THREE (OR IS IT FOUR?) - MOVIE WEEKEND

For the first time in a long time, I saw three movies this weekend. Lack of time is one reason, but the paucity of interesting movies is probably the bigger reason. Anyway, we were let go from work early on Friday because it was Easter weekend, so I spent the afternoon at the movies. First, I went to see The Namesake, which was directed by Mira Nair. She’s a very good filmmaker, probably best known for directing Mississippi Masala and Monsoon Wedding, but she also has films like Vanity Fair on her resume. The Namesake begins in 1977 when Ashima meets her soon-to-be husband Ashoke. After the arranged marriage, they move to New York City where Ashoke is an assistant professor at an unnamed local college. Over the years, they have two children, a girl named Sonia and her older brother, Gogol, the namesake in the film’s title. It’s a wonderfully told story of family and the experience of blending the old ways with the sometimes perplexing customs of an adopted country. But it’s also very universal story that anyone can relate to. How do you honor your parents and family but also be true to yourself and your time? We each have to answer that question for ourselves as we mature and for those who become parents, to find a way to allow your kids to be themselves but hopefully staying true to the lessons you instilled.

That evening, my friend Carol and I went to see The Hoax. It’s based upon the true story of how in the early 1970’s a writer named Clifford Irving managed to convince the publishing world that he had the permission of reclusive billionaire Howard Hughes to write an authorized biography. At that time, Hughes had taken his reclusiveness to a level that had never been seen before or since. And the lengths that Irving was willing and able to go to perpetuate this hoax were astounding. Unfortunately, knowing that he eventually is caught in his lie diminishes film’s impact. That said, it’s still funny, involving and there’s a revelation near the end which, if true, is mind blowing. All the performances are terrific, but special kudos to Richard Gere, Alfred Molina and Marcia Gay Harden for their work.

And then last night I joined a number of my former co-workers at the Mission Tiki Drive-in to see Grindhouse. My friend and fellow blogger Dennis, has been going there for several years, and he’s been inviting me to join the gang there for well over a year. This is the first time that the movie and my schedule allowed for this to happen. But I’ve wanted to check out the drive-in and looked forward to seeing some folks that I haven’t seen very often in the six years since I left Captions, Inc. The nice people at Mission Tiki were kind enough to open up early so that we could gather and socialize before the hoards of regular customers arrived. So we hung out and ate various concoctions from the concession stand in the chilly and overcast evening. I don’t know what the actual temperature was, but it was chilly enough that most folks brave enough to sit outside their cars like we were huddled under coats and blankets. It wasn’t nearly as cold as the 39 degree night that Dennis, Steve and Paul endured last fall, but it certainly wasn’t warm out there. We even had to deal with a light sprinkling that began just as the first trailer started rolling. Happily, the precipitation stopped about 45 minutes into the movie.

Frankly, if not for this event, I don’t think that I would have made it a point to see this film -- or more accurately, films. You see, Grindhouse is actually two movies lovingly filmed and told in the style of 70’s slasher/exploitation films. First up was Planet Terror, directed by Robert Rodriguez -- a typical, nonsensical, inexplicable zombie movie. I admit that I spent good deal of the film hiding behind my blanket or with my eyes closed. Lots of blood, cheesy acting, and lots of downright silliness that had me laughing out loud many times. After a brief intermission, next up was Death Proof, directed by Quentin Tarantino. This one was much more talkie, as one would expect in a Tarantino film. Not nearly as bloody nor as high a body count, but it had its moments as well. It’s topped off by a truly amazing sequence with two cars on a country road. Really amazing stuff.

After saying good-bye to everyone, I pulled out of the parking lot and immediately got lost. The only good thing is that I realized that I was going the wrong way before I’d driven all the way to Riverside, and thanks to my Thomas Guide map, found my way back to the correct freeway and sailed home. It was after 1AM before I went to sleep, but as usual, woke up at 6:45AM. Someday maybe I’ll once again be able to sleep in, but not today. As a result of my lack of sleep, I suspect that this will be a bit incoherent in places, so I hope you’ll forgive me. After I’m done with this, I intend to spend the rest of the day doing nothing more strenuous than raising the TiVo remote!

BONUS MOVIE COVERAGE: A couple of weeks ago, I went to see 300. It’s just as absurd and bloody as you’d expect it to be, but it does have one saving grace. Never before on film have there been assembled so many gorgeous male bodies wearing nothing more bikini bottoms and capes. That alone makes it worth seeing. Enjoy!

My Friend Brittany

Four years ago this weekend, one of my closest friends died unexpectedly, just two days after her 37^th birthday. I’d known Brittany for almost 20 years. Unfortunately, I hadn’t seen much of her in the weeks leading up to her death. She had had a bad cold that she couldn’t seem to shake and as I was in the middle of chemotherapy and particularly vulnerable to infections, we just hadn't seen each other. Brittany’s birthday was a couple of days after my last chemo treatment, and she wanted to get together with some friends at the Farmer’s Market. Based upon my three previous treatments, I thought I would be feeling up to it. But this time around the chemo really kicked my butt and there was no way that I could go. I called her to tell her but left a message on voice mail when she didn't pick up. Unbeknownst to me, she’d called my cell phone to tell me that she was canceling; she wasn’t feeling up to it either. The gathering was to be Saturday and I got the horrible news from Brittany’s mother on Tuesday morning. After not hearing from her for a couple of days, Brittany’s stepfather drove up to LA from Orange County to check on her and he’s the one that found her in her apartment. Despite the fact that an autopsy was performed, there was no conclusive evidence that showed what caused her death.

We met standing in line for an overnight screening of the Star Wars trilogy over Labor Day weekend in 1984. She was about to begin film school at USC to pursue her dream of being a filmmaker. In the late 90’s she produced three independent features. (And if you look closely about 30 minutes in to Goat on Fire and Smiling Fish, you’ll get a quick glimpse of yours truly.)

I still think about her all the time. Working in and around the entertainment business as I do, there’s rarely a day that goes by when I don’t see something or read something that I would love to talk to her about. She was savvy, smart, funny, honest, direct, spiritual and like many people who pursue the Hollywood dream, not nearly as successful as she deserved to be. I wish that she had lived to see all her dreams come true, but I’ll always be grateful that she was a part of my life.