Not that I don't appreciate the attention or acknowledgment. Thanks to Facebook, I can revel in good wishes from people around the globe. That's right. I know people who know people and they're the luckiest people in the world...or so I heard. It is a kick in the butt to get something as simple as a cursory Happy Birthday from someone in Japan or Australia, though it's sad not to hear from my late friend Glen Chin, always the first out of the gate from Hong Kong. But I appreciate the gestures one and all, big and small, near, far, wherever you are...Holy crapballs...I go from a Babs Streisand reference to Celine Dion in a matter of sentences. I have no shame.
As I do every year, I pick out a special birthday movie to attend which is a traditional gift I give myself for as long as I can remember which s how long a this point, a week? I decided on the Laurel and Hardy film STAN AND OLLIE since it had good buzz and not a typical Hollywood cheeseball biopic ala GABLE AND LOMBARD or W.C. FIELDS AND ME. (These movies always come in pairs) I felt it would be the perfect movie just for me.
Taking the Max train to downtown Portland because the film hasn't gotten as wide a release as say, anything by Disney which is to say basically everything, I left a little too late for my sojourn, maybe even missing the beginning of the movie, a major crime in my book, an increasingly dog-eared copy. But la-de-damn-dah. I chose to go this particular cinema, take the frickin' train and not give myself enough time. So I owned up to it. I sat watching the suburbs and the outskirts of Portland go by and let it go. Que sera sera. (What? Now Doris Day?) As time passes as it most certainly did if this day of all days is any indication (which it is), I have to continue my life on my own terms as much as I can. So much has been taken away from me or governed by forces known and unknown, I have to be hold on to what I have and what I am for as long as possible, even owning up to my failures and weaknesses while continuing to strengthen my resolve. I did a lotta thinkin' in that 40 minute train ride.
But damn if I didn't get to the Fox Tower Cinema in the nick of time. So I missed the ten to twelve trailers Regal plays before each feature. I made it, sucka.
And the movie was exactly what I wanted it to be. STAN AND OLLIE is an unpretentious slice of Hollywood life about the final years of Laurel and Hardy as they take a live stage through Great Britain for one last hurrah. It's very straight forward without much revelation but minus the cheap sentimentality that usually mars such a project. However, it's not without its touching moments, prompting me to tear up a couple of times since my love for these guys is deep-rooted in my psyche. It also made me think of my best friend Max who I've known longer than these two guys knew each other. These days, the smallest of triggers can cause the waterworks to begin and I take everything personally.
Back to the movie. I have to hand to the two stars. A film such as this rises and falls on its casting. Steve Coogan and John C. Reilly nailed it. Reilly in heavy makeup is the absolute personification of Oliver Hardy, the vocal stylings alone are perfection. The humanity of this lovable lug comes through in every detail. I thought Coogan might be too abrasive as Stan Laurel, but he softened his approach and gave him a quiet strength tempered with melancholia as he tries to maintain his comic persona. In a film I regretted from the outset after that THREE STOOGES debacle a few years back (the TV movie is not half-bad, though) I am so glad I picked STAN AND OLLIE as my birthday movie this year. Kudos to director Jon S, Baird as well for nary a false note contained within.
On the ride home, the Max train was packed to the rafters (are there rafters on a Max train?) with early evening commuters. I had the offer of a seat at the half-way point, but gave it to a woman instead. Her seatmate complimented me on my chivalry, even giving me a double shot when I repeated the same gesture a couple of stops later. She said there's not not enough guys like me in the world anymore. I told her we were a dying breed. Before I disembarked, I leaned over to inform her that this was my 64th birthday, prompting some greetings from her and those I gave my seat up for that trip home. Aw shucks.
I had a lilt in my walk as I headed back, I gave Max a call down in California since he sent me a message as well, told him about the film and what it meant for he and me. When I returned, I fielded calls from my grandchildren and family members hither and yon, always a confidence booster. I finished my night with a special dinner prepared by my honey, always cooked with love making it the best meal I've ever had...again.
A good birthday all around. I feel good about me. Maybe I'm not so bad after all. I didn't think I was, but it's nice for someone to agree with me. And nobody sang, make reference to or sent a link to that goddamn Beatles song. No, not that one. The other.
For that alone, I am truly grateful and everything else is delicious gravy.
