Sunday, February 17: The A.D.D. Detective
CHICK PICKS
by Leigh Lundin
At 3 in the morning, a good time to mentally compose stories and columns, I awoke and flipped on music. The artistes transitioned from Procol Harum to the Righteous Brothers. I reflected that even with Remy Zero, Eminem’s 8 Mile, Vivaldi and Corelli on my iPod, I can’t hide age.
I listened in the dark, the shadows matching my mood. The tracks switched to The White Cliffs of Dover, bringing to mind the recent film, Atonement, from the book by Ian McEwan.
I’d gone to see it with friends, Steve and Sharon. Usually, Steve and I stay until the last of the credits assures us that no animals were injured in the making of the movie, but this time Steve was outta there so roadrunner fast, his slipstream sucked popcorn out of people’s hands.
Far from being insulting to Sharon, taking in the movie was a sign of love. Steve was willing to sit through a chick flick because his sweetie wanted to see it, even though Die Hard Lethal Weapon Rocky VII played next door in 3-D Max THX Surround-Sound. Understand: I had to coach Steve that Die Hard films are not chick flicks.
Okay, to be fair, Steve likes penguin movies, too. Moreover, inviting me along is a mark of friendship, because Steve and Sharon know that things they do run the risk of showing up in a blog, not that I would ever do anything like that.
Anyway, being an uniquely deep and thoughtful guy (stop choking, Steve), I found the film compelling and, unusual for me, I didn’t see the end coming.
Atonement is a disturbing film, one that will stay with me for a while. A few films attain that distinction, generally involving wrongdoing and arguably a crime. I don’t ‘like’ them, but I can’t scrub them from my mind.
Como agua para chocolate (Like Water for Chocolate) by first-time novelst Laura Esquivel was another of these. Parts dragged and from time to time I squirmed in my seat. (To be clear, I’m not talking about the very naked Gertrudis riding off with her bandit.) I stuck with it, determined to see it though. Thus, when the dénouement finally arrived, the horror of its revelation hit hard.
Our Morse Museum sponsored a showing of The House of Mirth, based on the Edith Wharton novel. The casting was, to put it mildly, unexpected, although the film won multiple awards. (Dan Aykroyd, rarely seen outside a comedic script, managed to hold his own. Anthony LaPaglia, placed in a pivotal rôle, stunned audiences by nearly pulling a second facial expression.)
Glib remarks aside, the film was disturbing, difficult to watch, and difficult to forget. This century-old story echoed this afternoon when a tourist from Turkey remarked, "Your nation has so many poor. I did not expect this. Are your rich blest with arrogance they can tolerate such poverty?"
Like the film, her words were jolting, difficult to listen to, but, truths are like that. I don’t want to see the day Marxists lay sole claim to having a social conscience. Give me Edith Wharton instead.
I don’t ‘enjoy’ these films and I can’t say I like them, but I recognize they hold up a mirror both to ourselves and our society so that we can see and learn from them.
For those mystified by crime fiction, this is what it’s all about.
I don’t ‘enjoy’ these films and I can’t say I like them, but I recognize they hold up a mirror both to ourselves and our society so that we can see and learn from them.
This is how I feel about such novels/movies like “Silence of the Lambs” and “Red Dragon” (I’m a lover of the original movie with William Peterson (was it “Man Hunter”???, the remake: not so much.) I adore these type of movies and detest them at the same time. They leave me feeling a bit queasy and yet, I am so enamoured of the Hannibal Lector character that I can’t not watch or read about him. I do recognize this is a depiction of society (talking more serial killers now) I’d rather did not exist, but does. I admire the writer who creates such memorable characters, but I think if I were him, I’d have bad dreams.
Yes, Man Hunter. My brother drew my attention to the movie when it came out, else I might have missed it.
Interesting career we’ve chosen for ourselves, grappling with wickedness, trying to make sense of it while seeing it punished.
I loved the long scene in “Manhunter” when Petersen was in the office watching the tapes of the victims and figured everything out. I agree that this movie was better than the recent remake — but (except maybe for “3:10 to Yuma”) the originals usually are.
Deborah, I never met Thomas Harris, who wrote “The Silence of the Lambs” and “Red Dragon,” but he’s from here in Mississippi, and a friend told me Harris’s mother said, “I really don’t know WHERE Thomas gets all that — it must be from his father’s side of the family.”
I walked out of Atonement with a different rendering of the title vs movie vs them vs me because I over analyze. I thought the girl knew she was lying from the get-go (pause when father asked if she was sure—yet another and longer pause when asked are you FOR SURE)—-They kinda drag you in to REAL atonement and then bam the ending where she only told the truth before she lost her mind BUT never atoned in real life and couldn’t tell the truth even in her “book.” I know I know….everyone else I was with thought it was soooooooooooooooo pretty she wrote the book so nicely and blah blah blah….but to me, she was just a skilled liar and a jealously, great (lonely) manipulator.
Give me Hannibal, Son of Sam, Zodiac, Jack anytime. I think I understand them better than girlie manipulations. Well understand short of being totally enamored!!! My favorite movie last year was Capote and how he got so involved in doing In Cold Blood, which was an excellent read (and movie). I think that might be what Deborah was eluding to-becoming way too involved in subject matter.
I also adored the newest Die Hard (what was it, 99????).
alisa, I liked Die Hard, too.
I find your take on Atonement interesting and reasonable. Young Briony did ‘know’, but part of her child mind thwarted that part.
Did you see or read The House of Mirth?