Bye Bye, Birthday

So ends another era. Oh, it's not significant in the grand or even minor scheme of things, but it was indeed a personal time for me, a tradition I kept for 28 straight years.

What I refer to is that every birthday, I would go to the cinema and (hopefully) enjoy a celebratory movie of choice. Sometimes this would be so important to me that I would pick a movie months in advance so we were living in the era of announced release dates for major films as though they were national holidays. Such is the modern day world of movies.

This ritual of mine, almost OCD in nature, began with special Christmas movie, something to cap off the end of a long holiday, the best of these being THE GODFATHER PART II and THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING in successive years. That practice began to be more difficult to maintain over time since I usually attended with a friend and, considering it was bloody damn Xmas, I began losing movie companions. Going to a movie by myself that night seemed to be a lonely and kinda creepy experience. Not that I had any qualms about flying solo any other time, my go-to modus operandi (my rationale was that I knew I wasn't going to talk during the movie). But Christmas night...I passed. I thought I'd feel like an outcast elf. 

Years passed and I finally decided to make it a birthday thang, beginning in 1993 with a perfect choice for me -Joe Dante's MATINEE, a sensational tribute to the films of William Castle set smack dab in the middle of the Cuban missile crisis. And yes, I went alone. 

This became like a special gift I could give to myself, something to give myself a break, pat on the back and reward myself for making it though another year. It allowed me to head into the next 363 days on a more or less positive note. Thus, this annual celebration of me was off and running.

Over time, my failing memory has caused me to momentarily (I hope) forget several films I've seen over the years, an unfortunately side effect of the passing of time. But I remember most of them and my track record for excellent film choices was pretty stinkin' good if I do say so myself (and I can because I have this blog) They are:

The aforementioned MATINEE, FROM DUSK TO DAWN, THE LORD OF THE RINGS TRILOGY (one right after the other), LA LA LAND, AVATAR, THE SHAPE OF WATER, PAN'S LABRYRINTH (all hail Guillermo!), BIRDMAN, STAN AND OLLIE, THE ARTIST, DJANGO UNCHAINED and NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN. A couple of times, I'd up the ante with two movies on consecutive days as with NEBRASKA/THE WOLF OF WALL STREET and BLACK SWAN/TRUE GRIT.

Not a bad list, but there were a few clunkers like Peter Jackson's remake of KING KONG and THE FORCE AWAKENS, but they weren't crappy enough to ruin my day, just my taste buds. (See previous blogs; KONG-FOUNDED and THE FORCE WAKES UP AGAIN)

In 2020, I caught Sam Mendes' 1917, the last time I've set foot in a movie theater. While it wasn't the best of the bunch by any means, not even anywhere near my top ten, I was grateful to be able to have seen it on one the biggest screens in the area, a fine presentation that I certainly appreciated.

This year, it all came to an end. On January 29 (my birthday in case you want to get a head start on next year with the gift-giving), our illustrious governor Kate Brown of Oregon lifted the restrictions on movie theaters, allowing them to re-open with a ridiculous caveat. The theater capacity could be no more than 6 people. Well, isn't that just ducky. It would be unless you were a theater owner. Now it wouldn't matter to me really since I don't mind an empty auditorium all to myself. But in support of movie theaters in general, I say thee nay. Besides I ain't that comfortable eating in a restaurant, let alone sitting in the dark with a bunch of strangers. Not yet anyway, no matter how much I miss it.

So this year I still saw a new movie,  a very good thriller called THE LITTLE THINGS directed by John Lee Hancock and starring Denzel Washington, released simultaneously in theaters (somewhere) and HBO MAX. Another new normal that they assure is only temporary, but try getting that genie back in the bottle even at gunpoint.

The movie theater, as we once knew it, is fading away, another casualty of this life and time and another one to place in the loss column. 

Happy birthday to me.

Oscar's Big Boner

 Well, hoo-ray for Hollywood!

The biggest event of the year in the entertainment capital of the world known as the Academy Awards was quite the hoot this go around. This shimmer has dimmed on Oscar, the Golden Boy in recent years thanks to an non-stop onslaught of awards shows, all of them televised to drive the point home that YES, MOVIES STILL MATTER. That is, despite the fact that cinemas are on the endangered species list with the massive swift toward home entertainment and that currently, TV rules the roost in the current Zeitgeist. (No, no the sequel to Poltergeist).

This year's circle jerk was more entertaining than usual thanks to the efforts of new producers Michael De Luca and Jennifer Todd who took a page from the Golden Globes and gave this old chestnut some much needed life with more of a party atmosphere. It began with a bang with Justin Timberlake's nominated song "Can't Stop the Feeling", a rousing little ditty that brought the crowd to its feet for the first time. While not one of my personal faves, JT did kick the show off quite nicely. This led to Jimmy Kimmel's entrance as this year's host and, quite frankly, he owned it. They have been looking for a more permanent host for awhile and Kimmel fit the bill near-perfectly, nearly as smooth as Bob Hope and Billy Crystal back in the day.

The general celebration actually muted the political posturing with less speechifying than I expected, which I was getting ready to dread due to political fatigue. When points were made, they were appropriately placed for the most part and carried more weight as a result, perhaps with the exception of Gael Garcia Bernal's ham-handed two cents on the Trump wall. It was awkward and unnecessary as he preached on before giving out the award for Best Animated Feature. Bad timing. Much better was the letter written by Iranian filmaker Asghar Farhadi (read by Anousheh Ansari) upon winning Best Foreign Film for THE SALESMAN, a strongly worded statement on the Trump travel ban.  The other Trump digs during the night were more teasing in nature, especially Kimmel's Tweet to the Donald "Meryl says hi." but it was obvious that knives were sharpened and ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.

As though Blake Edwards ran the show, this seemed to be a slapstick affair from the start with poor adorable Aul'i Cravalho getting smacked in the back the head during her otherwise quite excellent rendition of the nominated song from MOANA, Then Seth Rogen bonked his noggin climbing out of the Delorean with Michael J. Fox. And the usually somber In Memoriam segment (aka The Death Parade) included a tribute to Australian costume designer Janet Patterson. Well deserved to be sure, except they showed the wrong Australian- producer Janet Patterson who is alive and well at this writing, but I haven't checked today, Janet, you alright, sweetheart? Sorry the Academy killed you prematurely.

But it was still all fun and games until we hit the three and a half hour mark when the Best Picture was finally about to be announced by Hollywood icons Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway when...WHOOPSY-DAISY!

You know the story. LA LA LAND was mistakenly announced when MOONLIGHT was the actual winner.

Conspiracy theories have abounded hither and tither over this major gaffe, one including Leonardo DiCaprio, the other involving the Academy itself attempting to amp up the drama and prove they are good Liberals after all by taking the trophy out of the hands of LA LA's white privelege and handing it over to MOONLIGHT to prove without a doubt the BLACK LIVES MATTER. (But not as much as THE MOVIES.)

But that's not what I believe happened at all.

The Russians were behind it all. They hacked into Pricewaterhouse and successfully sabotaged the awards to denigrate this beloved American institution in front of the entire world. And Warren Beatty was in on it the entire time. Hold on a second. Isn't he like a  Tinseltown Liberal god, second to none except maybe Babs Streisand herself? Well let me ask you something in return, Ivan, Didn't Warren Beatty write, direct and star in a movie called REDS? Hmmmmm? Look it up, comrades! The Russkies probably paid off the enormous debt accumulated by his recent flop RULES DON'T APPLY for his "cooperation". And the cherry on top of  the entire shit sundae, President of the United States Donald Jabroni Trump, masterminding the entire debacle to humiliate those he hates just as much the Fake News organizations...and that is THE HOLLYWOOD ELITE. (On the other hand, Putin preferred FENCES. He loves him some Denzel.)

I rest my case. (Don't have a mike, so I'll just drop my pen)

So ends another fairy tale evening in LA LA LAND while basking in the MOONLIGHT.

See you next year!

February Fun Facts

DID YOU KNOW...?

February is the shortest month of the year. Of course you did. You'd have to be a blithering idiot to date a check 2/30. That is, unless you were going to the dentist. Wait for it...

February is also the month when my first show of the year will be produced, a one night stand of DEAD TUESDAY (the play formerly known as THE PERILS OF FRANCOIS). Sugar High Theatricals of Galesburg, Illinois is staging this fairy tale murder mystery o' mine on the appropriate date...Feb. 28 which this year is Fat Tuesday, cher! Perfect for a Mardi Gras themed show such as this. Laissez les bons temps rouler!

The Welsh call February "y mis bach" which means "little month". Except no one can pronounce it. Except Tom Jones.

The best new show on TV currently is TABOO on FX starring my current favorite actor Tom Hardy. There is not a single false note in this brilliant show set in 19th century England, dark and dank as anything I've ever seen. Runners-up are Netflix's THE CROWN (Peter Morgan is a god) and STRANGER THINGS, the best Stephen King story not written by Stephen King. The latter includes my new favorite actress, Millie Bobby Brown, quite the recommendation since I generally never like child performers and she is positively extraordinary to the point that she may even be extra-terrestrial. On the other end of the spectrum, Netflix's SANTA CLARITA DIET is a stink bomb. Timothy Olyphant needs to be sedated and Drew Barrymore is putrid in this unfunny, unfocused sit-com that is getting raves from a very indiscriminate audience.

It is the third month of winter. In the Southern Hemisphere February is a summer month the equivalent of August. After this winter, the Southern hemisphere can kiss my frozen ass. (Sorry. The cold weather has made me cranky.)

My birthday movie this year was the much-lauded LA LA LAND, a wonderful choice if I do blog so myself. It's not perfect by any means, but there are moments that touch pure magic, such as the last ten minutes, that justify any kudos this has garnered thus far. It will indeed win a flock o' Oscars, much like its closest comparison, THE ARTIST, from a few years ago. But if I were to be perfectly honest, I would say that the similarly themed L.A. STORY, written and starring Steve Martin, is the better film. Regardless of that sleight, my movie-going experience was top notch especially when I decided to attend a single screen cinema in Portland instead of a dreaded multi-plex, a major reason my attendance has been so apathetic in the last few years. So dadgum it, I treated myself and will do so again. Nyah.                          

     

                                                      

The largest American sporting event the Super Bowl, is held in February. Did I watch it? No, I totally boycotted the Super Bowl this year. Of course, I never watch it to begin with, so it's not that much of a stand. I did watch the half-time show on the YouTube and thought Lady Gaga crushed it. If you didn't like Gaga's performance or want to comment on her supposed belly fat, you can crowd in front of the Southern hemisphere and pucker up, you slimy trolls.

The Saxon term for the month, Sol-monath, means "cake month". This is because they offered cakes to the gods during this month.

So as the world continues to circle the drain, enjoy a piece of cake, Saxon-style. No, not in a Marie Antoinette way. Treat yourself. You need it. Maybe have some pie instead. Pie is good.