Happiness is Winning an Oscar!

I watched the Academy Awards on Sunday nite and was, of course, THRILLED when Slumdog Millionaire won Best Picture.  I loved the book (Q&A) and I wrote two posts about the movie back in December when I first saw it.

I had to stay up past my bedtime to watch them open the envelope , and I was happy to have lost the sleep.  When the movie was announced, pandemonium broke out in the corner of the Kodak theatre where the Slumdog cheering section was located.  The producer, so excited about the film’s nomination, had flown the entire cast from India to Hollywood for the event.

And why not?  At one point no studio wanted to pick up the movie, so it almost went straight to DVD.  This was a low-budget film cast with unknown actors and with a crew of indie film folks from England, India, and Australia.  No one associated with the film had “credentials” outside of the Producer and Director (both past Oscar winners).  So for most of them, this was a first (and probably once) in a lifetime thrill.

They all crowded onto the stage for the acceptance speech, and their excitement was infectious.

A.R. Rahman, who 15 minutes earlier had won Oscars for best score and best song, said the movie — set in the squalor of Mumbai’s slums — was about hope and optimism.  I thought he had one of the best lines of the evening, when he said, “All my life, I’ve had a choice of hate and love.  I chose love, and I’m here.”

In turbulent times like we live in today, movies remind us that people can experience horrible things and still endure, that underdogs sometimes do win, and that happy endings are still possible. 

There Are Other Places To Sing

A reader sent me this story as a response my post on Saying Goodbye.  I teared up as I read it, and now pass it along to you.  My Aunt Corrine passed on last Friday evening — she’s now singing in a different place.

I hope you enjoy it.

THE OLD PHONE

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was ‘Information Please’ and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone’s number and the correct time.

My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my Mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.

I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the Parlor and dragged it to the landing climbing up; I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. ‘Information, please,’ I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.

‘Information.’

‘I hurt my finger,’ I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.

‘Isn’t your mother home?’ came the question.

‘Nobody’s home but me,’ I blubbered.

‘Are you bleeding?’ the voice asked. ‘No,’ I replied. ‘I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.’ ‘Can you open the icebox?’ she asked.

I said I could.

‘Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger,’ said the voice.

After that, I called ‘Information Please’ for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where  Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, ‘Information Please,’ and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, ‘Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring Joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?’

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, ‘ Wayne , always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.’

Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone, ‘Information Please.’ ‘Information,’ said in the now familiar voice. ‘How do I spell fix?’ I asked.

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest . When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to  Boston . I missed my friend very much. ‘Information Please’ belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.

Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in  Seattle  I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown Operator and said, ‘Information Please.’

Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. ‘Information.’

I hadn’t planned this, but I heard myself saying, ‘Could you please tell me how to spell fix?’

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, ‘I guess your finger must have healed by now.’

I laughed, ‘So it’s really you,’ I said. ‘I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?’

‘I wonder,’ she said, ‘if you know how much your call meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls.’

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

‘Please do,’ she said. ‘Just ask for Sally.’ Three months later I was back in  Seattle  a different voice answered:  Information.’ I asked for Sally.

‘Are you a friend?’ she said.

‘Yes, a very old friend,’ I answered.

‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this,’ she said. ‘Sally had been working part-time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.’

Before I could hang up she said, ‘Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?’ ‘Yes.’ I answered.

‘Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you.’ The note said, ‘Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He’ll know what I mean.’

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

Never underestimate the impression you may make on others.

Whose life have you touched today?

Why not pass this on? I just did….

Lifting you on eagle’s wings. May you find the joy and peace you long for.

Life is a journey … NOT a guided tour. So don’t miss the ride and have a great time going around.  You don’t get a second shot at it.

Namaste,  Jim

Movies to Make You Think

So, we saw two movies this past weekend (Doubt, and Seven Pounds) and enjoyed them both.  Yet they were so very different that I find it impossible to compare.  I cannot say, “this one was better because…”  They were just too very different.

I do not want the job of a movie critic, who must find a way to assess each movie to some standard.  In my world, the standard is, “did I enjoy it?”  AND I tend to enjoy movies that cause me to think.  Both of these did, in different ways.

First, the movie Doubt.  (click on the image to learn more, and read the reviews). This movie has garnered 76% positive reviews, and there appears little debate that it’s a “good” movie.

In my opinion, all three of the main players turned in very powerful performances.  Phillip Seymour Hoffman is always sensational, and there’s no exception here as he plays across a wide range of emotional space as a parish priest accused of impropriety; he moves from anger to arrogance, and from caring concern to resignation.

Meryl Streep, whom I just saw last weekend on video in the cotton-candy of a musical, Momma Mia, plays a nun — the school principal — who must balance very carefully the evidence she does not really have against her compelling need to protect the children in her care.  She, too, must navigate a broad range of emotions, and IMHO she carries off her role with a fierceness and caring that I found extraordinary.

The real surprise for me was the intense performance by Amy Adams.  Till now, I’ve only seen her in light and airy roles: singing with birds in Disney’s Enchantment, or playing the madcap and superficial employer in Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day.  Here, sans makeup, color, music, or dancing, she’s left with nothing but her acting talent.  I was truly impressed.  There’s one scene where she is torn nearly apart with conflict, and she carries all of that scene with just her face, framed by a black habit.

Frankly, there’s one other scene stealer: Viola Davis, in a role as the mother of the parish school’s only black student.  She’s on screen for maybe five minutes, and WOW, what a powerful performance as a mother terribly conflicted about what is best for her son.  If you see the movie, watch for the scene where she and Sister Aloysius are standing outside the apartment building.

There was little happiness in this movie.  But it certainly helped me to appreciate how important a little happiness is to people….

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Then there was Seven Pounds, the newest Will Smith vehicle.  The movie’s been roundly panned by critics (only 28% positive reviews — click on the image to learn more)… but still, it’s WILL SMITH!

One reviewer captured best what I felt after viewing the movie: “You will either be frustrated with its asymmetrical and manipulative storytelling or be captivated by scattered clues that ultimately lead to some kind of resolution.”

For the first 15 minutes I just kept thinking, “what is H— is going on?!?!”  Then my curiosity started getting the better of me and I thought, “I remember having the same reaction to the movie, Crash… and the out-of-sequence narrative eventually came together.”  So, I surrendered to the movie, and instead of trying to FIGURE IT OUT, I let it unfold.

Which it did.

Does it make sense, in the end?  From a narrative standpoint, I was very satisfied.  I was surprised.  I cried.  Once the plot twist occurred, the rest was predictable.  But still, I was satisfied.

The interesting thing is that this was about a man who, in an effort to make up for a horrific event that he blames himself for, ends up making seven people very happy.

I can’t tell you how, because that would ruin the movie.  I CAN tell you that some of those scenes are blatantly manipulative, in the way that storytelling manipulates us into an emotional space and then takes advantage of our trust.

A word of warning: if you go to see this movie, plan to suspend logic and reality before you enter the theater.  If you want a reality tale, this is not your thing.  If you want a fantastic, sometimes perplexing, sometimes sweet story that is marginally plausible (which is what movies allow us to enjoy), then you’re all set.

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I guarantee both these movies will make you think.

Confessions of a Cinematic Two-Timer

<If, dear reader, you believe me to be a perfect human being who never does anything inappropriate… please stop reading now.  I don’t want to tarnish your image of me.>

For the rest of you, I have a confession to make.  Yes, at the risk of being picked up by the Cinema Police, I confess that this past weekend my wife and I did something that we’ve not done since we were poor and in college — we double dipped.

It wasn’t planned.  We did it on the spur of the moment, and were ready to give ourselves up at any moment.  Truly!

On Saturday evening we bought tickets to see Doubt.  By the way, a VERY powerful movie… and one that will have you, at the end, debating what actually happened.  More on that in a later post….

Anyway, we exited the theater to hit the restrooms and then, as we headed down the hallway to the exits, we noticed a lot of people entering the theater for Seven Pounds, the new Will Smith release.  Like most of you, I’m sure, we have a limited movie budget — there’s only so much time, and so many dollars we are willing to invest on new releases.  Because we’d rated several other films as “must see” over the holidays, Seven Pounds had been moved to our “see it on video next year” list.

Still, it is Will Smith… and we were a bit curious…. so we said, hey, let’s just pop our heads in and check it out, just to get a feel for it….  (our first mistake…)

We entered the theater just as the previews were starting, and the place was less than half full, so we just took a seat on the side (our second mistake…), fully intending to exit if the place got full.  It never did.  And before we knew it, the movie had started, we were completely sucked in, and BAM, just like that we became cinematic two-timers.

I know, I know… it was wrong.

And we both felt appropriately wicked.

And we did spend a few moments locked in guilt, justifying our actions (“we spent 25 bucks on tickets and popcorn…”).

But I gotta tell, you our net emotional return was… happiness.  Yep.  In the emotional stew of Guilt + desire + curiosity + pleasure, what rose to the top was the pleasure — the short-lived, we’ll-take-it-when-we-can-get-it form of happiness.

Guilty pleasures.

Slumdog Millionaire – a winner in my book!

After my post ten days ago about this movie, several people wrote me (or commented on the blog) to ask for my opinion AFTER seeing the movie.

Well, my wife and I finally got to see it on Saturday afternoon.  I went into the theatre with high expectations.  Sometimes expecting too much of a film can ruin the experience, so I reminded myself to “let go” of the original story from the book, Q & A, and simply enjoy the ride.

Let me tell you, it was not hard to do — to enjoy the ride, that is.  The story varies considerably from the book in the way many films must vary.  For instance, a half-dozen or more minor characters who flowed in and out of the life of Jamal (the main character) were realized in a composite character who did not even exist in the book: his older brother.   In the book, Jamal did not meet the love of his life until he was 14; in the movie, she is a childhood friend.  All these shifts make much sense when one considers how little time a filmmaker has to develop relationships in a movie.

So, I accepted the adjustments necessary to adapt the book to a screenplay.  The biggest concern remained: will the film honor the heart and soul of the book?

Yes.  Absolutely yes!

Slumdog Millionaire the movie does a brilliant job of capturing the grit and glamour and poverty and misery of life in Mumbai, yet without commentary – it just is.  And Dev Patel is just wonderful in the lead role, the 16 year old Jamal, appearing on Who Wants To Be a Millionaire to win $20 Million rupees.  And the story line is just as improbable and yet plausible as was the book.

I repeat what I offered in my first post on this movie — go, see it yourself.  You will laugh, you will cry, you will be angry, you will be confused, you will feel sadness and you will feel joy, as Jamal pursues happiness in his chaotic world.

and who knows… I may see you there.  I certainly intend to see the movie again!

P.S. for those who love the pure energy and joy of a good Bollywood musical, I have a word of advice: stay for the credits at the end!  There’s a lovely surprise for those who remain in their seats.  It will make you smile!

Slumdog Millionaire – I hope it’s as good as the book

Two years ago in my 2007 Summer Reading List I lauded the book, Q&A, by Vikas Swarup.  I thought it was a WONDERFUL story, and highly recommended the audio version of the book.  I am thrilled that it’s been turned in to a movie, Slumdog Millionaire, opening in Cleveland tonite!

Here’s an excerpt from my own review of the book:

[Jim’s Notes:How do I describe this book? The premise is that a young, uneducated waiter who lives in Mumbai, India, has just won the largest Jackpot in television history – a billion rupees! – by answering a series of twelve consecutive and increasingly difficult questions on a “who wants to be a millionaire”-like program on Indian television. The producers of the show find it impossible to believe that he achieved this without cheating. As the book opens, he is being arrested. He ends up in the custody of a police detective to whom he tells his story, demonstrating how his unique life circumstances led him to know – uneducated as he is – all the correct answers. The tale is an exploration of life for the indigent and servile masses in modern day India, the caste system, injustice, child slavery the buying and selling of lives, greed, friendship, love, betrayal, and most of all, the power of spirit. AND it is all wrapped up in an engaging story about an unassuming young man who has struggled to survive on his wits alone, in an unforgiving system, since he was orphaned at age seven.

In the midst of much misery, by the way, this character never suffers – for suffering is not about pain but about how we respond to pain. He does not suffer because he sees life for what it is – life. He just keeps moving, doing what he needs to do to survive. (I do not believe this was a commentary by the author, but more my own observation. I never felt sorry for him – he simply tells his story in a straightforward matter -- it is what it is).]

To read the rest of my review, you can download the list from my archives.

It’s got a 92% postive rating at RottenTomatoes.com.  Read the book.  See the movie.  I promise you your heart will feel lighter!