that I’ve been confusing Dermot Mulroney and Dylan McDermott forever. That’s why I never recognize whichever one is in whichever movie I see.
When I saw The Family Stone, I thought, how come I never realized that guy was so handsome? I didn’t think he was all that in Steel Magnolias! Yeah, I thought that.
Dermot Mulrooney is on the left
I got nothing today. Sorry. Perils of blogging from the office.
But Roberta and Melville are having themselves a jolly ol’ sing-along in yesterday’s movie review comments, and it occurs to me that there are lots of movies with sing-alongs.
So, I will post a clue for a movie with a sing-along, and whoever gets it can post the next clue to a movie with a sing-along, and so on.
My clue: The walls of Jericho are metaphorically trumpeted down at the end.
My Darling Clementine (1946) 10/10
Wyatt Earp (Henry Fonda) and his brothers are passing their cattle through Tombstone when Billy Earp is murdered. Wyatt accepts an offer to become Marshall, and deputizes his surviving brothers, so that he can find the killer. Directed by John Ford.
I was excited when I saw this movie was going to be on; there’s a shrinking list of really acclaimed Westerns I have yet to see, and My Darling Clementine didn’t disappoint. It was as exquisitely beautiful as you’d expect a John Ford Western to be; masterfully filmed, every frame perfection. Ford captures all the subtle and broad, clumsy and graceful movements that add up to rich characters in a beautifully made movie. I think my favorite moment is this: Wyatt Earp has taken to sitting in front of the hotel, watching the town, leaned way back in a chair with one long leg up on a post in front of him. This is so much his habit that someone runs to get his chair when he sees Earp coming (itself a lovely touch). Then, in one scene, while thinking about taking the eponymous Clementine Carter to a dance, Earp stretches out his arms and, still leaning back in the chair, does dance steps on the post.
I could talk about the themes of this movie, about trying to reach past yourself, about finding beauty, all that, but to me, I’m pretty sure what I’m going to remember is that this is the movie where Henry Fonda danced on the post; a purely visual elegance.
My Darling Clementine also makes total hash of the historical fact. I have a book I like a lot called Past Imperfect: History According to the Movies. As the title suggests, it treats a host of movies with a historical basis to a comparison with the facts. The chapter on Wyatt Earp and the shootout at the OK Corral actually encompasses seven movies (although many more could have been included). Having read this book, and seen numerous other films with these characters, I was very aware of the factual errors. I mean, all movies stretch or strain fact somewhere, and Westerns more than most, but My Darling Clementine doesn’t even try! It ignores such basics as which Clantons and Earps were even at the OK Corral, who lived, and who died.
They’re arguing over the need for historical accuracy (or lack thereof) over on the IMDb message board for this film. Does accuracy matter when the film is so great? Or at all? If you don’t intend to be accurate, why use the names of historical figures and events at all? Ford knew Wyatt Earp, who hung around Hollywood at the end of his life, and would tell people that his portrayal of the events of the OK Corral was accurate because he heard about it from Earp himself. But then, when people complained about the inaccuracies, he fell back to “Well, did you enjoy the movie?”
All these arguments are interesting, but while you’re arguing, see My Darling Clementine, because it really is amazing.
Apparently, today is Show Us Your Blogspace Day, and even though PSoTD didn’t challenge me personally, I thought it looked both fun and humiliating. Plus, I cross-post at If I Ran the Zoo, and PSoTD did challenge IIRtZ. So there.
The blog shown on my monitor is, in fact, Tom’s IIRtZ post of his blogspace.
Featured in this hideous mess; my Cow Parade “Udderly Wicked” cow, a Kali figure, my James Bond Movie Poster calendar (still on November, but November is You Only Live Twice, and December is Die Another Day), a fairy, a Lego witch set, Arthur’s iPod shuffle case, the camera case, a framed Playbill from The Fantasticks 25th anniversary (I also have the 35th somewhere), my Beanie Baby dogs (I have to keep them separate from the other Beanie Babies; they’re troublemakers) and I dunno what all else.
No picture, just sayin’.
We are approaching the darkest night of the year. Winter Solstice is, paradoxically, a festival of hope, of light, and of birth.
The Wiccan Wheel of the Year is replete with these paradoxes; in light we see darkness, in cold we see warmth. But how do we see hope and renewal when light is gone, and a chilly darkness pervades the world?
Pagan faith is rooted in reality. While indeed, there have always been, and still are, great Pagan mystics and thinkers, there is also a strain of earthiness that is always a part of who and what we are. We have faith that the sun will rise, in great part, because it has always been known to rise. Because our theology and our mythos don’t defy nature, we can draw comfort from the natural world.
See yourself in total darkness. You are surrounded by a palpable and endless dark. Everything is void, everything is black.
Now a light begins to dawn. Perhaps it looks like a sunrise to you, or perhaps you experience the light as coming from within.
Notice the growing light. It is warm and golden.
As the light grows, you find yourself remembering that light always returns. The sun rises each morning, and you remember many bright and shining days. The spring comes each year, and you remember many golden Aprils and Mays.
Fill yourself with returning light, and allow yourself to know that this light always returns to you. Allow yourself to know that your sorrows have always been followed, sooner or later, by laughter. Recall new things born into your life when you thought you were alone and lost. Recall being healed. Recall being awakened. Recall hope.
Fill yourself with returning light, and notice the feeling of gratitude. The light will always return, and you can be grateful for it. The earth will continue to turn, and you can be grateful for it.
Now you are fully in the light. The sun is up. Your body glows with light. Notice the feeling of hope and optimism. Enjoy it.
I was thinking about a new post, and I got stuck on a word.
“Friend.”
Because the person I was going to refer to is not a friend. Neither is he an acquaintance. It seems to me there’s a significant gap between those two words, filled by a vast number, perhaps a majority, of our social relationships.
A friend is an intimate, a confidant. They know some personal stuff, they know you with your proverbial or literal hair down. Obviously, there are degrees of friendship; they won’t all help you bury the bodies, but a friend is someone on the inside.
Acquaintances are people you know, and that’s about that. You’ve been introduced. They’re present or former co-workers, or clients, a friends-of-a-friend, or the real estate agent of your brother-in-law.
But what about everyone else? The people whom you hug when you see them, with whom you keep in touch and occasionally drop a line to, but who don’t know your birthday or your problems. There are many people whom I know, for whom “acquaintance” is too cold, and “friend” is too warm. Often I say “someone I’m friendly with.” They are friendlies. Or something.
Anyway, I want a new word. And here it is: A call for you to nominate new words that you want. What do you say instead of a word you wish really existed? What word do you grope for regularly that simply is not there?
A cat sling.
You ever see those baby slings? Yeah, like that. Because what happens is, the cat gets into my lap and then gradually starts to fall out.
Now, I like having him in my lap, but I don’t like being committed to holding him there. Yet it seems kinda cruel to just let him flop onto the floor due to excessive relaxation. Also, the mid-flop flailing can be hazardous.
A cat sling.
