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Hokum (Adam Scott, 2026)

And the second half of my unexpected horror doubleheader was Damien McCarthy's Hokum. It tells the story of a very skeptical writer, who is also more than a bit of a total jerk, who travels to a town in Ireland to spread his parents ashes. I didn't like it as much as Obsession, but I still liked it quite a bit, and there were some very creepy moments. Adam Scott gives a fine performance as the writer. There are so unlikeable characters in the film that it's difficult to care more about them, but it was still a finely crafted piece. Recommended.

The Old Man by the Sea

 Yesterday I pushed a book to the front of my queue, one that I purchased several months ago, but which seemed oddly timely at this moment. Previously, I've championed the New York Review of Books series, which features so many books that have somehow slipped under the radar, and which the editors there feel should get more love. They have almost universally proved to be great choices. I picked up Domenico Starnone's The Old Man by the Sea, before I even realized the almost cinematic joke I was playing on myself.

I recently read Starnone's The Trick, which I liked quite a bit, and I'm looking forward to delving into this latest, The Old Man by the Sea.  I am considering, and here I'm mainly kidding, that I'm going to bring every Italian novel I own on this first trip over, so that I can sit at cafes and attempt to pass as an Italian (that is, until I open my mouth and the illusion coming crashing down). I do want to get Italian versions of the some of the shorter ones that I've already read, hoping that this helps with my Italian lessons.

Of course, it seems particularly appropriate for this moment as we plan for our upcoming move. The process has been challenging, and doesn't seem like it's going to be any less challenging in the near future, but we do have a place to live lined up (not the apartment we wanted) in a sea side town (not the town we wanted), but it's still a seaside town in Italy, which makes my statements above the very definition of #FirstWorld Problems. 

I am an old man and I will be living (and doubtless soon dying) by the sea.

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Obsession (Curry Barker, 2025)

Yesterday I enjoyed a rare movie doubleheader (not in the Criterion Channel universe, obviously) when I was able to watch a movie with my son in the afternoon and another one with Janet in the evening. Plus, they were both recent releases, this was almost unheard-of. Gary had texted me in the morning to ask if I wanted to see a movie, and, like all dads, I jumped at the opportunity to spend time with my son (well, not my dad, naturally, but others). He suggested that we watch last year's huge hit, Curry Barker's Obsession, which I had somehow never seen. I don't know what I need to say about it, since I'm probably the last person in North America to see it. I can say that I definitely liked it. It's not a terribly original story, in that it's about a wish for love that goes terribly awry, but it was beautifully constructed - especially the cinematography. Inde Navarette, as Nikki, was especially  good. Highly recommended.

The Legend

 One of the things I was most looking forward to on the Winnipeg trip was to visit the Bud Grant statue outside of the Blue Bombers stadium. As I've discussed way too often, my first introduction to the CFL was, year ago, decades ago, discovering that Bud Grant, then the coach of the Minnesota Vikings, had begun his career coaching in the CFL. Inexplicably, no one at the stadium seemed to understand where his statue was located - they kept directing me to statue for another head coach on the other side of the stadium - which left me a little grumpy, which was stupid on my part because they're doubtless all volunteers. Still, he's Bud Grant FFS! My only defense if that I'm old and my legs are a constant source of great pain, which, I guess, also speaks to my love of the CFL, as these trips are definitely a physical challenge for me. For future reference, he's at the back of the stadium, next to the Blue Bombers store. We didn't get to the statue until after the game, and then I couldn't get back into the store to buy merchandise, which was a very poor business decision  on their part because I would have naturally bought out the store.

Bud Grant is one of only three individuals - along with Warren Moon and Marv Levy - who are enshrined in both the CFL Hall of Fame and the NFL Hall of Fame. In addition to his one NFL title, he won four Grey Cups with the Blue Bombers during his ten years coaching north of the border. And, by all accounts, he was a great guy. My friend Jack and I often lament that we never made it to one of his famous yard sales before he passed.

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The Cup (Khyentse Norbu, 1999)

And now, not surprisingly, I'm disappearing down a Khyentse Norbu rabbit hole, the Bhutanese director (and much more) whose film, Travellers & Magicians, I watched the other night. Last night I watched his first film, The Cup (1999). It tells the story, apparently based on actual events, of some monks who  come up with a scheme to acquire (temporarily) a TV and satellite dish - and in the process convince the head of their monastery of the brilliance of this plan - so that they could watch the World Cup final match. A very sweet film, and highly recommended.

The Fugitive

 Yesterday I had the tremendous pleasure of meeting my friend Sheila Liming for coffee and Proust down in Montpelier. She's closing in on her completion of Proust's In Search of Lost Time, and we wanted to get together to discuss The Fugitive (the sixth volume) before I disappeared off the earth. I'll definitely miss her, and not simply because she's the one person I met at Champlain who is happy to get together to discuss Proust. If you're looking for some interesting and thought-provoking books to read, definitely check out some of Sheila's.

Here she is nerding out over the fact that we had underlined exactly the same passage (actually, we had done that many times in the text, as might be expected from folks who share a love of literary works in general, and Proust in particular, would).

The passage in question (Marcel reflecting upon the death of Albertine): 

"Since her memory was linked to every season, the only way of forgetting it would have been to forget all of them, even if it meant that I would have to learn to recognize them all over again, like an old man who has suffered from hemiplegia, learning to read again; I would have had to renounced the whole universe. Only a real death of my self, I told myself (were it not impossible), would be capable of consoling me for her death. I did not realize that the death of the self is neither impossible nor extraordinary; it is accomplished without our knowledge and, if necessary, without our consent every day, and I would suffer from the repetition of every sort of day that not only nature but accidental circumstances of more conventional arrangements could introduce into a season."

13th Man

 You have to lose this statue outside the Roughriders stadium, which celebrates the endless passion and devotion of Saskatchewan fans: the 13th man.

During relative slow points in CFL games, I'll often launch into a discussion of all the ways that the CFL is clearly and inarguably better than the NFL (which I'm sure I've discussed previously on this blog, so I won't repeat myself - at least this time). Now I can add a statue celebrating the 13th man, which is clearly better than any US discussion of the importance of the 12th man. 

Roughriders

 While these two guys have obviously seen better days, the Roughriders (Grey Cup Champions last year) are still percolating along quite nicely. Their stadium is quite nice. A couple days earlier, when we were talking to a Blue Bombers fan at the Winnipeg Zoo, and recounting our plans, he proposed that we'd really like Regina and the Roughriders game, although we'd discover that in every single area it would be slightly worse than the similar experience in Winnipeg. I don't know if I'd agree with him, but I appreciated the smack talk from two bitter rivals.

Yes, I bought a Roughriders straw hat, mainly because of the wilting heat and broiling sun. Also, we also clearly supported end endless tsunami of Saskatchewan merchandise being purchased.

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The Sheep Detectives (Kyle Balda, 2026)

Not every movie that you see is one that you would have normally chosen to watch, obviously, but that doesn't mean that it was a bad time. Last night Janet wanted to watch The Sheep Detectives, and while I was not that enthusiastic, it was a pretty fun movie. If you're reading this post you already know more about the movie than I do, so I won't repeat the story. I definitely enjoyed it more than Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey (which I'm obviously continuing to dump on - and the characters were more fully realized).

True Fans

 By definition, true fans are fans that travel, that is, they attend both home and road games. As we were waiting for the Winnipeg Blue Bombers game to start we were impressed by the number of Toronto Argonauts fans there were in the stadium, and that takes some effort because the Bombers routinely sell out (essentially, you need to start your planning early - months ago I was looking for tickets on a pre-sale on the first day that tickets were available, and the picking were already sparse). We were sitting there when I turned to Kevin and said, "Dude, we sat behind that guy in Toronto!" It says something about how often you go to games and how much you pay attention when you recognize not only players, but also fans. Anyway, the Argos fans showed out.

While all of this is true, what can you say about folks who have gone to over thirty CFL games, all of them, by definition, road games? 

The Moment

 This was the moment in the third quarter of the Hamilton Tiger-Cats vs. Saskatchewan Roughriders game when the fun finally began to disappear behind the stadium. It was a brutally hot game - in the upper 90s when the game began - and it was at this moment when we realized that we might actually survive. It's almost like the inverse of last June's Calgary game, where it was so cold that we just about froze - in both instances, we came out of the game vowing to go back, because the weather was so daunting that it didn't give us a clear picture of what it's like to see a game there. The fans were enthusiastic, but I think everyone was in survival mode.

Some idiot, it could be anyone, obviously, although in this case it's me, didn't bother to think about which side of the stadium was in the sun - which didn't seem like an issue when I bought the tickets several months ago.

Being Green

 There are certain facts or statistics that all sports fans can recite, almost unbidden, about their favorite teams. For example, all Vikings fans can tell you that although they've never won a Super Bowl (going 0-4), they have actually won a championship. The first four Super Bowls were essentially exhibition games, sort of like a college football bowl game that doesn't have national championship implications. So, the Vikings lost Super Bowl IV, but had already clinched the NFL championship by beating the Cleveland Browns (hence, they were the last NFL champions before the official merger). Similarly, every true Buffalo Bills fan can tell you that the only NFL team to lose to a CFL team is, not surprisingly, the Buffalo Bills (it's complicated, like all relationships, because it was an exhibition game, at least for the Bills, but it fell right in the middle of the CFL season - I wish I knew more about this, because the rules are pretty different, including number of players on a side, so I have no idea how the rules worked for that game). And after that too lengthy preamble, the actual point of the post: every Saskatchewan Roughriders fan can tell you that the majority of all CFL merchandise purchased is Roughriders merchandise; essentially, that there are more Saskatchewan t-shirts and hats and jerseys and onesies, etc. sold than the rest of the CFL combined. I thought that this was just mythology, but it's actually true. If you understand the fanaticism of Buffalo Bills fans, you'll understand Roughriders fans.

Here we are in the Saskatchewan Roughriders store, hours before the game. Check out the long line of green-clad football fanatics buying more green merchandise. It's a beautiful thing. And, yes, I did my part and bought some Roughriders merchandise.

The Last Whammy Bar Trip?

 As I'm wont to opine, there are things I won't miss about Vermont and things that I will definitely miss about Vermont. In the latter category is out wonderfully odd little community here in Calais (although it will be much worse for Janet, as she's been here longer and is much more deeply embedded in the community). This would include weekend nights at the Whammy Bar, the room in the back of the Maple Corners Store that magically transforms itself into a bar on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. It's a Friday night tradition for us, and that will be tough to leave behind.

My friend Marcelle finally made it out to the Whammy Bar on Saturday, and she absolutely loved it. He she is rocking some Winnipeg merch which Kevin brought back from the Blue Bombers Trip of Excellence.

Kevin, a Whammy Bar veteran, holding forth on life and maybe the CFL but definitely on music.

There was an absolutely killer local bluegrass band. There's an open mic night on Thursdays, and bands on Fridays and Saturdays. Even if we're gone, there's no reason why you can't stop by!!

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Amateur (Hal Hartley, 1994)

As part of my goal of re-reading beloved books (Proust's In Search of Lost Time) and re-watching films (John Ford's The Searchers, etc.) before the big move so that I'll survive not initially bringing them, I gave another viewing to Hal Hartley's Amateur. It tells the story of Thomas, who has amnesia and is on a journey to regain his memory - with a lovely Hartley-esque scene wherein Thomas sits on a bench next to a kid reading the Odyssey. The kid explains the Odyssey to Thomas, who in turn gives him a nudie magazine. It's a classic Hartley moment, and a key one, as we discover that Thomas, pre-injury (he had been pushed out a window) was a very bad guy (although he never learns the whole truth, or, to paraphrase Hartley himself, the unbelievable truth). There are wonderful performances from Hartley regulars from Martin Donovan (as Thomas), Eline Lowensohn (as Sofia), and Damian Young (as Edward), although the film is stolen by Isabelle Huppert (her appearance in the film says everything that you need to know in regards to how Hartley is beloved by true professionals - although now he usually crowd sources funds for his movie - from me included, happily - because we live in a nation of idiots). She plays Isabelle, an ex-nun who describes herself as a nymphomaniac, although she's a virgin. It features a typically wonderful Hal Hartley ending ("Yes . . . I know this man."). It's not my favorite of his films, but, like all Hal Hartley films, it is essential viewing.

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Travellers and Magicians (Khyentse Norbu, 2003)

What, another Bhutanese movie? The Criterion Channel is featuring a collection of Khyentse Norbu films, and the other night I watched Travellers and Magicians. It tells the story of Dondup, a local official, who is fixated on leaving his tiny village and going to America, and his slow and halting journey to make it out of Bhutan. It is chock full of beautiful pictures of Bhutan, and, not surprisingly, you get the idea that in the end he won't go, although the movie doesn't take that simple Wizard of Oz approach. Dondup is played by Tshewang Dendup, who I believe is the only professional actor in the movie. While watching the film I kept thinking about how much more satisfying this film about an epic journey was than Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey. Norbu himself is a fascinating character, being, in addition to a filmmaker, also a Tibetan Lama and a writer. Highly recommended.

A Bear - Finally

 I really need to get this down for posterity before I completely forget: a couple weeks ago I finally saw a bear.  I was driving up County Road, probably about a mile from out cabin, when I saw a young bear loping across the road (as bears do). This was the first time in my twenty-six years living in Vermont that I had seen a bear. It's not like I've had much better luck with moose, having seen four total, and none in the last twenty years, but bears had remained utterly elusive. Sadly, I have no pictures of the beastie to post, although it would have probably ended up playing itself out like the end of  Werner Herzog's Grizzly Man. 

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Ride in the Whirlwind (Monte Hellman, 1966)

Obviously, not every film that I watch on the Criterion Channel ends up being one that I love, or even like for that matter. Last night I watched Monte Hellman's 1966 Ride in the Whirlwind, which is featured in this month's Harry Dean Stanton collection. I suppose now it's mainly known for co-starring a young Jack Nicholson, who also wrote the screenplay and co-produced it. The film is a western that is sort of about mis-placed justice/vengeance, but it's also pretty muddled. If you're a Jack Nicholson or Harry Dean Stanton - or Millie Perkins or Cameron Mitchell - completist, you might check it out. Otherwise, you would be better off watching William Wellman's 1943 The Ox-Bow Incident (starring Henry Fonda and Dana Andrews), which is a much better exploration of vigilate justice.

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Theory of Achievement (Hal Hartley, 1991)

The other short on the Surviving Desire DVD was Hartley's 1991 Theory of Achievement, which definitely felt like a Hal Hartley movie, with the quick banter, seemingly random conversation loops, and beloved actors who appear throughout his films: Bill Sage, Elina Lowensohn, and Mark Chandler Bailey. It's a reflection on art and wealth and class, all through a very Hartley lens. You should check it out.

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Ambition (Hal Hartley, 1991)

I also took the opportunity to watch a couple early Hal Hartley shorts, which were included on the Surviving Desire DVD. In a previous post I raised the question of why I don't watch more short films, including from directors I already love, and so I'm trying to explore more of them. Ambition, which stars George Feaster, Hannah Sullivan, and Rick Groel) tells the story of a young artist who aims for success but mainly ends up in random (appropriately comical, this is Hartley after all) fights. It's interesting to see Hartley working through themes that he would revisit much more successfully later in his career.

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Surviving Desire (Hal Hartley, 1992)

As I've discussed, one of my challenges is determining what books and movies I bring with me to Sicily, especially on these early days (made more pressing because we're, apparently, going to be stuck in a tiny one bedroom for at least the first six months, but that's an aggravation for another day). Eventually, I'd love to have most of my books and movies, but I don't see that happening for a long time (probably more than I actually have left). Anyway, I definitely want to bring a few of my Hal Hartley DVDs, because he tends to not show up on the Criterion Channel very often, and, more importantly, because his films simply give me a lot of joy. The other night I watched one of my all-time favorites, Hartley's 1992 film Surviving Desire. It was released in the middle of his Long Island Trilogy (The Unbelievable Truth, Trust, Simple Men), and shares many of the same themes - and actors - as those classic films. It also features an impromptu dance number, clearly an homage to Godard's Band of Outsiders, which sets the stage for the Hartley unexpected dance number in Simple Men. Martin Donovan plays a disinterested college professor (Jude) who falls for one of his students (Mary B. Ward as Sofie, clearly a play on the Sophia, the Greek word for wisdom), but, because it's Hartley, it transcends this well worn trope and ends up as a funny and thoughtful rumination on the folly of love and desire. As his friend Henry (Matt Malloy) warns him, "You won't survive her," to which Jude responds, "I don't think I want to." It was great to see Rebecca Nelson, who was so good in Trust, in a memorable role as a woman stopping people on the street to ask them to marry her (she may be the only sane person in the film). Surviving Desire includes one of my favorite opening scenes, where Jude keeps re-reading a paragraph of Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. They spend weeks on it, leading to the students losing their minds throwing things at him, which results in him throwing things back at them (any student who ever had me in class would appreciate that). The last scene, with Sofie, working in a bookstore, quietly asking people obliviously moving around her if she can help them, is brilliant. Absolutely essential viewing.

Joining the Club

 There's the Circle of Excellence - that is, people I've dragged to CFL games, and that is 20 right-thinking individuals - and then there is the Inner Circle of Excellence - that is, people that I've dragged to multiple Canadian cities for CFL games, and that, until this summer, included only three people: Kevin (after this month, eight of nine possible sites), Sanford (two, almost three), and Andy (three). Now, however, the Inner Circle is expanding. Cyndi travelled with us on the first leg of the Manitoba/Saskatchewan Doubleheader of Excellence, and now she can claim two CFL cities (Montreal and Winnipeg). She'll be joined at the end of the month by Erik with two (Montreal and Ottawa).

Cyndi, of course, added her own energy to the trip, expanding Kevin and my usual routine of exploring every diner in the new city. Here she is dragging us to the Winnipeg Zoo, a brilliant idea on a 95 degree day, right before the Blue Bombers game (obviously, not concerned with her aged friend's failing legs). Sadly, she escaped from the dinosaur.

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High Art (Lisa Cholodenko, 1998)

Last night I re-watched a movie I hadn't seen in around twenty-five years, which I guess I could say about a lot of movies since I'm an old man, but this one hit me because I can't believe it was made that long ago. It's Lisa Cholodenko's High Art, which, inexplicably, came out in 1998. It's Cholodenko's first film, and it launched an impressive career. It's sometimes reduced to "that movie that former Brat Packer Ally Sheedy did lesbian scenes," which is a crime because it's quite a good film. It's as much a critique of our relationship with high culture as it is a lesbian love story. Radha Mitchell (as Syd) is quite good as the aspiring editor who gets dragged into the circle of Sheedy (as Lucy Berliner), a damaged but talented photographer. Patricia Clarkson plays Greta, Lucy's girlfriend, is typically great, this time as a drugged out German actress (as I've often opined, nobody has better sense of a good script than Clarkson). The damages of drug use - and of failed aspirations - are huge parts of the story. Highly recommended.

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Niagara (Henry Hathaway, 1953)

Henry Hathaway's Niagara showed up this month on the Criterion Channel, and since I don't have a DVD of it to fret over packing in my suitcase, I decided to take the opportunity and watch it again. I think it's clearly Marilyn Monroe's best movie. I know I'm supposed to say The Seven Year Itch or Some Like It Hot, but she aces the smoldering sexuality bit here brilliantly and provides a great femme fatale in this melodrama/film noir. Joseph Cotten is very good as a damaged war veteran, who gets pushed to murder by his cheating wife. Jean Peters is also pretty good as the bright wife (married to a dolt of a salesman) who is drawn into the adventure. I think the script must have been co-written with the Niagara tourist agency. Recommended.

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The Prisoner (Patrick McGoohan, 1967-68)

Just when I think I can't love the Criterion Channel more than I do, they decide to include the entire series of Patrick McGoohan's groundbreaking The Prisoner. If you haven't seen it, shame on you, and take this opportunity to right the wrong and  address an egregious cultural gap. It's sort of Twin Peaks before Twin Peaks, that is, a TV show so utterly bizarre and different that it changed our understanding of the potential of the medium. Patrick McGoohan plays No. Six, who is sort of like the secret agent he played in his earlier TV series Danger Man, although there's some debate over whether he's supposed to be or not. He tries to quit his job as an agent, but is gassed, kidnapped, and dropped into a village where he can't escape. Whenever he tries to leave a giant floating ball swallows him and brings him back - he great memory from my childhood. Oddly, and sadly, the paranoia of the series seems more relavent every year. Required viewing.

"I will not make any deals with you. I've resigned. I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or numbered. My life is my own!"

"I am not a number! I am a free man!"

Devil

 This last weekend Janet's great friend Erin paid us a visit, and she brought me this utterly epic gift. Janet patiently puts up with our mad discussion of our shared loved of horror movies and cryptozoology. This time Erin brought me a great Jersey Devil t-shirt, which is definitely making its way across the ocean.

Obviously, on one of my trips back to the US in the years to come I need to head down to the Pine Barrens in New Jersey.

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The Odyssey (Christopher Nolan, 2026)

On Monday I was running errands in Burlington anyway, so I decided to catch Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey on the big screen. I'd like to say that I loved it, but, truthfully, I'm not really certain that I even liked it (and this has nothing to do with the $32 I spent for a movie ticket, a coke, and a popcorn - seriously, it's not simply the crappy movies coming to theaters, it's also the insane cost of snacks, that are keeping people away from seeing movies in the theater). I know everyone was madly/illogically complaining about the casting - and I had some issues with it (I counted at least eight actors who had appeared in the MCU or the DCU) - but I didn't have the usual idiotic complaints about Lupita Nyong'o or Elliot Page, both of whom were fine. I mean, Lupita Nyong'o is a very fine actress, and she's stunningly beautiful, so she's a great choice to play Helen. My problem is the dumb stuff that these characters, and, for that matter, all of the characters, had to say. I don't think there was even one line from Homer's Odyssey that appeared in Nolan's Odyssey. Granted, film is a visual medium, but would it have killed Nolan to have included some of the best lines from Homer (even considering that the Odyssey pales in comparison to the Iliad in regards to great passages)? There are so many great scenes that were just ignored (Odysseus meeting his mother, Achilles, and Ajax in the underworld) in favor of dumb scenes such as Odysseus explaining to Penelope that Agamemnon was starting the war to dominate trade in the Aegean. The attempts to deal with the patriarchal nature of a work created  twenty-five centuries ago were just clumsy, like implying that Odysseus didn't really cheat on Penelope, because he didn't sleep with Circe (a wasted Samantha Morton) and even if he slept with Calypso he didn't really sleep with her because she had him drugged to deal with his obvious PTSD. In the epic Odysseus wants to go home, but he doesn't feel any great existential remorse for his role in the Trojan War.  The attempt to foreground the female characters was noble, but it was also clumsily done, leaving them utterly one dimensional (and I would argue that they aren't in Homer's work). Essentially, it felt like an Odyssey made by a person unfamiliar with the Odyssey for an audience that would never read the Odyssey, which I guess is a good fit for this Trumpian post-literate age. Give it a pass. Instead, go back and watch Memento, the one truly great film that Christopher Nolan ever made.

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Halloween III: Season of the Witch (Tommy Lee Wallace, 1982)

The Halloween theme continues to play itself out, although I suspect this will be the last one.  Janet's friend Erin and I got into a big discussion of Halloween III: Season of the Witch (apparently, Erin and I grew up together, we just didn't know it - or at least we watched all the same horror movies), which led us to watch the movie. The movie was not as bad as I remembered, and apparently it was the an attempt, unsuccessful, to start a rotating series of Halloween movies that were not simply about the Michael Myers characters. I'm amazing that Dan O'Herlihy was in both this film and also in John Huston's The Dead, although people have to pay the bills. Every time I watch this I think about the fact that it was Stacey Nelkin's relationship (when she was 17) with Woody Allen (when he was 42) that inspired his Manhattan, and then I feel that I should remember her for some other reason and it makes me feel bad. Halloween III, after some initial audience resistance, has picked up a bit of a cult following over the years. Give it a watch. 

"101 days left till Halloween, Halloween, Halloween. 101 days left till Halloween, Silver Shamrock!"

Ali at Hugo's

 The other night I went down to watch my beloved daughter-in-law Ali McGuirk perform at Hugo's in downtown Montpelier. She has a monthly gig there, among her other performances in the area, which is a lovely opportunity to watch her perform. As usual, she was wonderful, and she's back by a very tight band.

Usually she has a three piece band, but this time she was backed by four dudes.

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Halloween II (Rick Rosenthal, 1981)

Janet's wonderful friend Erin paid us a visit, and, after the exchange of cryptozoological t-shirts (apparently she and I grew up together watching horror movies), and after a discussion of John Carpenter's original Halloween, we ended up watching Rick Rosenthal's dreadful Halloween II. This is the film that was taken away from John Carpenter (even though he had directed Halloween, arguably the most successful independent movie of all time) because they wanted more gore; the world had changed in between Halloween and Halloween II, but Carpenter remained true to his never compromise approach, and so the studio yanked the film from him. The result is just dreck, although, it you're going to be a Halloween completist (you have to do something to fill up the lonely hours living in your mom's basement, I guess you could watch it). 

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The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearn (Jack Clayton, 1987)

The other night we decided to watch The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, which Janet had just finished reading the novel but had never seen the film. And then we discovered that it wasn't available for streaming, which says something very bad about our idiot nation. Seriously, what's wrong with us.  I know we're now living in the post-literate age, and we're being led to ruin by the never-literate president, but can't we at least pretend to be an intelligent nation? So, instead, we tracked down another Maggie Smith film, The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearn, which was also quite good. Very dark, and I especially liked the ending. Recommended.

Paris of the Prairie

 One of the great moments on our recent Manitoba/Saskatchewan CFL Trip of Excellence, was stopping by Montmartre, Saskatchewan. I'm famous/infamous for, in the days leading up to a trip, doing research on "odd things to do in _______", which led us to the Eifel Tower replica in the small, dusty town of Montmartre.  When we turned of the Trans-Canada Highway and Kevin's GPS told him that we would go straight for ten miles on a dirt road before turning onto another dirt road, he said, somewhat seriously, "are you sure you want to do this?" I replied, "Are you asking me?" As all of my travelling companions know, my answer is always a definitive yes. Years and years ago, when I was travelling with my friend Michelle for Champlain, we'd always joke that I should wear a WWMD (What Would Michelle Do?) bracelet and she should wear a WWGD (What Would Gary Do?) bracelet for guidance on ours trips. The joke being that they were both useless, since Michelle would naturally do nothing and would definitely sign off on anything. Anyway, we travelled on and found the Eifel Tower, which was a wonderful side trip. I wish that more had been open in town, because I would have loved to explore a bit and show Montmartre some love, both emotional and financial. I'll stop by again on my next trip to Saskatchewan.

Here's a view of the Eifel Tower, with Kevin and the sleepy town of Montmartre in the background.

And here's the backstory. The short version of the story is that over a century ago a group of folks from the suburbs of Paris decided to try and their lot in the new world (one wonders what was happening in the suburbs of Paris in the 1890s that made the unknown plains of Saskatchewan seem like a much better option). A century later, the town still had a clear sense of their French roots, and decided to raise the money to put up a replica of the Eifel Tower. They are/were very coureagous and plucky folks.

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Take Me In Your Arms (Julio Bracho, 1954)

The Manitoba/Saskatchewan Doubleheader of Excellence provided, well, much excellence, but it also threw off my movie-watching schedule. I was able to watch another Ninon Sevilla classic, Julio Bracho's 1954 Take Me In Your Arms. Like other Rumberas films, it's a fascinating mixture of film noir, social criticism, eroticism, and big dance numbers (all orchestrated by Ninon Sevilla). You'll never watch a Bumberas movie and regret the decision, and this is no exception. Recommended.

Taco In A Bag

 Yesterday we made it back from the Manitoba/Saskatchewan CFL Doubleheader of Excellence. So, expect to see several posts detailing this DOE. I'll start with a quick post: the long-awaited Taco in a Bag. We came across this delicacy last year at the Calgary Stampeders game, but that was the day when, although it was June, the game was so cold - pouring rain, forty mph wind, temperature of 40F - that all the exterior food shops were closed almost immediately because of the cold. So, between seeing the Taco in a Bag on the way in - and halftime, when we stumbled up to the concourse to regain feeling in our hands - the TIAB shop closed down (and I don't blame them, because it was bitter and the folks didn't need to sit there freezing to death). In the meantime, however, the Taco in a Bag had reached mythic proportions in our popular imagination, so much so that when we researched new stadiums the first thing we would do is try to locate stands that sold the TIAB. Thankfully, the Winnipeg Blue Bombers delivered on this delicacy.

It's sort of like a Frito Pie, if you're fortunate enough to get that reference. 

 

Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame

 Tomorrow we're taking off for another Canadian adventure (Blue Bombers/Roughriders doubleheader with my friends Kevin and Cyndi), and I still haven't finished posting stories from the last Canadian adventure (Hamilton trip with my cousin Nick). In between writing (fitfully), trying to organize the house, planning the move (we do now have an apartment), and working through retirement stuff (as I opined to a friend, I think retirement will be relaxing, but retiring is stressful). Anyway, let me get down some thoughts and upload a few pictures from out lovely stop at the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame. On a drive across Canada years ago, my friend Kevin and I spotted a sign for the Hall, and I promised myself that I'd get back there. Well, it took too many years, but I decided to take advantage of the Hamilton trip to keep that promise to myself (it was facilitated by the fact that I was driving west from Hamilton to drop down into Michigan. Getting to St. Marys, Ontario was a bit of a challenge, although part of that was caused by some traffic work. The traffic wench took me all over the place as I drove through some lovely Canadian farmland (it felt like I had dumped off the interstate in Ohio and was trying to find the original Bob Evans farm), but I really liked the drive. I highly recommend visiting the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame, and might try to overcome the logistical nightmare of making it back for Joey Votto's celebration when he makes it.

It's a non-descript little building tucked away in St. Marys, but it holds a treasure trove of goodies.

I knew they would celebrate Jackie Robinson, as he played for Montreal before being called up to the major leagues. It was a moving tribute, and his comments about being treated like a man (and not as a "colored man") echoed Miles Davis's reflection on spending time in Paris, far away from an intensely racist America.

There was, happily, a real recognition of First Nation players.

I didn't expect to find Sparky Anderson, the manager of the Big Red Machine of the 1970s enshrined, but he played and managed in Canada.

I knew there would be a celebration of Joey Votto, and it's just a matter of time before he's enshrined in the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame (and almost certainly at Cooperstown as well).

The cap from Votto's three homer game (which tied the record for most homers in a game by a Canadian player).

And, finally, St., Marys is a lovely little town. Nick and I stopped by a nice little place for a great lunch. I'd definitely like to return in the future.

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The Searchers (John Ford, 1956)

I don't know what I could possibly say about John Ford's 1956 classic The Searchers which hasn't already been said. To me it's one of the greatest films ever made, and undeniably one of the top five American films (as in, made in the US, but also relating to the American experience) - and clearly the greatest Western ever made. Today it routinely makes film critics' lists for greatest film. That said, when it came out it didn't receive even one Academy Award nomination, not one, in any category. Even today, the average film fan hasn't seen it. Inexplicable. It's not simply the beautiful scenery, exquisite photography, and the best John Wayne performance, but it's also a brilliant condemnation of American racism. I suppose there will be a time when I am tired of watching The Searchers, but, as John Wayne's Ethan would opine, "That'll be the day." Essential, required viewing.

Mothmen

 Just posting another picture from yesterday's get-together. It was wonderful to see Garrett while he's in town, and, as always, spending time with my son is everything to me.

My family has produced some handsome men, except for that guy in the middle, who is pretty hideous.

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One Man Up (Paolo Sorrentino, 2001)

When I think of the directors alive today who are still working away, and who I absolutely love, there are several folks who immediately jump to mind: Jia Zhangke, Joachim Trier, Dag Johan Haugerud, Hlynur Palmason, Hal Hartley, etc. Having said that, my choice for my own personal favorite might be Paolo Sorrentino. I've written about his exquisite The Great Beauty, which would be on my very short list for greatest films of this millennium, but I also really liked The Consequences of Love and The Hand of God. Last night I re-watched his first film, One Man Up, and it's a film that I absolutely love. It stars his frequent collaborator, Toni Servillo (as Antonio "Tony" Pisapis) and Andrea Renzi (as Antonio Pisapis). Yes, they share the same name, and essentially the same destiny: two once famous figures - Servillo as a singer and Renzi as a soccer player - who suffer a face from grace, and something like a redemption, although a redemption through a Sorrentino lens. It's funny and sad and profound, and chock full of those oddities you'd expect to find in a Sorrentino filo (Servillo's fascination with cooking fish, including the wonderful final scene). Toni Servillo is, as always, extraordinary, and he probably is the greatest actor working today. Essential.

Mothies

 Just as Taylor Swift has her Swifties, Mothman has his Mothies. My nephew Garrett swung by the state on a visit, and he and my son popped out to the cabin (and lunch at the Maple Corners Store), As it turns out, they all wore wearing Mothman shirts.

I wonder who these three individuals might know in common?

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Victims of Sin (Emilio Fernandez, 1951)

And now I've gone down the Rumberas films rabbit hole, having just finished Emilio Fernandez's 1951 Victims of Sin. This one once again starred Ninon Sevilla as Violeta, who is once again treated roughly by men and society. although she's a much kinder character than she was in Aventurera. Tito Junco also stars, although he's a much more noble character (Santriago) than he played in the previous film. The true villain is Rodolfo (played by Rodolfo Acosta), who is utterly wicked, including pimping a lot of women, telling one woman to dump their baby in a trash can (Violete finds it and adopts him), beating Violeta up, and killing Santiago. In the end, Violeta gets her revenge by jumping in through a window a blowing Rodolfo away. This one features crime, prostitution, prison, domestic abuse, slapping children around, murder, etc. - thank God for the dance numbers to save the day. It's also beautifully filmed, it sort of looks like one of those Marcel Carne poetic realism films. It's amazing to think of how real/lurid these films are, as compared to how vanilla American films would have been in 1950 (even the hardest edge 1950 American film noir would seem vanilla by comparison). I think this was a much better film than Aventurera, and it's definitely recommended.

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The Silence of the Lambs (Jonathan Demme, 1991)

Last night we watched Jonathan Demme's The Silence of the Lambs, which I always somehow forget is truly a great film. It's easy to focus on the horror, and overlook the fact that it's beautifully structured and acted. I don't know why this always surprises me, considering that it is one of our only three films to sweep the top five awards at the Oscars (along with It Happened One Night and One Flew Over the Cuckoos's Nest). I also think that Demme never even remotely came close to making another film that was this good, although this may fall into the same category as critiquing Jason Isbell for not producing an album as good as the peerless Southeastern; essentially, it leaves a lot of room for a movie/album to be really good, but not come anywhere close to their best work. Highly recommended.