Tatyana and I watched Robert Redford‘s Ordinary People last night. It hit me that there’s a vague parallel between it and Sean Baker‘s The Florida Project in that (a) both focus on emotionally destructive mothers and (b) they both conclude with Evil Mom, to the audience’s great relief, finally being defeated and prevented from doing further harm.
Tatyana’s main take-away from the Redford flick, which she’d never seen, is that life is nothing without love. She based that on the fact Timothy Hutton‘s Conrad character seemed to be as much restored or healed by his budding relationship with Elizabeth McGovern as by his therapy sessions with Judd Hirsch.
I was once Conrad, I told her, except the villain in in my situation was my alcoholic dad, and work (i.e., gradually becoming a respected film journalist) was my salvation, and not love from this or that girlfriend or wife.
Because for years and years I was hidden and conflicted, mainly because I felt held back by a little barking man in my chest who didn’t like who I was or approve of anything I did. The only way I was able to gradually smother that little fucker was to do well in journalism. He finally started to lose his voice in the late ’80s, when my two sons were born. The little man was further subdued when I stopped vodka in ’96, and was weakened all the more when I embraced full sobriety 5 and 1/2 years ago. **
I’ve never had a great deal of faith in the the idea of a relationship making my life whole because work is the only thing that has led to any feelings of accomplishment or peace or security. I’ve tried to be a reliable, full-hearted boyfriend or a loyal and supportive husband, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve been a radiant success in that department.
How am I doing right now? The more important question is “how is Tatyana doing?” Sometimes I feel inspired and carried aloft and other times not so much. I’m not doing too badly, I guess, but marriage is a day-by-day thing. Two steps forward, one step back, a half-step forward, etc. That said, I’m very happy to be with someone as tough and loving and demanding (in all respects) as Tatyana.
Getting eight and 1/2 hours (as opposed to the usual five or six) does wonders for your basic outlook upon life. It’s almost Halloween, November is just around the corner, and it feels like July here. The sky is radiant blue and everyone I see seems to be in a great or at least an easy mellow mood. I had the car washed this morning, and as I drove out of the lot it seemed as if all of West Hollywood was just as gleaming and squeaky clean. Ridley Scott‘s Blade Runner milieu, a portrait of a poisoned Los Angeles in 2019, was absolute bullshit. Blade Runner 2049 is, of course, a prophecy of ecological run to come, and that’s where we’re definitely heading with criminals like Scott Pruitt running the EPA, but BR49‘s idea of what Los Angeles will look like 32 years hence is almost surely just as ludicrous as Scott’s.
Is she in the shower? What’s she doing, snapping her fingers or snorting cocaine out of a small spoon that we can’t see? One of the two.
In the comment thread for last night’s “Save Idris Elba“post, I was beaten up for saying that Kate Winslet‘s performance as a photojournalist in The Mountain Between Us (which of course is composed of her own personality and psyche) was not, in my estimation, an attractive component in the midst of the life-of-death survival struggle in the Rocky Mountains. I said that it seemed ill-advised for Idris Elba‘s surgeon character to fall for an obviously contentious and difficult woman under such circumstances. I expanded upon this a couple of hours ago:
“I’m sure Winslet is fine and gracious and ‘attractive’ when you get to know her, but to me she seems, under the guise of her photojournalist character, like a stressed and prickly lady with all the usual issues and baggage that any 42 year-old, Type-A personality has acquired, and that in the middle of a survive-or-die ordeal in rugged snowy mountain terrain THE LAST THING you’d want to add to your already-heavy backpack is a romantic relationship with a woman who is clearly a hive of thorns and contrary opinions and anxieties and skittish mannerisms and so on. NO DAY AT THE BEACH. Life is short, survival in the mountains is hard enough…later.
“I’m married to a ravishing 40-plus woman who has her particular issues like anyone else, but she doesn’t exude those jagged-edge anxiety vibes. I have enough of those on my own, thanks.”
Last night Deadline‘s Anthony D’Allesandro posted a financial obituary for Blade Runner 2049. At a suspected cost of $170 million plus p & a, it might make $35 million by Sunday night…maybe. “An awful start…kerplunk,” says D’Allesandro. And it’ll be lucky to hit $100 million by the end of its domestic run. And European returns aren’t so hot either….phfffft.
D’Allesandro quote: “One financier remarked that they weren’t impressed by Friday’s early European B.O. results, and that it’s now up to Asia to save Blade Runner 2049.” Asia! We’re dying! Please save us!
Before this toxic gloomfest disappears with its tail between its legs, please share what you thought and felt as you sat through it last night or earlier today. If you hated it, fine. If you hated watching it but respected it anyway (like me), fine. But please post something from the heart or the head before it becomes a dead issue.
From Nick “Action Man” Clement: “Not a fan. Yes, it looks amazing, and it felt like a Denis Villeneuve movie in construction and aesthetic design and I still absolutely love this spellbinding filmmaker, but the 2049 narrative offered zero surprises, far too much bloat (there’s no valid reason this should have been close to three hours), and nothing of any serious engagement other than some really nice shots of the spinners flying around and Ryan Gosling giving a nice Ryan Gosling performance.
“I found it rote, stunningly predictable (I could have written this movie), and stodgy where it should have been gripping. The musical score is unmemorable, offering nothing but annoying BLLLAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMM on the soundtrack, often times drowning out the dialogue.”
A few years ago I chatted with Billy Crystal for 70 or 75 seconds at a Sundance Film Festival party. My sense was that he’s a bit of cold-eyed prick, or at the very least is indifferent to social graces when it comes to inquiring journalists. But many comedians are like that so no biggie — goes with the territory. In any case I forgot this when I watched last night’s Real Time chat with Bill Maher, and particularly after he told his “honor the president” bit. Perfect.
