Corn Fed

My wife's guest blog:

Most people celebrated the 4th yesterday. And so did we... it's just that our daughter's biggest celebration was finishing off her 3rd piece of corn.

"Whoever loves corn so much they could blow their top, raise your hand!" she exclaimed.

In the picture you can see the flag-design placemats she made for the occasion. She also insisted that we sing "Happy Birthday" to America before eating. Wish y'all could have been here to taste my husband's prize BBQ ribs and my fresh-from-the-tree cherry cobbler! I couldn't resist sharing the photo!

My July 4th, 2006

What I'm drinking: Newman's Own Virgin Limeade

What I'm eating: Barbecue spare ribs

What I'm doing: Picking cherries in my back yard

What I'm watching: Twilight Zone marathon on the Sci-Fi channel

What I'm reading: Wisdom of Our Fathers, by Tim Russert

What I'm listening to: At This Time, Burt Bacharach

Who I'm Spending the 4th with: My wife and daughter

A Side Benefit of Travel

Brewers 8, Cubs 5

One of the great things about traveling for business is getting to spend the off-hours getting to know the city you're in. Chicago is quickly becoming one of my favorite cities, for many reasons I won't go into here. But when I am on the road, it's nice to try and enrich myself by meeting people, trying new restaurants, and seeing places I might normally not get to see.

Tonight after work my destination was Wrigley Field. Although I am not a Cubs fan, the ballpark is one of the nation's oldest, built in 1914 at a cost of $250,000. The 27-foot high scoreboard (which is 85 feet off the ground) was built in 1937, and, yes, the stats are still changed by hand. The park was packed, despite eight consecutive losses at home, and the fans here on Chicago's North side are die hard.

I enjoyed the game very much, even though I was in the company of a couple of natives from Chicago's South Side (read: White Sox fans). My friend Bill O. swallowed his pride and attended the game with me, marking not only my first ever Cubs game at Wrigley Field, but his also. This was not Bill's first trip to Wrigley, however; he attended Chicago Bears games at Wrigley prior to their move to Soldier Field in 1971.

Trivia: The 1906 Cubs had 116 wins that season, a record tied in 2001 by my beloved Seattle Mariners.

Complaining About the Heat

My good friend and fellow blogger Rick posted something about how hot it's been in Columbia, South Carolina, and made mention of the fact that he cranked up the A/C in his car and his home, his glass of cola "filled appropriately with ice."

(How would one fill a coke glass inappropriately?)

The National Weather Service has issued this bulletin for Western Washington state:

THE HOTTEST WEATHER SO FAR THIS YEAR IS EXPECTED OVER WESTERN WASHINGTON SUNDAY AND MONDAY....STRONG HIGH PRESSURE ALOFT COMBINED WITH LOW LEVEL OFFSHORE FLOW WILL RESULT IN RECORD OR NEAR RECORD TEMPERATURES AT A NUMBER OF PLACES ON SUNDAY AND AGAIN MONDAY. ALSO...STAGNANT CONDITIONS ARE ALSO EXPECTED TO DEVELOP EARLY NEXT WEEK AND THIS COULD LEAD TO A BUILD UP OF POLLUTION IN THE ATMOSPHERE.

My glass too will be appropriately filled with ice tomorrow, but I, like most others in the Puget Sound region, have no air conditioning in my home.

So Rick, thanks for gripe. I raise my iced cold Diet Coke to you and add my voice to yours as we complain about the heat. Oh - if you get the chance, could you email some extra cold air from your air vent? When it arrives I will open the file and cool the downstairs living room.

Got Milk? Check the Expiration Date

In planning my attendance at this year's Seattle International Film Festival, I chose, as always, to include several independent films among the movies I scheduled to attend. Film festivals such as SIFF are to a great degree about independent film, and many indies would never find an audience without the fests. I chose to screen a few indies based on how well they had been received at other festivals. I based my decision to see one indie purely on its premise, which I found both peculiar and amusing.

Shot on location in Seattle, Expiration Date is the story of Charlie Silvercloud. As he approaches his 25th birthday, he is burdened by the fact that all of the other men in his family died on their 25th birthdays, each punching out in a comically tragic incident involving a milk truck. But it is on the verge of his demise, as Charlie prepares for his own funeral, that he learns what it means to truly live.

Executing such a premise can be a dangerous thing for a filmmaker. But director Rick Stevenson fashions the nutty concept into a black comedy that is both funny and tender, a thing that works thanks in no small part to excellent casting. Robert A. Guthrie delivers a restrained comic performance as Silvercloud, and Dee Wallace Stone adds both heart and comedy as Silvercloud's mother, who desperately wants a grandchild before her son's fatal appointment with a milk truck.

Milkmen from Smith Brother's Farms provided milk to the entire audience at our June 17th screening. I had chocolate, which was cold, smooth, creamy and delicious! Expiration Date may very well be the most memorable experience for me at this year's Seattle Film Festival, and ranks as one of the few films I saw at the festival this year that I would be eager to soon see again.

Monster House

Gil Kenan described himself as lucky when his film school short ended up in the hands of Robert Zemickis (Back to the Future, Forrest Gump). Zemickis and Steven Spielberg had been kicking around an idea to make a movie about a monster house, and tapped the film school grad to direct his first picture.

I don't know why I chose to see the film Monster House, from Sony's Columbia Pictures, which will be released everywhere July 21st. I typically take my five-year-old daughter to see the animated films when they arrive at our local cineplex, and I could have chosen to see a new documentary or indie flick instead. Perhaps it gave me an opportunity to screen the film for inappropriate content before taking my child, or perhaps I just liked the title. Whatever the reason, I was glad to be apart of the first U.S. audience to see this film, which stars Steve Buscemi, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Jon Heder, Fred Willard, Kathleen Turner and a trio of terrific child actors.

The film was not animated traditionally; instead, the filmmakers spent 34 days shooting the film with live actors using motion capture technology. This is the same technology that brought King Kong and The Lord of the Rings' Gollum to life. The result is an animated style that is fluid and provides the characters with a resonance that rings true.

I found the film very imaginative and entertaining, and enjoyed it immensely. The characters are compelling and ring true. There are a number of very scary moments, and it features an on-screen animated death that is darkly comic. In my opinion, the film is better suited for the older kids.

There is a scene in the film where the monster house, played by Kathleen Turner, uproots itself and goes on a rampage through the neighborhood. Kenan said he was actually able to convince Turner to perform the scene as the house. If you see the film, remember that scene was created by one of Hollywood's most beautiful actresses flailing about and pulling herself around a tiny neighborhood set by her hands. Perhaps that footage will show up as an extra on the DVD.

Notes on a Couple of Movies

This past week I attended a session of "Talking Pictures," a program in which well-known creative-types introduce a favorite film and lead a post-screening discussion. Artist Dale Chihuly introduced one of his favorite films in an archival presentation of Lonely are the Brave. This 1962 film about a cowboy whose world is has been encroached upon by modern society was a delightful discovery. It stars Kirk Douglas, Walter Matthau, and Gena Rowlands, and is Douglas's personal career favorite.

The following night was set aside for the French film, OSS 117: Nest of Spies. Although few on this side of the pond know much about the exploits of the Bond-esque Hubert Bonisseur de la Bath, the character has been thrilling and amusing audiences in France since 1956 in both print and on film. In this comedy/adventure set in 1955, Hubert is assigned a mission to Cairo to protect the Suez Canal and to restore peace to the Middle East. The production is fist rate, well-produced and very funny. It plays like an odd combination of espionage thriller, satire and farce.

A Dose of Film Noir

I spent Sunday getting a dose of film noir at the Seattle Film Festival, screening a couple of rarely seen archival presentations at the Egyptian Theater. They were presented by Eddie Muller of the Film Noir Foundation, a non-profit group dedicated to the preservation and restoration of this most American motion picture genre.

Muller pointed out that there are a number of movies which are in danger of vanishing or have disappeared altogether. Period negatives and prints from our film heritage have been misplaced or in some cases are simply disintegrating. Muller introduced two films that his organization has helped bring back from the brink of oblivion.

The first was a film that has not been screened in more than fifty years, the 1950 thriller The Man Who Cheated Himself starring Lee J. Cobb and Jane Wyatt. Shot on location in San Francisco, this dark tale of a cop who protects his mistress after she murders her husband was taut and well received by our Seattle audience.

The Window, released in 1949, stars Disney regular Bobby Driscoll as the boy who cried wolf. In this case, the nine-year-old teller of tall tales cannot convince his parents or the police that he witnessed a murder through a window outside his New York apartment. The film received the Edgar Award for best picture, 1950, and was nominated for a Writer's Guild Award for best American drama. The screenplay was based on a short story by Cornell Woolrich. Coincidentally, Woolrich wrote a similarly themed story that became Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window.

The Film Festival Adventure Continues

I continue to attend screenings at the ongoing Seattle International Film Festival, and the experience this year has been quite wonderful. There have been a couple of delightful cinematic surprises these past two weeks which I am not allowed to commit to print, a few enjoyable shorts, as well as the occasional unavoidable dud (among them, the overrated The Puffy Chair).

There was one oddly uncomfortable moment during the screening of an independent film where I was seated on the second row. Many of the films' directors, writers, and stars attend the screenings, particularly those films premiering at the festival. Prior to this one screening, the SIFF host introduced the director to the audience, who happened to be seated next to me. As one who appreciates film, particularly independent film, it was difficult for me to fully enjoy the screening knowing the director of the picture was at my elbow. Questions kept circling in my mind: What if I yawn? What if I laugh at the wrong place? What if, heaven forbid, I doze? It is rather late, after all.

In the end, while I appreciated the work of the filmmaker, the movie left me feeling a little underwhelmed. But I managed not to doze while sitting next to the director whose movie was being screened for a large audience for the first time.

Of Mice and Squirrels

At one point in history it seemed that the mouse ruled the animated world. The king of all animated cartoon characters is, of course, Mickey Mouse. Other classic mouse characters include Jerry (of "Tom and" fame), Mighty Mouse, Speedy Gonzalez, Pikachu, Danger Mouse, Stuart Little, Pinky and the Brain, Hanna-Barbera's Mush Mouse and Motormouse, and Itchy from The Simpsons.

Mice were animated in memorable shorts such as the Warner Brothers "The Honeymousers" cartoon, and in full-length animated films like The Rescuers, An American Tale, The Great Mouse Detective and Dumbo.

But today, for my money, the best animated characters going are squirrels.

Yes, I said squirrels. Consider:

Twitchy the squirrel in Hoodwinked (my favorite animated film since The Incredibles, which had no squirrels) had the biggest laughs in that film. Same goes for the squirrel called Scrat in the recent Ice Age 2.

Did anyone bother to see The Wild? Aside from the fact that Disney managed to shamelessly rip off Dreamworks' Madagascar, the only good thing I can say about that utter waste of 90 minutes is this: the movie had a squirrel named Benny (voiced by Jim Belushi) and he was funny. I think I smiled once during that movie, and that was at something Benny said.

Steve Carell is providing the voice of Hammy the Squirrel for the newly released Dreamworks Animation feature Over the Hedge. Again, I thought the squirrel had the best moments, even though I did not like the film.

Squirrels are doing well in cartoons these days. The late Rocky (of "and Bullwinkle" fame) would be proud.

A Prairie Film Companion

Yesterday I had planned three screenings at the Seattle Film Festival.

The first, winner of awards all over the world and well-received at Cannes (it also cleaned up every major honor at the Transylvania Film Festival), was the Romanian film The Death of Mr. Lazarescu. It's a dark tale about a sick man who is unable to get the medical care he needs. What begins as a darkly comic film as Mr. Lazarescu shuffles about drinking and complaining to his neighbors about the pains in this stomach and head, plummets into a nightmarish race in an ambulance from hospital to hospital in order to get medical treatment before he dies. I liked the first half of this film, and wanted to like it all, but I found it overlong and ultimately just too bleak.

We were late to our second film of the day, the documentary The Giant Buddahs, and ended up watching X-Men 3 instead, a film I thought suffered without previous X-Men director Bryan Singer at the helm.

Since the mid-1980's, I have been fond of Garrison Keillor's public radio program "A Prairie Home Companion." Its folksy, homespun sensibility has always brought me pleasure. Blending folk and gospel music, live radio drama, and old-fashioned storytelling centered in the fictional town of Lake Wobegon, Minnesota, Keillor practices an art lost to radio programming today.

My love of his radio show and books generated an interest in seeing the musical comedy A Prairie Home Companion, directed by the American auteur Robert Altman (Nashville, M*A*S*H, Gosford Park among many others). Keillor wrote the script at Altman's request about a businessman (Tommy Lee Jones) who buys Keillor's radio station with plans to turn the theater into a parking lot. The film is in real time, taking place over the course of the final performance of the "Companion" radio show, with most of the action taking place back stage as a mysterious interloper played by Virginia Madsen enters the WTL theater during the performance. Kevin Kline is at the height of his comic powers as Guy Noir, the detective and WTL security expert who is "hot" on Madsen's tail. Altman's film is intimately staged and shot, masterfully directed, genuinely moving at times and truly funny at others. The cast, which includes Meryl Streep, Woody Harrelson, Lily Tomlin, John C. Reilly and Lindsay Lohan, are perfect in their roles as performers on GK's radio show.

A Prairie Home Companion opens June 9.

SIFF Comes to Town

The 2006 Seattle International Film Festival kicked off yesterday and will showcase more than 270 feature films from all over the world at twelve venues in Seattle. I lament I have neither the time nor the funds to see them all, but I'll do what I can. During the next four weeks, I plan to attend many films -- a premiere or two, mainstream films, independent films, foreign films and a documentary.

Attending a film festival is an exciting and unique way of experiencing a movie. While attending a screening at a film festival one is among an audience who is there because they love movies. They appreciate the art form and the power of motion pictures to thrill us, move us, educate us, and bring us together.

It is also a thrill for the movie buff to connect with the people who make the films screened at the film festival -- the writers, directors and actors who bring stories and ideas to celluloid.

I have many fond memories of festivals past. One particularly memorable event was a forum with the late actor Richard Harris, who spoke about his craft and his career. It amused my wife and me that Harris smoked discreetly on stage whenever the lights were dimmed to show clips from his body of work. My wife's favorite movie is Camelot, and she was thrilled to meet Harris, who autographed the cover of her double-CD soundtrack of the film. It also amused us that he wore dark canvas sneakers with his tan suit.

The Tarrantino Tutorial several years ago was an interesting diversion as well. The writer/director/actor has not only a passion for but an an impressive collection of B-movie westerns and teen "juvenile deliquent" films from the 1950's, a few of which he shared with his class. The point of the tutorial was to illustrate the fact that many B-movies, which are no longer seen and are mostly forgotten, contained some superior filmmaking, and should remain an important part of American film history.

Last year I learned that Paul Reiser is shorter than he looks on TV.

Although I was in Chicago when the festival opened, I return to Seattle later today. Saturday is shaping up to be a full day of film-going.

Chicago

I love Chicago - what a great town!

I am staying this week on Ontario right off Michigan Avenue, where much of the action is, and when I arrived (after a three hour flight delay) I sought out a quaint spot for a bite. Some of the best restaurants in the world are here in this town, but there are just some types of restaurants that one needs a dining companion to truly enjoy.

Instead, I found an Irish pub that looked "local" enough for my taste (I try to avoid the chains when traveling -- why not partake of local color?) and thought I would give it a whirl. There's an Irish place in Seattle's Post Alley I enjoy lunching at. I like the Irish food, and am always pleased to be greeted by a hostess with an Irish brogue.

So I settled into my table at this little Irish pub and ordered the fish and chips. And although my meal was fine, the Irish color I was looking for was lacking somewhat due to the thick Hispanic accent of my waiter.

All in all my trip this week is going well. I look forward to getting home Friday night and seeing my family.

Fire Safety

My daughter and I were speaking with one of our local firefighters recently, at a safety demonstration that was part of a Healthy Kids Day sponsored by the YMCA.

Afterward, I asked her what she can do to prevent fires in the home. She replied with three safety tips:

- Don’t light candles
- Don’t let bad guys with fire into the house
- Don’t bring bombs into the house

I cannot argue her logic.

American Idol Sits Around

American Idol is a benefit to society (humanity?) because it "encourages people to sit around and watch TV together." That's what Today Show host Katie said to Idol's Paula Abdul on Friday morning. Paula was talking about how American Idol (a show I do not watch, by the way, though I will miss Elliott the underdog despite the fact that it was his time to go -- loosen up, Elliott!) has saved marriages and kept kids out of military school.

Is this television program really the elixir to cure society's ills? Perhaps I would have reacted more positively to the idea had Katie not used the term "sit around." Perhaps if the show were to encourage people to get out and get more exercise, or to encourage people to become more involved in their communities, or to encourage people to...well, do something besides sit around and watch TV?

I don't know about you, but with Katharine and Taylor down to the final show, I am overcome with the urge to sit around and watch TV together with someone. Doggone it, Katie!

A Gathering of Friends

I had the privilege of spending the evening with some old friends last Friday night in South Carolina. We enjoyed pizza, fellowship, and some old student movies.

It had been a long time since Rickwell, Carlos, Jelly, Frog and I were all together.*

Two friends who were not in attendance (and who have been out of touch) were Critter and Homer, pictured at left in a scene from Burglar Alarm.**

To echo the sentiments of those gathered there, it's comforting to know that friendships established many years ago have weathered time and distance, and reuniting after so many years is like picking things up after only so many days.

"A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of Nature." - Emerson

*My personal nicknames for these fine men are Larry, Dave, Jells and Fran, though it has been many years since the nickname Larry has been used. In fact, forget I mentioned the name "Larry." I no longer go that terrible place.

** Ditto Crap-Sack and H-Boy.

Flirting with Disaster

My daughter and I returned a short while ago from a week's vacation in South Carolina.

On the flight from Dulles my daughter kept singing, "We're goin' down, down, down into a burnin' ring of fire" with a Southern twang that is not her own. I have no idea where she learned the song; we have never listened to Johnny Cash at home.

Before long, the song had turned to, "We're goin' down, down, down in a burnin' ring of airplane" and I had to ask her to put a sock in it.

My wife picked us up from the airport and as I lounged on the sofa weary with jet lag, my daughter had asked my wife to help her with her writing.

My wife chose two words for my daughter to practice her penmanship on: Happy and Love.

"What word would you like to practice writing?" asked my wife.

"Corpse," replied my daughter, matter-of-factly.

I hope she's not working on my Father's Day card already.

Burglar Alarm

Twenty years after it was completed I remastered and re-edited a student film entitled The Burglar Alarm.

It was an interesting process for me to take work completed twenty years ago in high school and approach it fresh. It is also interesting that I found enough value in it to want to return to it so many years later.

The most important element in transforming a poorly edited student movie into something of a keepsake or memento was my good fortune at having my old collaborator Alan compose new music for the movie. I have been most pleased with the results.

Those of us who worked hard on the original as a class project will soon gather together to view the results.

Above: Co-Producers George and Steve are blacking out windows for day-for-night photography on The Burglar Alarm: December 30, 1985.

More What I am Watching

I enjoy watching movies and news more than anything else on television. Now that Arrested Development has been cancelled, there is nothing currently on network TV that I care anything about. (I unequivocally do not watch American Idol, though I thought Paris should have been axed two weeks ago, she was so annoying! And does Elliott stand a chance?)

Usually, when I stretch out in front of TV I flip hopelessly through the channels so rapidly that my wife is forced to leave the room in frustration.

(The exception is Good Eats on the Food Network. I stop clicking for that one. That nutty chef is from Georgia and and has the most interesting cooking show ever produced. But that one aside, there is not much on worth stopping my flipping for.)

How I miss Seinfeld and Frasier.

What I have become, well, addicted to, are reruns of Match Game on GSN. The game show ran on CBS during the 1970's.

What is it about that show that keeps me tuning in weekdays between 8 p.m. and 8:30 p.m. PDT whenever I am at home? (Or whenever American Idol isn't on, which I am not watching anyway.) Is it the show's wacky host, Gene Rayburn? The ever-cool, pre-Feud Richard Dawson? The flaming Charles Nelson Reilly, who is always cracking me up? And what about that nitwit Brett Somers? Who was she, anyway? I don't think I have ever seen her on anything except Match Game.

Is it because half the celebrity panel is three sheets to the wind and are often caught on camera wandering aimlessly around the set? You'd never see that on game shows today. Alex Trebec would saw their feet off.

No, I think it's the 70's hair and wardrobe that keeps me coming back to Match Game night after night after night. It just may inspire me to invest in a brown and orange plaid leisure suit.

My Daughter the Photographer

During our recent trip to the Seattle Space Needle I allowed my daughter to take seven or eight photographs of her choosing.
Above: I posed for this photograph on the exterior deck of the Needle.

Premium Essential Dress Pant, pleated, by Dockers, $70. Men's Dress Shirt with pointed collar by Bill Blass, $42. Cotton / Polyester / Nylon blend Pryor raincoat featuring a full-button front, covered placket and point collar by Ralph Lauren, $375.

From the Top of the Noodle

When my daughter was smaller she would refer to the Seattle Space Needle as the "Space Noodle." I thought about that a few weeks ago when a colleague of mine in another city said that he'd always wanted to get out to Seattle and see the the Space Pencil.

During the Winter my daughter began expressing an interest in my taking her to the top of the Needle, and I promised I would do so whenever it got warmer and clearer. The typical Seattle Winter day is overcast and rainy and not particularly conducive to viewing the horizon from 500 feet up. But the arrival of Spring Break -- and a little sunshine -- gave us the opportunity to plan our ascent.

The view of Seattle and Puget Sound from the top of the Space Needle is spectacular. It's particularly stunning on a clear day. I feel for those tourists who come to Seattle during the Rainy season only to find the views of the city and the sound marred by fog and rain.

The New Baby

My family welcomes this day young Lindsay Grace, born to my sister Kristi and her husband Robert.

I am an uncle today!

The baby weighed 10 pounds, 2 ounces.

I told my 5-year-old daughter, "I understand little Lindsay has your aunt's nose."

My daughter responded in disgust, "Why?!?"

"No," I said, "I mean, the baby's nose looks just like her mother's nose."

My daughter replied, with a candor endearing only in children, "It must be really big."

The Easter Break

There was an Easter party at my house the Thursday before Easter. It provided an opportunity for the mothers to have tea and chat and the kids to hide eggs and play.

But there was unexpected drama in store for us.

A few weeks ago, the door to my Tuff Shed blew off in a wind storm. The door is metal framed and very heavy. I could barely just lift it into place over the opening until I could have the door rehung. (I won't go into the hassle I experienced attempting to get the Tuff Shed people even return my calls!)

During the Easter party my daughter -- who is five -- decided she would retrieve her kite from the shed so that she and her friends could fly it in the back yard. In the process she managed to pull this heavy door down squarely on top of her. Chaos ensued, and my thanks goes out to young Miles (who is four) for saving my daughter. He lifted that extremely heavy door off of my daughter just long enough for one of the other tots to pull her safely away. Miles is my daughter's hero. Being a fan of Batman he no doubt knows how to play the hero role.

It could have been bad, but my daughter's reflexes saved her more serious injury. She must have had her hand out in front of her to protect her from the falling door, her arm taking the brunt of the force. She broke her ulna and radius in the accident.

My daughter seems more-or-less unaffected having to wear a cast. She certainly doesn't complain about it, though during her first day of convalescence she did state that since she was hurt she should stay in bed all day and watch Lizzie McGuire on DVD. Had it been me with the broken arm I think I might have driven my wife mad with my griping and complaining. But my daughter wears her cast like a badge of honor.

No surprise, the one she chose is bright pink.

Easter Musings

Today is Easter Sunday! Happy Easter everyone!

It's been a pleasant weekend. Yesterday while I finished up my tax return, my wife and daughter attended a live performance by the Australian supergroup The Wiggles. If you don't have children, you probably don't know who The Wiggles are. That's okay. My sister and brother-in-law will be finding out soon enough. I can tell you that my daughter had a phenomenal time, and that Murray strutted up the aisle and was right next to her. She nearly fainted.

We started the day with a breakfast of fruit salad (a favorite of The Wiggles, incidentally) and bagels, and during the meal my wife perused the calendar of events in the local section of the newspaper. She pointed out to me that the copy for the various children's egg hunts and Easter activities never actually included the word "Easter." Spring Egg Hunt, Spring Festival for Children...not a single reference to the word "Easter" despite the fact that finding colored eggs was the focus of each and every activity listed. I suppose an implied reference to the resurrection of Jesus Christ is just too much for most readers. Mustn't have that.

Saturday's activities also included dyeing Easter eggs with my daughter, something we both very much enjoyed. Between us we produced some nice eggs, most of them pink.

Today it's just the three of us, and I am somewhat disappointed that we will not be able to share the holiday with either my family in South Carolina or my wife's family in Colorado.

I will miss being with my family at Easter, and fondly recall the many Easter Sundays spent at my grandmother's house in Greenville. She makes the best potato salad, and often my uncle would come through with a most delectable ham. My aunt Joice always makes tasty Easter treats, and I miss those as well.

I think my dad will be in Greenville with my grandmother, and perhaps my other uncles and aunts. My mother and sister will not be making the two hour drive to my grandmother's house, as my sister has a baby due later in the week.

So many things to celebrate!

What I'm Watching

I am at the moment watching the 1981 German film Das Boot. I saw the film for the first time in 1987 with my friend Homer, and have not seen it since.

Das Boot is the only "submarine" movie that truly gave me a sense of claustrophobia. Set aboard a U-boat during World War II, Das Boot ("the boat") is tense, dramatic and terrifyingly realistic.

Das Boot was nominated for six American Academy Awards. Since that time, the film's director, Wolfgang Petersen, has been working in Hollywood. His post-Das Boot credits include Air Force One, The Perfect Storm, and the forthcoming remake of The Posiden Adventure.

Do I detect a recurring theme here?

The MS Walk

On Sunday I joined a few friends to walk for a cure for MS. My efforts as a volunteer this year for the Multiple sclerosis society have been enlightening, inspiring and humbling. I am made thankful for the health I presently have, and mindful that a disease like MS can strike anyone at any time.

That great progress has been made in recent years in the diagnosis and treatment of the disease is encouraging. And I have been inspired by those I have met with Multiple sclerosis who live their lives with dignity and courage.

I participated in this year's MS Walk in memory of my dear Grandmother Johnson, and in honor of two others I know who have the disease, Mrs. Green and Jenni. I exceeded my personal fund-raising goal of $500 by $50, and raised another $850 on behalf of my team.

I look forward to participating in the event next year. In the mean time, my brother-in-law is thinking about entering the MS 150 Bike Tour. I look forward to sponsoring him in his efforts if he decides to take up the challenge.

Building Something

Today is the sixth anniversary of The Harding Lunch. There have been few lunches in Kent, Washington, like The Harding Lunch. (There have probably been few lunches anywhere like The Harding Lunch.) We built something that day. Or we tried to, at any rate.

I cannot thank dear Karla enough for allowing the Harding Lunch to happen.

Harding (whom Venetz always referred to as "The Little Man") was the recipient of a very nice pair of brown leather shoes. This was our gift to Harding. Venetz and I had purchased them at the Hudson Bay Trading Company in Vancouver, British Columbia. We chose very nice, comfortable Canadian shoes, but we missed on the size. No matter how carefully one might study Harding's feet, one will invariably misjudge his shoe size by a size and a half. Harding's feet are much smaller than they look. Do you think they look like an 8? Ha! You're way off.

And I probably don't have to say how difficult it is to exchange a pair of Canadian shoes in the United States. You can't do it. Venetz had to go back to Canada to exchange a pair of shoes. Most likely a rarely used reason for crossing an international border.

Those of us involved in The Harding Lunch have gone our separaterate ways. I'm downtown now, working for a different company. Venetz is in Los Angeles. Karla moved to Nevada some time ago. And Harding...he's around somewhere, I understand. Perhaps Federal Way, Washington. The last time we talked -- more than a year ago -- he had gotten into the tee-shirt business. Interestingly enough, the image above is from the front of the official Harding Lunch tee-shirt. Only three were ever made.

We wish Harding the best in his on-line tee-shirt venture. Take it from me -- if you are searching for a vintage 1970s tee-shirt, your search is over. Harding has it.

He's building something.

He's No Arkin

The reviews of this latest attempt at reviving The Pink Panther franchise have not been kind. And I must admit that I had not been too eager to see Steve Martin take on the character so brilliantly portrayed five times by Peter Sellers. I love the character Sellers created in 1963’s The Pink Panther and its subsequent sequels. Sellers, who died in 1980, has few comic equals. One might argue Martin is one of them.

But he’s no Clouseau.

Yet I saw new The Pink Panther movie anyway.

There were a couple of things that gave me pause before going in to this movie:

The film was originally supposed to have been released last year. Typically these delays indicate a film performed poorly before test audiences and scenes needed to be re-edited or re-shot.

The post-Sellers Panther films have been terrible. This is the fourth.

My friend Mike and I promised one another we would not see this movie, yet through a bizarre series of unconnected events, each of us saw the film, unplanned, the same night at the same time, but not together. The following day Mike called to warn me not to see it. I was about to call him for the same reason.

Despite my disappointment with the film, I will give Martin two things:

One, he did have a few deliciously funny moments between long stretches of unfunny-business.

And two: while Martin is no Sellers, he did a better job playing Inspector Clouseau that either Alan Arkin or Roger Moore. (Yes, Arkin and Moore both played the inspector in really bad movies. If you don’t believe me, look it up. Arkin starred in 1968’s abysmal Inspector Clouseau, and Roger Moore played the part of Clouseau in the 1982 film The Curse of the Pink Panther.)

Doing What I Can

Wednesday night I attended a kick-off event in Seattle in preparation for the 2006 MS Walk.

I have been blessed with good health, which is something I think most of us take for granted. I know I have. Then there are those whose outlook on their personal health, on their entire lives, changes when a doctor tells them they have Multiple sclerosis.

At the meeting I had the opportunity to speak with many of these people, and hear their stories, and I was moved by their honesty and courage. I was filled with admiration at a number of these volunteers who have devoted their lives to supporting the on-going fight against the disease.

My co-worker (and MS Walk Team Captain Rob) confided to me a number of months ago that his wife had been diagnosed with MS. This was concurrent with the happy news that they were expecting their first child. Realizing that there are people in my life who have suffered from MS, I decided to take the initiative and do something, no matter how small. My grandmother had MS, and a close friend’s mother, a beautiful woman I have known very well for many years, also suffers from MS.

Which is why I have decided to walk this year.

If you would like to support me, you can click here to go to my MS Walk Team Page. You will see my name in the lower left. Click on my page to make a donation to the MS Society.

Pants Resolution

My relationship with my cleaners of two years has come to a bitter end.

A restraining order prevents me from saying anything more.

Delaware Senator Vows Not to be Taken Alive

On the MSN homepage tonight I read this headline:

Biden: I won't be taken alive

I have always found Senator Biden outspoken and often controversial, and the headline was provocative enough to cause me to pause in my task of voting on-line for "America's Funniest Home Videos" and read the story associated with the headline above.

Obviously, he is referring to Republicans, right?

Imagine my disappointment in clicking on the link and finding the headline: "Bin Laden vows never to be captured alive."

Not as provocative a story as I anticipated, but one heck of an editorial oversight!

Rant, Part Two

I am reproducing below the follow-up fax to my dry cleaners, which I fired off after discovering that my pants situation had deteriorated since the day before:

16 February, 2006

***** Cleaners
Seattle, WA
FAX: 206-555-5555


Dear Clumsy Cleaners,

Upon rising this A.M. I experienced a tinge of annoyance at the lack of a reply to my fax transmission dated 15 February concerning what I thought at the time was an ingenious “old switcheroo” ploy undertaken by you with a pair of my khaki cotton Dockers.

Imagine, then, that annoyance burning into anger this morning as I discovered that you, my fine ***** Cleaners, have all of my cotton Dockers! Every last pair, except the ones I was wearing yesterday.

After getting up this morning I kept trying on my pants, newly arrived and bagged from your sterile establishment, and each pair of pants I pulled on came up to mid-shin height. None dangled inconspicuously around my ankles as my pants usually do.

To wit:

ALL OF MY COTTON DOCKERS HAVE BEEN REPLACED WITH HIGH-QUALITY DRESS SLACKS OF IDENTICAL COLOR BUT UNIDENTICAL SIZE!

How can this possibly happen in our free society?

Please, I want to put on my pants again. Let’s end this little game of yours and move on with our lives.

Please contact me at the number below. Also, please expect me to arrive at your shop this afternoon at approximately 6 o’clock to collect my pants. I will not release the dress slacks until I have assurances from your people that my cotton Dockers have come to no harm.

With growing annoyance,

My name and cell phone number

Rant, Part One

I am re-printing below the fax sent to my dry cleaners yesterday, to which there was no reply.

I have respected their privacy by removing their company name and fax number.


15 February, 2006

***** Cleaners
Seattle, WA
FAX: 206-555-5555


Dear Clever Cleaners,

I was putting on my khaki pants this morning, straight out of the ***** Cleaners wrapper (you know, the plastic you dry cleaner people put over clean clothes that Dateline NBC says suffocates little animals) and I noticed that the cuffs were at mid-shin. Strange – they were never like this before. Previously they hung nicely at ankle-level.

Then I thought, those sneaky nut-cakes over at *****! They raised my cuffs. Believe me, I was amused and not at all upset that you people had a laugh at my expense. If you could only have been there, watching me staring perplexed at my high-water pants. Ha!

Then, quite remarkably, I noticed that your cleaning process had greatly improved the quality of the material in my pants. Oh how that cotton glimmered! They were shorter, yes, but they sure as heck were a lot nicer. Way to go, *****!

But further inspection revealed that these were dress slacks, probably in the $70 range, and not the khaki cotton Dockers I got at J.C. Penney on sale for $28.

Thus my conclusion:

You people have my pants!

To be fair, I also have your pants. Or someone’s pants. But the fact remains – you people have my pants, and I must hold my ground and refuse to turn over the high-waters until I get my khaki cotton Dockers back. I will describe them: they are khaki cotton Dockers, cuffs on the legs which hang at ankle length, small gray-colored lint ball in right pocket.

Please let me know if you have found my pants. I would like to wear them again. You may contact me at the number below.

Regards,

My name and cell phone number

A Quote from a Famous Person

"Do you think Coca Cola should still advertise? Don't you think everyone has heard of this product?"

- Ted L. Nancy

A Window into the Pacific Northwest

The Pacific Northwest -- there is no other place like it. I have been living here nearly eight years, and I never grow weary of the magnificence nature displays in this region. I have never gotten used to seeing the Goliath that is Mount Rainier reaching 14,410 feet above the earth and into the heavens toward its Creator. The Pacific Northwest, a region of water, mountains and sleeping volcanoes, is truly beautiful.

The photograph was taken by my wife near Snoqualmie Pass, Washington, back in November, and communicates to me a quiet dignity that is representative to this part of the country. When I leave this corner of the fruited plain, and I will some day, images like this one will stay with me for a long, long time.

Seahawks: Super Bowl XL Runners-Up

I don’t think too many people are in a state of shock and surprise around here, although the disappointment is palpable. Our underdog Seattle Seahawks were bested in Super Bowl XL by the Pittsburgh Steelers. And although the result is disappointing, we are happy just to have made it to the big game. After all, the Seahawks are the NFC champions, and that is a first.

The score was 21 to 10.

So much for Tuesday’s ticker-tape parade.

But I am proud of the home team. They had a phenomenal season and Holmgren did take them as far as the big game.

There is always next year…

I can say I enjoyed Harrison Ford's Dr. Seuss pre-game commentary.

Sunday Morning News Roundup

• Muslims are rioting in the streets. I know this is nothing new, but this time it’s because of some cartoons. I’ve gotten tired of Doonesbury, but there’s no point in my doing anything about it. This development cannot be good news for the likes of Bill Amend and Cathy Guisewite.
• Somebody is burning Christian churches in Alabama, yet parishioners continue to worship and have vowed to stay together and rebuild. Thus far, Baptists are behaving with restraint and nobility and no rioting has occurred.
• Rest in peace, Coretta Scott King.
• Super Bowl XII kicks off today in Hunt Valley, MD. The Super Bowl of Electric Football means that not only are people still playing electric football, but they are playing championship Electric Football. For younger readers, Electric Football was introduced before video games. It featured a metal field with tiny players that moved around when the board was turned on. The board hummed so loudly it sounded like a utility transformer about to explode.
• Rest in peace, Al “Grandpa Munster” Lewis.
• The Darwin Awards is now a film. Is anybody else out there saying, “Huh?”

The 12th Man

The Seattle Seahawks are on their way to Superbowl XL. Most Seattleites are cautious. We are not at all adept at winning national championships, and are unsure how to act. It does not happen very often here.

The Supersonics did it during the 1978-79 season, bringing the NBA title to the Emerald City. Some of my friends were not even born then. Twenty-five years later, the 2004 Seattle Storm won the WNBA championship. But that was off a lot of people’s radar. The WNBA just does not get the respect that it deserves.

Oh, and how can I forget that Seattle won the Stanley Cup? That's right, the Stanley Cup. Bet you did not know that. That was in 1917. The Seattle Metrolpolitans. They are no longer around.

Today a couple of friends and I walked down to Westlake Plaza in downtown Seattle for a rally in support of the Seahawks. There were about a thousand people in the street to watch Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels and King County Executive Ron Sims unfurl the 12th Man Flag over the plaza. A few friends from the Storm and Sonics were on hand to wish the Hawks good luck. There were no Seahawks on hand. They are all in Detroit, getting ready for the game.

I hope the Seahawks, or maybe owner Paul Allen, heard us cheering today. It’s 2,387 miles from Seattle to Detroit. That's a long way. But Seahawks fans are a loud bunch. I think we did okay.

Go Hawks!

Living Across from the Pantages

I went back to my old neighborhood the other day for haircut and was reminded how much things have changed since I abandoned the city for the suburbs. Nothing ever stays the same, and I certainly don’t expect things to remain as I remember them. But with every change l observe in Seattle’s Capital Hill neighborhood I feel that much more disconnected from my past. My recent past.

After my haircuit I took a walk and noticed that no less than four large, old houses near my old building on Harvard Avenue had been razed and fashionable new apartment buildings erected in their place.

I also discovered that on the corner across from my old building a magnificent old home characterized by sweeping steps cascading off the covered porch to the sidewalk had been lovingly and meticulously restored. I was pleased to see the grand old home looking so fine, and I stopped for a moment to admire it.

I had walked by that old house hundreds of times and had not a clue of its historical significance. A placard recently placed in front of the home tells us that it is the Pantages House, built in 1907.

Pantages, if you do not recognize the name, was a vaudevillian who built many theaters, many of which are still around today in cities like Minneapolis, Toronto, Kansas City, Tacoma, San Diego and of course the famous Pantages Theater on Hollywood Boulevard in the heart of Los Angeles.

So inasmuch as I am saddened to see so many changes in the old neighborhood, I am more than pleased to see such a unique old house saved from disorder and disrepair.

The Best Family Movie Since The Incredibles

Hoodwinked succeeds in skewering the fairy tale genre with a simplicity and genuine wit that exceeds anything they did in the Shrek movies. In the prologue we are presented with the classic telling of Little Red Riding Hood. What comes next is a Rashomon retelling of the memorable "What big eyes you have" story from four separate (and cleverly distinct) points of view: that of the grandmother (not what she seems), the wolf (whose story pays homage to the Chevy Chase film Fletch, much to my amusementnt), the woodsman (not really a woodsman) and of course young Red herself.

Hoodwinked is not only brilliantly constructed and well written, but superbly performed and genuinely funny. It's suitable for all ages (why it received a PG rating to begin with is a mystery to me), and Mom and Dad will enjoy it as well as the kids. Glenn Close, Jim Belushi, David Ogden Stiers, Anne Hathaway and Andy Dick lead the cast.

Planet of the Apes Revisited

I was thrilled a number of years ago when I read that Tim Burton got a green light to make a remake of the classic Franklin Schaffner film Planet of the Apes.

Fox had been wanting to do a remake of Apes for many years, and for a while the project was being developed by Platoon director Oliver Stone. But when that fell through, the visionary Burton signed on for a “re-imagining” of the material, as opposed to a strict remake.

The original Planet of the Apes, released in 1968 and based on a book by French author Pierre Boulle, is a classic, regardless of the fact that some people argue that star Charlton Heston spends half the film overacting. His character, George Taylor, is a misanthrope who gets what’s coming to him, and I think the performance works fine. The film's chilling ending, for my money, is still stunning. The filmmakers did an exceptional job with the effects in that final sequence, and it stands as one of Twilight Zone creator and Apes screenwriter Rod Serling’s finest “surprise endings.”

I am a fan the original Apes (though the subsequent sequels and the 1970’s television show fail to live up to the inspired boldness of the original) and I was excited to attend opening day in 2001 of Burton’s Apes at the Seattle Cinerama (the only remaining Super Cinerama theater in the world). There were 800 people there and I recall enjoying the experience far more than the movie. In fact, until I viewed the movie again on DVD the other day, I had forgotten nearly all of it.

Which turned out not to be such a crime. As inventive as the costumes, make-up and visuals in Burton’s Apes are, the film lacks something at its core, and I think that something is heart. The one thing the 1968 version of Apes has going for it is reason and true compassion at its core, in the form of two chimpanzees played by Roddy McDowell and Kim Hunter. Burton’s version, as beautiful as it is, is cold. I also think Mark Wahlberg fails to carry the film as a leading man.

So this week I learned something about myself and about Planet of the Apes: that I like the original better than the “re-imagining,” and that the “re-imagining” screens better in a packed house at the Cinerama than in my home.

No, Harrison Ford Was Not on Board

No matter what your politics, you have to acknowledge that the Commander in Chief travels well.

In the picture at left, my daughter and I are de-boarding Air Force One. This specially constructed Boeing 707-120 aircraft served several presidents, including Dwight D. Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson, and Richard M. Nixon.

A Quote from a Famous Person

"The answer [to success] is: Stay healthy, and stay married. And other than having a guy come over the top of a hill and hit me with a van, I've been able to do both."

- Stephen King, Time Magazine, April 2002

The 20th Anniversary Edition of Burglar Alarm

I have nearly completed the 20th Anniversary Edition of Burglar Alarm, a short film my friends and I made while we were in high school. Most of what remains to be done is some sound effects editing and mixing.

I am hoping that Alan, who composed and recorded the title song for both versions of the movie, can provide for me just a bit more bumper music, something straight acoustic piano, a tiny riff off the title song. In 1985, when we were putting together the original version of the movie, we were unable to do much with the sound. Now, I am changing that, attempting to give the soundtrack some depth.

I am also looking for Michael Homer (pictured above, in a scene from the movie), who has vanished from my address book in recent years. I need a snippet of dialogue from him. Last I heard he was working as an editor on MAD-TV.

Homer, if you don't already know, played Thomas the butler in our adaptation of the Mark Twain short story. He also appeared in another short film we began but never fully completed, Thomas T. Butler: Private Eye, or The Clown Murders. I am putting together a rough cut of the scenes we shot for Thomas T. Butler and including them on the Burglar Alarm DVD. There is quite a bit there. What we are lacking, for the most part, are ninety percent of the shots requiring the clown.

Although I have spent the past year re-working 1986's The Burglar Alarm as Burglar Alarm: 20th Anniversary Edition, I actually started the project in 2003. Alan recorded a new version of the title song for me, and it's terrific. He also provided some additional original music which will appear on the Burglar Alarm soundtrack. Chuck designed an animated title sequence which I completed in the spring of 2005. I have been thinking about tweaking it a bit, but we'll see. I want to get the sound completed before I revisit making any more changes to the visuals.

I will include here a screen shot taken from the opening animated sequence of the new Burglar Alarm.

Memorable Quotes from Old Friends

"My name is Christopher, but you can call me Crisco for shortening."

- Chris Neeley, circa 1987

Answers to the Jones-Berry Quiz

I think one reason Dean Jones (The Million Dollar Duck) and Ken Berry (F-Troop, Mayberry RFD, Mama's Family) are often confused is because both of them appeared in movies with Herbie, the Love Bug. Many might consider them interchangeable, in the same vein as Tom Bosley and David Doyle, but I happen to think that each brought something new and fresh to the crazy situations they got into in some of Disney’s most memorable comedies of the 1960’s and 1970’s.

It is interesting to note that our friend Chuck seems to be a Jones-Berry expert. He's got his Jones and Berrys sorted out better than I do. And I appreciate Patrick's take on the Jones-Berry Conundrum:

"I've always thought that it was a brilliant move on Disney's part. After all, if one of them was busy, they could pull in the other and most people wouldn't notice...they'd think it was still that guy I like in all the Disney movies."

Here are the answers to the handy Jones-Berry quiz:

1. Who was born in 1931? b) Dean Jones

2. Who was born in 1933? a) Ken Berry

3. Who starred in That Darn Cat? b) Dean Jones

4. Who appeared in The Cat from Outer Space? a) Ken Berry

5. Who was behind the wheel in Herbie Rides Again? a) Ken Berry

6. Who traveled abroad in Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo? b) Dean Jones

The David Doyle / Tom Bosley Question

Enough is enough, I suppose.

You decide.

The Durning-Dennehy Dilemma

Do you ever get these guys confused when you go to the movies? Brian Dennehy and Charles During are both fine character actors, but for some reason the movie-going public has confused the two for years.

Which of these two played the sheriff who ran afoul of Johnny Rambo? Who was outfoxed by Newman and Redford in The Sting? Was it Dennehy or Durning that appeared in Cocoon? Which “D” appeared on the sit-com “Evening Shade?”

This, then, is the Durning-Dennehy Dilemma.

Tagged - Guilty Pleasures

Rickwell at Good Coffee tagged me – write a blog about 5 guilty pleasures. Here we are:

1. A large bowl of Cocoa Pebbles in the middle of the night.
2. Stopping at the Baskin Robbins whenever my daughter and I are out and about without Mom.
3. Fourth Row Center.
4. Watching re-runs of the original Star Trek television series.
5. Comic Books

The Jones-Berry Conundrum

Here is a hypothetical question: you are watching a wacky Disney comedy from thirty years ago, featuring the antics of a Volkswagen Beetle and its nutty owner. Who is Herbie’s owner? Is it Dean Jones, or Ken Berry?

How about another: you are enjoying the classic Walt Disney guffaw-fest featuring a well-trained cat and its nutty handler. Who is onscreen with the cat? Is it Ken Berry, or Dean Jones?

And which one of these guys had the Million Dollar Duck?

Frankly, thinking about the Jones-Berry Conundrum has given me a headache the size of Monte Carlo, and now that I have done the research I am more confused than I was when I began this blog. I am slowly coming to the conclusion that Ken Berry and Dean Jones are one and the same.

What is your Jones-Berry I.Q.? Take the handy quiz below. Leave your answers in the comments section (no cheating!) and I will provide results in this space in a few days.

THE JONES-BERRY QUIZ:

1. Who was born in 1931?
a. Ken Berry
b. Dean Jones

2. Who was born in 1933?
a. Ken Berry
b. Dean Jones

3. Who starred in That Darn Cat?
a. Ken Berry
b. Dean Jones

4. Who appeared in The Cat from Outer Space?
a. Ken Berry
b. Dean Jones

5. Who was behind the wheel in Herbie Rides Again?
a. Ken Berry
b. Dean Jones

6. Who traveled abroad in Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo?
a. Ken Berry
b. Dean Jones

4th Row Center

Fourth Row Center

My friend and roommate Chuck and I found that fourth row center was the optimum place within most auditoriums to view most movies. Heaven knows in all of the hundreds of movies we have seen together over many years we tried just about everywhere else.

In the large auditoriums, like the Jefferson Square Theater and auditorium one of the Spring Valley Theaters, the seats are a reputable distance from the screen, and the fourth row is close enough to be enveloped by the cinema experience without being so close that one’s view of the motion picture is distorted. In the smaller venues which offer smaller screens, any further back than fourth row and one may find oneself distracted by restless audience members and the occasional top hat.

We were also careful to formulate our ideal fourth row center snack package, which consisted of the following:

• Coca-Cola
• Popcorn
• Goobers

An ice-cold Coca-Cola is the perfect cinema refreshment, and if you think I have to back up or justify that statement then you are out of touch. Diet Coke is an acceptable substitute. Root Beer, Hi-C and lemonade are okay if you are holding a child’s ticket. All other beverages are imperfect to the ideal forth row center cinema experience. That’s not to say that there is anything wrong with an espresso beverage during a film (I live in Seattle, after all) or a bottle of water or an Orange Crush if that’s what you enjoy sipping on when the lights go down. All I am saying is that a crisp, icy Coke is part of the formulary for the ideal cinema snack package, and nothing works as well in concert with a bag of crisp, freshly popped popcorn and a box of crunchy, wholesome Goobers.

(Sadly, one cannot find Goobers at the candy counters these days. I recently asked an employee at the Cineplex Odeon in downtown Seattle why that was. His reply: "Goobers? Nobody eats Goobers anymore! They're not very popular.")

Chuck and I partook of many cinematic delights over the years we lived with or close to one another, including a memorable viewing of Peter Weir’s The Mosquito Coast, a late-night preview of Aliens, and a rather tiresome screening of the first five Star Trek movies one long day in Atlanta in 1991.

(Then there was the infamous screening six months later of Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, a miserable experience marred by not only the fact that Chuck had a serious eye condition at the time, rendering him practically blind, but I suffered an asthma attack in the auditorium just as Kirk was being arrested for assassinating the Klingon Chancellor.)

We would even, on occasion, blow off work during an afternoon in order to enjoy a movie, giving our bosses an identical excuse, something about having to deliver blueprints to Aiken for our father's business. It was hogwash, of course. We would just rather be at the movies than at work any day.

But the most important aspect of our viewing movies together was the discussion of the film afterward, an exercise which completes and cements the movie-going experience.

Alas, Chuck is now living on the east coast and I on the west, but I am not without illuminated and film-literate movie companions. Mike and I regularly take in late Saturday night showings of movies at the Big Valley, often followed by serious discussion of the films afterward, and Dan is always available to enjoy a few days at the Seattle Film Festival when that time of year comes around. Both are excellent cinema companions, though neither subscribe to the fourth row center philosophy as rigidly as my old pal Charles. Besides, as I pointed out earlier, Goobers are hard to come by at theater concession stands, and I am not as inclined to snack as much at movies as I was when I was younger. And thinner.

But when I attend movies alone you can always find me where I am most inclined to be: fourth row center. And I leave the seat next to me open and available, just in case Chuck happens to be in the neighborhood.

Friday Five

Our friend Rick at Good Coffee picked up his Thursday Top 5 yesterday with his top 5 books from high school English class. Considering that he and I spent a few years together in high school English class, I offer up my own top five reads from high school:

• Look Homeward Angel, by Thomas Wolfe. The coming of age of Eugene Grant moved me but very few of my classmates.
• Heart of Darkness, by Joseph Conrad. I loved the tone and feel of this one. It was also one of the shortest books I had to read in high school.
• Jude the Obscure, by Thomas Hardy. Jude Frawley is mesmerized by the lights of distant Christminster, and dreams of studying at the university there. But life rarely intersects with one's dreams, and I found this tragic novel a powerful one.
• The Mayor of Casterbridge, by Thomas Hardy. A great story, one in which Fate plays a major role. One of my favorite novels.
• Eye of the Needle, by Ken Follett. Dr. Maddox introduced this World War II U.K. thriller to us in 10th grade, and I have been a fan of Follett ever since.

2005 Worst Movies

As a follow-up to posting my ten favorite movies of 2005 I am reminded that there were some stinkers out there, two of which absolutely could not abide:

Sin City - The trailer was better, though it was good to see Mickey Rourke working again. I get a headache thinking about this movie.

Trust the Man - This one played the fests but did not see wide release in 2005. Reel Film Reviews called this romantic comedy "underwheling." Despite a cast that includes David Duchovney, Julianne Moore, Billy Crudup, Garry Shandling, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Ellen Barkin, the experience was pure pain for me.

2005 Top Ten Movies

After reading the year’s top ten lists from a number of film critics whom I respect, including Richard Corliss, David Ansen and Roger Ebert, I have decided to compile my own list of best films from the past year. I do so not having seen A History of Violence, a film that has landed on most critics’ lists, and I omit Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, a very flawed film but one which I enjoyed immensely.

Instead of rating them one through ten, starting with the best and moving down the list, I will merely offer, in alphabetical order, my ten favorite from 2005:

Capote – A film not only about the eccentric writer himself, but about the writing of the book In Cold Blood, still one of the most chilling written by an American author. Capote trivia: his assistant on In Cold Blood was Harper Lee, the woman who wrote another of the 20th Century's most important books, To Kill a Mockingbird.

Crash – Writer Paul Haggis (Million Dollar Baby, one of my favorite films of 2004) boldly tackles tough questions about racial prejudice as writer and director of this tightly written and superbly cast motion picture.

The Constant Gardner – Adapted from the novel by John Le Carre, this taut thriller features a powerful performance by Ralph Fiennes and wholly exceeded my expectations.

Good Night and Good Luck – A terrific jazz soundtrack backs a provocative and intense telling of the on-air battle between Senator Joseph McCarthy and CBS newsman Edward R. Murrow, played with riveting power by David Strathairn. Strathairn and Phillip Seymour Hoffman (Capote) give the year's finest motion picture performances.

King Kong – Three terrific hours spent at the movies, Kong is everything a Saturday afternoon matinee should be.

Munich – This is a superbly directed thriller with a fine cast, and although I recognize it as a superb film, I cannot say that I particularly enjoyed the taste this one left in my mouth. Still, an important film for 2005, directed by Spielberg at the top of his game.

The Squid and the Whale – It was great to see Jeff Daniels flexing his acting muscles in this bitter tale of a family disintegrating under the weight of a bitter divorce.

Stay – Yes, I am actually including this one on my top ten list. And yes, I enjoyed it very much. Marc Forster (Finding Neverland) helms a capable cast led my Ewan McGregor and Naomi Watts. And if anyone has any idea as to what on earth this movie was about, please let me know.

Syriana – This is George Clooney’s year. Syriana is a thinking man’s thriller which requires multiple viewings to truly appreciate. Writer/director Stephen Gaghan (Traffic) spins a tight, thought-provoking and tragic tale about big oil and international politics.

Wallace and Gromit and the Curse of the Wererabbit – One of those movies that delivers pure joy, moment by moment; the best family film of the year.

Among the biggest disappointments at the cinema this year were:

Herbie: Fully Loaded -- Despite a decent cast, this reincarnation of the beloved Love Bug offers none of the magic of the 1970s Herbie films.

The Fantastic Four – Considering what has been done in recent years with the X-Men, Spider-Man and Batman, this super hero flick could have been much better.

Elizabethtown – I enjoyed this latest offering from Cameron Crowe, but somehow never fully connected with this one. I don’t know if it was the script or the performances by Kirsten Dunst and Orlando Bloom; either way this movie (despite a fantastic soundtrack) left me flat.

Chicken Little – This is a mediocre film from the folks at Disney and a reminder that the mouse should have never split with the whiz kids over at Pixar.

Shaken, Not Stirred

During 2005 I managed to read nearly all of Ian Fleming's James Bond novels. I had intended only to read one, but once I got started, I enjoyed Doctor No so much that I kept going. To supplement by Bond reading, I added the Sean Connery and Roger Moore Bond films to my Netflix queue, and have enjoyed watching those films.

It was an amusing digression that was not lost on my friend Tim, who provided me with some listening material for the new year: a rare edition of the Dr. No soundtrack, the cover of which features me in a very compromising position.

The Dogs are in the House

My sister sent me a link to something called Dogs: The Musical. I suppose it was about time someone answered the long-running Broadway hit Cats.

The show seems amusing and whimsical. Something I might enjoy, particularly now that I have a dog.

Anyway, there are sample musical tracks on which my sister sings, if anyone wants to check them out. The tracks are This Cat Needs a Job and Collar/Leash Tango.

To my relief the barking dogs Jingle Bells song is nowhere on that web site.

I Was Tagged

Tagged by Todd - Write 5 random facts about yourself, and then list the names of 5 people whom you in turn infect.

1) I marvel at the writing of Truman Capote.
2) One of my prized possessions is Peter Sellers' autograph.
3) My will does not allow for a funeral -- only a memorial service.
4) As of late I have come to crave panang curry; I eat it twice a week.
5) M.F. brings me my coffee the moment I walk into the office presumably because I am such a grouch in the mornings.

I tag Isaac, Ray, Frank, Arthur and Piers.

Rest in Peace

Henry Ligon Brown died Wednesday, November 30th, 2005.

He will be missed.

On Film

I spent the day with Mike in restaurants, taxi cabs and cinemas, and over thirteen and a half hours we spanned Seattle, managing a fine brunch at Lola, panang curry at Phuket on Queen Anne, five movies that were worth seeing, and a confession by an East African cab driver who is a descendent of the lost tribe of Ireland. “I thought I was black all my life until my DNA test and they told me I was Irish. When I found out I was white I changed my last name to Patrick and became a Catholic,” he said, crossing himself and adding a “praise the Lord” in for good measure.

Mr. Patrick found out that the ship bearing his ancestors left Ireland for America but that the ship took a wrong turn and ended up in Africa. He suspects perhaps they were actually bound for Australia, and that his forefathers were criminals.

It might have made a good movie.

At any rate, of the five movies we saw today (none were about teenage wizards, thank you) I have to put George Clooney’s Good Night, and Good Luck at the top of the list. In fact, I think it’s one of the finest films I have seen all year. And if you want to put present-day politics aside, it’s a tightly-executed telling of Edward R. Murrow’s coverage of the McCarthy hearings, well-scripted and superbly cast. David Strathairn is outstanding as Murrow – a crisp, understated and very compelling performance. A nod, too, to Robert Downey, Jr. (it’s good to see him busy again), and George Clooney, who plays Fred Friendly in the movie, excels as co-writer and director as well. The black and white photography is outstanding.

And I cannot close this review without pointing out that Dianne Reeves’ jazz soundtrack was exquisite. Like metled butter. Sweet as honey. That good. Really.

Halloween Part Three

Why is it that Peppermint Patty and Marcy never appear in “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown?” They are in everything else...

Curious.

Halloween Part Two

"There are three things I have learned never to discuss with other people: religion, politics and the Great Pumpkin." -Linus Van Pelt

Rain on the Halloween Parade

This Halloween has progressed with much less drama than last year. (See my Halloween blogs in the 2004 archive).

First of all, it was raining at a steady pace. I got home from work after my wife and daughter had gone out to see friends, and prepared for my vigil in the doorway with my cauldron of candy, waiting on trick-or-treaters to arrive.

After 45 minutes none came. Even the dog was bored. It was quiet and depressing in the house, so I thought I would liven things up by putting in the DVD of the original FRANKENSTEIN to enjoy while I waited to pass out candy.

I put the DVD into the player to warm up, deciding to change out of my work clothes into something more comfortable. I would make some supper and watch the movie after a while, listening for the doorbell. So I left the TV off while engaged with wardrobe change.

What I did not realize was that the stereo receiver had been left on for some reason, and the volume was up pretty loud.

As I stood in the downstairs bathroom in my skivies, the DVD had cued up past the FBI warnings and into the main menu screen, even though the TV was still off in the next room.

The house was deathly quiet; the dog slept fitfully.

An enormous crash of thunder (in Dolby surround, no less) and the groaning of Boris Karloff quaked through the house and quite nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. With only one leg in my jeans, I was so startled and off-balance that the din sent me careening onto the floor with a smart, my head narrowly missing the toilet. And just as began to recover, realizing what it was that had startled me, the doorbell rang, loudly and unexpectedly, sending me flailing again and into yet another panic as I was at the moment both shirtless and pantless and unable to receive children in their Halloween garb begging candy.

I hurriedly dressed, and greeted a 12-year-old witch with an umbrella at the door. I had dumped a few Blow-Pops and Dum-Dums into her bag before I realized my sweatshirt was on inside out.

I turned my shirt around and put on my sneakers, settling in front of the TV to enjoy James Whale's remarkable 1931 film.

I had only one other trick-or-treater: a woman whose age I would estimate at about 25, costumeless, out in the rain gathering candy for her two-year-old who had a cold. She showed me a photograph of her child in a lion costume. He was terribly cute. I gave her a half-dozen Blow-Pops and some Bazooka Joe.

It was only later that I remembered seeing the same photo of the child, in a lion costume, in the October issue of Martha Stewart's Living.

Today's Sunday School Lesson

(as reported by my daughter, age 4)

The people melted down their jewelry and made a statue of a kitten. Then people loved the kitten statue more and they forgot about Jesus, who was angry, and he told Moses. Then Moses went down there, and took a bat with him, and he knocked over the kitten statue and stomped on the pieces so that the people would be sorry.

And that’s all I remember.

Personal Reply: Your Dream

I find your having dreamt of Elton John (as opposed to Sinatra or Manilow) most revealing.

Sir Elton himself does not appear in the dream (his physical presence would have added layers of complexity to your dream that I am not prepared to deal with), nor is his music presented abstractly or as background. You are, in your dream, leading a group of people in the singing of an Elton John song. You are in your pulpit; the song is your sermon. The song is a shared experience among those in the dream, your friends and family gathered round in a restaurant (Ryan’s perhaps?), an image I found both remarkable and profound. Furthermore, it is not just any Elton John song you are singing: it is “Crocodile Rock,” a fascinating tune for your subconscious mind to dig up.

“Crocodile Rock” appeared on the album Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only the Piano Player and shattered the charts in 1973. You, too, shattered something in 1973: your mother’s large ceramic ash tray. Coincidence? Perhaps.

But here is what I really think:

The song is a recollection of times more carefree, when not only “rock was young” but you were young as well. It represents a longing for the simple, blithe days of one’s past, even as one has moved well beyond it.

In those days you were moving, shaking, leading, singing…it was your show and others are merely along for the ride. But the choice of song… your mind understands that this is “what was,” not “what is.” Again, the song is an "American Pie" of sorts. Ahh, yesteryear!

You then proceed to “another engagement” (again, on the move, about town, taking care of biz) in your Nissan Sentra. (Startling that your mind dredge up this long-wrecked vehicle!) It is yet another relic of the past, another bygone symbol of what was. Part of you clings to that past, perhaps to simpler times – rock and roll, flashy red car, that sort of thing. To a past that was not only devoid of the burden of responsibility but perhaps one that was without a true direction as well.

Then you drift into the present. The woods – a classic dream symbol. A place of the mind, where one gets lost and confused. Darker now, times have changed, more responsibility and real life descends upon you. Yet you are still moving forward, toward the other “engagement.” Perhaps you do not truly know the way.

Then a presence. Interference? Alien hands over your ears. Why not the eyes? Why not keep you from seeing where you are going? An evil or malicious presence could derail your path by covering your eyes. But your eyes are untouched. You are still proceeding as you were. These mysterious hands cover your ears instead.

The presence is not trying to keep you from seeing where it is you need to go, but it is trying to prevent you from hearing what it is you need to hear while you are on your way to “another engagement.” You can see where you are going, but what is so important for you to hear that someone or something might try to prevent it from being heard?

Then you describe a second pair of hands on your shoulders. Are these hands of the same being who covered your ears? Or the hands of another? These are the leading hands. Leading you somewhere you don’t want to go, but, as you point out, somewhere you do not mind going. But they are leading, and you are allowing them to lead.

You are allowing them to lead.

Which begs the question: are the hands on your shoulders large and warm with well-trimmed nails, or cold and clammy and sporting claws?

Fish

Todd wrote in an email, “Speaking of Fish, do you recall the short-lived Abe Vigoda series, ‘Fish,’ based on his Barney Miller character?”

He asks the same thing in a recent blog.

My reply: I certainly do remember the short-lived Vigoda series. Who can forget Detective Phil Fish?

HARRIS: Hey Fish, does it hurt when those stones come out?
FISH: It can't be too bad. The doctor says it's like giving birth.

Abe Vigoda was big in the seventies, doing a lot of TV besides playing Phil Fish on Barney Miller. He did a couple of episodes of The Rockford Files, playing a character named Phil the Dancer in one of them.

But there are some things that can never be forgiven, and some people whose deeds are so dark that they may never re-enter the light of day. Vigoda is one such person, and his deed was poison.

Yes, Abe, I remember.

You see, Vigoda was Tessio in The Godfather, and was trusted for many years by the family. But he became greedy and wanted his own family, and plotted with Barzini to betray and murder Michael.

“It was just business, Michael,” Tessio (Vigoda) said, “You understand. Just business.”

But Michael was too clever, and Vigoda ended up like Luca Brasi, sleeping with the fishes.

Notes from New York: Jaywalking

“Seattle is the only city I’ve been to where you see people standing idly on all four corners of an intersection with not a car in sight, waiting for the signal before they cross the street.”

This was spoken to me with a laugh by one of my company’s executives on a visit to Seattle as we made our way six blocks to a restaurant for lunch. This is how we do it here: we wait for the green crossing light before venturing to cross the street. It’s a civilized practice that defines Seattle despite the chuckle it caused from my East Coast colleague.

The practice – now ingrained habit for me – does not work in New York where I have spent the last week. Stopping on the corner can be treacherous: one can be trampled if one interrupts the pedestrian flow. It took me a few days to get into the swing of crossing streets in Manhattan, but I was still beset with a tinge of guilt each time I jaywalked or crossed against the light. It felt wrong. Out of place. Unnatural. But as the hoards crossed the busy New York streets against the light, I crossed with them, mingling conspiratorially on my way block by block toward my destination.

By the end of the week I found myself oblivious to the crossing signals, darting artfully across intersections, dodging cabs and jaywalking like there was no tomorrow. It was liberating in a way, and a got to where I was going without delay or interruption.

Years ago in Seattle’s Capital Hill neighborhood my wife and I stepped off the curb to cross against the light, thought better of it, and back-stepped onto the sidewalk. A bicycle cop, who just happened to be idling behind us laughed and said, “I’m glad you did that, otherwise I’d have to write you a ticket.”

I am back in Seattle now, and crossing with the light. And I feel better about it.

Notes from New York: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street

Patti LuPone is reprising her role as Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd on Broadway. The staging is unique: there is no orchestra, per se. The cast is the orchestra, and they perform the brilliantly complex Sondheim score on stage as they are acting out the play. Cello, violin, piano, bass, clarinet, and even LaPone on the tuba – the entire cast remains on stage during the show playing, acting, singing.

The effect is unique and mesmerizing, I told the bellman at my hotel. He had asked me if the cast’s double-duty as orchestra “got in the way” of telling the story. On the contrary, I found the staging clever and involving, and I admire the cast for the spectacular results they achieved on stage. It is a fine production.

Sweeney Todd is the story of an 18th century barber wrongly convicted and sentenced to prison who returns to London fifteen years later to discover his wife dead and his daughter the ward of the unscrupulous judge who convicted him. Desiring a relationship with the daughter he never knew, he sets up shop above Mrs. Lovett’s pie shop. But when Judge Turpin decides to wed his teenage ward in order to protect her from the evils of the world, Sweeney Todd descends into a murderous ire, dispatching his enemies with a straight razor.

And what does he do with the bodies? Let’s just say that Mrs. Lovett’s meat pies become famous all over London!

The show is dark and gruesome, yes, but it is also at times blisteringly funny and tender.

Returning home I discovered a flyer in the mail announcing Sweeney Todd was coming to Seattle’s 5th Avenue Theater. My wife was envious that I had seen the show in New York, which features two of Stephen Sondheim’s best and most memorable songs: “Pretty Women” and “Not While I’m Around.” My wife likes those two songs very much, and has never seen the show. So it looks like I’ll be seeing it again, and it will be interesting to compare the two.

Notes from New York: Walking in the Rain

I don't carry an umbrella, and haven't carried one as a matter of practice for years. Although it rains a great deal in Seattle, most of the time all we see is a fine mist. The sky "spits," as we say. A raincoat is usually sufficient; an umbrella is usually unnecessary.

When I lived in the city I bought a felt hat to protect me from the rain. It served me well for many years and spared me the inconvenience of carrying a brolly around with me during the winter. I never thought twice about wearing the brown felt hat to work until one morning, upon entering my building, the security guard greeted me with a sarcastic "Good morning, Dr. Jones."

I suppose it does look like the hat Indiana Jones wears, and I was thereafter careful to remove it before I entered the building.

It's been raining in New York. When I arrived at my hotel I discovered that a small umbrella belonging to my wife was packed in my suitcase. I did not want it (since hailing from Seattle I consider myself impervious to rain) but I nonetheless took it with me the following afternoon on my trek from Midtown East to Times Square. I had a few hours to kill until the eight o'clock curtain at the Eugene O'Neill Theater.

Dragging the umbrella around was an inconvenience I am unaccustomed to, but I tolerated its presence, and forgot about it during the show.

When the curtain dropped at ten-thirty, I exited the theater to discover that they sky was not merely spitting at me but raining cats and dogs. East Coast rain, I recalled. Because I was too cheap for a taxi I realized I was going to be soaked after my twelve block walk back to the hotel. But wait...what was that uncomfortable lump in my jacket pocket? My wife's umbrella! Victory!

Bless my wife.

There were a few times while walking through Manhattan in the rain that I left the umbrella unopened, when the sky was spitting as opposed to raining on me. Regardless, many New Yorkers (and tourists, presumably) had their umbrellas open, and it was then that I realized I was in a perilous situation.

Today's compact umbrellas are small enough for a purse or briefcase or coat pocket and have a very short telescoping handle, requiring them to be carried right at head level when opened, and the prongs of these compact bumbershoots are directly at eye level. I became fully aware of this fact on East 52nd and Third when I nearly lost an eye. The woman whose umbrella frame nearly punctured my retina was unaware of the incident. She merely shoved past me, crossing the street against the light. (There was some consolation in the fact that the strong wind traveling down 52nd Street turned her umbrella inside-out, rendering it useless. She no doubt shoved it into a trash bin along with all the other turned-out umbrellas that are disposed of by New Yorkers by the thousands on a rainy day.)

Before I arrived at my hotel a young man with a basket of umbrellas held one out to me as I passed. "Ten bucks," he said. I was damp, but not soaked. I smiled and shook my head.

"It's just a little rain," I said.

Call Again

My wife is in Portland. She is speaking at a conference of educators.

After putting our daughter to bed, I attempt to call her. The idiot at the desk has been drinking, I suspect. He answers the phone with such a rush of air and mangled verbiage that I suspect I have caught him sleeping off his binge.

He sets the phone down and turns on the TV. I can hear the TV. I can hear him blowing his nose. He starts singing an old Gloria Gaynor song. I manage to read over about a dozen emails while I wait. I can hear the TV moaning in the telephone receiver and the occasional honk followed by "I will survive!" in a cracked falsetto.

I am forced to call back. Again and again I call back and am greeted with the rushing air and mangled verbiage. I am connected to random rooms, awaking strangers who are not pleased at my asking, "Um, is my wife there?"

I call again. The desk attendant asks, "Why do you keep calling?"

"You keep connecting me to strangers. They don't like being woken up."

He laughs. "I connected you to room 214 that time, didn't I? That's not the room you want! I apologize."

I listen to an advertisement while I hold.

A groggy man answers the phone. "Who is this? Why do you keep calling?"

I hang up, feeling not the least bit guilty. I am not the one who is disturbing his sleep. It is the desk clerk who has failed us both. My concsience is clear.

I call the hotel again.

I am still hoping to be connected to room 134. My resolve is tested and unshaken. At least until the rush of air fills my ear for the seventh time.

"Portland________HotelhowmayIhelpyou?!?!?"

I ask for room 134. I still have faith that I may someday get through to my wife. I will persevere. I endure the hold music for a brief moment before someone in one of the rooms picks up the phone.

I hold my breath.