To Life

In times of total frustration, I feel as though I've lost a good part of myself. But the truth of the matter is that I've merely misplaced me. This comes from a lack of forward mobility, stagnation and soul-crushing procrastination. The only person I can blame for this is staring right back at me in the screen of this laptop and that is me, me me. Fortunately,I can't see me right now because I would punch myself in the mush for wasting more time and energy online than taking care of business.

So I took a couple of necessary breaks while I engage in a refresher course in things that inspire and enrich my soul to serve as a reminder of who I am and what I am supposed to be.

While I took in THE SHAPE OF WATER on my birthday, I felt a need to take in another piece o' cinema because my time before the big screen has been limited to say the very least and I feel as though I've been missing out on one of the great joys of my life.

The great Portland independent movie house known as the Hollywood Theater had a very limited engagement of DUNKIRK in 70mm over the past two weekends. Having missed it on its initial run the past summer, here was the last possible chance to see this war epic, so the saying goes, as it was originally intended to be seen. Since I've never seen any film in this format to begin with, I ventured off to the other side of the Portlandian world and made it to the Hollywood, a a theater I have not visited in over 5 years.

I love this place. This is how I would run a movie theater with first runs, revivals and special showings that are trying like hell to keep the movie-going experience alive and kicking. These include such gems as B Movie Bingo, Hecklevision, the H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival and the occasional silent film with live organ accompaniment such as the upcoming SEVEN CHANCES starring Buster Keaton. This is exactly how to run a movie theater in the 21st century.
HOLLYWOOD THEATRE

I couldn't believe my good fortune the day I ventured forth from home to the other side of Portland, which can be both a trick and trek at the same time. Leaving later than I was comfortable with, I managed to fight my way tooth and nail out of the goddamn 'burbs (as I affectionately refer them) and onto the freeway with a credit of only twenty five minutes. When you figure in both traffic and parking, you're talking a deficit that could sabotage the entire excursion. But the Fickle Finger of Fate pointed in my direction and I made to the Hollywood with minutes to spare with even enough time to hit the can on the way in.

Without fanfare or even coming attractions, the film began and kept me nailed to my seat for the next two hours. DUNKIRK is a positively masterful piece of film making. Christopher Nolan's WW II epic is riveting from its opening frame to its last and immersed me completely. What I experienced on this Saturday afternoon was pure cinema, both in content and presentation. Kismet with capital K.

Besides inspiration of a cinematic kind, I turn to the other arts to recharge my soul. I have been absent from any recent showings at the Portland Art Museum for far too long and caught a very significant exhibit, once again, just in the nick of time on its final day. (Are we sensing a running theme here?)

The Wyeth Family, that being the American artists N.C., Andrew and Jamie, along with other relatives represented, had many of their most iconic works (minus Andrew's Helga pieces) presented in this extremely moving show. To view artwork of this caliber and stature that spanned over three generations and an entire century made me gape about in awe and total admiration for what artists contribute to this world and how that can continually passed down throughout time.

When I was in high school, I took a class called Humanities, taught by a Mr. Leonard Fass, an irascible and cantankerous sort who introduced this sullen teenager to many of the finest aspects in society including, music, literature and art. on one particular day, Mr. Fass  showed us a documentary about the Wyeths. It made such an impression upon me, opening both my heart and mind. Art became part of my DNA from that day forward and I've been grateful ever since.

Seeing the Wyeth exhibit and DUNKIRK were more than just a couple of fanciful outings on my days off from work. They serve to remind me what I'm supposed to not only do with my life, but who I am supposed to be. Time ticks away so relentlessly that it can steamroll you into submission, allowing life to pass you by. You can cast your dreams aside from pure fatigue and soon, regret sets in like a tumor. It's time to live again before it's too late.

L'chaim!

The Fall Guy

This has been a spectacular fall here in the Pacific Northwest. I'm going to nominate it for Best Season of 2013.
Then again, I'm a real sucker for this time of year anyway and not just because I'm in the autumn of my life.

(Quit looking at my hair. It was an early snow. Shut up.)

Now we are about to be immersed into the dreaded holiday season, a time that conjures up the End of Days in our already chaotic lives.                 

Ain't that a shame? What used to known as the most wonderful time of the year is now another trigger for gloom and doom, no thanks to you, Andy Williams. And if anyone starts harping about the hijacking of Christmas or reminds who is the reason for the season is going to get a lit yule log crammed up their tannenbaums.

Here are a few high and low lights from the past few months:

Portland Art Museum's current show, Samurai!, is pretty damn spectacular, featuring armor and artifacts from 14th-19th century Japan. What seems like a historical exhibit, almost out of place in an art museum is put into perfect context under inspection of these incredibly intricate, ornate items. The show runs until January 12.

Subway is promoting the new HUNGER GAMES movie. And I am opening a HomeTown Buffet on Donner Pass.

After a depressing TV summer season (THE KILLING, THE BRIDGE, BROADCHURCH), the fall line-up has lightened up a bit, if you want to call THE WALKING DEAD light. James Spader is killing it on THE BLACKLIST. a potentially decent NBC offering that is hampered by contrivances and the worst CGI on TV. AMERICAN HORROR STORY is back in top form after last season's obnoxious everything including the kitchen sink ASYLUM. This year's story, COVEN, is a kick in the royal ass especially with the addition of Kathy Bates and Angela Basset joining the ace in the hole Jessica Lange. Jeffrey Wright is deliciously wicked in this year's BOARDWALK EMPIRE with Shea Wigham really breaking out as Eli Thompson. It's sad to see actresses the caliber of Margo Martindale and Allison Janney slumming on two separate CBS stink-coms. Martindale is reduced to awful menopausal gags on THE MILLERS while Janney is quite the slut on MOM. Though I must admit, a slutty Allison Janney is pretty damn hot.

But the big TV news for me and pretty much the rest of the geek universe is, well, feast your peepers on this, kiddies:

Get your fish fingers and custard ready.

National Lampoon's Staycation

Last week, I took some time off (or gave myself a time out, whichever the case may be) for some much needed R n' R. This is something I ridiculously consider a luxury because, quite honestly, I never give this particular sucker an even break and consider PTO so valuable that I don't want to spend a minute. But since accumulation of same is maxed out, necessity became the mother of reinvention as my brain pan was coated with over-cooked reality. Thus, I withdrew some hours and took a vacation. Since I didn't leave town, per se, one clever ass in the hat has dubbed this a "stay-cation". This was probably the same Alexandre Dumb-Ass who also came up with "bromance" and calls sandwiches "sammies".

In true Cherney style,, the week began with just about every electronic device in my possession going on the fritz-phone, computer, cable TV-and almost immediately, I went apoplectic and damn near suicidal with fears of what next might crap out. I wanted to beat them to the punch and depart this world before they did because I JUST COULDN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE. Technology is not my my friend. Oh, who am I kidding? My nemesis is basically anything with moving parts. I probably have an Neanderthal ancestor who fretted when the fire burned out and poured out his guts on a cave wall.   

"How fire work? Oh, woe is Kronk."

Kronk Cherney, caveman blogger.

Of course as I post these thoughts online, the irony is just so very...over-bearing. And my angst? Over-dramatic, to say the least and the least said the better. Yes, I over-reacted as everything returned to what I considered normal and you can all just consider these the rantings and ravings of One Whiny Bitch. That's what they used to call Kronk.

Frankly, I just wanted my cable back. There was a bountiful feast of programs just waiting for me and I wanted to gorge since I finally had the time to do so. I got my greedy little wish and dove in head-first. I caught up on TREME, BOARDWALK EMPIRE, LOUIE, HOMELAND, SONS OF ANARCHY, DOCTOR WHO (guest starring my buddy the great Mike McShane), HELL ON WHEELS to name just a few.

You have your choice of two quotes here.

Jimmy Kimmel at this year's Emmy telecast: "There's a lot of great stuff on. I'm going to have to go out less."
or
Woody Allen in ANNIE HALL: "And eventually, you grow old and die."

Both actually apply.

HONEY BOO BOO aside, this really is the Platinum Age of television. No longer the Vast Wasteland, unless you count Bravo and TLC, TV has it all over the movies these days and that pains me to even consider those words.

This is why I am so over the moon about BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD,  the brilliant first film from director Benh Zeitlin that has actually restored my faith in the future of cinema once again. This fanciful tale of the Louisiana bayou told through a child's eyes grabbed me from the first frame to the last, a near-perfect fusion of fantasy and reality. Its sultry atmosphere and dreamy ambiance just wrapped me up and transported me to another world in time and place. That's where cinema-GOOD cinema-has the upper hand over television. Zeitlin's is one of the finest debuts from an American filmmaker since Terrence Malick's BADLANDS back in the Seventies (a film I don't think Malick has exceeded). But BEASTS would be only half as good without the extraordinary once-in-a-lifetime performance from Quvenzhané Wallis as the fierce heroine Hush-Puppy. Forget Batman and all of The Avengers. Hush-Puppy is the true super-heroine of summer 2012. She is one fierce Beast.

The rest of the week included stops at Portland culinary destinations like Bunk Sandwiches and Chef Andy Ricker's Pok Pok knock-off, the Whiskey Soda Lounge. This latter featured Vietnamese bar food like those amazing fish sauce chicken wings as well as a dish called Miang Cham-chilies, ginger, peanuts, dried shrimp, lime, shallot and coconut all minced and wrapped up in a betel leaves. A one bite wonder.

To justify an annual membership fee, the week finished at the Portland Art Museum for the new show, The Body Beautiful, presented in conjunction with the British Museum. The Body Beautiful is a collection of Greek and Roman art, much of it never seen before in the U.S. Yes, it's the kind of show that make you want to clap your hands together and chant "Hercules! Hercules! Hercules!" But as usual, what sticks in my craw (which is found right up my ass) is the General Public. At what point in time has it been acceptable to bring a camera or even use one's phone as such in a goddamn art museum? I don't want a bunch of rubes flashing their doo-dads like a spastic paparazzi when I'm trying to enjoy the fucking art. The Gossip Girls posing with the discus thrower just about made me lose my Miang Cham. Does everything have to be chronicled and documented instead of just experienced? (Yes, I'm blogging about it. Irony. Yeah, we already covered that. Move on.) What's next PAM...laser tag? Cameras in art museums, wham bam, no thank you, PAM.

And finally, the grand finale of the week was a personal triumph for your humble narrator. I actually did some damn writing that didn't involve blogging, posting or anything online. I finished the first draft of my next book, even rocked it old school by penning it all in long-hand. Now the real hard part begins as I move on to the next level by trying read my own scribbling. Does anybody know Sanscrit?

To the right is a visual clue about said future magnum opus.

Let me tell you something, my friends. Getting back to basics sure felt good. I'm actually kind of proud of myself for the first time in awhile.

And THAT was a good week off. Or as Cronk Cherney would have said:

"Beats working for living."