I have not accomplished a great deal today but I did do some work on the novel and took Kenya to the village with me. My intention was to buy milk and then go for a walk some place where the roads were less icy than here ... more amenable to walking. Kenya got all dressed up in her new scarf and looked pretty spiffy.
We bought the milk and found a great spot between two sunny fields but as soon as I got out the car the wind caught me and practically tore my jacket off. The windbreaker broke no wind! I drove home.
Enroute we saw a flock of shaggy sheep and a pack of Alsatians lying peacefully on their dog house roofs. Then we saw a road sign showing a husky crossing. Just as I was thinking how cute that was, two deer bounded across the road.
When we got back to our parking space I unloaded the groceries and let Kenya loose, and then we visited Tanya (my nice neighbour) and I drank tea and ate some home made pumpkin and chocolate chip squares and Kenya got a bunch of loves.
When we came to the house ... my gawd it is treacherous up here today especially wearing rubber boots ... I made three litres of yogurt which will be ready sometime late tonight ... and we curled up and watched Pan's Labyrinth. I worked on the second red sock and Kenya dozed.
I am up here preparing this post because the movie was at that terrible torture scene and I didn't think I could face it just then. I am not sure I can face it at all. I may just do something elsewhere till it is over.
I hope everyone has had as pleasant a Sunday as I have.
Showing posts with label film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label film. Show all posts
Sunday, 8 March 2009
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Kenya's Favourite Movie
Kenya always pays some attention to the movies I watch. I know because she gets very excited whenever a dog appears. And she behaves appropriately. If the dog is snarling she gets angry. If the dog attacks someone, she goes into her own snarly bitchy mode of telling other dogs how they should be behaving. If the dog on the screen is benign, she merely cocks her head and pricks up her ears and walks closer to the screen.
But last night was different. She watched the whole movie. She followed the movement of the horses with her eyes. She was upset by the buffalo stampede. But it was the wolf who fascinated her. You could tell she really wanted to interact with him. There were things he did that annoyed her. She watched very carefully as he slowly, ever so slowly, took the piece of jerky from the man's hand, and then dashed off. And she cried when he was shot.
If you have a dog, rent Dances With Wolves for him or her. Your dog will love it. (I think. Maybe I am the only person who has this kind of dog.)
But last night was different. She watched the whole movie. She followed the movement of the horses with her eyes. She was upset by the buffalo stampede. But it was the wolf who fascinated her. You could tell she really wanted to interact with him. There were things he did that annoyed her. She watched very carefully as he slowly, ever so slowly, took the piece of jerky from the man's hand, and then dashed off. And she cried when he was shot.
If you have a dog, rent Dances With Wolves for him or her. Your dog will love it. (I think. Maybe I am the only person who has this kind of dog.)
Sunday, 8 June 2008
She left her world a better place.
Veronica Guerin is a really tough film based on the life of a very courageous Irish woman who fought to the death for her beliefs. She was a journalist who saw the damage done to children by drugs in Dublin, and went after the drug dealers. They eventually killed her, but they couldn't stop what she had begun, and Irish laws were changed because of her courage. The new laws made it possible to seize the assets of the drug dealers and actually made the dealers subject to law.
I was saddened by her death and by the fact that she left a husband, a mother, a brother and a young son to grieve, but it was her courage that made the tears flow.
She was born the same year as my second daughter, and she was murdered in 1998 ... ten years ago.
She left Dublin a better place.
I was saddened by her death and by the fact that she left a husband, a mother, a brother and a young son to grieve, but it was her courage that made the tears flow.
She was born the same year as my second daughter, and she was murdered in 1998 ... ten years ago.
She left Dublin a better place.
Tuesday, 3 June 2008
A Rainy Rainy Day ... Again
Kenya and I are toasting ourselves by the fire, and I am taking another day's reprieve from dealing with the problem that kept me awake a good bit of the night. I have a somewhat smelly dead raccoon lying in the old basement of the original cottage. He is between a big rock and a some cemented cinder blocks. I have been advised to bury him, but am trying to figure out the logistics of getting him from his almost final resting place to his final one. The dogs surprisingly have left him alone which makes me wonder what killed him. It also makes me a little nervous about dealing with his remains. The dogs have all been vaccinated against rabies but it has been years since I had the series of shots, and the last titre I had done was in 2002, just before I moved to Kenya for six months, when it was determined that I was still protected.
My birthday will go on all week. Marta, Tammy and Sarah are all coming to my pizza party this afternoon/evening. I am having lunch with Christina, a former student, at Chez Eric tomorrow, and on Thursday I am having dinner at my friend Roger's place. Then on the weekend, Remi is coming for a couple of days.
Dad's 100th birthday (and 68th Father's Day) on the 15th has unfortunately fizzled out.
I will go out for the mail and deliver some blackstrap molasses to Rowboat Flo around noon, and will read (an Anne Tyler novel called Morgan is Passing). I like her strange characters and the situations in which she places them.
I may also watch a movie.
The last one I watched was You've Got Mail which I watch a couple of times a year. I really am a romantic at heart I think, and I like that movie because they are humanly flawed people who really like one another. I like that they can open up to one another and discuss their deepest thoughts even before they meet in person. It is what internet dating should be but generally isn't.
So ... a book ... a movie ... a pizza party ... and a postponed burial. Not such a bad way to spend one's birthday!
My birthday will go on all week. Marta, Tammy and Sarah are all coming to my pizza party this afternoon/evening. I am having lunch with Christina, a former student, at Chez Eric tomorrow, and on Thursday I am having dinner at my friend Roger's place. Then on the weekend, Remi is coming for a couple of days.
Dad's 100th birthday (and 68th Father's Day) on the 15th has unfortunately fizzled out.
I will go out for the mail and deliver some blackstrap molasses to Rowboat Flo around noon, and will read (an Anne Tyler novel called Morgan is Passing). I like her strange characters and the situations in which she places them.
I may also watch a movie.
The last one I watched was You've Got Mail which I watch a couple of times a year. I really am a romantic at heart I think, and I like that movie because they are humanly flawed people who really like one another. I like that they can open up to one another and discuss their deepest thoughts even before they meet in person. It is what internet dating should be but generally isn't.
So ... a book ... a movie ... a pizza party ... and a postponed burial. Not such a bad way to spend one's birthday!
Thursday, 29 May 2008
Bobby Jones, Stroke of Genius
I am not a golfer and any time I have watched a golf tournament I have understood what people mean by the term "as interesting as watching paint dry" ... but this is a good movie about a wonderful sportsman, person and golfer. He gains the respect of all in the golfing world and keeps it by remaining an amateur. At one point he is forced to remind an envious professional golfer of the origins of the word amateur. It comes from the Latin verb to love, and embodies the idea of playing for the love of the sport, not for money. His old friend, a sports writer, predicts ... how very accurately... that once money becomes the reason to participate, a sport suffers.
Monday, 26 May 2008
I don't like films in which I dislike the characters ...
I have been watching some pretty second rate films recently (as well as good ones like Bleak House), and what I am realizing is that if I do not like the people in the film I find it painful or boring to watch their lives play out on screen.
The Wedding Crashers was the worst one. I disliked everyone in the movie. I found them crass, opportunistic, power hungry, unkind ... and almost every other negative adjective that could be applied to people.
In Look at Me, many of the characters made me uncomfortable, and the angst and anger in this family controlled by a selfish, unlikeable, angry man was hard to watch.
The Upside of Anger also portrayed a dysfunctional family who were unkind to one another and to themselves, but at least in these last two films, you saw a realistic portrayal of real unhappiness, and justifiable anger.
In the first, a young girl is quite rightly upset by her father's disregard, and in the second, the anger (based on something they all thought had happened) made sense. When they discovered at the end that they had based that anger on an incorrect assumption, they return to being decent human beings with normal warts and flaws.
There was nothing to redeeem The Wedding Crashers, I am afraid. It was an unrealistic movie about nasty people ... a waste of time.
The Wedding Crashers was the worst one. I disliked everyone in the movie. I found them crass, opportunistic, power hungry, unkind ... and almost every other negative adjective that could be applied to people.
In Look at Me, many of the characters made me uncomfortable, and the angst and anger in this family controlled by a selfish, unlikeable, angry man was hard to watch.
The Upside of Anger also portrayed a dysfunctional family who were unkind to one another and to themselves, but at least in these last two films, you saw a realistic portrayal of real unhappiness, and justifiable anger.
In the first, a young girl is quite rightly upset by her father's disregard, and in the second, the anger (based on something they all thought had happened) made sense. When they discovered at the end that they had based that anger on an incorrect assumption, they return to being decent human beings with normal warts and flaws.
There was nothing to redeeem The Wedding Crashers, I am afraid. It was an unrealistic movie about nasty people ... a waste of time.
Saturday, 24 May 2008
A Splitting Headache ... Several Actually ...
Sorry I have not been posting lately. The reasons are the same ones that are giving me the headaches.
1. It took me three hours on the phone, another hour to write a letter and get the documentation Hydro wanted faxed, and another hour to take it into Wakefield and fax it because their line was continually in use. Five hours and the problem is still not resolved. My bank took my money, deposited it in a non-existent Hydro account, and then Hydro told me my bill was overdue. So that was one day and one major headache.
2. The following day the dial-up refused to do anything without bumping me off-line. Headache #2.
3. That was also the day I went to the ByTowne to see a movie with Marta. The movie was a disappointment. One of my favourite novels, The Stone Angel by Margaret Laurence, had been badly translated into a film. The novel is a wonderful sprawling rendition of a life; the film is an awkwardly patched together attempt to capture what perhaps is unmanageable. The filmmaker's changes to time were disconcerting, as was the incorrect aging of the characters. Hagar was far too young for 90; Doris and Marvin far too young for 65; and the age difference between Marvin and John which was perhaps five years suddenly at one point became a twenty year spread. I am usually not as upset by the liberties taken by film makers attempting to move a novel onto the screen, but this was a travesty. Dickens' novels like Bleak House are also big novels, but the BBC did not ruin Bleak House by trying to fit a 400 page novel into 1 1/2 hours. They made a 3 DVD production. Better to have put The Stone Angel aside as undo-able than to seriously damage the integrity of a fine novel. Headache #3.
4. Today Tom and his crew came to finish up the removal of the cottage debris. They did not finish. They did create clouds of bilious, headache-causing smoke ... and on the May 24th weekend. (My neighbours are likely cursing me.) When I went to get them clean boxes out of the big blue bin, it (the bin) ... 4 1/2 feet high here in Quebec ... came crashing down on my head raising a long ridgelike goosebump on the scalp. Ouch! Headaches #4 and 5.
Not a good few days ... but I hope the air, my head, and my schedule will all be clear by tomorrow morning so that I can prepare for company (faithful blog readers all) and post a morning entry.
1. It took me three hours on the phone, another hour to write a letter and get the documentation Hydro wanted faxed, and another hour to take it into Wakefield and fax it because their line was continually in use. Five hours and the problem is still not resolved. My bank took my money, deposited it in a non-existent Hydro account, and then Hydro told me my bill was overdue. So that was one day and one major headache.
2. The following day the dial-up refused to do anything without bumping me off-line. Headache #2.
3. That was also the day I went to the ByTowne to see a movie with Marta. The movie was a disappointment. One of my favourite novels, The Stone Angel by Margaret Laurence, had been badly translated into a film. The novel is a wonderful sprawling rendition of a life; the film is an awkwardly patched together attempt to capture what perhaps is unmanageable. The filmmaker's changes to time were disconcerting, as was the incorrect aging of the characters. Hagar was far too young for 90; Doris and Marvin far too young for 65; and the age difference between Marvin and John which was perhaps five years suddenly at one point became a twenty year spread. I am usually not as upset by the liberties taken by film makers attempting to move a novel onto the screen, but this was a travesty. Dickens' novels like Bleak House are also big novels, but the BBC did not ruin Bleak House by trying to fit a 400 page novel into 1 1/2 hours. They made a 3 DVD production. Better to have put The Stone Angel aside as undo-able than to seriously damage the integrity of a fine novel. Headache #3.
4. Today Tom and his crew came to finish up the removal of the cottage debris. They did not finish. They did create clouds of bilious, headache-causing smoke ... and on the May 24th weekend. (My neighbours are likely cursing me.) When I went to get them clean boxes out of the big blue bin, it (the bin) ... 4 1/2 feet high here in Quebec ... came crashing down on my head raising a long ridgelike goosebump on the scalp. Ouch! Headaches #4 and 5.
Not a good few days ... but I hope the air, my head, and my schedule will all be clear by tomorrow morning so that I can prepare for company (faithful blog readers all) and post a morning entry.
Wednesday, 21 May 2008
Eclectic Mix
Does anyone know what this flower is? Sarah and I saw many of them in the woods. They grow on tree-like bushes and look like Queen Anne's Lace surrounded by strawberry blossoms. They have a bit of an aroma ... neither entirely pleasant nor terrible.The walk in the woods happened during a break in the weather. It has been cold, damp and windy all week. I have been comforting myself with the knowledge that the rain must be good for the clover and day lilies I planted.
Also on the plus side is the fact that the wind drove the hordes of blackflies away for a bit. When it died down again, I found myself breathing them in and swallowing them.
The last few days I have spent more time snuggling up with Kenya on the couch with a fire going watching movies than I have outside. It is supposed to get warmer and sunnier on Friday.
Movies
Born Romantic ... a feel good movie about some disparate people linked by a desire to find love and dance.
Water ... This film reveals how women are denigrated in the name of religion by people who use religion as a means to their own ends. Set in 1938 colonial India as Mahatma Ghandi's rise to power begins, it deals with Brahmins ... but its message is universal, and the film is excellent on many levels.
Notes on a Scandal ... Judi Dench and Cate Blanchett give excellent performances in this very uncomfortable film about two school teachers whose lives become horribly tangled.
Thursday, 15 May 2008
A Morning Fresh with Possibility
I feel good this mid-May morning!
Everywhere the trilliums are glistening with dew, the birds are making the woods a noisy busy place, and one of my plants has burst forth with a flower that is all seed pod. A Canada goose is almost drowning out the birdsong with his honking. My day's plan is to continue to transplant day lilies, and get my knees all muddy again. Calvin says that "if your knees aren't green by the end of the day, you ought to seriously re-examine your life."
Yesterday I had my car in for its spring tune-up. It cost $700 but Grant, the local mechanic, told me that it is a solid little car and I should get 300,000 kilometres out of it. It is 10 ½ years old and has just over half that kilometrage, so the Corolla, Kenya and I may all just make it to the end of my ten years here at the lake.
I got the names of qualified roofers from James up in Kaz and will call them today. While I was there I noticed that the baby finger on James' left hand looked just like mine. I asked him about it and discovered that he'd had his set two years ago at the Hull Hospital. I wonder if the orthopaedic surgeons at that hospital think baby fingers looks better that way!
Such terrible things have happened in Africa.
But some of the most heart rending and uplifting stories also originate there.
Yesterday Marie sent me a letter about a young girl, and asked if Layla's Gala money might be able to help her. Layla immediately responded and said that the $1500 raised at the Gala and whatever money is raised at Philemon's fashion show (likely another $400) may be used to help Linda.
I saw a girl today who I think some of the funds for Daisy might help. She is a student at Mukumu Girls High School. When she was in primary school she fell while carrying water and broke her Right lower leg. Her grandmother refused to take her to the hospital -saying she was just trying to get out of going toschool. When she finally did get treatment she had osteomylitis in the leg. She spent four years (yes 4) at Kakamega General Hospital because her family said she was dead and refused to consider taking her home. A Social Worker at the hospital finally helped her go to Daisy to complete her primary education.
She passed well and was taken at Mukumu. She has been taken today as a CHES student (they had extra money)but she has a very badly contracted leg and must use crutches to get around.
Because of the infection in the bone she has a huge open wound on her shin from knee to ankle which must hurt like hell.
Now comes the good part. She is number one in a class of 386. To top it off she is a cheerful smiling girl who helps others by encouraging them when they get down! I would like to send her to Kijabe Hospital near Nairobi - they are a mission hospital specializing in orthopedics and they might be able to help her. They have a staff of doctors from the USA and other countries who come for short periods. They are not that expensive but we have no source of money for this kind of thing. Do you think some of the Daisy money could go for this? I can't think of a more deserving person to spend it on.
Kakamega Hospital is a forbidding grey building with minimal facilities. Outside its gates the coffin makers line the road. It is a place in which to die - a terrible place for a young girl to spend 4 years.
The Daisy Centre is a cheerful boarding school for disabled children and AIDS orphans in Kakamega.
CHES is a Canadian organization which sends very bright poor girls to high school in a couple of places. They have an office in Kakamega and another in Tanzania. They provide all fees, boarding costs, school uniforms and books for the girls. It is not easy to get acceptance by CHES. They are deluged with requests at the beginning of each school year. Only the very best candidates can be accepted and provided with the four years of high school education. If they are successful they are then given ACCES scholarships to continue their education.
Everywhere the trilliums are glistening with dew, the birds are making the woods a noisy busy place, and one of my plants has burst forth with a flower that is all seed pod. A Canada goose is almost drowning out the birdsong with his honking. My day's plan is to continue to transplant day lilies, and get my knees all muddy again. Calvin says that "if your knees aren't green by the end of the day, you ought to seriously re-examine your life."
Yesterday I had my car in for its spring tune-up. It cost $700 but Grant, the local mechanic, told me that it is a solid little car and I should get 300,000 kilometres out of it. It is 10 ½ years old and has just over half that kilometrage, so the Corolla, Kenya and I may all just make it to the end of my ten years here at the lake.
I got the names of qualified roofers from James up in Kaz and will call them today. While I was there I noticed that the baby finger on James' left hand looked just like mine. I asked him about it and discovered that he'd had his set two years ago at the Hull Hospital. I wonder if the orthopaedic surgeons at that hospital think baby fingers looks better that way!
Last night I fell asleep listening to the rain on the tin roof and my bed became Avonlea. I was certainly glad that watching Anne of Green Gables had been a stronger influence than watching The Last King of Scotland. It was much calmer spending the night in Avonlea than it would have been in Idi Amin's Uganda. 300,000 people were slaughtered during his rule. The movie made clear that his political opposition was wiped out, but when I was in Uganda learning to whitewater kayak, my friend Tim told me that he got rid of anyone who was educated because he feared them. Tim lost his school teacher father during that period.
Such terrible things have happened in Africa.
But some of the most heart rending and uplifting stories also originate there.
Yesterday Marie sent me a letter about a young girl, and asked if Layla's Gala money might be able to help her. Layla immediately responded and said that the $1500 raised at the Gala and whatever money is raised at Philemon's fashion show (likely another $400) may be used to help Linda.
I found a Daisy photo of a girl called Linda. I wonder if she is the same Linda.
Here is Marie's letter, and Linda's story:
I saw a girl today who I think some of the funds for Daisy might help. She is a student at Mukumu Girls High School. When she was in primary school she fell while carrying water and broke her Right lower leg. Her grandmother refused to take her to the hospital -saying she was just trying to get out of going toschool. When she finally did get treatment she had osteomylitis in the leg. She spent four years (yes 4) at Kakamega General Hospital because her family said she was dead and refused to consider taking her home. A Social Worker at the hospital finally helped her go to Daisy to complete her primary education.
She passed well and was taken at Mukumu. She has been taken today as a CHES student (they had extra money)but she has a very badly contracted leg and must use crutches to get around.
Because of the infection in the bone she has a huge open wound on her shin from knee to ankle which must hurt like hell.
Now comes the good part. She is number one in a class of 386. To top it off she is a cheerful smiling girl who helps others by encouraging them when they get down! I would like to send her to Kijabe Hospital near Nairobi - they are a mission hospital specializing in orthopedics and they might be able to help her. They have a staff of doctors from the USA and other countries who come for short periods. They are not that expensive but we have no source of money for this kind of thing. Do you think some of the Daisy money could go for this? I can't think of a more deserving person to spend it on.
Just a small endnote:
Kakamega Hospital is a forbidding grey building with minimal facilities. Outside its gates the coffin makers line the road. It is a place in which to die - a terrible place for a young girl to spend 4 years.
The Daisy Centre is a cheerful boarding school for disabled children and AIDS orphans in Kakamega.
CHES is a Canadian organization which sends very bright poor girls to high school in a couple of places. They have an office in Kakamega and another in Tanzania. They provide all fees, boarding costs, school uniforms and books for the girls. It is not easy to get acceptance by CHES. They are deluged with requests at the beginning of each school year. Only the very best candidates can be accepted and provided with the four years of high school education. If they are successful they are then given ACCES scholarships to continue their education.
Thursday, 1 May 2008
Anne of Green Gables
I love this story still after all these years. This is a film based on one of the books I read and re-read throughout my childhood. The others were The Secret Garden, Heidi, and Little Women.
They were all about girls who were lonely and strong ... girls who had to be independent. Most of the strong women I know grew up hoping to be Anne Shirleys or Jo Marches ... and understood and empathised with Heidi and Mary, the unhappy but ultimately strong little wretch in The Secret Garden.
I will be bringing Anne to Wolfville with me this summer so that Arrow can have one more tool to help her become part of that company of strong young women.
They were all about girls who were lonely and strong ... girls who had to be independent. Most of the strong women I know grew up hoping to be Anne Shirleys or Jo Marches ... and understood and empathised with Heidi and Mary, the unhappy but ultimately strong little wretch in The Secret Garden.
I will be bringing Anne to Wolfville with me this summer so that Arrow can have one more tool to help her become part of that company of strong young women.
Monday, 28 April 2008
Patch Adams
I think we all need to get a little "excessive happiness" in our lives. This is my favourite Robin Williams movie, I think. He is funny but not frenetic, and very very human.
Speaking of doctors: Kenya went in for all her shots today and met three golden retrievers and Wilbur's dad at the clinic. It was a good day, and she was a very good dog. She is almost all ready to be a nomad for the summer.
Speaking of doctors: Kenya went in for all her shots today and met three golden retrievers and Wilbur's dad at the clinic. It was a good day, and she was a very good dog. She is almost all ready to be a nomad for the summer.
Saturday, 26 April 2008
Russell Crowe
What's impressive about Russell Crowe. is that he can play two absolutely disparate characters like a schizophrenic genius in A Beautiful Mind and a family man fighting for survival as a boxer in Cinderella Man with equal credibility and integrity.
He seems to find the heart and the strength within his characters ... and that is what shines through.
He seems to find the heart and the strength within his characters ... and that is what shines through.
Wednesday, 23 April 2008
A Beautiful Mind
What a wonderful film! Hard to watch, but the most convincing portrayal of the realness of schizophrenia imaginable. And, as always, I cried at the end.
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
A Hermit by Choice or Circumstance?
Mid-April and I ranted all day yesterday. I will spare you most of that. I will however tell you about Kenya's bad behaviour which contributed to the rant.
We went to pick up Wilbur for his walk. She leapt out of the car at him, teeth bared. Wilbur did his usual Wilbur thing and smiled. She got over any fears she might have had that Wilbur wanted to share her car seat, and the walk proceeded predictably.
Then we met a Portuguese Water Dog called Lucky. The meeting and greeting went well.
Then Lucky's housemate, Chili Pepper, appeared, and Kenya suddenly went ballistic. No one got hurt but Chili was terrorized, her owner, though he remained calm, must have been furious, and I was mortified. If Kenya were anything but a spayed two year old female, I would have suspected either PMS or menopausal madness. As it was, she was just having a particularly bitchy day.
We returned Wilbur and then headed off to see Remi. I thought it might do them good to play rather than walk in view of what we had already been through. Remi wrestling is always a safe arena for getting rid of frustrations and energy. However; 10 minutes into playtime Kenya caught sight of something in the woods and tore across the road in pursuit with Remi hard on her heels. Whatever it was must turned on them and stood its ground because they both dashed home to the chicken strips I was holding up as bait. I leashed them and went for a walk.
It has been several weeks since I have had garbage pick-up here because big trucks have not been able to get in on account of the snow. Now they can, but the road is so soft that it is in really bad shape and I am bottoming out on it. Large trucks would destroy it completely. I think I am going to have to park elsewhere till spring thaw is over. I hope that Lise will let me park there.
I have to get my garbage cans out to Dan's while I can still get out with the car. I now own four (garbage cans, not cars) and will take two to Dan's. Today will likely be my last trip down the hill unless Henry has too much food for me to carry. I am picking Henry up this afternoon after I take my tax stuff to the accountant.
Yesterday afternoon I watched The Snow Walker and saw once again the profound difference between us and those who live with nature. The young native heroine is so wonderfully accepting of what life hands out ... no childish outbursts of temper and frustration ... no railing at Fate ... she simply does what is necessary to survive. She is willing to wait for the fish or the marmots as long as it takes. Even her death is accepted peacefully.
Henry Miller says that we should accept what life offers unquestioningly; that we shouldn't run away, deny, denigrate or despise anything that life hands us. Rather we should face all adversity with an open mind in order to discover in it a source of beauty, joy and strength. "Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to accept it as such."
So I guess I should be reveling in the ever increasing isolation of this place and welcoming the additional opportunities for exercise afforded by its inaccessibility. I am after all a hermit by choice.
We went to pick up Wilbur for his walk. She leapt out of the car at him, teeth bared. Wilbur did his usual Wilbur thing and smiled. She got over any fears she might have had that Wilbur wanted to share her car seat, and the walk proceeded predictably.
Then we met a Portuguese Water Dog called Lucky. The meeting and greeting went well.
Then Lucky's housemate, Chili Pepper, appeared, and Kenya suddenly went ballistic. No one got hurt but Chili was terrorized, her owner, though he remained calm, must have been furious, and I was mortified. If Kenya were anything but a spayed two year old female, I would have suspected either PMS or menopausal madness. As it was, she was just having a particularly bitchy day.
We returned Wilbur and then headed off to see Remi. I thought it might do them good to play rather than walk in view of what we had already been through. Remi wrestling is always a safe arena for getting rid of frustrations and energy. However; 10 minutes into playtime Kenya caught sight of something in the woods and tore across the road in pursuit with Remi hard on her heels. Whatever it was must turned on them and stood its ground because they both dashed home to the chicken strips I was holding up as bait. I leashed them and went for a walk.
It has been several weeks since I have had garbage pick-up here because big trucks have not been able to get in on account of the snow. Now they can, but the road is so soft that it is in really bad shape and I am bottoming out on it. Large trucks would destroy it completely. I think I am going to have to park elsewhere till spring thaw is over. I hope that Lise will let me park there.
I have to get my garbage cans out to Dan's while I can still get out with the car. I now own four (garbage cans, not cars) and will take two to Dan's. Today will likely be my last trip down the hill unless Henry has too much food for me to carry. I am picking Henry up this afternoon after I take my tax stuff to the accountant.
Yesterday afternoon I watched The Snow Walker and saw once again the profound difference between us and those who live with nature. The young native heroine is so wonderfully accepting of what life hands out ... no childish outbursts of temper and frustration ... no railing at Fate ... she simply does what is necessary to survive. She is willing to wait for the fish or the marmots as long as it takes. Even her death is accepted peacefully.
Henry Miller says that we should accept what life offers unquestioningly; that we shouldn't run away, deny, denigrate or despise anything that life hands us. Rather we should face all adversity with an open mind in order to discover in it a source of beauty, joy and strength. "Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to accept it as such."
So I guess I should be reveling in the ever increasing isolation of this place and welcoming the additional opportunities for exercise afforded by its inaccessibility. I am after all a hermit by choice.
Saturday, 12 April 2008
Million Dollar Baby
Probably the toughest movie I have watched, Million Dollar Baby is a first rate film. The acting is flawless, and the script never falters. The characterization and plot are believable, and despite the depth of feeling, the film never sinks to sentimentality. The violence in the fight scenes is overwhelming, the cruelty of the family scenes, terrible to watch, and the conclusion of the film, heart rending, and yet, overall, it is a film about love and hope and dreams fulfilled.
Monday, 7 April 2008
Portrayals of Conflict in Africa
Blood Diamond and A Long Way Gone, both set in war-torn Sierra Leone, and What is the What, set in Sudan, portray the reality of countries torn apart by civil war, and all show what happens to the children when adults lose their tenuous hold on civility.
I was more touched by the film and the memoir set in Sierra Leone, not because they deal with child soldiers instead of displaced boys, but rather because they were stronger pieces of film and literature than What is the What.
The film, Blood Diamond, shows the complexity of the conflict. This is not simply an attempt to seize power by a revolutionary front. The interests of diamond dealers fed by the developed world's hunger for cheap diamonds complicate the struggle. Journalists hungry for adventure and acclaim play into the mess that Sierra Leone has become. The good people of Sierra Leone, the ones who just want to do their jobs and look after their families, are trampled in the process. Children are turned into killers by the revolutionaries. Families are driven from their homes into sprawling overcrowded refugee camps enclosed by barbed wire.
Both books are written in the first person. Both narrators are young African men who have survived civil war in their countries. There the similarity ends.
The memoir, A Long Way Gone, by one of the reclaimed lost boy soldiers, is written simply and movingly by a young man who has faced his own heart of darkness and writes honestly about the whole experience of loss, terror, and survival by any means. He was one of the lucky ones, saved by the UN, given the chance to complete his education. It helps that he is also a talented writer .. not a clever writer, but a good one, an honest straightforward one, who tells his story naturally and clearly.
What is the What, on the other hand, is written by an American writer. He has taken the story of one of the lost boys of Sudan and produced a book that jars because the voice of the narrator has been lost. The writer has played with literary devices so that the voice of the boy, the voice of Sudan, has disappeared. I found myself paying attention to the writing rather than to the story of a lost boy.
Africa is a continent in which the oral tradition, story telling, is still alive and part of the culture. The written literature reflects that tradition. It was part of A Long Way Gone; it was not part of What is the What.
The traditional telling of stories is chronological. Film techniques, like flashbacks, and literary techniques like the use of stream of consciousness, and insertion of other genres into the writing are all legitimately part of western writing which has evolved because of the things it has encountered as it grew. They are not part of the African tradition. African literature will evolve in its own way.
Blood Diamond is not written in the African tradition either, but it makes no claim to be from the perspective of a lost boy, a child soldier, or a Sierra Leonian. It is what it is: an outsider's view of a complex war.
Non-African writers can write about Africa, just as non-native writers can write about indigenous people, but we cannot appropriate their voices. It just doesn't work. And when we try, we reveal our arrogance.
I was more touched by the film and the memoir set in Sierra Leone, not because they deal with child soldiers instead of displaced boys, but rather because they were stronger pieces of film and literature than What is the What.
The film, Blood Diamond, shows the complexity of the conflict. This is not simply an attempt to seize power by a revolutionary front. The interests of diamond dealers fed by the developed world's hunger for cheap diamonds complicate the struggle. Journalists hungry for adventure and acclaim play into the mess that Sierra Leone has become. The good people of Sierra Leone, the ones who just want to do their jobs and look after their families, are trampled in the process. Children are turned into killers by the revolutionaries. Families are driven from their homes into sprawling overcrowded refugee camps enclosed by barbed wire.
Both books are written in the first person. Both narrators are young African men who have survived civil war in their countries. There the similarity ends.
The memoir, A Long Way Gone, by one of the reclaimed lost boy soldiers, is written simply and movingly by a young man who has faced his own heart of darkness and writes honestly about the whole experience of loss, terror, and survival by any means. He was one of the lucky ones, saved by the UN, given the chance to complete his education. It helps that he is also a talented writer .. not a clever writer, but a good one, an honest straightforward one, who tells his story naturally and clearly.
What is the What, on the other hand, is written by an American writer. He has taken the story of one of the lost boys of Sudan and produced a book that jars because the voice of the narrator has been lost. The writer has played with literary devices so that the voice of the boy, the voice of Sudan, has disappeared. I found myself paying attention to the writing rather than to the story of a lost boy.
Africa is a continent in which the oral tradition, story telling, is still alive and part of the culture. The written literature reflects that tradition. It was part of A Long Way Gone; it was not part of What is the What.
The traditional telling of stories is chronological. Film techniques, like flashbacks, and literary techniques like the use of stream of consciousness, and insertion of other genres into the writing are all legitimately part of western writing which has evolved because of the things it has encountered as it grew. They are not part of the African tradition. African literature will evolve in its own way.
Blood Diamond is not written in the African tradition either, but it makes no claim to be from the perspective of a lost boy, a child soldier, or a Sierra Leonian. It is what it is: an outsider's view of a complex war.
Non-African writers can write about Africa, just as non-native writers can write about indigenous people, but we cannot appropriate their voices. It just doesn't work. And when we try, we reveal our arrogance.
Thursday, 27 March 2008
How a Hermit Prepares for Winter
When I prepare for winter, I think in terms of having a good supply of food, wine and DVDs ... not necessarily in that order. When my freezer is full, my wine racks stuffed, my pantry shelves lined with cans of staples and all the bins are filled with flour ready for breadmaking, I feel content.
I also need to know that I have stocked up on entertainment. I do not have television reception here, but even when I did, I did not watch television. Indeed, much of my life, I did not own a tv set.
I can read in very good light and when my mind is clear, but in the evenings I turn to film. I have such a bad memory now that I can watch movies several times without remembering all the details, and even when I do, I delight in knowing what will come next. It is a little like reading and re-reading Little Women, or Heidi, or The Secret Garden, or Anne of Green Gables as a child. It didn't work for the books in the Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys series which were plot based and written using templates. It only worked for the classics.
The movies I purchase are almost all excellent films with depth of character, sometimes with clever plotting, in which the craftmanship is evident ... and elegant. But most of all, these films, like good literature, touch me deeply because they make me reflect on life.
Yesterday I stopped at the post office to pick up a parcel and discovered two filled with DVDs. Most were ones I had seen before and wanted for my collection (The Wind that Shakes the Barley, The Illusionist, Blood Diamond, The Last King of Scotland, and The Kite Runner), but a few were brand new, chosen as a result of watching trailers and reading reviews (The Painted Veil, After the Wedding, Black Book and Paris, Je t'aime).
Last night I watched The Wind that Shakes the Barley . It is a fine film about life in Ireland when the British army occupied it. I came away understanding better what it must be like to live under foreign occupation, to be treated with hatred and disrespect, to know that you had to fight the oppressor, and then to die far too young. It made me reflect upon life in Iraq and Afghanistan, and in places like Palestine occupied by Israel.
This film is about the complexities of politics and people. Nothing is simple. Not patriotism. Not love. Not courage. Some people believe that even partial victories are worth having. Others burn with such a fierce fire that anything less than what they fought for is not good enough, and they are willing to give their lives for that ideal.
I belong to that second group, I am afraid. It is not a comfortable way to live life, and perhaps it explains why I am a hermit. Hermits don't have to compromise nearly as often.
I also need to know that I have stocked up on entertainment. I do not have television reception here, but even when I did, I did not watch television. Indeed, much of my life, I did not own a tv set.
I can read in very good light and when my mind is clear, but in the evenings I turn to film. I have such a bad memory now that I can watch movies several times without remembering all the details, and even when I do, I delight in knowing what will come next. It is a little like reading and re-reading Little Women, or Heidi, or The Secret Garden, or Anne of Green Gables as a child. It didn't work for the books in the Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys series which were plot based and written using templates. It only worked for the classics.
The movies I purchase are almost all excellent films with depth of character, sometimes with clever plotting, in which the craftmanship is evident ... and elegant. But most of all, these films, like good literature, touch me deeply because they make me reflect on life.
Yesterday I stopped at the post office to pick up a parcel and discovered two filled with DVDs. Most were ones I had seen before and wanted for my collection (The Wind that Shakes the Barley, The Illusionist, Blood Diamond, The Last King of Scotland, and The Kite Runner), but a few were brand new, chosen as a result of watching trailers and reading reviews (The Painted Veil, After the Wedding, Black Book and Paris, Je t'aime).
Last night I watched The Wind that Shakes the Barley . It is a fine film about life in Ireland when the British army occupied it. I came away understanding better what it must be like to live under foreign occupation, to be treated with hatred and disrespect, to know that you had to fight the oppressor, and then to die far too young. It made me reflect upon life in Iraq and Afghanistan, and in places like Palestine occupied by Israel.
This film is about the complexities of politics and people. Nothing is simple. Not patriotism. Not love. Not courage. Some people believe that even partial victories are worth having. Others burn with such a fierce fire that anything less than what they fought for is not good enough, and they are willing to give their lives for that ideal.
I belong to that second group, I am afraid. It is not a comfortable way to live life, and perhaps it explains why I am a hermit. Hermits don't have to compromise nearly as often.
Thursday, 20 March 2008
North Country
Based on a true story, this is an excellent film about a courageous woman who fought for the rights of women workers in a traditionally male workplace. I have great admiration for anyone who stands up to injustice, but even more when that person has to fight everyone around her in order to do what is right. And still more when she has to do it without the benefit of education or wealth. This woman's story shows with absolute clarity why women have had to fight for equality and respect from men. Her experiences in a mine in northern Minnesota make discrimination in a professional or white collar workplace pale in comparison.
Sunday, 9 March 2008
French Kiss
I first saw French Kiss in Windhoek with a Namibian woman friend. I loved it. There was the Canadian connection and I was far from home for a long time. I was also ending a relationship with a Canadian man and heading into something romantic with a Norwegian who was just as sexy as Luc, the Frenchman. And besides, I have always been a sucker for romantic comedies. I watched it again last night with Kenya curled up beside me on the couch ... and I still loved it, even though I know that happy endings and love forever and ever belong in a world of fairy tales ... a world I should have outgrown long ago.
Letters from Iwo Jima
I grew up in the era of the 1940's American war movie. As I slipped the DVD into the player, I had a whole set of expectations, but these Japanese soldiers were people. They were not short in stature or buck toothed. Hollywood had finally produced a war movie in which the Japanese were shown as fully human rather than as evil caricatures wearing thick glasses. Later when the credits rolled past, I was surprised that it had been produced by Clint Eastwood and Steven Spielberg. Well done, gentlemen! Letters from Iwo Jima shows that the American war movie has finally grown up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
