Such an interesting read, Davis' book combines several of my favorites: historical fiction, mystery, architecture, art and art history.
Alternating between the 1920s and 1930s and the 1960s, the author easily moves between two main characters without the reader feeling like its watching a tennis game.
And the ability to convey the grandeur and beauty of art and architecture without the use of photography or illustration is an art in and of itself.
Weave between all of this a fascinating story about women's place in the art world without banging a righteous and indignant drum.
Basically, a family drama with a dose of supernatural dropped into it in the form of a cello.
Not a fan of people who trash Alcoholics Anonymous, especially when taking its very concepts and distorting them for their own gain. This flies directly in the face of the principles of anonymity, on which Alcoholics Anonymous is based.
The book was somewhat interesting, despite the ill-informed AA references. But there wasn't enough supernatural to warrant the supernatural.
And there was too many unanswered questions: what happened to Evan? Why did the oaths and magic work? Does the father ever play again? Do what happened to the relationship between the father and the music store owner?
"A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood" is about a revolution to change the world, one person at a time. In fact, Mr. Rogers, with an education in ministry, knew that to effectuate change, he had to reach the children. And so he chose public media.
I was a little too old to have grown up with Mr. Rogers. So I was familiar with the skepticism that the protagonist displayed when told that the topic of his next investigation piece was to be the children's TV show host, Mr. Rogers.
I remember watching bits of Mr. Rogers when I was eight or nine and thinking, "is this guy for real?" By then, I was an already jaded kid that was growing up in a dysfunctional family. So when Lloyd Vogel (Matthew Rhys) scoffs at Rogers' (Tom Hanks) sing-song voice and hand puppets, I was right there with him.
The next thing that I noticed in the film was the extension of the townscape to depict the transition from Vogel's world to Roger's world. What I mean is that on Mr. Roger's TV show, it traditionally opens with an overview of a model village in which Mr. Roger's neighborhood is located. In the film, though, this townscaped village extends beyond Mr. Roger's neighborhood and transitions to New York. So we see model planes flying into a model NYC and over the Manhattan skyline.
It became clear to me then that what I was watching was the conflict between Vogel's world view and Roger's world view and wondering which world view would survive.
Typically, when a story introduces these kinds of collisions between world views, there is obvious cause for dramatic conflict. But what is unusual in this film is that the conflict between Vogel and Rogers never gives rise to any violence or vitriol. Instead, Rogers is like the steady stroke that sluices through his daily swims. He is steadfast; earnest; serene. There is never any anger; never any judgment. Just a warm wall of ever-present love.
It is apparent that the role of Mr. Rogers was hard for Hanks. He is not a naturally introverted, quiet person: he is exuberant, dynamic. So for him to slow down enough to play the mild-mannered, reserved Rogers was difficult-- it is especially noticeable in the opening scene. He is just a little too eager; too on the nose. But he settles in and I soon forgot it was him.
Rhys was terrific at the surly, hardboiled journalist. And one of my favorites, Chris Cooper, plays Rhys's estranged father so beautifully; with anguish, regret and love.
This movie astonished me. I was prepared to admire it, as I have come to appreciate the genius of Fred Rogers as I have gotten older. But I was not prepared to be fall in love with Fred Rogers.
If ever an American deserves to be canonized as a saint, Fred Rogers, along with Dorothy Day, would get my vote.
In my bid to read all Pulitzer novels from the 2000s, I have read some excellent books this year, but Becoming by Michelle Obama has become my favorite.
Mrs. Obama's book brought me to tears, made me laugh out loud, let me see myself in her, and brought me the same singing hope I had during the Obamas' presidency.
When I was six and seven years old, I made my way through a volumed set of bound books that described the childhoods of our founding fathers and mothers. It stirred a sense of patriotism and love for our government that led me to the Girl Scouts and, eventually, the law.
For me, Michelle Obama's story nudged this same internal touchstone and then meshed other well-loved genres: a Horatio Alger coming-of-age novel, the secret, sweet stir of a romance and the tense, ambitious political thriller, all written in the pop-culture language of a the smartest and savviest mommy blogger.
Articulate and with great craftsmanship, the story is well plotted and well paced. Told in chronological order, we watch a young girl become a professional woman and see the world through her extraordinary perspective.
To learn that her perspective is not so far from mine was heartening and gratifying. Both of us raised in middle class, minority families that knew that education was the code that led to equality, she, too, had a father that died too young from multiple sclerosis. She, too, would become a lawyer who would often be the only woman and the only minority in the room. She, too, would struggle with the balance of a law career and living a normal life.
Then I watched her fall in love, marry and then stand by the man that would lead our country for eight years. It was enlightening to see Barack Obama, our country and our world's leaders through her gaze.
It was a privilege to read her book and I would advocate everyone, but especially all women, to read this extraordinary book.
Joon-ho Bong is fast becoming one of my favorite directors. His latest, Parasite, won the Cannes Film Festival's Palme d'Or, proving that I'm not alone in my thinking.
Clever, beautiful and genre-bending, this film stars Kang-ho Song, who plays the patriarch of a poverty-stricken family that includes actors So-dam Park, Woo-sik Choi and Hye-jin Jang. Song is a favorite of Bong's and has appeared in five out of Bong's eight films.
This is a film about a poverty-stricken but clever family that entrenches themselves into a wealthy home. One by one, each gets the next hired into the "castle in the sky" through trickery and cunning. The wealthy family, with an air of naïveté, glides through life, tossing decisions, groceries and orders with abandon into their shopping cart of a life, with little thought towards consequences.
There are real moments of humor--possibly my favorite was Jang's imitation of the North Korean dictator.
One of the most perilous scenes was wrought with a tunnel of a stairway that radiates the unknown and the unacknowledged. Turning metaphors on their heads, a tunneled staircase with its looming light is a portent of doom and water becomes a carrier of stench and disease. Trigger warning: if you were a victim of Harvey or similar events, beware.
With Escher-like stairs taking us up and down between subterraneans and the high place this mythopoeic warning cautions us of the space between the haves and the have nots and what exactly supports who.
Moving along at a fast clip, Downton Abbey, the movie, hits all the high points: the monarchy, the peerage, the advent of industrialism and the cognizance of homosexuality.
A fairytale of manners and silver, a sealed, handwritten letter leads us back in time, sending us to the Downton Abbey morning room.
We watch the letter pass from castle, to train, to jiggedy, gilded mail truck, to cyclist until the letter is passed from the young butler, Thomas Barrow (Robert James-Collier), into the hands of the Earl of Grantham, Robert Crowley (Hugh Bonneville). As is true with so many dutiful domestics, the servants know of the letter well before their masters.
The letter deftly brings the familiar Crowley family and their servants into frame and sets the stage for the impending arrival of King George V and Queen Mary in a fortnight.
The Downton Abbey series, which thrilled, yet baffled, American audiences with its foreign manners and affectations, rises to even greater heights of pomp and circumstance with the impending monarchical visitation.
The movie again pits the familiar foils of Dowager Countess of Grantham, Violet Crawley (Maggie Smith), against Lady Merton, Isobel Crawley Grey (Penelope Wilton); and Thomas Barrow (Robert James-Collier) against Mr. Carson (Jim Carter).
But before the arrival of the King and Queen, a feud erupts between the Downton servants and the royal staff. Americans may be astonished by the seeming pettiness of British class and manners, property and duty. But, remember, England is a small, island country--no bigger than Alabama--where honor and duty create invisible walls that define one's personal space, and manners are the social language of class.
Taking place in a period between WWI and WWII, we witness to the fraying edges of the British class system. This is most apparent in the storyline between Cora Crawley's widower Tom Branson (Allen Leech) and the Queen's lady's maid's maid, Lucy Smith (Tuppence Middleton).
The ending, neatly wrapped up in a perfect bow, pairs all off like the parade into Noah's ark. And like Noah, there will likely be a dawn to a new day and, perhaps, another sequel.
A pleasure to watch, with lovely settings, pastoral views and a rousing soundtrack, the movie is comforting in its predictability. And like all good fairytales, it is a story deftly grounded in hopeful morality.
More contemplative than I anticipated, The Farewell is a beautifully wrought film that considers the merging of cultures.
It is the story of a family's decision to protect their grandmother from the knowledge of her cancer diagnosis.
What emerges is the coalescing of American independence with Chinese interdependence.
And the surprise is Awkwafina: a talented actress with great range. It was interesting to learn that she actually filmed this prior to her two subsequent films, Crazy Rich Asians and Oceans Eight.
A movie worth experiencing again to better remember the memories Gan presents.
Capturing this film is like recalling a dream: lacking transitions and sequences, it is difficult to explain.
It plays a bit like an Odyssey, with pivotal, broken characters. I couldn't help but think of The Wizard of Oz, particularly with it's spinning house and secondary presentation of an alternate reality.
But it also reminded me of Blue Velvet, with it's Lynch-like color palette, but with more muted tones.
And there was an element of Hitchcock, with it's juxtaposition of ordinary elements to create a sense of dread. Watching the light bulb get screwed into the light fixture was agonizing--i could barely stand it (gave a whole new meaning to how many does it take to screw in a light bulb?). There were several scenes like that, which caused me to feel that horrible dread that can arise in dreams.
Don't go into this film expecting a plot line or resolution. This film is a meditation. And be prepared: you won't find inner peace.
It is beautiful and extraordinary and I am glad I saw it. In the end, you may be thinking, "there's no place like home."
I have come to expect a lot from the little Pixar film that could. Toy Story, once seen as a funny, quirky one-off, is now elevated to an artistic masterpiece whose story transcends to fable.
Toy Story 4 examines fundamental notions of loyalty, conscience and purpose, and takes and makes the Duke Kaboom leap from comedic to authentic. Do I see shades of Pinocchio here?
Woody, played by Tom Hanks, has been shelved by his new child, Bonnie. She still keeps him but pulls away his Sherriff's star and assigns it, in a very girl power move, to Deputy Jessie (Joan Cusack). He's also been demoted from running the toys after Dolly (Bonnie Hunt) becomes Mayor of the toys.
**SPOILERS AHEAD**
Lay-offs
So he starts hanging onto the only function he sees left: make sure Bonnie makes it through Kindergarten orientation. So despite the rules, he sneaks out to school with her. And when a bully throws her crafts in the trash, Woody rescues them out of the trash and leaves it for Bonnie. From the debris, Bonnie creates Forky (Tony Hale) and puts her name on the "sole" of his foot, and brings Forky to life. In this part of the story, Woody's purpose is to be a Change Manager.
Is it called "recycle" or "re-purpose"?
Forky's subsequent identity crisis is a hilarious examination of what it means to repurpose something or someone. Woody stays by Forky's side, talking him down from the trash can ledge, watching him through the night so Forky doesn't hurl himself into the abyss, chasing after him when Forky attempts to turn himself into litter. Then Woody's purpose is to being a Life Coach.
Maybe losing is better than winning?
But the biggest and longest story arc is when Woody is trying to get Forky back to Bonnie. He sees his lost love's light--Bo Peep's lamp--in an antique store called Second Chance. Woody yearns to see Bo (Annie Potts) and sneaks through the store's mail slot to get to her. There he runs into Gabby Gabby (Christina Hendricks) and her minion(s) Vincent in a very "Rosemary's Baby"-like baby carriage.
As an aside, I think Vincent is an homage to William Goldman's movie, "Magic", starring Anthony Hopkins, Ann Margaret and William Burgess. Goldman, famous for "Butch Cassidy & and the Sundance Kid", "Marathon Man" and countless other screenplays and books, made the ventriloquist's dummy the trope that it is today. It is, hands down, one of the creepiest movies I've ever seen. Once you see it, it will become obvious where Hannibal Lector came from.
Also let me just say that having Bo play as a fearless leader and super hero, with a cape, jumpsuit and an avenging shepherd's staff, is another fine gesture towards girl power. And that the villainous Gabby Gabby has a broken voice box that drives her to what appears to be cruel lengths is fundamentally in love with the unattainable. Her duality is aptly summed up in her name, much like the 80s rocker, Lisa Lisa.
The Antique Shop / Adventure Land story arc is a tale of loyalties and loves. Does Woody's purpose transcend love? Or does Woody even still have purpose? What does it mean to be lost? Or can you repurpose yourself? Or does someone else need to help you find that new purpose?
These big, esoteric questions are wrapped up into a tale about toys. A bit heady, mind you, but with as clear a gaze as Gabby looking for love in all of the wrong places.
The Masterpiece by Fiona Davis
