Wild Revival

I took in another movie last night – it was that or lose more hours sunk into a panoramic puzzle of Gillette Stadium.  I went to see Wild which I knew going in was a serious chick flick but every now and then you have to take one of the team – well that and it was rumored to be an Oscar contender.  There certainly was a lot of estrogen spread across the screen but it was also a very compelling story of a woman, devastated by the loss of her mother, trying to find herself by hiking the entire west coast.  Reese Witherspoon plays the lead and allowed herself to be seriously de-glamorized – award hunting a little bit I’d guess.  While she’s adequate I was most struck by Laura Dern playing the mother. 

The strength of the movie lies in not trying to overdramatize the ordeal of the hike – it was obviously tough for the novice hiker. They interspersed flashbacks to explain why she was making the hike and while that was confusing at times in terms of sequencing it eventually painted an eloquent story – thanks in large part to Dern.  I guess if I have a feminine side I was in touch with it last night because I really enjoyed the movie. My only issue was the ending where Witherspoon’s soft spoken “message” narration about what she accomplished and her subsequent life was drowned out by the score.  Definitely out of my usual wheel house but very enjoyable – my daughter will be proud of me.

More appropriate of my usual fare, I finished a book yesterday written by “The Master”; Stephen King to new blog readers. His book, Revival:  A Novel, traces the life of a boy who meets a young preacher at the age of 5. Their lives periodically intersect over the years with the attendant trials and subtle horror King eases into. The likable protagonist grows up to be a rock musician which King himself fancies so I think he drew a little of himself here. It was fascinating on another level in that the young boy grew up at the same time period I did so a lot of the surrounding environment King always layers into his stories was familiarly nostalgic. There was also the horror he’s so justifiably famous for. I hope to hell he’s wring about what’s waiting for us in the afterlife described at the book’s conclusion. 

King also does what he usually does and this is what can be so painful/delightful about his books – he makes you genuinely like and admire his books’ hero.  He has the ability to get inside your defenses and make his heroes, even though many are deeply flawed, akin to a lifelong friend. Of course this makes the trials and pain his heroes inevitably endure that much more painful. That may be why so many of the films based on his books fail to live up to his standard – hard for actors to accomplish this in the visual medium.  The only actor who’s come close to achieving what I’m trying to describe was Gary Sinise as Stu Redmond in The Stand. 

Because he is the master and I’m not worthy and all that, I’ve included two passages from - Revival: A Novel: First on observation on writing that I found to be especially profound -  “But writing is a wonderful and terrible thing.  It opens deep wells of memory that were previously capped.”  Secondly the lead character reflecting on what middle age looked like through the rose colored glasses of youth - “When I was a teenager I looked at over–fifties with pity and unease:  they walked too slow, they talked too slow, they watched TV instead of going out to movies and concerts, their idea of a great time was hotpot with the neighbors and tucked into bed after the eleven o’clock news.  But – like most other fifty, sixty, and seventy-somethings who are in relatively good health-I didn’t mind it so much when my turn came. Because the brain doesn’t age, although its ideas about the world may harden and there’s a greater tendency to run off at the mouth about how things were in the good old days. I think for most people, life’s deceptive deliriums begin to fall away after fifty. The days speed up, the aches multiply, and your gait slows down, but there are compensations. In calmness comes appreciation, and - in my case- a determination to be as much of a do-right-daddy as possible in the time I had left…The three true ages of man are youth, middle age, and how the fuck did I get old so soon?”

My Wife in Boquete Yesterday

Finally I include a report from my tropical wife. She gathered a bevy of PanaGals, including her sisters, and headed up to the mountain village of Boquete to escape the coastal heat of her home town. Boquete is one of my favorite and one of the most beautiful places in Panama. From her late reports last night it was a very good time and generously lubricated with some native sangria. From the photos she sent me (see below) I’m guessing it’s a little warmer there than here – nary a snow flake in sight. 

Styling

Like I said - a Little Warmer

Wife and PanaGals

She Does have a Goofy Side

They Stayed Long Enough for Night to Fall