Weekend at the Zoo

My brother, sister-in-law and niece came to NYC this weekend to celebrate my birthday with me. I was initially very disappointed that my boyfriend bailed out at the last minute (something about having to work on Saturday -- clearly this whole "employment" thing is overrated). But it worked out really well. Without him, the four of us were at full liberty to explore Prospect Park and Central Park at our own pace.

At the Zoo, the monkeys were a huge hit with my niece, who called them "mama" (this is not a reflection on my sister-in-law) and kept crying out excitedly "Ooo, ooo, ooo!" (My niece does much better with animal sounds than with animal names.)

The monkeys stayed on a rocky island and mini archipelago, all enclosed by a wall. As we watched, the monkeys retrieved a bound journal or sketchbook that was floating near their main island. After an initial tussle, the biggest, baddest monkey ended up with custody of the book. He opened it and began flipping through, looking for all the world like a patriarch reading the diary of one of his errant offspring. This image soon ended, as he tore out several pages and ate them. The paper turned out to be a real treat for the monkeys, much more exciting, I suppose, than boring old bananas.

The zookeepers stood by glumly during the proceedings. Apparently, although the paper will probably make the monkeys ill, the keepers can do nothing to take the paper away fom them. It seems that these monkeys are quite vicious, and carry herpes B. So the keepers can only deal with the monkeys when they (the keepers) are wearing full-out protective gear, when the monkeys come in for the night to a controllable area. The keepers noted that -- having gorged themselves on paper -- the monkeys were unlikely to come in for their supper that evening.

After a tour of my office and a long journey home on the subway, we stayed in, enjoying Thai food and white wine.

The Constant Gardener (2005)

I freely admit that The Constant Gardener went on too long. There were too many flashbacks to how Justin (our hero) and Tessa (his murdered wife) met. Major plot devices were contrived along the lines of Swiss cheese. Not to mention that the Big Pharma bad guys are entirely too easy a target. And there really wasn't enough gardening or constancy on the part of the hero to justify the title.

So why did I love this movie? Three things. First, you have to realize that the Big Pharma story is just a means to an end: the revelation of the true nature of a marriage after it has ended. Second, I loved the Tessa character -- she was passionate and lived life to the fullest, and drew men into her orbit easily without even trying to. Yet she was true to her husband, and loved him madly. Third, the African backdrop was beautiful and harrowing, so true to life.

What more do you want?

A Sure Thing

Well, after yesterday's debacle (The Skipped Parts), I figured it was time to watch a movie that was guaranteed to be good, a sure thing. So of course I rented (what else) The Sure Thing.

I dimly recall that one of my ex-boyfriends loooooooooved this movie, but told me it would be too sexy for me or something. But maybe I am confusing it with the movie that was made from "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?"

In any event, it was a cute movie, and better than I expected. John Cusack is pretty good, though he always plays the same role. I listened to part of the director's commentary -- apparently he was (at age 34) going through the same revelation as the Cusack character does in the movie.

The Skipped Parts (2000)

Now, here's what happens when you pick out movies at random at Blockbuster. You end up watching something along the lines of The Skipped Parts, featuring Drew Barrymore, Jennifer Jason Leigh, a very young Mischa Barton, and Bug Hall (who, despite his unfortunate name, reminds me of a guy I've had a massive crush on ... I can absolutely see it, just fast-forward him 15-20 years). Ms. Barrymore plays a role which is oddly reminiscent of her role in Donnie Darko.

The movie is enjoyable enough to watch, and it has its moments, but it is a little off.

It's trying too hard to be quirky, for one thing. 14-year-old Sam Callahan (Bug Hall) has a controlling grandfather and an out-of-control mom, Lydia, who doesn't want to be a mom. Sam doesn't know who his dad is, but thinks he has narrowed the possibilities down to the five photographs he found in his mom's panty box (which is literally a cardboard box). Grandpa, the keeper of the trust fund, banishes Sam and Lydia from their home in Missouri (or is it "Carolina"?) to the hinterlands (which turns out to be Wyoming), but his true desire is to send Sam to military school.

In Wyoming, Lydia rapidly hooks up with Hank and obtains a new out-of-control best friend, Dolores. The naive Sam, with some helpful tips from his mom, hooks up with his equally naive classmate, Maurey. Mom's tips include exactly one form of birth control -- the children should stop having sex when Maurey gets her first period.

By way of a startling contrast with his mom, Sam himself, it turns out, wants to be a parent. Which is fortunate, because he knocks up the seemingly pre-pubescent Maurey (she gets pregnant without ever menstruating, and she ends up not getting an abortion when she discovers her mom is a fell0w patient at the abortion clinic.)

So, by the end of the movie, Maurey and her baby daughter move in with Lydia, Sam, and Hank, Maurey's mom goes to the nuthouse, grandpa's evil plan to send Sam to military school is thwarted when Lydia gets a job at the local diner (apparently ousting the former waitress who was so nice to her -- or maybe business has expanded?), and ... are you still following this? There's way more quirkiness left unexplored, but that should give you a general sense of it.

It is not clear why the movie is set in 1963, and the inane commentary (by Mischa Barton?) sheds no light on this or any other issue.

Maurey's boyfriend is one of many perplexing characters. You might think that Sam (her best friend and the father of her child, who is living with her by the end of the movie) is her boyfriend. Not so. She is dating a seeming star of the football team (remember, they are all young teenagers). But she doesn't want to have sex with her boyfriend, or share any special places with him (e.g., her favorite Wyoming beach). Those are things she'd rather do with a good friend, so she can avoid heartbreak. Allllllllrighty then. We won't even go into his apparent propensity for violence, his gratuitously broken arm (apparently violence runs in the family), and his refusal to dump Maurey after Sam impregnates her.

It seems like the movie is trying to make some point about love, sex, and relationships -- although the point remains impossible to pin down. Lydia and Maurey both attempt to have sex without a "real" relationship. Of course, they end up choosing guys who are madly in love with them (oops).

Views from the Office

Since I spend a lot of time there, here are a few views from the office (actually from a conference room, I snagged a desk on a different, quieter side of the building).



For those who like coffee:


A motivational billboard? Or an ad for a cameraphone? You decide!


An ode to our mayor. With a presence like this, how can he not be elected mayor for life (as his predecessor certainly hoped to be):


My new favorite subway line, er, musical:

Pilot's License for a Toddler

This weekend I took my 17-month-old niece apple-picking (where she showed a worrisome predilection for bad apples).

We also went sliding down a double slide (she was a bit uncertain about going solo, but I can see she will be a huge toboggan fan).

And we went flying! Yes, the highlight of the weekend, without question, was the game "airplane" (or as she calls it, for reasons known only to her, "mimi"). For those who may be unfamiliar with the tradition, you grip the hands/wrists of a small child with a firm grip, then spin around -- clockwise or counterclockwise, as suits your fancy -- while raising your arms and thus allowing the child to fly through the air via the miracle of centrifugal force. (Okay, I lied, it's really centripetal force).

I am pretty sure the FAA does not regulate this. After her first flight, I checked my niece for signs of undue dizziness, fear, jetlag, etc., and she seemed none the worse for wear. To the contrary, she was all smiles, jumping up and down and clutching my hands to encourage further flights.

We eventually worked out an enhancement to the traditional game -- I would take a few steps backward at first so she could start running forward (i.e., taxi for takeoff) before she launched.

In case anyone is considering other variations, I recommend against spinning a child around by her feet. It is not likely to be popular. My theory is that she felt a lot safer when I held her hands, because she was able to keep constant eye contact with me as we spun around.

* * *
Although we had a great time playing airplane, I actually traveled to and from Boston by train rather than airplane -- the Acela Express is more dignified and cheaper than traveling by airplane, not to mention more convenient and more relaxing.

I have also traveled from Chinatown-NYC to Chinatown-BOS on the Fung Wah Bus, which is a lot cheaper, but more cramped. (The bus is fine as long as you do not really need to get up from your seat during the journey.) Of course, there are multiple Chinatowns in New York City; the Fung Wah Bus leaves from Chinatown in Manhattan.

Flirtation

I have signed up for a class on Flirtation. Unfortunately, it appears to be a fairly advanced class, and I could really use some remedial assistance. With my work schedule, it looks like I will only be able to attend 50-75% of the classes, and with my courage level, it looks like I will probably do 10% of the homework (the portion that doesn't actually require me to interact with others). Yes, luckily for me, the class involves a certain amount of movie-watching, something I have a natural aptitude for. Our first two movies were Gilda, starring Rita Hayworth, and a snippet from Pandora and the Flying Dutchman, starring Ava Gardner.

From what little I have been able to understand, flirtation is ordinarily about the pursuit of pleasure. So I was a bit surprised by the Flirtation class homework. Rita Hayworth as Gilda is unquestionably sexy and seductive in the movie, but she is not really flirting, per se -- she is seeking revenge. Specifically, she is trying to drive her ex-lover literally mad with jealousy by going after other guys. (She is not actually flirting with the other guys, even when she is dancing seductively with them, because her entire focus is on her ex-lover.)

Further complicating matters, in Flirtation class last week, we watched an excerpt from Pandora and the Flying Dutchman, in which Ava Gardner (as Pandora) lets one love-sick man commit suicide over her, and then later that night -- after toasting some marshmallows -- goes off with another woman's boyfriend and convinces him to destroy his most prized possession to prove his love for her (i.e., for Pandora, not the girlfriend). These things give Pandora no pleasure; she is simply enjoying her ability to exercise power over men. And I'm not sure she even enjoys the power trip that much -- she is just curious how far she can push any given man who crosses her path. She is running an experiment, if you will.

So. If morality is the art of balancing short-term pleasures (of any type, including sex, food, television shows, etc.) against long-term benefits (including self-respect, health, lasting happiness), then this Flirtation class that I am taking, which puts pleasure above all other things, is almost stunningly amoral. It is a truly radical philosophy, as radical as Christianity, in its own way.

But the radicalness of Christianity and its interaction (and hopefully, compatibility) with the pleasure-centered philosophy of my flirtation class will have to await discussion in another post.

The other movies assigned to teach us about flirtation are: (i) Harold and Maude, a real favorite of mine, with a great soundtrack from the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens; (ii) The Fabulous Baker Boys, which I remember as beautiful but somewhat depressing; and (iii) Something Wild, with Melanie Griffith, which I have never seen.

Hudson River Bike Path

Under the glorious fall sunshine I skated along the Hudson River Bike Path from 14th St. up to a little past 79th St. After I passed the 79th St. Boathouse, I stopped and watched the water for a while on a park bench. Above me, the muffled sounds of rushing traffic; below me, the gentle clinking of moored boats. The sun was dipping lower and lower in the sky, so I went up to the 79th St. Boathouse for dinner and drinks to watch the sun set.

The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005)

I never planned on seeing an exorcism movie. I missed the original with Linda Blair, and however many rip-offs or remakes have flowed from it. So how was it that I ended up watching this one (allegedly inspired by a true story)?

Well, after work I headed down from Times Square to K-Town for dinner and a movie with some Redeemer types. Although the original plan was to see Flightplan, we quickly ruled that out (it was panned even by the free daily papers, am New York and Metro New York, not to mention Miss Lettuce herself). So we headed back to Times Square after dinner to see what was playing at the multi megaplexes. And the only semi-tolerable movie playing at the time we arrived was The Exorcism of Emily Rose.

EER was interesting, and also creepy, but not as creepy (or scary) as I expected, thank goodness. I slept soundly last night, right through the "demonic" hour of 3 a.m.

But in all honesty the burning question after seeing EER is: What's up with the judge? At times, she comes across as very sensible and fair, cutting right through the baloney on both sides. However, her rulings are a bit whimsical (no Daubert/Kumho Tire-style factors for her, when she's deciding whether to admit dubious "expert" testimony on a lark), and she allows the foreman of the jury to provide her the jury's purported sentencing recommendation with nary a question to ensure that it is, in fact, the jury's recommendation rather than the foreman's. (Not that the recommendation would carry any weight in any event.) Is the judge really so confused that she welcomes the jury's sentencing recommendation -- and adopts it without hearing from prosecution or defense? Strange, indeed.

It seems also that the defense managed to track down an expert witness overnight during the course of the trial, just in time for the first day of the defense case. And the expert was available the next morning, having fully read the case file. Very impressive.

You may be wondering what all this has to do with exorcism. It doesn't. EER is really a courtroom drama movie, with a few sensational flashbacks. Which the film-makers apparently didn't appreciate. When the movie closes, defense counsel has just turned down a partnership with her firm based on her sensational "victory" in a pro bono case. (By contrast, I was told I would get "new business demerits" if I brought in new pro bono cases referred by my incarcerated client.) The movie-makers tell us about the fate of the priest and the effect of Emily Rose's story. But not a word about the fate of our heroine, the agnostic lawyer! Did she continue to practice law, and if so, where? Did she go to another firm? hang out her own shingle? move in-house? apply for clerkships? Inquiring minds want to know. Presumably she remained an agnostic, despite the evidence of her own senses about a demonic presence that infested her house at 3 am every day of the trial....

All About Eve (1950)

I saw "All About Eve" at the Chelsea Clearview Cinema in New York City. I'd seen it once or twice before in its entirety, and I've also seen clips at the American Museum of the Moving Image in Queens. The wit remains razor sharp and I loved the movie, as always, but this time I really noticed the ravages of time on Bette Davis's face. I was just two rows away from the screen -- and far to the side -- so there was some distortion forced by that angle. Then again, I'm older now than I was and maybe more sensitive to these things than I was before.

The movie-watching experience itself was also a trip, as it turns out. I'd been wondering whether it might be a campy gay set-up, given that this is a classic movie showing at a mainstream theater in Chelsea. Sure enough, the drag queen Hedda Lettuce was there to introduce the film, give out random door prizes along with a running commentary on the event, the decor, the prize winners and the prizes themselves. Miss Lettuce was perfectly fabulous, of course, and very funny. The audience was involved but respectful (applauding at favorite scenes rather than, for instance, throwing things at the screen or reciting all the lines or providing running commentary).

A closing thought - "All About Eve" follows the same formula as many romantic comedies in that the heroine does and says all the wrong things, but still wins her man in the end. If only life were like that.