But I'm liking this idea of getting some movies a second look.
Friday, May 8, 2009
The Cheater Post
I really do not like that I more than a week has gone by without a post...
And yet I have to leave my house in five minutes.
So I'm cheating. Admitedly, I am lame.
Lately most of my ideas (with the exception of the return to the Smart Girl Chick Flick post) are food related. I'm not sure how I feel about that except that it is probably a lighter outlet than the heavy manuscript I've been working on.
In short, Graeters now has pretzel cones.
Seriously. Pretzel cones. Genius. Go out and get one.
Happy Weekend!
And yet I have to leave my house in five minutes.
So I'm cheating. Admitedly, I am lame.
Lately most of my ideas (with the exception of the return to the Smart Girl Chick Flick post) are food related. I'm not sure how I feel about that except that it is probably a lighter outlet than the heavy manuscript I've been working on.
In short, Graeters now has pretzel cones.
Seriously. Pretzel cones. Genius. Go out and get one.
Happy Weekend!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Old School Ode #4 - The Ice Cream Truck
I don't mean to sound all Andy-Rooney with the Did you ever notice grumpster rant, but, seriously, has anyone noticed that all of the ice cream trucks are now 1970's conversion vans plasters with stickers? Perhaps I am only speaking of my neighborhood, but seriously, there is something disconcerning about the image of children running out to buy ice cream from the same place their uncle Gary used to get high...
Anyway. It got me thinking about ice cream weather, or, more specifically Bomp Pop weather. I know it's getting close to being consistently warm when I impulsively buy a box of Bomb Pops at the grocery. Nothing says summer than the taste of red, white, and blue (or cherry, rasberry, and...what flavor is white? kind of like "palette cleanser.")
As a kid I wasn't a big ice cream truck freak. To be honest, it can be a stressful exercise for a kid - hearing the distant refrain of Farmer in the Dell, running inside to find the closest parent, pleading an urgent case, running to get the agreeing parent's closest wallet, running back outside, trying to determine the actual location of the truck, all to find yourself too late, the bumper almost out of eye range, and no energy left to run. It was just easier to get on your bike and ride up to Haney's for a Pepsi and tube of Pringles.
But, I do have one glorious ice cream truck memory.
In third grade there was this brother and sister who were new to our school. David and Dina. I don't know where they came from or whatever happened to them (my mom would know this, she remembers all of my former classmates) but I only remember that my brother and I hung around them the summer between 3rd and 4th. Dina had an end-of-the-year slumber party. They lived in the only apartment complex at the edge of our neighborhood. They had no front or backyard and this was before video games, cable and VHS. We were bored, it was hot, and there was an hour and a half before Donny and Marie came on.
We were sitting on the front steps when we heard it, the lovely tinkling beacon of hope. Dina's mom was right inside. She handed Dina a five dollar bill and we waited. The truck pulled up into the parking lot of the apartment complex. For a minute there was no sound except that of the repitive strains of Pop Goes the Weasel. Then everything changed. Doors flew open and kids we never knew existed came from everywhere and swarmed the truck.
We were first in line but stuck around and watched everyone. We told people it was our friends birthday. People made a big deal. We held up traffic. It is what I think every experience at the ice cream truck should be. Which is why I just buy the Bomb Pops at the start of each spring and have one at the end of a hot day.
Oh, and last summer I saw the ice cream "van" parked in front of the Silver Fox Lounge. Twice.
Anyway. It got me thinking about ice cream weather, or, more specifically Bomp Pop weather. I know it's getting close to being consistently warm when I impulsively buy a box of Bomb Pops at the grocery. Nothing says summer than the taste of red, white, and blue (or cherry, rasberry, and...what flavor is white? kind of like "palette cleanser.")
As a kid I wasn't a big ice cream truck freak. To be honest, it can be a stressful exercise for a kid - hearing the distant refrain of Farmer in the Dell, running inside to find the closest parent, pleading an urgent case, running to get the agreeing parent's closest wallet, running back outside, trying to determine the actual location of the truck, all to find yourself too late, the bumper almost out of eye range, and no energy left to run. It was just easier to get on your bike and ride up to Haney's for a Pepsi and tube of Pringles.
But, I do have one glorious ice cream truck memory.
In third grade there was this brother and sister who were new to our school. David and Dina. I don't know where they came from or whatever happened to them (my mom would know this, she remembers all of my former classmates) but I only remember that my brother and I hung around them the summer between 3rd and 4th. Dina had an end-of-the-year slumber party. They lived in the only apartment complex at the edge of our neighborhood. They had no front or backyard and this was before video games, cable and VHS. We were bored, it was hot, and there was an hour and a half before Donny and Marie came on.
We were sitting on the front steps when we heard it, the lovely tinkling beacon of hope. Dina's mom was right inside. She handed Dina a five dollar bill and we waited. The truck pulled up into the parking lot of the apartment complex. For a minute there was no sound except that of the repitive strains of Pop Goes the Weasel. Then everything changed. Doors flew open and kids we never knew existed came from everywhere and swarmed the truck.
We were first in line but stuck around and watched everyone. We told people it was our friends birthday. People made a big deal. We held up traffic. It is what I think every experience at the ice cream truck should be. Which is why I just buy the Bomb Pops at the start of each spring and have one at the end of a hot day.
Oh, and last summer I saw the ice cream "van" parked in front of the Silver Fox Lounge. Twice.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
A Thinking Gal's Chick Flick List - A Sampling
So my plan was to set out to create a top ten list of the "quintessential" smart-girl chick flicks. What I mean is films that have a woman (or women) as their main character and are critically acclaimed. So I made this list and sorted and re-sorted, trying to determine the perfect numbering based on staying power, personal appeal, and overall popularity.
Couldn't do it.
Ultimately I knew that as soon as I uploaded the thing there'd be a glaring omission and I'd have to back pedal and honestly, I really could be using the time to find a proper job...
So I've decided, instead, to just start out with some films I like, and let you know why I feel they deserves some attention.
My Personal Favorites
Coal Miner's Daughter - While I own this DVD, I only tend to see it when I'm in a hotel, flipping through the channels right before I go to sleep. There is something so timeless about the film's elements - the dialogue, the acting, the sets, the shots - it could have been made today. I also love that despite the rags-to-riches story, it never wallows in cliche. Sissy Spacek and Tommy Lee Jones together are a marvel. There is no part of this movie I can't watch again and again.
Postcards from the Edge - Another bio-pic (although this one is "loosely" based on Carrie Fisher's experiences as a washed-up actress coming out of rehab), this one was largely ignored when it came out in 1991. But come on, it's Meryl Streep and Shirley Maclaine. Together in the same movie. I had bought the book when I was a Junior in college and found it hysterical. When it came out on video I tried to loan it out to everyone I knew because I figured it didn't do well because of lack of marketing. But the lackluster, fake-polite response I got when people returned it made me realize it was probably never going to be a classic cult hit. There a million funny lines, but for a touching rendition of Ray Charles' "You Don't Know Me", look it up on You Tube.
Sense and Sensibility - In general, I'm not a huge fan of costume dramas. I have a hard time shifting gears into another time period and honestly I just end up getting distracted by all the decadence of the sets and costumes. But on this one, I was in right away. It's little more than women waiting around all day for people to visit, but there is the universal smart-girl/pretty-girl paradigm going on that makes it completely relatable. What gives it extra points is the dry humor and razor-sharp wit of Emma Thompson's DVD commentary. She talks about being humiliated during a screening of ninth graders in London; when it becomes obvious that she and Hugh Grant are love interests, someone shouted out, "Ew, she's old enough to be his mother." She is, in fact, only one year older than Hugh Grant. But don't get me started on age difference in Hollywood films...
Charlie's Angels (and Charlie's Angels Full Throttle) - Thinking, Lia. Really? Well, all I've got to say is I usually have to work myself up to see such and obvious, over-the-top action summer blockbuster. I have to go in saying, "It's summer, it's just for fun, get over it." But on both of these, the switch flipped and I was right there. Just the right blend of genuine girlishness and ass-kicking ridiculousness. I highly recommend it on a hot summer night after an uncalled for stressful week at work.
Thelma and Louise - Now, some people confuse this movie with an ass-kicking shoot-em up movie. Not so. Sure, one of them shoots a guy (but he was a real creep and there is a whole backstory dedicated to why), and the other's husband is a one-dimensional boffoun (but nothing happens to him), and they blow up that guy's truck (perhaps a bit harsh punishment for highway harassment...) but it's the overall filmaking that makes this one stand out. The script is nuanced and well-paced, the characters deep and developed, and, well, Ridley Scott directs. The New Mexico sky is a marvel and the slide guitar-infused score will just break your heart every time. And it's not true that all the guys are made out to be creeps. Michael Madsen is totally sympathetic as Louise's musician boyfriend and I believe it is Harvey Keitel's only "nice guy" role he's ever played.
Next Up
Terms of Endearment
The Piano
Remains of the Day
The Sweetest Thing
Never Been Kissed...
Couldn't do it.
Ultimately I knew that as soon as I uploaded the thing there'd be a glaring omission and I'd have to back pedal and honestly, I really could be using the time to find a proper job...
So I've decided, instead, to just start out with some films I like, and let you know why I feel they deserves some attention.
My Personal Favorites
Coal Miner's Daughter - While I own this DVD, I only tend to see it when I'm in a hotel, flipping through the channels right before I go to sleep. There is something so timeless about the film's elements - the dialogue, the acting, the sets, the shots - it could have been made today. I also love that despite the rags-to-riches story, it never wallows in cliche. Sissy Spacek and Tommy Lee Jones together are a marvel. There is no part of this movie I can't watch again and again.
Postcards from the Edge - Another bio-pic (although this one is "loosely" based on Carrie Fisher's experiences as a washed-up actress coming out of rehab), this one was largely ignored when it came out in 1991. But come on, it's Meryl Streep and Shirley Maclaine. Together in the same movie. I had bought the book when I was a Junior in college and found it hysterical. When it came out on video I tried to loan it out to everyone I knew because I figured it didn't do well because of lack of marketing. But the lackluster, fake-polite response I got when people returned it made me realize it was probably never going to be a classic cult hit. There a million funny lines, but for a touching rendition of Ray Charles' "You Don't Know Me", look it up on You Tube.
Sense and Sensibility - In general, I'm not a huge fan of costume dramas. I have a hard time shifting gears into another time period and honestly I just end up getting distracted by all the decadence of the sets and costumes. But on this one, I was in right away. It's little more than women waiting around all day for people to visit, but there is the universal smart-girl/pretty-girl paradigm going on that makes it completely relatable. What gives it extra points is the dry humor and razor-sharp wit of Emma Thompson's DVD commentary. She talks about being humiliated during a screening of ninth graders in London; when it becomes obvious that she and Hugh Grant are love interests, someone shouted out, "Ew, she's old enough to be his mother." She is, in fact, only one year older than Hugh Grant. But don't get me started on age difference in Hollywood films...
Charlie's Angels (and Charlie's Angels Full Throttle) - Thinking, Lia. Really? Well, all I've got to say is I usually have to work myself up to see such and obvious, over-the-top action summer blockbuster. I have to go in saying, "It's summer, it's just for fun, get over it." But on both of these, the switch flipped and I was right there. Just the right blend of genuine girlishness and ass-kicking ridiculousness. I highly recommend it on a hot summer night after an uncalled for stressful week at work.
Thelma and Louise - Now, some people confuse this movie with an ass-kicking shoot-em up movie. Not so. Sure, one of them shoots a guy (but he was a real creep and there is a whole backstory dedicated to why), and the other's husband is a one-dimensional boffoun (but nothing happens to him), and they blow up that guy's truck (perhaps a bit harsh punishment for highway harassment...) but it's the overall filmaking that makes this one stand out. The script is nuanced and well-paced, the characters deep and developed, and, well, Ridley Scott directs. The New Mexico sky is a marvel and the slide guitar-infused score will just break your heart every time. And it's not true that all the guys are made out to be creeps. Michael Madsen is totally sympathetic as Louise's musician boyfriend and I believe it is Harvey Keitel's only "nice guy" role he's ever played.
Next Up
Terms of Endearment
The Piano
Remains of the Day
The Sweetest Thing
Never Been Kissed...
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