To thine own self be true

Ghostly blue reflection in early morning, December patio window image of indoor table-sized Avon Christmas tree decoration changing colors, frozen here in its winterly blue phase.

“I never met a kitchen mat I never liked.”

It’s been a while. Recent movies have tended to be loud, formulaic, preadvertised (trailers usually give away all of a film’s essentials), very commercial, flawed, dumb, crass, pointless, and geared toward What Faulkner called “the glands” and the lowest common denominator. That said, I enjoyed All is Lost (reviewed in a recent blog entry), Branagh’s Macbeth (a filmed live performance), and movies from the past five years like The Social Network, Barney’s Version, and The King’s Speech.

I taught film in my classes–works like Citizen Kane, Dr. Strangelove (which should have been included on the following list), and North by Northwest. Later, I did a three-year stint at Alberta Film Classification,  happily leaving in 2005 because 90% min. of films I saw were crap, flawed, and often very weak and limitedly commercial.

I used to be quite into film and amassed a collection I am very happy with of favorites and classics. After long absence, I came back to my list of movies yesterday and went through it, picking out films I consider to be great or classics. It is fairly obvious which directors have impressed the most–Welles, Huston, Allen, Godard, Coppolla, Kubrick, Lumet, Lean, and Hitchcock. Likewise, strong acting performances from the likes of Cary Grant, Welles, Bogart, Branagh, O’Toole, Newman, Kelly, Hopkins, to name a few. (For the record, favorite actresses have included Hepburn, Kerr, Binoche, Bergman, Davis, Thompson.)

As I peruse the list before printing it, it is obvious that I enjoy good scripts and writing, great character acting, certain moods and atmospheres, irony and wit, romance, real comedy (not that crap that comedy has become today), mystery and intrigue, good lines, dialogue, and conversation, great scenes/moments of being, and a wide range of beauty and truth as conveyed by film.

(ps/I will add that The Last Picture Show and Dr. Strangelove should have been included in the original draft.)

-All About Eve–incredibly witty ’50s comedy with numerous great performances, best of all by George Sanders & Bette Davis. Ironic, cynical views of relationships and theatre.

-a Hitchcock–Psycho, unquestionably. But Rear Window, Frenzy, Vertigo, and North by Northwest are all worth the viewing time, too.

-a Woody Allen–Love and Death (riotous take on 19th century Russia), Midnight in Paris or Annie Hall

–The Best Years of Our Lives— 3 post WWII relationships; “Love conquers all”

-a Godard–either Breathless (which takes apart the romance conventions) or Pierrot le Fou which breaks nearly every movie convention

–Playtime–Jacques Tati’s comic masterpiece; one of the great French films; a childlike humor

–Casablanca–corny and omnipresent, but great performances and lines; a romance classic

–Citizen Kane–light years ahead of its time in so many departments; Welles` best

–Crash–the 2005 AA winner–amazing cross-section of couples and performances–incredibly ironic and powerful; fearless politically incorrectness with many truths

–Don`t Look Now–Nicholas Roeg`s dark classic– a thriller with spooky atmosphere galore; incredible cinematography

–Godfather II–still the best of the 3–Pacino`s best and amazing cross-cutting between a family`s past and present

–A Hard Day`s Night–all the fun that the Beatles once were and represented; the 1st significant young person`s ‘musical’ on film–should have won an AA for the music

–Henry V (Branagh)–came from out of nowhere; still powerful, maybe the most powerful Shakespeare on film; a resonant atmospheric film

–In the Heat of the Night–for the performances of Steiger and Poitier–their relationship; film captures how it was in the mid-60s down south; a breakthru film on race and race relations, made by Canada’s top filmmaker Norman Jewison

–Lawrence of Arabia–best seen in a widescreen theatre–epic atmosphere bigtime; and 3 nutcases at play–Lean (the director), O`Toole (the lead) and Lawrence; stunning music and atmosphere

–The Maltese Falcon–very witty, sarcastic, cynical John Huston flick–Bogart`s best as Sam Spade; top film noir ever–numerous plot twists and mystery

–My Dinner with Andre–proof that 2 guys talking could be more interesting than 80% of the films that have been made. About ideas, consciousness, choices.

-an Altman–Nashville or Short Cuts–both with large casts and multiple intersecting plots. Ironic and funny social commentary. Strong use of music and improv scenes

-a Redford family film–Ordinary People (best film about dysfunctional family and a modern teen) or A River Runs Through It (a brother study–Brad Pitt`s best as Redford ringer appearance-wise)

-(one guilty pleasure entry in passing) Neil Simon`s The Out-of-Towners–Jack Lemmon & Sandy Dennis`s best as a couple visiting NY for whom all goes wrong–very funny

–Remains of the Day–another 2 character/actor piece: Hopkins and Thompson`s best (a close Hopkins` 2nd best–Shadowlands)

–Singin`in the Rain–best musical comedy

–2001: A Space Odyssey–huge when it came out–mostly for the cinematography and mood; man vs. machine`s top movie moment–see on widescreen; amazing end sequence

–The Third Man–Welles` best, charismatic role–he makes evil attractive and very likable! Great cinematography & score. The sewer & ferris wheel scenes are bigtime classics.

–The Verdict–great performances–Newman, Rampling & others; great Boston atmosphere; directed by the great Sidney Lumet; study of alcoholic lawyer in the trial of his life against all odds (a close Lumet second–Dog day Afternoon)

-Wings of Desire–very different; the black & white cinematography is a knockout; Falk steals the show unexpectedly in a movie convention breakdown; captures the pain, suffering and angst of humanity as well as the glorious possibilities of love

That perception (and fuller consciousness) are dependent on empathy. That we actually only perceive, acquire information about or know someone or something via degrees of empathy–by identifying with the object, person, or process–by putting ourselves into it/him/her, and allowing our imagination and consciousness to be filled with what we behold. Something alluded to in Harper Lee’s book To Kill a Mockingbird, and in John Keats’ writing about poetry, the poet, and poetic process. In Keats’ sense and understanding–imagination, empathy, perception, consciousness, nature, beauty, truth, and great poetry are all one. In that, great engagement, richness, connectedness, transcendence, and sublime pleasure on all experiential levels.

Empathy or identification with something, someone.

To empathize with the other is to acquire vital or significant information, often knowledge.

If one wants to know someone or something, one has to have the imaginative capacity of empathy.

But no empathy or knowledge would be possible sans imagination.

Hence, the importance of Northrop Frye’s term and concept–The Educated Imagination.

(My italics). Imagination is a process–it can be developed and has the potential to be educated.

Impressions, then Expressions.

In, then out when ready.

External-internal-external.

When things go/work well, things simply write themselves.

The writer as medium taking dictation.

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(Christmas Day)

The car stopped in front of Ganma and Ganpa’s house. It was dark. Dada lifted me out of the car chair and set me on the snow. I walked to the house which had many lights on.

Ganpa opened the door to let us in. Inside there was noise and people. He and Mama took off my boots, coat and hat. From the door, I could see a big tree with many lights on it. There were strings of candy canes and a star up, up on top. There were presents under the tree and many colors. Ganpa held my hand and walked me around the tree. He showed me another little tree that kept changing colors and a snowman who did the same. It was dark in the room, but then we walked into the light where I saw Ganma and other people standing.

We went to a big table which had food and bottles on it and there was a choo-choo going. It kept going round and round on the table. Ganpa put me on his lap and I could see a small town of houses and people smiling who did not move. He let me turn a dial which made the choo-choo stop, slow down, go faster or go backwards! It was a cool train! He and me put cases and small people on and off on one car, then made the choo-choo go again. When it stopped, I said “Again”.

Then he was carrying me down some steps toward some lights in another room. He showed me a big window and two deer with lights moving in the snow outside. I said “Brrr, cold” because I know it’s not warm outside. We looked at a fire on tv, and I said “Hot, no touch” like my Mama told me. There were boats on pictures, snowmen, a big star, and Santas too. On the floor were some puzzles which I started to play with, pushing out the pieces through holes. Then, I started to put them back where they belonged.

Later Gandpa showed me the fridge and there was a big picture there which looked like crayons. He said I did it. I saw a picture of Ganma and went to the chair where Ganma sat to say “Ganma” and point to her in the picture. When I wanted to play with her and pulled on her leg when she was standing in the kitchen, she said she was busy and didn’t come with me.

There were lots of snacks on the table and I helped myself to some, taking them back to Mama in the big tree room. I didn’t have too much supper, but drank from a bottle of water. (No cup.) It was fun. After, Ganpa showed me white dogs and yellow birds that moved and played music. I liked the dog who played piano and Ganpa and I danced on the floor to the song. He also showed me how to pick up icicles from the rug to put back on the tree.

I had a lot of fun and opened up a few presents. There was a truck I put balls into which flew out another hole in the truck as it went. It was a good day. I said “Bye” to everybody and waved when Dada and Mama put my clothes on to go out into the Brr, cold again and the car.

(Boxing Day)

It was light outside this time when we got to Ganma and Ganpa’s. Grana had a camera as I walked with giraffe in my arms to him. Mama carried the dog in her Santa dress. Inside the big tree was still there with lights on, but there were no other people, just Ganma and Ganpa.

We went to the other room again and I saw puzzles on the floor and started to play with them. The deer were still moving outside but didn’t look as cold. The dog lay on the floor by herself and was eating a rope. We started to taking things out of some big stockings. I got a remote like the tv one at home except it looked like a train and made sounds like a phone. I was pretty busy some of the time throwing the rubber puzzle pieces into the hall like I do at home.

Then we moved into the room with the big tree and opened some more presents. There were some books about hugs and cars–which made noise. I got a colored phone which had a stick to play the ‘phone. I liked putting bows and tags on my head. I had more fun with a blue box which I put over my head and sat there in the middle of the room as the dog came to see me under the box to kiss me. She got tired though and lay down in her funny dress. I lay on the floor too sometimes, face down on my giraffe.

There was lots to do. I picked up paper and tore it into small bits and then put it in a row on a big box to keep me in the room. Some I dropped over the box. Later Granpa and me went to pick up the paper to put in a garbage which had a moving top. When we moved the top, we could put the garbage in. It was like a swing.

The food was good again. There was ham and sauce I could dip the ham in. I used my fingers for that. I said “Cheers” when Ganpa clinked my cup. He had my dog on his lap. The big people popped something they called crackers, but they didn’t look like crackers to me. I played with the dog and bird piano again. It still worked as did the dog with floppy ears who sang a wild song.

It was a good day again at Ganma and Ganpa’s. When we left, someone put the dog in a big box for a joke. I stood in a boxlid. It felt nice. As Mama and Dada got ready to go, I pushed a big box round and round different rooms with my giraffe on top. Ganpa helped me go over the bumps. I sure liked that.

I waved Bye again by the cold door waiting to go outside to the car. I sure had fun my first Christmas.
…………………………………………….
Notes: “first Christmas” because he would have little or no memory of the first one (aged 1).                                                                                                                           

A piece about consciousness and its early beginnings relative to a special time of year. My grandson also kept walking into the ‘Tree Room’ and looking up at the tree as different-colored lights blinked on and off or ornaments moved. His favorite effect were ye olde bubble lights with the yellow fluid. “Bubbles” he said pretty clearly. There was definitely awe and wonder in many of his responses to what was going on. He also had his share of quiet moments in which I could sit him on my knee or hold him to point out different things. He is quite mimetic with words at this point, and occasionally launches into his own babble syntax to narrate his take on some things like the snowy candle town on an end table, punctuating his description with familiar words like “house’ and “tree” or “quack-quack” for the sound that penguins make!                                         

This Christmas was unique, vicariously sharing in my grandson’s first real, conscious Christmas. ps/An Epiphany baby, he will enjoy his 2nd birthday at home next Saturday with both grandparents in attendance. Should be another slice.

I’d much rather be in Scottsdale this morning after another blizzard dump in Edmo. There is definitely something to be said for a sunny warm escape from what may be the longest winter of discontent ever in these parts of the frozen north.

This shot was taken two years ago in early January (a temp diff of 40-50 degrees). The sun felt really good and the desert landscape was the other end of the climate continuum. I am standing, without a care in the world, at the edge of the Frank Lloyd Wright studio-home property with some of Scottsdale below in the background, . As usual timing is everything and today would be would be another good day here to be leaving “The Cremation of Sam McGee” and Jack London state of mind way, way behind.

I can hardly wait to use the Mandel-Iveson Edmo bike paths this morning on my way to get the T.O Saturday papers! A good day for everyone else here to crawl back into bed. Hibernation as salvation.

As for me, I’ll never forget the desert beauty, peace, and solitude. You have/had to be there. “The nobleness of life/Is to do thus.” (Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra) Especially on a frozen north Edmo morning like this.

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Del’s last Christmas was in 1997. He had been diagnosed with cancer in September that year and the cancer and treatments had started to obviously ‘waste’ him, something I became aware of when I was in Winnipeg that November. I drove the family the last week in December in -35 C across the prairies for them to be with him, for likely the last time as we all likely knew. He was very tired all the time and could not eat more than 2-3 mouthfuls, but he was in good spirits for the visit. In particular, he showed the kids my parents’ photo albums and various artifacts around the one-bedroom apartment. It seems like he could only do a couple of hours with us each day, he was that exhausted. However, we spent New Year’s Eve with them before we drove back home the following day.

Rose’s last Christmas was, nine years later, in 2006. (This time, we flew to be with her.)She was able to walk, slowly, three flights of stairs at that point so we were able to take her out for a drive in the rented van to see the city lights–something she really appreciated, even commenting that her pain had magically subsided. We also took her to Assiniboine Park to the zoo part where my dad’s bench and plaque were and cleaned the snow off for pictures. Special treats included a Chinese food supper one night and Rose dancing with her teenage grandson. Unlike Del, I don’t know that she felt this was the last time she would see the family, and we know that she had hoped to make it to my son’s wedding in the summer of 2007 (which sadly was not to be).

Amazingly, Del and Rose died on the same day/date March 31. He passed quickly in Winnipeg General after learning one morning that he would be going to a long-term care facility, not back home. She died quickly, within days, in the  Riverview cancer facility after she was removed from home via ambulance. The decline was fast following her admission, after she realized and anxiously whispered to me “We forgot the cigarettes.”

They died within one hour of each other on that same day. There is a lot that is mystery and I don’t believe my mother was aware of dates or time for the last week before she drifted into the coma that led to her admission. But the irony and significance of their death dates and times did not escape me. My parents were that close.

Del and Rose were generally very happy people and inseparable in their retirement years. They were always quite active, walking miles to and from the park they loved each day. They did a lot of line and round dancing, and were snazzy dressers–formal and classy-looking. As you can see from the picture above they were vibrant, outgoing types. They enjoyed travel and considered themselves very fortunate for even the smallest of gifts. And they always looked out for those older and less fortunate than themselves, often befriending and visiting these people, even non-family members.

Gifts, company, family, kids, peace and joy aside, Christmas is also a time for reflection and perspective. Life and Christmas, in many ways, is simply presence and absence. And sometimes we get lucky–though one should never delay, especially when one has the intuition and opportunity (which, of course, was not there again for both these people the following Christmases). Del and Rose truly enjoyed those last Christmases as did I and the family. Those were special, unforgettable Christmases for all concerned, even for those–my remarkable parents–no longer present today. How they smiled and laughed those final visits. How grateful all were to be together, despite the schedules and geographical distance, even in those difficult, challenging, and obviously so sadder times.

March 31 is always a memorable day. But Christmas–those last Christmases is how and when  I fondly remember Rose and Del. When they were last with the family they loved, at home, in their world.

Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the unending smoke-coloured snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steadily falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.
–Dylan Thomas, “A Child’s Christmas in Wales”