MOVIE THOUGHTS: GET SMART

First thing, let me give a disclosure here. Actually, a couple of disclosures. First, the little one: I didn't see the whole movie. I missed the first 10 to 15 minutes while waiting for the last of Cory's birthday party invitees to show up. Just wanted that on the record. (I realize it's more common for people to not see the whole movie because they've walked out... but if I did that, I wouldn't share my thoughts with you at all.)

But what I saw (almost all of it) was, well, pleasant enough. Fairly good action (though we were chagrined at the jumping-out-of-the-airplane-without-a-parachute stunt, as we wrote one of those a couple of years ago. Sigh.). Pretty funny in most places. Even laugh-out-loud funny a few times.

It seemed as if they tipped their hat to the original TV Get Smart appropriately. "Would you believe." "I missed it by that much." The shoe phone. Etc. (I missed the cone of silence, but I am assured it was there at the beginning.)

And now for the bigger disclosure: I liked the TV show okay. But just okay. It wasn't a one-joke show (it wouldn't have lasted as long as it did if it were), but it certainly wasn't one of the greats. I couldn't watch a marathon of it, that's for certain.


What this means is, if you're one of the rabid fans of the old show, you may have responded differently (and more passionately) to the movie than I did. You may have loved it, felt betrayed, I don't know. For me, they were one and the same: A cute diversion, done well enough, but not worth more than the original time given to them.

Steve Carrell was fine. Anne Hathaway was fine. Alan Arkin was fine. There was enough plot to carry the movie.

And in one element, the movie was absolutely perfect. It was the perfect birthday party movie for a bunch of 12 to 14-year-olds. They howled with laughter, quoted the movie to each other over pizza afterwards. Perfect.

So if you've got a spare 12 to 14-year-old hanging around, take them to Get Smart. You won't mind going yourself. Just don't expect them to ask to see it again.

THE EMPTY NEXT (FOR A WEEK) SYNDROME

We are currently experiencing a week without kids.

Cory is off for his first-ever week of church high school (!how did that happen?!!) camp, which consists not of a trip to a regular "camp," but instead a week living on houseboats on Lake Shasta. Water skiing, kayaking, throwing people in the water, and maybe some spirituality thrown in.

Sabrina is at equestrian camp for a week. We assume she is past the inevitable soreness that comes with hours spent on a horse and having the time of her life.

And we... we are home alone, experiencing the quietest week in recent memory.

The plan was that we would be writing our hearts out this week. And we've done some writing.

The weird thing isn't the quiet. (You can get equal amounts of quiet from kids rapt on video games.) The weird thing is having nowhere I need to be. No one I need to "do" for. I find myself looking at the clock at around 3:00, feeling I'm late for... oh, nothing. I'm not late for anything at all.

We had a late afternoon meeting on Monday. Lee suggested we stop and have dinner on the way home. My mind instantly thought of all the reasons it wouldn't work -- what about feeding the kids? And don't we need to pick them up from somewhere or take them somewhere?

But the answer was no. So we stopped for dinner. And margaritas. It felt so strange.

Last night, after we delivered pages to one of our producers, a friend suggested we go out to dinner to celebrate. Go out? At night? Without the kids? Without making plans for the kids? On the spur of the moment? Just like that?

Um, sure. Why not? I mean, what kids?

It's sort of fun for a week. But it makes me realize how much I really don't mind the hecticness of my regular kid-oriented schedule.

A friend without kids pointed out that single people get this kind of freedom all the time. She was almost boasting about her freedom from responsibility, from commitment, from drains on her schedule. And all I could think was, how sad. To have no one to put ahead of yourself? To get things the way you want them when you want them, all the time? To plan your schedule around yourself? To have no one to cook for and then eat alone?... I'm really grateful I don't have to live that way.

So tonight I'll probably go out to dinner again, stay up till midnight, sleep in till 8:00 tomorrow, and relax in the lack of service demanded of me.

But Sabrina gets back Saturday afternoon, and Cory gets back around midnight Saturday night, and though they'll come laden with laundry that has to be done before we leave town as a family the next day, and though they'll be starving and tired, I'll be thrilled to see them.

And to get back to normal.

POST-MODERN MOVIE THOUGHTS: THE WIZARD OF OZ

"What?" I hear you ask. "You're blogging on The Wizard of Oz? Haven't you seen it before?"

Of course I have. I am of a generation that saw The Wizard of Oz once a year, on TV (on CBS, I believe?). And because we were the last family on the block to have a color TV (my dad being of the opinion that there was nothing on TV worth watching anyway), I was almost an adult before I actually saw the black-and-white of Kansas become the Technicolor of Oz.

But I had never seen the movie on the big screen. Until last week, when we all went to a special screening.

In some ways, I felt as if I was seeing the movie for the first time. The opening section in Kansas really worked so much better. The special effects twisters were actually rather scary.

Once we got to Oz, I saw things I'd never seen before. I was never aware that in every scene between Munchkinland and the Emerald City, you can actually see the Yellow Brick Road in the far background. I was very impressed with the quality of the sets, and especially with the make-up -- the Scarecrow in particular, whose face is actually burlapy -- things I never saw on TV (even watching on laser disc).

But what I didn't expect was how my emotional reaction to the story had changed... not because I've grown-up or anything like that.

But because of the musical Wicked.

I found myself getting a bit angry at the filmmakers -- how dare they portray Elphaba in such a hateful and unrealistic way! Don't they know that's Nessa under the house there? Don't they realize Dorothy isn't the real story at all? And what terrible casting for Glinda -- she would never be "popular"! Not to mention the fact that Glinda seemed to be completely hiding the truth about her relationship with Elphaba in the first place!

I was sort of stunned to have this reaction, I must say. I've seen Wizard of Oz (on TV) at least 15 times. I've read the book Wicked by Gregory Maguire once (and didn't like it all that much), seen the musical once, and listened to the soundtrack (or to Sabrina sing the soundtrack) easily a hundred times.

Isn't it amazing that such brief exposure to a post-modern take on an old standard could change my emotional reaction so radically?! And I'm not the only one -- I had dinner a few days ago with a friend who is a huge (and very knowledgeable) Wicked fan, and she said she had the same reaction to The Wizard of Oz -- the reaction that they got it all wrong. (Anyone else out there have the same experience? I'm curious.)

I guess it just shows the power of a work of art.

MOVIE THOUGHTS: KUNG FU PANDA

I've been absent from here for far too long, and I do apologize. One would think that the first week of summer vacation would be, oh I don't know, maybe a little vacationary. But I've been running around and around and around, and now I'm back.

(Though Blogger didn't make it easy for me to come back. First they insisted my e-mail address -- the same address I've had for over 10 years -- wasn't valid. Then they randomly declared invalid the password I've been using since I started this blog over 4 years ago -- apparently they now require one more character in the password than I had had. Weren't computers supposed to make our lives easier?)

Okay, anyway, despite all that, I'm back. And I'm back having seen a few movies. One of which was Kung Fu Panda.

We are big Jack Black fans in this house, so there was no way we were missing this movie. From the first teaser trailers last winter, the phrase "Prepare for awesomeness" has floated around our house. And we had fun.

The story is intensely familiar. An underdog (under-panda?) from whom no one expects anything gets a chance to play in the big leagues and succeeds beyond everyone's wildest expectations. It's as predictable as your basic boy-meets/loses/gets-girl romantic comedy. (I'm not saying, by the way, that predictable is bad. A basketball game is predictable, down to the second. It's what happens within the predictability that makes us watch.)

With the predictable story, then, we need something fresh and fun to make it worth our while. And that's where Kung Fu Panda succeeds like gangbusters. Jack Black is delightful as Po, the chubby noodle-selling panda given a chance at Kung Fu stardom. His timing and line readings are, as always, impeccable, and he makes Po much realer than many live action characters out there this summer.

Visually, the movie is terrific. The animators did a great job melding the Chinese design elements with solid 3D animation -- better than Mulan, for my money, though perhaps a shade less than Samurai Jack. I especially loved the 2D opening. The action was great, well thought-out, and well-designed.


I also appreciated the lack of snarkiness that has come to be an expected feature of DreamWorks animated movies (Shrek, Madagascar...). There was a sincerity to the story, and to the character of Po, that was as refreshing as the sight of a panda jiggling his way through kung fu. And while the movie kept many, many little kids happy at our theatre, it did so without the "easy laugh" over-reliance on fart jokes and the like that so often seems to creep into kids' movies these days.

We spent a couple of days quoting the movie (and Cory and Lee spent a couple of days attacking each other with mock kung fu), so the movie definitely met the "Does it stay with you?" test.

Will it win the animated Oscar? I doubt it. (My sight-unseen bet would be on Wall-E.) But a nomination wouldn't be out of place, perhaps. Will we rush out to buy it on DVD? Probably not (though we would if our kids were younger).

But boy, we had fun in the theatre. Let's just hope they keep up the standard and the freshness for the inevitable Kung Fu Panda 2.

MOVIE THOUGHTS: YOUNG @ HEART

You think the Rolling Stones are old? Try this on for size: A choir singing choral versions of The Clash, Coldplay, The Ramones... and the average age of the choir is 80.

I took Cory to see Young @ Heart because, to be frank, I thought it might help him realize that all really old people are not like his grandma. And my rock-n-roll teenager really liked the movie, appreciating the incongruity of people using walkers even as they try to wrap their minds and tongues around Sonic Youth's "Schizophrenia."

I would not be a bit surprised to see Young @ Heart nominated for a Best Docu Oscar next year. It's got that slice-of-life/tug-at-the-heartstrings appeal of many documentaries that manage to garner a wider audience than usual.

Basically, Young @ Heart is a look at a New England choir that used to sing "traditional" pop music, but had their collective arm twisted to start singing rock lyrics by their choir director. The choir itself is a big shaky. You can tell there used to be some good voices there, but the ravages of age are all too clear. Nevertheless, there they are, hitting their notes and giving us a fresh take on lyrics such as "I Wanna Be Sedated" or Bob Dylan's "Forever Young"... lyrics that all take on an especially poignant resonance when sung by people this old.

The movie is a 7-week snapshot of the choir getting ready for their new season -- learning new lyrics, prepping for their first performance. It takes an unexpected emotional twist when two of the choir members die during the 7 weeks, seemingly back to back. It would be a hard heart indeed not to tear up when a returning soloist (sitting because he cannot stand, oxygen tube up his nose, oxygen tank pumping audibly out of synch with the music) has to sing Coldplay's "Fix You" alone because his partner in what was supposed to be a duet had died the night before. It's hard to imagine how the lyrics could be set in a more meaningful and poignant context.

The documentary misses a few beats it might have hit. How did the members feel when their choir director told them they were going to sing an entirely new and even off-putting repetoire? Did they rebel at all? How do they like it now? Do they listen to rock at all, or just sing what they're given? And were these the first two members to die? Has the choir dealt with that before?

But overall, an enjoyable, somewhat enlightening, always encouraging movie. We saw it its last night in theatres (at least in L.A.), but I expect it will come to DVD soon. Keep an eye open for it!

CONFIRMATION

I didn't expect to cry.

After all, in the Presbyterian church, confirmation is not that big a deal. It's not a sacrament, as we only have two sacrament, and it's certainly not remotely close to as huge a thing as all the bar/bat mitzvahs we've been going to lately.

In essence, confirmation is, for us, the moment where a young person officially becomes a full member of the church. And boy, do they make these kids work for it! They do much more than an adult has to do to become a member. Our class of confirmands had 9 weeks of classes (church history! church polity! all the exciting stuff!) plus one-on-one meetings with a mentor every week, plus a mandatory day of service at the Union Rescue Mission downtown, plus a weekend retreat. Basically, a lot of extra driving for the parents.

But then suddenly there was Cory up on the bema yesterday, in the middle of the group of 15 confirmands, looking very sharp indeed (if I do say so myself), grinning from ear to ear, with his "new member" name tag pinned jauntily on his suit jacket. And all of a sudden he was answering all the membership questions ("Who is your only Lord and Savior?" "Jesus Christ."...) And the congregation was rising to pledge its support of the new members. And the pastor was telling the kids (are they still kids?) that now they have the right to serve as a deacon and to vote at congregational meetings (oh yeah, baby! Let's make it more appealing -- tell them that now they can serve on committees!)...

And all of a sudden I realized I really should have worn waterproof mascara, because I was crying.

With all we have gone through lately, it wouldn't have been that surprising if Cory had turned his back on God. I know I've felt like it once or twice. But he has become and is becoming such a fine young man of God, it just makes my jaw drop to see it.

So now he's a full member of the church. And off he goes next week to the high school group. (Excuse me?!! How did that happen?!!)

And I am very proud.

KARAOKE HELL

My apologies for not blogging much the last week or so. I have indeed seen a couple of movies I want to share thoughts on (Young @ Heart and Kung-Fu Panda). But as the school year wraps up simultaneously with Lee and I finishing one project and starting another, I have been mostly running around like the proverbial headless chicken.

We have had lots of meetings -- great meetings, political meetings, and yet more meetings to prep for. I have had several events to attend for the Alliance of Women Directors (and planning and follow-up for each). I have been assiduously looking for a residential care facility for my mom, whose memory is now down to, oh, 5 seconds or so.

I have also been juggling all the end-of-the-year stuff for my kids. Some stuff for school (Finish the "Patriot Poster"! Save the computer files! Find all the uniforms that don't fit! Bake the cookies for the school musical!). And some for church (Write a deeply meaningful letter for Cory upon his confirmation (-- okay, that one's important)! Write another deeply meaningful letter for Sabrina's 5th grade "graduation" even though there is no actual graduating going on! Make 12 lovely centerpieces for the confirmation lunch -- no, make that 18 centerpieces! No, now it's 20!)...

And in the middle of all this, here comes the last Girl Scout meeting of the year. So off we go... to karaoke hell.

I don't know what I was expecting. Having a daughter with a fairly incredible voice for her age, I get to hear little girl singing all the time. I guess I thought that's what it would be like -- like listening to Sabrina, but with more girls.

What I didn't realize is that Sabrina was the only one of the group who could carry a tune. Instead it was 2 hours in a 10x8 room with over a dozen little girls screaming sometimes-questionable lyrics at the tops of their voices and always (always!) severely off-key. (And a different level of off-key at each mike.) With no air conditioning and no windows.

Sabrina did get to sing a couple of songs -- "Welcome to the Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance (where she managed to keep the only other girl who knew it mostly on key). And something by Paramore that I hadn't heard of (and neither had anyone else -- Sabrina is a bit warped by her brother's alterna-rock taste in music). And the girls did pretty well with Miley Cyrus and Kelly Clarkson (a tribute to what strong melodies are being written for those singers). But mostly it was just torture for me, the person whose nerves get twanged when guitars start to go out of tune mid-set and who can't stand to hear two conflicting melodies going at the same time...

It all made me appreciate how lovely it is to be able to listen to Sabrina and Lee sing around the house. Ah.....

So that's why I haven't been blogging... And tonight we're off to the school musical, and tomorrow it's Cory's confirmation and the luncheon, and a meeting at the house in the evening, and then it's the used uniform sale, and a meeting on a new job we'd really like to get but haven't prepared for, and the "Patriot Poster" presentation at school, and the final field trip of the year, and the end of the year party and dinner... And then we can actually get to work!

Anyway, check back -- I'll be here. And I promise not to sing bad karaoke.