Out and Back

Gone too soon...

I got home from work this afternoon and checked out Perez Hilton (one of my guilty internet pleasures) and was very shocked to see the news that actor Heath Ledger had passed away. He was just 28 years old.

While I'll admit to enjoying the occasional supermarket tabloid and to checking out Perez Hilton regularly to chuckle at the latest celebrity gossip, I also profess a great love for movies and the actors and actresses that help bring them to life. And that love is sincere and reverent and, I think, transcends the baser instinct that drives me to read about Britney Spears' latest antics and shake my head in disbelief.

Like a lot of people, I first saw Heath Ledger in the movie 10 Things I Hate About You, a modern update of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. He played the Petruchio character (Patrick) opposite Julia Stiles' Katerina (Kat in the film.) It was a movie squarely aimed at teenagers, but it was more intelligent than most. I liked it so well that I actually bought a copy when it was released on video. It was funny, cute, and smart, and the two leads definitely left an impression on me. I still giggle at Patrick's impromptu serenade -- singing "You're Just Too Good To Be True (Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You)" to Kat from the bleachers during soccer practice.

Of course, most people (myself included) would argue that Ledger's greatest success came with his portrayal of Ennis Del Mar in Brokeback Mountain. It's still difficult for me to find adequate words to explain the emotional impact that movie had on me in general, let alone to describe how deeply I was moved by Ledger's performance (and that of his co-star, Jake Gyllenhaal.) All I can do is tell you to rent that movie and watch it -- of all the films Heath Ledger made, I think it's the one that shows most clearly what a powerful and gifted artist he was. It's hard to describe such talent in the past tense.   

Wow.... just wow.

I watched The Departed tonight... normally I am not such a slowpoke when it comes to watching the Best Picture nominees, but 2006 was sort of an odd year for me and I never did get around to seeing them all.  At any rate, I finally had some time this evening to check it out and I really enjoyed it.  If I had to describe the experience in one word, that word would be visceral.  This movie does not shy away from violence and utter depravity, but the story is so damn good that watching someone (SPOILER ALERT!) get thrown off the roof of a building (and hit the ground) didn't bother me as much as I imagine something like that ordinarily would.

I have a weird attitude toward violence -- I abhor it in real life, and yet some of my favorite movies (True Romance, Halloween, Se7en) and television shows (The Sopranos) are violent to an extreme.  I can't be the only one who is of two minds in this regard.

Getting back to The Departed, though... while the acting was strong across the board, I was particularly knocked out by Mark Wahlberg's performance.  Watching him in that role, I could understand why he received an Oscar nomination.  He made the character larger than life but at the same time so intense and real that I never doubted for a moment the guy's authenticity.  Performances like his are few and far between these days.

For your consideration...

My husband and I collaborated on this short film this afternoon.  I shot the footage, and then he edited it and added the music on his Mac.

Somehow, I don't think the Academy will be knocking on our door anytime soon, but it was still pretty fun:

I loved Jennifer Hudson in Dreamgirls, but...

...Ms. Abigail Breslin was something else, too.

If you haven't seen Little Miss Sunshine, run, don't walk, to the video store.  It's delightful.

Here's a preview (although it might ruin the ending for you, so watch at your discretion):

Coney Island on film

I realize that Coney Island isn't easily accessible for everyone, so I thought I would share a few of my favorite movies that feature the real happiest place on earth.  In no particular order....

The Warriors (1979) - I hate the term "cult classic," but it's appropriate in this movie's case.  It's an urban adventure story of a Coney Island street gang trying to make it back to their home turf from a gang-summit-gone-bad up in the Bronx.  The fight choreography is spectacular and the fact that it's loosely based on Greek mythology is a cool bonus.  In addition, it stars a young James Remar (Richard Wright for you Sex and the City fans) and the shots of Coney Island at the end of the movie are impressive.  "Warriors..... come out to plaaaaayay!"

He Got Game (1998) - Hands down one of my favorite Spike Lee "joints," and not just because the bulk of the movie takes place in Coney Island.  Distilled down to its most basic essence, this is a movie about fathers and sons, something anyone can relate to.  Denzel Washington is phenomenal, and the scene where he and Ray Allen (portraying his son) play a high-stakes game of one-on-one is especially powerful.

Went to Coney Island on a Mission From God...  Be Back By Five (1998) - A low budget, independent film that is hard to come by on DVD or even VHS, but if you have a chance to see it, it's well worth it.  Jon Cryer and Rick Stear play two friends who go to Coney Island to find out what has become of a third friend of theirs from childhood -- he is reportedly mentally ill and living under the boardwalk.  It's a great story that explores friendship, mental illness, loyalty, second chances, and redemption.  Frank Whaley has a great cameo as a Coney Island "skeeball weasel," and Dominic Chianese (Uncle Junior from The Sporanos) appears as a photographer.

Requiem for a Dream (2000) - This movie is a masterpiece but I've never been able to get the courage to watch it all the way through.  Its subject matter (drug addiction) and graphic, no-holds-barred depictions are upsetting to me.  It is set in Coney Island and captures the urban decay of the place beautifully.

The Wiz (1978) - Kind of cheesy (Diana Ross as Dorothy?  Michael Jackson as the Scarecrow?) but a fun retelling of The Wizard of Oz, set entirely in New York City.  The Coney Island Cyclone features prominently in one of the scenes.  Also, I love the music.

My favorite Val Kilmer story

I know I've mentioned that I love actor Val Kilmer.  I just watched Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang and I laughed so hard I had an asthma attack.  I fell in love with his Batman, I think his Doc Holliday rocked, and I was moved by his performance in At First Sight.  The guy is a genius (and the fact that he's easy on the eyes doesn't hurt either!)

Val's been on my mind since my viewing of KKBB this weekend, so I thought I would share my favorite Val Kilmer movie-viewing story.  First, a preface:

I majored in art history in college.  I wrote my thesis on Leonardo da Vinci and The Last Supper (this was before Dan Brown's novel came out and all the hoopla started, incidentally.)  I studied abroad in Milan and to say that I steeped myself in Italian Renaissance art would be an understatement.

In addition to my obsession with the Italians, I found time to study and fall deeply in love with 20th Century American art.  A Mark Rothko painting can reduce me to tears, I think Andy Warhol was a genius, and I could spend hours looking at Hopper's The Nighthawks, for instance.  But there was one movement, and in particular one painter, whose appeal I could never fully understand: Jackson Pollock and the abstract expressionists.

Abstract expressionism -- particularly Jackson Pollock's work -- never appealed to me.  I found it to be sloppy, indulgent, and tacky.  Could I appreciate its importance to art history? Yes.  (It did, after all make the USA the center of the art world for a time, which was a big deal.)  Did I want that crap hanging in my house? No way.  (There are exceptions -- the astute among you will note that Mark Rothko, who is a favorite of mine, was also considered a part of this group.  But when my advisor put up a slide of Pollock's One during my comprehensive exam, I said, "Why are you showing me this crap?")

So, when the movie Pollock came out in late 2000, of course my husband asked me, the art historian, if I wanted to see it.  My response was, "Eh, let's wait for the video," which isn't surprising considering how I feel about Jackson Pollock's work and the movement he was a part of.

So what in Sam Hill does this have to do with Val Kilmer, you ask?

Well, not long after thumbing my nose at the movie (at least until it came to Blockbuster) I was reading an article about it which mentioned that Willem de Kooning, another abstract expressionist (whose work I do find marginally more interesting than Pollock's) was being played in the film by..... my man Val.

Finding that out completely changed my mind about seeing the movie, so we went to the nearby multiplex to check it out.  Val's role could generously be called a cameo, but he was just brilliant.  It was worth the price of admission just to watch him be de Kooning for a few minutes.

In addition, seeing Pollock actually gave me a greater appreciation for Jackson Pollock, his life, and his work.  So, in the end, Val Kilmer did what no art history professor of mine could.  And for that, I salute him!

Oh, Truman

I watched Capote on DVD tonight.  It was better than I remembered.  I am still working my way through In Cold Blood, too.  It is such an intense book and I have so little time to read anything other than the pile of self-help books my therapist has recommended that I only seem to be able to get through a few pages a night.  I know if I had limitless reading time that I wouldn't be able to put it down; it's just that life and the need for sleep intervene and force me to put it aside for the night.

Philip Seymour Hoffman deserved every inch of that Oscar.  His performance in Capote was right up there with Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire, Peter O'Toole in Lawrence of Arabia, and Gregory Peck in To Kill A Mockingbird.  I think that role is the kind of role that every actor dreams of playing at some point in his or her career... and what blows me away is that Truman Capote was a real person.  A lesser actor could have made him a caricature, since Capote himself was so flamboyant and "outside the lines" in so many ways.  But PSH just nailed him.  I never believed for a second that I was watching anyone other than Mr. Capote himself.  I was simultaneously sympathetic to him and repelled by him... I related to his struggle with the writing process and yet I was horrified by the lengths he went to to get his book finished.  Truman Capote put it best himself when he wrote "More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones."

Hey, STELLAAAAA!

On Sunday morning, I parked on the sofa with a cup of coffee and watched A Streetcar Named Desire on DVD.  I had rented it on Saturday night, and as I watched it I asked myself yet again why -- when I love this film so much and watch it whenever I happen to run across it on television and go out of my way to rent it periodically -- I don't yet own my own copy.  Note to self: BUY THIS MOVIE!

My first exposure to Streetcar was in 1991, when I saw a production of the play at the Intiman Theatre in Seattle.  I was just 15 years old and probably a little naive for some of the mature themes addressed by Tennessee Williams in this seminal work, but that production absolutely took my breath away.  My mom and I watched Elia Kazan's film version a few years later.  Marlon Brando's and Viven Leigh's performances were the stuff of dreams for me... some of the first exposures I have to what film and theatre aficionados refer to as "groundbreaking performances" or, more simply, "good acting."

Having just watched the film again this weekend, though, I have to say that I prefer Williams' original play.  (If you've not seen either, I'd recommend not reading further unless you want me to wreck the story for you.)

The changes to the story that Kazan was forced to make as a result of the sensibilities of the day (most notably, the ending -- Stella leaves Stanley after learning he has raped Blanche) don't sit well with me.  In the play, Stella chooses to stand by her husband, and while the feminist in me gets a little riled at that thought, seeing her leave him in the movie version doesn't work for me, either.

I have always loved Stella Kowalski.  Having taken a few acting classes and spent some time around the theatre world, I can say with certainty that it is the role of Stella's fragile, unbalanced sister, Blanche DuBois, that actresses of a certain age and "type" aspire to play.  Not me.  I always wanted to be Stella, to explore her ferocious attraction to the brutish Stanley and hover on the edge of that precipiece... to find Stella's buried strength and bravery, to inhabit her and harness her power.  I believe her wholeheartedly when she says:

...there are things that happen between a man and a woman in the dark -- that sort of make everything else seem -- unimportant.

That line was excised from the movie, too... and it is Stella's unstoppable desire for her husband (coupled with a healthy dose of fear and denial, I might add) that drives her back to him, even after his seemingly unforgivable act of violence toward her sister.  I know that attraction, that desperate, all-consuming need.  And I admire Stella's fearlessness in giving in to it.  In a perfect world, she would walk away from him in the end, as she does in the movie... but it will always ring truer to me to have her remain with him.  She's a little bit trapped, but she's a little bit deliberate, too.  And I don't think it's fair to underestimate her power... because now she's got the goods on Stanley.

Yes, I will always love her.  I made the decision a long time ago to name my daughter Stella, if I'm ever fortunate enough to have one.  And when she's old enough, I'll introduce her to the play, the movie, and the character that inspired her name.

Stella for star...

More thoughts on Brokeback Mountain

I saw Brokeback Mountain for the second time over the weekend.  My husband came along with me this time, and we both enjoyed the experience a great deal.  This movie has struck a chord deep within me, for I know the longing and frustration and heartache that the characters experience all too well.  (No, I don't have a secret gay lover!  I don't even have a secret straight lover!)

I asked my husband after the movie, "Have you ever loved anyone like that?  Someone you couldn't be with but loved more than anything?"  He replied, "No... because I married the one I love," and he took my hand and it was very sweet.  I thought about how lucky we are, to be able to be open with our affection and have nothing stand in the way of our togetherness, and how sad it is that there are still people who can't be with the one they love because of circumstance or societal pressures.

On a more humorous note, my husband remarked, "I don't see why Jack and Ennis couldn't make it work.  They could have moved to San Francisco and one of them could've flipped burgers and the other one could've sold used cars!"  That's my husband... he sees a problem and he wants to figure out a way to fix it.

It's been a long time since a movie has stayed with me the way this one has.  What movies have changed your life?

"The gay cowboy movie"

Some co-workers and I went out to dinner and to see Brokeback Mountain tonight.  I am experiencing a delayed reaction to this devastating film... I hopped in the car to drive the eleven blocks home from the theatre and by about three or four blocks into the drive I was sobbing uncontrollably.

I know I'm echoing the sentiments of others when I say this, but this film is so much more than the convenient label that the popular culture machine has slapped onto it.  It's a love story.  If you've ever loved and lost, this film will resonate with you.  As I drove home, memories that hadn't surfaced in years started to bubble up, leaving me shaken by thoughts of what (and who) I've left behind.

The line that burned my heart the most was this:

Sometimes I miss you so bad I can hardly stand it.

Simple words, but loaded with history and heartache and almost collapsing under the weight of sadness and depletion in their delivery.

See this movie.

Living Out Loud

It's amazing, isn't it?  The things you find yourself agreeing to?

I had the house to myself tonight, so I popped in my copy of Living Out Loud.  This movie has always been one of my favorites -- it's about a woman named Judith (played by Holly Hunter) whose doctor husband dumps her for someone younger, and how she rediscovers and redefines her life.  Danny DeVito plays the elevator operator in her co-op, with whom she develops a tentative friendship, and Queen Latifah plays a nightclub singer whom Judith also befriends.  (This was several years before her more famous turn as Mama Morton in Chicago.) 

It's a beautiful movie with equal parts humor and poignancy.  I first saw it at a time when I was learning how to be by myself, and it really struck a chord with me then.  As I've gotten older, I find I continue to relate to it and I appreciate it more and more.  With every viewing, I am inspired to continue working to maintain my authenticity and nurture my identity.  It's easy to get caught up in the daily grind and in the different roles we play in life, and often there isn't much time for introspection. 

Socrates said that the unexamined life is not worth living, and I'm inclined to agree.  I find myself grasping at (and grappling with) the realities of my life and my history on an almost-daily basis, and as exhausting as that can be, I'd rather experience that than just spend the rest of my life wandering around in a half-conscious state.

Who knew a movie could be such an eye-opener?

Capote

Last Saturday night, my husband and I ditched the leftover turkey and headed to our local independent theatre for a showing of Capote, the new biopic (love that word!) which chronicles the experiences of Truman Capote as he wrote his groundbreaking "non-fiction novel," In Cold Blood.

I had heard that the movie was good, that Philip Seymour Hoffman's portrayal of Truman Capote was outstanding, but nothing could have prepared me for how incredible this film really was.  Quite honestly, it took my breath away.  When the end credits rolled, my husband started putting his coat on and he turned to me and asked, "Well, are you ready to go?"  I replied, my hand on my heart, "You're going to have to give me a minute."  When we finally did leave the theatre, it was to drive straight to the nearest open bookstore so I could buy a copy of In Cold Blood.  I can't put it down.

Willy Wonka and Harry Potter

It's been a busy weekend on the pop culture front.  Friday night, we took in Tim Burton's glorious re-make of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and as far as I was concerned, everything about the movie was perfect.  I was transported back to being eight years old and the summer afternoons and evenings I spent reading some of Roald Dahl's wonderful  books.... among them Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, James and the Giant Peach, and my personal favorite, Fantastic Mr. Fox.  I've made a mental note to myself to find copies of those books and read them again, for the stories are rich and delightful, just like Mr. Wonka's candy.  (I remember being able to get Everlasting Gobstoppers as a child, but to my knowledge no one's ever made a Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight bar.  Tragic.) 

As far as the acting goes, Johnny Depp really outdid himself... I couldn't believe this was the same guy who played Mort Rainey in Secret Window, or J.M. Barrie in Finding Neverland, or even Edward Scissorhands.  His Wonka was much more quirky and complex than Gene Wilder's, with a vulnerability that was surprising and yet made perfect sense.  And to those who are easily creeped out, fear not: the people who've been saying that Depp's Wonka bears an icky resemblance to Michael Jackson have their heads up their arses.  Michael Jackson loves children a little too much, whereas Willy Wonka can't stand them.  Go see this movie!  And then go see it again!

On Saturday, my pre-ordered copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince arrived in the mail, but I was so busy all weekend that I haven't even had a chance to start reading it yet.  Part of me is eager to begin, but another part of me would like to stretch it out for as long as possible, because I know it will be a long wait until the next book comes out.  I heard on NPR this morning that one young reader cruised through it in about six hours -- now that's impressive.  I, on the other hand, plan to take my time.

Have a good week....

Fun with movies and TV

On Friday night, we headed over to one of our local multiplexes to watch Tom Cruise take on alien invaders in War of the Worlds.  Despite Tom's totally weird public behavior of late, I have enjoyed a lot of his film work, and I was very interested in seeing War of the Worlds.  (I am going to buy this t-shirt, however.  Poor Matt Lauer!)

The movie itself was good, and relentless in its intensity (particularly considering its PG-13 rating.)  It also felt very realistic -- in the sense that if aliens did invade our planet, this movie is probably a pretty good depiction of how the shit would go down and, in particular, how us "human beans" would react.  (There is a scene in the film where Tom Cruise's character and his two children are nearly killed by an angry, desperate mob... for their minivan.  That scene was more upsetting to me than anything the aliens did.) 

So go see War of the Worlds.  If you happen to live near a drive-in, definitely see it there.  It's a very good drive-in kind of movie.

I spent Saturday watching old Seinfeld episodes on DVD in between loads of laundry, and the brilliance of that show never ceases to amaze me.  I didn't start watching it regularly on tv until roughly halfway through its run (my roommate at the time was obsessed with it and that's how I got hooked), so it has been fun to watch some of the earlier episodes and to see how the show evolved over time.  God bless Kramer.  Michael Richards' comic timing is pure genius.

We rented Hitch, Sideways, and At First Sight on Saturday and watched Hitch that evening.  It was funny and cute... Will Smith always makes me think of my mom, because when I was a teenager she and I would never miss The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air on Monday nights.  Despite the inevitable chasm that grows between teenage girls and their mothers, my mom and I always had at least one thing in common, and that was our affecton for Mr. Smith.  Maybe I'll send her a copy of Hitch as a "thinking of you" present.

We haven't gotten around to watching the other two movies yet.  I'll probably watch At First Sight by myself because my husband knows well enough by now that NO ONE comes between me and Val Kilmer.

Have a great week....

Mother! Oh God, mother! Blood! Blood!

In case you were wondering, the title of this post is one of the most memorable lines from a classic horror film: Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho.  Early in yesterday's post, I mentioned that my husband doesn't care much for scary movies.  He protested mightily when he read the post, insisting that he had enjoyed Seven when he saw it.  I replied, "OK, then... do you care if I rent it some night for us to watch?" and his response was a sheepish, "Well, I don't know that I'd want to see it AGAIN."  (sigh) My work is cut out for me, apparently.

Unlike my beloved husband, I adore a good horror movie.  Psycho (the original, not Gus Van Sant's 1998 shot-for-shot remake) is a perennial favorite.  The first time I watched it, I was so scared that I couldn't pull the shades in my bedroom when I went to bed.... the little bit of ambient light from the streetlamp outside was a real blessing that night.  I don't remember being actively afraid to take a shower, but I think I did switch to baths for a couple of days afterward.  Psycho remains a classic, and I would dearly love to watch it sometime with someone who doesn't know about the plot twist, just to see the reaction.  I don't think there is anyone left, though, who doesn't know Norman Bates' dirty little secret.

My other favorite scary movie is John Carpenter's masterpiece, Halloween.  Whenever I watch it, I am amazed not only by the brilliant storytelling in the film, but also by the story of the movie itself.  It was made for next to nothing and went on to earn buckets at the box office.  It made Jamie Lee Curtis famous.  And, the formula that John Carpenter unintentionally created in the film (the kids who have sex are the first to get killed) went on to become the driving force behind every subsequent slasher flick that has come to a theatre near you.

I watch Halloween every year on October 31st without fail.  I usually follow it with Halloween II and Halloween: H20 to round out the story (trust me, the other sequels are worthless) and I always come away feeling deliciously scared and more than a little nervous.  All this despite the fact that I know every line and jump scene by heart.  I still worry if Nurse Marion is going to get killed by Michael when he steals her car, and I always freak out when Laurie finds herself trapped in a closet with only a wire clothes hanger for a weapon.  The ominous atmosphere created by this movie is remarkable. It sits on your chest like an elephant from the first moment, and Michael Meyers' lurking presence is felt in every scene.  I dare you to watch it alone at night with the lights off and see how you feel when the closing credits finally roll.

A few other scary movies I have enjoyed:

The Silence of the Lambs (the scene with the night vision goggles still wigs me out, and don't even get me started on Hannibal Lecter!)

The Sixth Sense (had me seeing dead people for days.)

The Blair Witch Project (amazingly creative premise, although the magic kind of went away for me after I moved to Missouri and started seeing Heather Donahue in commercials for Steak-N-Shake.)

The Scream Trilogy (the perfect mix of scary and hilarious.)

The Ring (a video that will kill you if you watch it. genius.)

My "guilty pleasure" horror movies include:

Phantasm (Go Reggie!)

The Amityville Horror (could have been such a good movie... instead it's just.... unintentionally funny.)

From Dusk Till Dawn (the scariest thing about this is watching Quentin Tarantino try to act.)

And, the one movie that I am still too afraid to watch:

The Exorcist

Maybe someday I will work up the courage to watch this movie.  Until then, Linda Blair can just keep that pea soup-spewing to herself.

I'll close by adding a link to the summer horror flick that I can't wait to see: High Tension.  The trailer alone is giving me nightmares.  Bring it on!

Hotel Rwanda

On Saturday night, my husband challenged me to go to our local video store and pick out something that was a) not a "chick-flick" and b) not a comedy.  He seems to think that those are the only two movie genres that I like, which is not true at all.  My mother, on the other hand, used to say, "Jeanne never saw a movie she didn't like," which is also not true.  The truth lies somewhere in between those two extremes, I suppose.

At any rate, I accepted my hubby's challenge and headed to our local Blockbuster.  I perused the new releases, and ended up coming home with four movies from the new release shelf and one movie that was not a new release but which I had been meaning to watch for awhile.  Four of the movies I picked were classified as "Drama" and the fifth was labeled "Comedy," but I figured I could watch the comedy some night when hubby was off doing something else.  One of the dramas could also have been considered a "chick flick" (but again, I figured I could watch that one on my own if what's-his-name wasn't interested.)  I suppose I could have picked out a nice horror movie (neither comedy nor chick flick), but I know that my husband doesn't care for those (not even the good, literate ones like "Silence of the Lambs," "Seven," or "Psycho") so I decided to play nice.

The movie we elected to watch when I got home from the video store was 2004's Hotel Rwanda, starring Don Cheadle.  For those not familiar with the story, this film is based on the true account of a Rwandan hotel manager named Paul Rusesabagina who sheltered more than 1,000 Tutsi refugees in the Hotel Milles Collines during the 1994 Rwandan genocide.  (Hutu militants slaughtered close to a million Tutsis during a period of just three months, and it barely made headlines here at home.  I remember it only vaguely, and the U.S. media portrayed what was happening there as something akin to tribal warfare, not genocide.)

I found the film to be exceptionally well-made, beautifully acted, and very compelling.  I was moved as I watched this unassuming hotel manager and family man transform from someone for whom the political was not personal to an advocate and a savior for the people who were fortunate enough to find shelter in his hotel.  I was overjoyed at the thought that in the midst of the horror that took place in Rwanda in 1994, there was this incredible story of courage, resourcefulness, and love.  Though set against a backdrop of inhumanity and brutality, the story of Paul Rusesabagina was incredibly uplifting and inspiring and I was impressed with how faithfully and sensitively it was brought to the screen.

I had another reaction while watching this film: one of deep shame.  Shame that our government (and the governments of several other world "superpowers") did nothing while these atrocities were taking place in Rwanda.  I tried to recall what made the news in the U.S. about Rwanda during the summer of 1994, and as I mentioned earlier, all I could bring up was a portrayal of "tribal warfare" by our media, and denials by our officials that what was happening over there was, in fact, genocide.  My husband turned to me at one point and said, wryly, "Well, there's no oil in Rwanda, is there?" 

Watching this movie made me question more vehemently than ever why our current president has gotten us involved in the war in Iraq.  There were no weapons of mass destruction, we know that now (and the evidence suggests that the people in charge knew it before.)  The raging insurgency threatens to degenerate further into a full-blown civil war, and our soldiers are dying over there every day.  In the meantime, the atrocities in Sudan's Darfur region are barely registering a blip on our collective radar screen.  How is it that our government will go to war over non-existent WMDs and a non-existent link to Al Qaeda (well, it was non-existent before we forgot to close the borders and al-Zarqawi showed up) and yet the Sudanese governement's open sponsorship of radical militias trying to wipe out an entire race of people isn't keeping our president awake at night? 

If, as some speechwriter so eloquently wrote for our grammatically-challenged president in his second inaugural address, "the survival of liberty in our land increasingly depends on the success of liberty in other lands," why do we ignore the situation in Darfur?  Why, for that matter, did we ignore the situation in Rwanda in 1994? 

The Paul Rusesabaginas of the world can only do so much.  Isn't it our obligation to help them?

A galaxy far, far away...

I debated about whether or not I should write this entry, because I figured that every blogger in America of a certain generation is writing something related to  "Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith."  But as I thought about it, I realized that this is certainly a topic that resonates with people, so I decided to throw my two cents in as well.

I was just a year old when the original "Star Wars" was released in theatres in 1977, so I remember nothing of the excitement it generated at that time.  I finally saw it a few years later, when it was re-released (sometime around 1980 or 1981.)    I was desperate to go see it - one of the birthday presents I received on my 5th birthday, a Barbie swimming pool, had come wrapped in Star Wars paper. (How's that for a juxtaposition?)  I think I was more excited about the wrapping paper than the gift itself.  I also had a pop-up book that told a pared-down version of the story of "A New Hope", so I knew, more or less, what would take place on the silver screen.

The night I finally got to see it, there was some discussion between my brothers and my parents about whether or not I was old enough to go.  Would it be too scary or violent for me?  Would it give me nightmares?  We had eaten dinner on our back patio that night, and I remember sitting there as my parents and brothers discussed taking me to the film.  I was in agony waiting for them to make up their minds.

My recollections of actually seeing the movie are somewhat dim, but I remember the moment when Darth Vader first appeared on the screen like it happend five minutes ago.  I was too much in awe of him to be frightened, even as he marauded around Princess Leia's ship and ordered, "Commander, tear this ship apart until you've found those plans!  And bring me the passengers, I want them alive!"  It was my first real encounter with tyranny... and did I ever love to hate Darth Vader.

I was much too young to understand the intricacies of the plot, but I knew that Luke Skywalker and his friends were the "good guys" and that Darth Vader and the Empire were the "bad guys."  And the good guys won.  Not surprisingly, that was good enough for my little-kid sensibilities.  Princess Leia was my first feminist role model other than my mom (Barbie swimming pools notwithstanding), and I do remember wishing I could be like her: strong, smart, beautiful, and able to keep guys like Han Solo in line.  (I've never called anyone a nerf-herder, though.)

Other "Star Wars"-related memories for me include:

*the stunned, goose-fleshy feeling I got when Darth Vader revealed his true identity to Luke at the end of "The Empire Strikes Back."

*watching "Return of the Jedi" in some out-of-the-way movie theatre in Montana with my parents on a family vacation.

*re-watching the original trilogy in the tv lounge of my college dorm with a bunch of people, all of us screaming, "EWWWWW!" every time Luke and Leia showed affection during the first two films.

*seeing the entire "Special Edition" version of the trilogy dubbed in Italian while I was living in Milan in 1997. (They made Darth Vader sound like the Godfather, which was pretty cool, but whoever dubbed the voice of Luke wasn't nearly whiny enough.)

*waiting in line with a bunch of friends to catch the midnight opening of "The Phantom Menace" in Walla Walla, Washington.  Every seat in the theatre was occupied, and for once I appreciated the glacial temperatures provided by the theatre's air conditioning system.  A cheer went up from the crowd that night as the words, "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...." appeared on the screen.

And now, we will at last learn what made Anakin go bad... we'll watch Ewan McGregor transform into Alec Guinness, and we'll finally understand what drove Yoda to that godforsaken bayou known as Dagobah.  Part of me is looking forward to learning the rest of the story, to adding the final piece to the puzzle that George Lucas has spent the last 25+ years sharing with us.  Another part of me, however, is a little sad.  Even if Mr. Lucas makes a hundred more "Star Wars" films, nothing will come close to the beauty and originality of the story encompassed by episodes I-VI (regardless of how some of us might feel about the quality of the prequels.)  The tale he has told us with these six films is a reflection of the forces (no pun intended) that have shaped our  society and our personal touchstones for life.  No wonder you can't swing a lightsaber without finding someone who can share with you a favorite "Star Wars" memory (or five.)

I am eager to see "Episode III," but this time around I don't plan to wait in line for hours on end to do so.  I'll wait a few weeks, until after the crowds have died down, and catch a matinee on a quiet weekend afternoon, so that I can bypass all the hype and truly relish this last chapter in a story that has been a part of me since I was five.  I'm sure that after I see it, I'll catch myself wondering from time to time where the next great story will come from.  When my husband and I get around to having children, what legend will become intertwined with their lives, consciousness, and memory?  What movie will they be clamoring to see on a summer evening?  I guess time will tell.

Until then, "let the wookiee win."