Entertainment, Journaling

Saved

“You don’t save me. I save me.”
— Kim Wexler, Better Call Saul

I watched the episode of Better Call Saul where Kim says that a couple of weeks ago.  On the show, Jimmy’s done something that caused Kim, a fellow lawyer, to be penalized at work, relegated to the windowless basement doing document review, the most menial work a lawyer can get. One night, Jimmy shows up and tells Kim he has a plan to fix everything and get her back to her rightful place in the office. She tells him she’s not interested and he persists; this goes on for several minutes. Finally, she shuts him down for good, making it plain that she’s the hero of her own story: “You don’t save me. I save me.”

I can’t stop thinking about that line. It echos in my head several times a day. I made it my tagline under my screen name on a forum I frequent. It speaks to me.

There are a number of things about my life that I wish were different. The specifics don’t matter. What matters is that I don’t do anything to change my circumstances, yet my frustration and sadness and disappointment at the current state of affairs is constant. I keep waiting . . . for . . . what, exactly? To be magically committed to making things different? To get to a point where I just accept what is and stop wishing things were different?

No, I think I’m waiting for someone else to make it happen. But when did I become that kind of person? When did I become the kind of person who complains about something but doesn’t do anything to fix it? The kind of person who knows what needs to be done but makes excuses about why she can’t do it? I have no idea, but I don’t like it.

I have a firm No Princesses rule in our house. We don’t buy any princess-themed books or toys or clothes, and any that we are given go right to the Goodwill pile. #sorrynotsorry The reason for that is because in most princess lore, the girl is portrayed as helpless, waiting in her castle for a man – preferably a prince – to come save her. My standard answer when someone asks me why I feel so strongly about this with respect to my daughter is, “I’m going to teach her to save herself.”

And yet.

I can clearly see why Kim’s words have basically been haunting me: I’m pretty much just waiting for a Jimmy to show up and tell me how he’s going to fix everything for me.

I’m going to save me. I just need to find the door to my windowless basement.

Entertainment

Fargo

“So that was Mrs. Lundegaard on the floor in there. And I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper. And those three people in Brainerd. And for what? A little bit of money. There’s more to life than a little money, you know. Don’cha know that? And here ya are, and it’s a beautiful day. Well. I just don’t understand it.”
— Marge Gunderson, in Fargo (1996)

Are you watching Fargo on FX? I cannot remember the last time I was excited to watch a show every week. Maybe the finale of Mad Men, maybe earlier seasons, but I don’t think that was excitement so much as anticipation, which I think is different.

With Fargo, particularly the second season currently airing, I anxiously await Tuesday nights because I know I’ll get to find out what happens next (Fargo airs Monday nights at 10, but we DVR it because we have two children, including a baby who stopped sleeping through the night 6 weeks ago, and are exhausted by 10pm). The first season was great, and Allison Tolman was robbed of her Emmy, but what I felt each week during that season was a deep sense of foreboding because Billy Bob Thornton’s Lorne Malvo was so sinister.

This season does have a sense of foreboding as well, but it’s nicely leavened by that Coen Brothers brand of dark humor. It helps also that I know one of my favorite characters survives because he features in season 1, set 25 or so years after season 2.

The story is compelling, and the players are all at the tops of their games. If Fargo doesn’t straight clean up at next year’s Emmys, it will be a crime. I cannot take my eyes off Jean Smart’s Floyd Gerhardt whenever she’s on the screen. Kirsten Dunst has taken what could have easily been a ditsy, campy character and given her such a lovely dose of sadness shot through with perpetual hope. Jesse Plemons, so good as earnest Landry on my beloved Friday Night Lights, shines as Dunst’s earnest but determined husband. Patrick Wilson is amazing as the state trooper and veteran desperate not to fight another war. Bokeem Woodbine is a Jabberwocky-spouting Kansas City mobster, as smooth and unruffled as the day is long. Cristin Milioti, for whom I will always have a soft spot after her sweet turn as the Mother on How I Met Your Mother, has a small but memorable role as Wilson’s cancer-stricken wife, full of Midwestern matter-of-factness about her fate. Zahn McClarnon does great work as the quiet, calculating, put-upon Native American muscle of the Gerhardt crime family.  The only even slightly weak link for me is Burn Notice’s Jeffrey Donovan as Smart’s lunkheaded oldest son; his performance veers a bit into camp, and I can’t tell if that’s an accident or a deliberate choice. I will say, however, that I very much enjoyed his performance last week in Episode 8.

There are only two episodes left. We get to watch one tonight, and I am champing at the bit for my kids to go to bed (don’t worry: I’m not neglecting them to write this, I’m writing this on the train home) so David and I can dig in to both our dinners and the penultimate episode. I cannot recommend this show enough. Seek it out if you haven’t yet. Although some of the characters from Season 1 appear in Season 2, the stories are essentially self-contained, so don’t feel like you have to “catch up” (though you should definitely watch Season 1 when you get a chance).

Entertainment

Gladiators, Ready?

“At my signal, unleash hell.”
— Maximus to his troops, in Gladiator

So Karen asked me last night if I was serious in my new year’s post about watching American Gladiators. My response was, “Um, yeah.” Duh. I was psyched for this to start – Nate and I used to watch this every Saturday (I think) at noon because we didn’t have cable and it was the only thing on. Plus, it was awesome. The original Gladiators had names like Malibu, Lace, Blaze, Nitro, Turbo, and Jade (thanks, Wiki!). They were pitted against average Joe and Jane contestants in contests like The Wall (scale the rock-climbing wall while being chased by a Gladiator intent on pulling you off the Wall), Joust (just what it sounds like, except on three-foot wide platforms 15 feet above water), and Assault (shoot a variety of weapons using tennis balls as ammo at a target suspended above a Gladiator armed with a tennis-ball-shooting gun – get hit once and you’re toast).

This “revival” of AG now airing on NBC (Mondays, 8pm) is terrible. Like, can’t-stop-watching-even-though-I-want-to-poke-my-eyes-out terrible. I freaking love it. The male Gladiators this time are named Toa, Militia, Justice (oooh, scary, especially with that triangle mohawk), Titan, Mayhem, and Wolf (I hate him; he howls – that’s original). The girls are called Siren, Fury (who has one of those super-long, top-of-the-head ponytails, complete with a conical ponytail holder thing), Venom, Stealth, Crush, and Hellga (yes, with 2 l’s – clever isn’t it?).

Hulk Hogan and Laila Ali “host,” but it’s clear the two of them have taken too many shots to the head in their careers, because they can’t read cue cards to save their lives. And writers’ strike or not, and “reality TV” label notwithstanding, this show is scripted. Badly. Even the contestant interviews and insults from the Gladiators are cliched sound bites.

And the puns. Oh god, the puns. The only one I can remember – because they’re so groan-worthy I forget them as soon as possible – was that one of the girls was going to have to work hard to “snake” her way past Venom. Snake. Get it? Get it? Just kill me now.

Tonight they had two contestants from the South, and boy did they milk it. The guy, who they said was nicknamed “Big Country” (as if anyone is really ever nicknamed Big Country), kept talking about how back home in Tennessee, they mud wrestle and hog wrestle, so this should be a piece of cake. The girl kept saying that her “Mama” (which the captions spelled “Momma” so it’s even more southern) was her hero and taught her never to give up. Christ. Those two just set the South back 20 years.

These contestants, though, they are hard core. They’re always talking about giving 110%, and last night one of them even went so far as to promise 200%! Can you believe it? That’s like 1.8 times the regular amount of effort! Unreal. One guy last night was the sentimental favorite – he tried out 14 years ago for the original AG, made it, but got stuck in LA traffic and missed his taping time slot. Too bad he was an asshole and no one was rooting for him. And this other girl rammed her forehead so hard against a metal pipe while swimming under a 20-foot long plank of FIRE that she completed the rest of the obstacle course with blood streaming down her face. In all seriousness, that was awesome. Not the ramming of the forehead, of course, because, ouch – but the blood.

The biggest change is that the format, instead of just being a season-long tournament for money, has changed so that the final 8 competitors (4 men and 4 women) will compete for a spot in next season’s (that’s optimistic) group of Gladiators. What a great prize. I assume NBC will pay for the requisite plastic surgery for the female winner (and maybe the male, too, if Titan is any indication).

Uncategorized

Movie Madness

The movies we love and admire are to some extent a function of who we are when we see them.
— Mary Schmich

I was off yesterday, and today was kind of a lazy day, so I’ve been flipping through the channels just to see what’s on. I came across three movies that will make me stop and watch them every time.

Yesterday, Mr. Mom was on AMC. I remember watching this movie as a kid and being terrified by the out of control washing machine. I don’t think we saw it in the theater though; 1983 was a little early for my family to do that. Probably we rented it when I was about 10 or so. Everyone looked so young – Teri Garr, Michael Keaton, Martin Mull. I don’t think you’d cast Keaton and Garr as husband and wife these days; she hasn’t aged as well as he has, although he hasn’t been in anything I’ve seen or heard about recently, so maybe he’s old and gray by now, I don’t know.

The best part of that movie is his descent into bearded, Young-and-the-Restless-watching, grilled-cheese-ironing madness. The day all the repair people come at once and the washing machine explodes (probably because he mixed the powdered detergent with the liquid fabric softener in order to “save a step”), and the vacuum cleaner (“Jaws”) runs amok and goes after the “Woobie”, and the middle kid catches the stove on fire? Pure comedy gold. I have to say, though, that the sexist premise doesn’t really hold up today, but I dig Teri Garr’s 80s-working-woman outfits: jackets with big shoulder pads and those blouses that tie at the neck. Nice.

Today, I came across Stepmom, just as it was starting, and I watched the whole thing. I adore Susan Sarandon, and Julia Roberts was great in this, a break from the usual comedy she does. I bawl like a baby at two points, without fail: first, when Jackie and Isabel meet in the restaurant and talk about the kids’ lives without Jackie. Jackie says, “I have their past, and you can have their future,” and it’s so painful, watching a mother who knows she’s never going to get to see her kids grow up figuratively hand them over to the woman who’s going to be responsible for raising them in her stead.

The second is Christmas morning when Jackie has the kids come up to her room individually to give them each the gift she’s made for them. The little boy, Benjamin, is played by Liam Aiken, and he’s fantastic in this role. Cute, but not precious. His gift is a magician’s cape that Jackie sewed for him, and it’s got pictures of the two of them on it. He points to one of them in the hospital just after he was born, and asks, “Did you know I was good looking right away?” So sweet. But the part that really gets me comes after he asks Jackie if she’s dying, and she says yes, and they talk about what it will be like after she’s gone, how Ben can always talk to her because she’ll be in his heart. He’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Nobody loves you like I do.” There aren’t enough tissues in the house to contain me at that point. Sad city.

Later today, I was having a snack and flipping channels again, and Sixteen Candles was on. John Hughes, in the 80s, was it for teen movies. Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science. Any of those would freeze my remote in a heartbeat, especially Weird Science. Anthony Michael Hall can thank John Hughes for everything he has. (Huh. IMDb says John Hughes also wrote Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I didn’t remember that, but now that I see it, it makes perfect sense. He also wrote Mr. Mom.)

All of these movies are ones I must have come to by way of slumber party movie marathons (although I remember seeing Ferris Bueller at the drive-in with my uncle and my brother one summer in Buffalo), because they all came out before I was 10, which I find hard to believe, but IMDb assures me that it’s true. They’re so iconic, and so much a part of my history as a teen (“We are what you see us as,” from The Breakfast Club, was still popular as a yearbook quote when I was in high school in the early to mid-90s) that I feel like I must have always known about them, but that can’t be true.

Anyway, I love Sixteen Candles. Despite the terrible fashion, I think it really holds up as a portrait of high school angst, as do John Hughes’ other films (minus the “perfect woman” Gary and Wyatt cook up in Weird Science). I loved Dong, I loved Joan Cusack as the girl with the back brace and head gear, and most of all, I loved Jake Ryan. Didn’t every girl dream that the handsomest guy in school would grow tired of the perky, perfect blond and suddenly realize she exists and give her the perfect kiss? My favorite line in the movie comes from Sam’s (Molly Ringwald) dad. She’s sad about Jake – he doesn’t know she exists, and it hurts, she says. “That’s why they call it a crush,” her dad tells her. “If it were easy, they’d call it something else.” So true.

There are other movies, too, that will make me stop what I’m doing and watch: Legends of the Fall (and I make no bones about the fact that this is my all-time favorite movie; I own it, I can recite every line, I’ve seen it a billion times, and I sob during every viewing), St. Elmo’s Fire, Field of Dreams, Stand By Me (the theme music – not Ben E. King’s “Stand By Me,” but the melody that plays at the end when Richard Dreyfuss reads the news about Chris – haunts me, as does River Phoenix’s acting), The Shawshank Redemption (I can hear Morgan Freeman’s Red narrating in my head, even now), Eight Men Out (I’m seeing a trend towards John Cusack; this is probably my favorite role of his).

So what does it for you? Tell me, if you will, what movies make you put down the remote, stop what you’re doing, and settle in?